Creeping onward, pushing the crowbar ahead, the log’s end was bitten into by the teeth. Then they struck against the far harder, less yielding material of the crowbar. A hideous screaming ripped the air as the rapidly-spinning blade met the crowbar and shattered teeth sprayed out. Luckily for them, the end of the log shielded Calamity, Trinian and Staff from the flying metal fragments. At first the carriage tried to force the log onward, but the Kid’s operation of the control lever brought it to a stop.
Hurdling Logger’s body, the Kid ran to Calamity. Still pale, showing some of the fear that she had felt, the girl looked sideways at her rescuer. Then she regained control of her emotions and managed to sound her usual self as she spoke.
“What the hell kept you?” she asked.
“Figured you was so comfy I didn’t need to rush,” the Kid answered, starting to sever the rope.
“Get me loose, blast it!” Calamity demanded, sitting up as soon as her torso had been freed.
“I’ll do just that,” promised the Kid, looking at the nails which held the girl’s trouser legs to the log. “Only——”
“Cut the blasted things off!” Calamity insisted hotly. “I’ve got things to do to Flo Eastfi——Behind you, Cash!”
While speaking to the Kid, Calamity had been looking around and a movement at the main doors caught her eye. She saw a shadow fall across it and yelled her warning instinctively. Spinning around, right hand flashing toward his Colt, Trinian found himself face-to-face with Poole. Recognition appeared to be mutual. On his way to tell Florence and Vandor that he had seen a couple of strange horses among the trees, Poole was not expecting trouble. He still reacted with some speed, but not fast enough. Clearing leather, Trinian’s Army Colt crashed. The bullet ripped into Poole’s chest. Spun around, he tumbled out through the door. As he went, his own revolver left its holster and bellowed. Its bullet churned into the ground as he fell.
“That does it!” Trinian growled, going to the door and flattening himself alongside it to look out. “There’ll be more of ’em coming.”
“Wasn’t no other way you could’ve handled it,” the Kid answered.
“Gimme that blasted knife!” Calamity yelled. “Damned if I didn’t figure I’d have to get myself loose.”
Handing the knife to the girl, the Kid caught his rifle, tossed to him by Staff. While the two men joined Trinian at the door, Calamity started to cut the material of first left, then right trouser leg. She had not completed her work when bullets impacted against the walls of the sawmill and the Kid’s Winchester cracked in reply. Unbuckling her waistband, she wriggled from the ruined trousers. Lead sent splinters flying from the log and Calamity quit it with her shirt tail flapping around her drawers.
Calamity saw her gunbelt on the bench, so made for it. To reach it, she had to pass across the open doors. Disregarding the danger, she hurled herself forward. A bullet fanned by her head and she heard the flat bark of the Kid’s rifle. Looking through the door, she saw a man staggering toward one of the cabins. Dropping his rifle, he fell before he reached safety. Two more strides carried Calamity beyond the door. Reaching down her right hand, she snatched free her whip. Ignoring the Colt, she darted toward the side door through which Florence and Vandor had left the building.
With the returning hard-cases beyond any range at which he could hope to make a hit with his revolver, Staff took time out to glance around. He saw Calamity about to go through the side door.
“Where’re you going, Calam?” Staff called.
“To keep a promise!” the girl answered and departed.
“What’s up, Staff?” called the Kid, turning his attention from where Torp and the other men were taking cover among the empty cabins.
“Calam’s going after Flor——” the young cowhand answered without looking around. “Look out, gal.”
Raising his voice to yell the last three words, he lunged through the door and his revolver cracked twice. From some distance beyond the door, two shots mingled with the detonations from Staff’s gun. Letting out a cry of pain, the youngster returned through the door. The revolver dropped from his hand and he collapsed face down on the floor.
Dashing across the sawmill, Trinian dropped to one knee by the cowhand. The Kid accompanied the rancher, looking at the hideous hole where the two heavy caliber bullets had burst out of the left side of Staff’s back, then stepped cautiously to the door.
“He’s cashed, Kid,” Trinian growled bitterly.
“Looks like he got his saving Calam,” the Kid replied. “Did a good job of it at that.”
Coming to his feet, Trinian joined the Kid and looked out of the building. Vandor sprawled face down, revolver a couple of feet away from his hand, at the rear of the cabin they had seen him enter with Florence. From Vandor, Trinian turned his attention to where Calamity was disappearing around the corner at the front of the building.
Chapter 16 I WARNED YOU WHAT’D HAPPEN
LEAVING THE SAWMILL, CALAMITY DARTED TOWARD the cabin where she expected to find Florence Eastfield. Her hope of taking the blonde and Vandor by surprise did not materialize. Down at the corral, Vandor turned from his horse. Drawing his Smith & Wesson, he started to run in the girl’s direction. Yelling his warning, Staff burst from the door of the big building. Calamity heard the crackle of shots followed by the cowhand’s cry of pain, then watched Vandor go down. By that time she had reached a position which offered a view of the front of the cabin. What she saw prevented her from turning to discover how badly her rescuer had been injured.
At the hitching rail, Florence had already unfastened her horse’s reins and was preparing to mount. She gripped the saddle-horn in her right hand, drawing up the hem of her black skirt with the other hand as she raised her left foot toward the stirrup iron. The sound of shots from the sawmill had caused Florence to revise her plans. Instead of changing into her riding clothes and ensuring that the red-haired girl was dead before leaving, she had decided to make an immediate departure. After collecting the reinforcements waiting at Burwell, she could return and deal with whatever situation awaited her. Looking across the horse at Calamity, Florence figured that she had made a wise choice. With the girl free, Florence would need the extra gunhands if she hoped to enforce her will on the people of Hollick County.
Guessing what the blonde had in mind, Calamity also realized that Florence would be mounted and gone unless she acted fast. So the girl took aim and swung her right arm. The whip’s long lash extended before Calamity and its popper struck with an explosive crack against the horse’s rump. Letting out a scream of pain, the animal reared and plunged forward. Florence felt the saddle-horn snatched from beneath her right hand and the force of the jerk sent her staggering. Staying on her feet, she caught her balance and prepared to chase after the fleeing horse.
Up and down moved Calamity’s right hand. Once again her aim proved very accurate and she demonstrated her skill at using the whip. Curling in the required direction, the rawhide popper sliced into the top right side of Florence’s skirt. It cut through the material, tangling with the keys in her pocket. With a heave on the handle, Calamity caused the lash to rip the skirt. The blonde’s screech of anger rang loud as the force of Calamity’s pull spun her around and peeled off the skirt to expose her plump, shapely legs and frilly-edged drawers. Trying to resume her pursuit of the horse, Florence heard the hiss of the whip’s lash passing through the air. Cold on her bare skin, the plaited leather coiled around her ankles and jerked them together so that she tumbled to the ground.
Florence might have counted herself fortunate. In skilled hands, the bull-whip was a weapon combining the cutting power of a knife and crushing pressure of a closing bear-trap. If Calamity had wished, she could have peeled flesh instead of stripping off the skirt, or broken both of Florence’s ankles.