J.T.'s Ladies by J.T. Edson

Author:J.T. Edson [Edson, J.T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Western anthology, Blonde Genius, Dawn Clayton-Porter, Belle Boyd, ALice Fayde, Rpckaby County, American Civil War, Betty Hardin, Ole Devil Hardin, action heroes, American Old West, American westerns, CALAMITY JANE, Comanche Indians, Gunfighters, Piccadilly cowboys
Publisher: Piccadilly
Published: 2022-05-31T23:00:00+00:00

‘Blast the luck!’ Betty Hardin ejaculated, slamming the cabin’s door as her cousin entered and shooting across the stout wooden bar which served as a bolt. ‘I could use that Hawken of mine!’

‘It’s still lying where you threw it, for shame,’ Georgina Blaze pointed out, going to the left side window and, closing the thick wooden shutter, peering through the aperture cut as a loophole. ‘Shall I go and fetch it?’

‘If you’d any sense, you wouldn’t be in here at all, hot head,’ Betty stated, treating the other window in a similar fashion. Then she picked up the double-barreled shotgun which was leaning against the window instead of drawing her Navy Colt. She felt sure its owner would keep it loaded for just such an emergency. Then she continued, ‘Well of all the nerve! Only two of them are going after Tommy.’

‘I hope they’ve made their wills,’ the blonde commented, showing no animosity over the little Oriental’s apparent desertion. Having drawn the same conclusion with regards to the bell-mouthed blunderbuss hanging on hooks beneath her window and being satisfied that it would be ready to carry on the fight, she thrust the Kentucky’s barrel out of the loophole. ‘I’d say we’ll have to do something about the rest of them, though.’

‘Let’s do it then!’ Betty suggested, bringing up the shotgun and drawing its twin hammers.

Starting to turn their horses towards the cabin, the remaining bandidos saw the weapons emerging. Any hopes they had that the girls might be bluffing, or unable to handle the weapons, were shattered as flame erupted from the rifle’s muzzle and the shotgun’s left barrel. An Indian let out a yell of pain as the bullet from the Kentucky caught him in the shoulder. With his horse collapsing underneath him, one of the Mexicans was swept from the saddle by mates of the buckshot balls which had struck it down. Seeing the rifle rapidly replaced by an even more potentially dangerous blunderbuss and suspecting the shotgun still had a second barrel loaded, the rest wheeled their mounts and rode out of range.

‘That’s stopped them!’ Georgina enthused.

‘Not for long, though,’ Betty warned. ‘Keep watch on them while I see whether Prospector has any other guns we can use.’

Leaving the shotgun extended through the window ready to be used again without delay if the need arose, the smaller girl started to conduct the examination. A glance at the roof satisfied her that the trapdoor was bolted. Passing the table in the center of the room, she noticed there were a number of rock chips and a sheet of metal made by cutting open and beating flat a kerosene can on it. She paid little attention to the piece of new chimney pipe lying alongside the stove. Instead, she searched the cupboards and sidepiece without finding any weapons.

‘There’s only this keg of powder,’ Betty reported, at the conclusion of her efforts, carrying the item in question from where she had located it beneath the old man’s bed. ‘The trouble is, we’ve no more shot for either the gun or the blunderbuss, or bullets for our revolvers.

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