The Floating Outfit 65 by J.T. Edson

Author:J.T. Edson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: cowboys, gunfighters, william w johnstone, piccadilly publishing, kidnap fiction, jt edson, best western ebook, pulp fiction ebooks, floating outfit westerns, dusty fog westerns
Publisher: Piccadilly

Chapter Nine – You Must Stay As a Guest, Mr. Counter

GLOWING REDLY, THE sun sank in the West and sent its rays through a small window into Mark’s face. He blinked his eyes and sat up. For a moment the room spun around, then settled down to allow him the opportunity of studying it. Small, with undecorated stone walls, a wash stand, a stout door pierced by a covered peep-hole. The bed under him felt comfortable enough and his bedroll lay open at one side. Even as he swung himself erect, he realized that his gunbelt no longer hung at his waist. Exploratory fingers found the secret pocket in his waist belt still held the money placed there before leaving on the trip from the OD Connected. Only his gunbelt and the ammunition from his warbag appeared to be missing, for his Stetson hung on the end of the bed and boots, freshly cleaned, stood at the door.

Deciding to learn where he might be, Mark walked towards the window. Before he reached it, the door’s lock clicked. Swinging around, Mark leapt forward, gripped the door’s handle and jerked hard. A man clad in the sober black of a house-servant shot into the room and Mark caught him, swinging him effortlessly against the wall.

“Where am I?” the blond giant demanded.

Fear showed on the man’s sallow face. “Io non capisco, signore,” he yelped.

Like most men born in the southern part of Texas, Mark spoke some Spanish; but the man had not used that language. However the meaning of the words was clear, the man did not understand. Seeing there would be no chance of learning anything from his captive, Mark set the man down and stepped from the room. He found himself in a corridor with other rooms on either side and a window which looked out over open range country. On reaching the window, Mark saw an open area, then a high stone wall and beyond it a pleasant valley with high, rocky sides.

“Ah, Mr. Counter,” said a familiar voice from behind him. “You have recovered at last.”

Turning, Mark found the Countess standing at the point where a flight of stairs opened on to the passage. She wore the same style clothing, although without the hat, and still had the quirt swinging from her wrist.

“What happened?” he asked. “Where am I?”

“You collapsed on the trail. It must have been a result of the strain you underwent moving that rock. So we brought you to my home.”

“Where’s Calam?”

“She rode on to Robertstown, to inform your friends.”

Mark felt a touch of relief at the words, knowing Calamity to be capable of finding the town and so would inform Dusty of his reason for not arriving as promised. Then another thought hit Mark.

“My gunbelt’s gone,” he said.

“If you come this way, my husband will explain everything,” the Countess replied and appeared to take his agreement for granted, for she turned and walked towards the head of the stairs.

Mark followed the woman downstairs to the ground floor.

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