Free The Road to Ratchet Creek by J. T. Edson

owlhoot’d expect a kid my age to be carrying this much,” John objected, gathering his belongings. “The last place they’d think of looking’s in my bag.”
    â€œOr the first,” Calamity said dryly. “What’s up now?”
    John raised his eyes from examining the money. “There’s blood-stains on the top bills of each bundle,” he replied. “Must’ve got there when I looked inside after the fight in Promontory. I sure hope that doesn’t stop the money being good.”
    â€œI can’t see why it should,” Calamity answered and glared at the other passengers. “Let’s have the tarp spread, shall we?”
    â€œCome on, brother,” Cole told the guard. “Get it out.”
    Producing a spare sheet of tarpaulin from the rear boot, Cultus opened it out and laid it upon the ground. Then the other men raised and carried Pizen Joe’s limp body and laid it down. Calamity eyed the men with disfavor as she slid the old timer’s bowie knife from its sheath.
    â€œReckon I can work without getting hip-deep in war-whoops?”
    â€œThey’ll not be back,” Cultus replied.
    â€œDid they write and tell you so, or send up smoke-signals?” Calamity growled. “They didn’t look that obliging to me.”
    â€œGo watch the gap, brother,” suggested Cole. “Likely those bucks’ve had a belly-full, but I’d sooner be sure than sorry.”
    â€œI reckon I would sooner know they’re about by seeing than by picking their arrers out of my ribs,”admitted Cultus. “Come on, Johnny boy. Two can keep a better watch than one.”
    â€œYou could tote along my carbine, but the damned thing’s bust on me,” Calamity remarked as she cut away the old timer’s shirt.
    â€œTake my rifle, boy,” Cole ordered. “And you gents go out one on each side of a piece to watch in case those red varmints’ve found another crossing.”
    â€œSays which?” growled Conway.
    â€œSays me, hombre ,” Cole replied quietly, yet his voice had taken on a new and harder note. “So go to it right away—and pronto .”
    New from the East, Conway knew only vaguely about Utah Territory’s U.S. marshal and did not connect Cole with that important post. Nor had the drummer been present during the trouble in Promontory, where he would have learned Cole’s identity. Although regarding the marshal as no more than a mighty unconventional preacher, Conway felt disinclined to argue with him. Recalling how the other acted all through the Indian attack, he concluded objections would be unwise.
    â€œWe don’t have rifles,” Thorbold protested feebly.
    â€œAll you have to do is watch,” Cole answered. “That and get back here fast at the first sign of trouble.”
    â€œOne thing you yahoos best get into your fool heads,” Calamity put in. “That coach can’t gowithout a driver, which’s either Joe or me. He can’t do it and I don’t aim to until I’ve patched up his ornery, worthless old hide. So you pair’d best do just what the ma—deacon says. Go keep watch and leave me to my work.”

Chapter 6
OLD JOE’LL BUST A GUT
    C ALAMITY’S WARNING ADDED THE DECIDING NOTE TO the argument. Muttering to themselves, the two drummers went sullenly to stand watch on the rims flanking the stagecoach. Putting all thoughts of them out of her mind, she prepared to start her work on the wounded old timer.
    â€œDo you want to help me, honey?” Calamity asked Monique.
    A startled expression crossed the girl’s face and she took a hurried pace to the rear. “ Non ! No!” she gasped.
    â€œCan’t say as how I blame you. Say, I bet you’ve got some of them fancy white do-dads on underneath. Get in the coach and toss a couple out.”
    â€œI don’t——,” Monique began.
    â€œFor bandages,