Cap Fog 5: Rapido Clint and J. G. Reeder (A Cap Fog Western) by J. T. Edson

Author:J. T. Edson [Edson, J. T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Piccadilly Publishing
Published: 2019-10-01T07:00:00+00:00

‘You certainly introduced yourself to the British public in fine style, Ranse,’ Rita Yarborough praised, waving a hand towards a pile of newspapers which she and the other occupants of the dining room at Daffodil House had read before hearing a first hand description of the events at Waterloo Station. ‘I can’t think of anything you missed doing, apart from maybe spinning that big “six shooter” of yours around a few times on your trigger finger before you leathered it.’

‘Shucks, that’s what comes of being brainy as well as all beautiful and shapely,’ Sergeant Ranse Smith replied, adopting a spurious air of becoming modesty. ‘Which I’m all of them, ’though I must ’fess up that I didn’t think of doing that'

‘Bit I liked best, amigo,’ drawled Sergeant Mark ‘Comanche Blood’ Scrapton, lounging at ease on a comfortable armchair and conveying much the same impression of latent deadly menace exuded by a mountain lion draped over a branch while resting, ‘was that lil ole “sob sister” in the Daily Express saying you was “handsome, virile and redolent of the wide open spaces from which you came”.’ [50]

‘Well I am, aren’t I?’ the blond giant enquired.

‘That’s what Ranse likes about him, Mr. Reeder,’ Sergeant Alvin Dustine “Rapido Clint” Fog drawled. ‘He’s so modest.’

‘I had noticed that most desirable … um … trait,’ the elderly looking detective admitted, apparently in as sober a fashion as the comment had been put. ‘It does him … um … credit.’

‘Not everybody else does, though,’ the girl claimed, losing all trace of levity from her voice. Picking up a newspaper with the tips of her right thumb and forefinger, as if it was something unclean, she went on, ‘If you’d got a dog, Mr. Reeder, I could tell you a real good use for a tabloid like this.’.

‘I have heard one can … um … teach one’s dog to pay attention to one’s commands by tapping its nose gently with a … um … rolled up newspaper,’ the detective answered, in his most mild—therefore very sardonic—tone. ‘I presume that is what you have in … um … mind, young lady?’

‘Well no, not exactly,’ Rita corrected, tossing what she clearly considered to be a most undesirable object into the wastepaper basket. ‘What I had “in … um … mind” was to spread it on the floor so the dog could shi… be house-trained on it.’ While Mr. J.G. Reeder had known the arrival of a Texas Ranger would attract attention, especially in view of his own involvement, the response had been far greater than he anticipated due to the thwarted assassination.

In addition to the formalities required by the incident, the detective and the blond—currently ‘black’ haired—giant had given interviews to the assembled reporters. Although a statement about the shooting had been taken from Mr. Reeder, the reporters and photographers had given far more attention to Ranse. They had asked him to repeat the drawing of his ‘six shooter’, as they insisted upon calling his Webley-Fosbery Automatic Revolver. Receiving a nod of authorization from his companion, he had put aside his reluctance and obliged.

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