Trouble Trail by J. T. Edson Read Free Book Online Page B

taking Beau’s arm and hauling him with her just as he aimed to walk over and settle matters with Muldoon.
    ‘Damn it to hell, Calam!’ Resin growled angrily. ‘No bog-trotting Pat-lander’s going to steal my gal.’
    ‘Which same you can start worrying when he does,’ Calamity replied calmly. ‘If I start squalling and pulling you, he’s surely going to come a-running to help.’
    Calamity figured that Muldoon would have the good sense, and be sober enough, not to come making trouble in officers’ country and so led Resin to where the upper classes celebrated. Officers and their wives mingled with the cream of the wagon train, talking, dancing the same kind of dances as the peasants performed—although with less vigour and more style—or gathered at the hurriedly-made bowl of punch before the Blooms’ wagon.
    Looking across the fire, Calamity saw Molly standing in the centre of a group of the younger bloods. Clearly the little schoolmarm was enjoying herself and it appeared to Calamity that Captain Bigelow had his sights set on Molly. It also became clear that Mrs. Eileen Tradle had designs on Bigelow. Eileen, wearing a fancy ball gown that trailed its hem on the floor, hung on to Bigelow’s arm like she was scared it might fall off, showing great attention to every word he said and making herself agreeable in every way to him.
    ‘Make up your sets, please,’ the colonel’s wife announced. ‘After this dance we will break off and eat. Gentlemen, the lady with you at the end of the dance is your partner for the buffet.’
    Watching the dance proceed, Calamity saw that Mrs. Tradle intended to wind up with Bigelow. Twice Eileen cut in front of Molly to grab the captain for a partner and Calamity’s fingers itched to make some bar-room-style improvements to the officer’s lady’s elegantly combed and preened hair.
    ‘Ease off, hot-head!’ Resin growled in her ear. ‘This’s officers’ country, not the Texas House in Dodge City.’
    The gods of fortune decreed that Bigelow, Molly and Eileen should arrive before Calamity as the dance drew towards its close, the fourth member of their set being a stout, red-faced and middle-aged major. Whoever did not collect Bigelow as a supper date would wind up with him as an escort and it became clear Eileen did not intend to be the one. By what looked like the sheerest accident. Eileen placed her hip against Molly’s side and shoved, staggering the smaller, lighter girl a couple of steps away from Bigelow. With a cat-vicious smile Eileen started to advance on her prey—then came to a sudden halt.
    ‘Why, mercy-me!’ Calamity gasped, looking down at the cause of Eileen’s sudden halt. ‘I got all clumsy and trod on the bottom of your dress.’
    For all her apparent contrition, Calamity made no attempt to move her foot from the fuming Eileen’s dress until Molly reached Bigelow. All the time Eileen glared over her shoulder in a manner that in saloon circles would have wound up in a cat-clawing brawl. Then the music came to an end and Calamity moved her foot. For a moment she thought Eileen aimed to turn and jump her, especially as Molly passed by laughing, on the young captain’s arm.
    ‘Come on, Eileen gal!’ whooped the major, bearing down on the brunette. ‘Dammit, I thought young Bigelow’d lick me to you, only it looked like he preferred a younger gal.’
    Which proved that while the major might be a real brave man in action, and he was, and a fairly smart man at his work, he would never make a diplomat.
    ‘So he did, Harold,’ Eileen replied in a tone that would have sliced tough meat. ‘How fortunate for me.’
    ‘Sure was. Come on. I want to tell you how that husband of yours hung a chamber pot on the roof of the White House on the night of Grant’s Inaugural Ball.’
    Eileen Tradle allowed herself to be led off towards the buffet table, nor did she find another opportunity that night to get near Bigelow. The major, Bigelow and Molly all took