Ole Devil and the Caplocks by J.T. Edson

her well-rounded
feminine curves as well as the pistol and knife on her waist belt.
By drawing down the wide brim of her low-crowned, fawn-colored
hat—which had been hanging with the coat on her saddle when the
Bostonian Lady’s captain had studied her on his arrival at Santa
Cristobal Bay—she could partially hide her features and her hair
was short enough to attract no attention.
    For his part, Ole Devil
had retained his armament—with the exception of the saber—which he
had left in Mannen Blaze’s care—but exchanged his riding breeches
for a pair of yellowish-brown civilian Nankeen trousers from his
war bag. However, apart from donning a hat to be used for the same
purpose as the girl’s head gear, lessening the chances of his
Oriental features being noticed. Tommy had not made any alterations
to his attire, weapons, or appearance.
    As an added precaution, in
case they should be seen arriving—which Di had claimed was
practically inevitable—the two had made a wide detour around the
town and were approaching it along the trail from the north. From
what they could see and hear, taken with the sensation of being
watched, they decided that the additional distance which they had
been compelled to cover so as to mislead such observers was
worthwhile.
    Drawing closer to the
large building without being challenged or molested, Di and the two
young men became aware of a shape on the porch at the right of the
open front door. Conveying an impression of considerable size and
bulk but wearing a high crowned black sombrero and a serape which
covered it from head to foot, the figure was squatting with Its
back against the wall and appeared to be asleep.
    “Could he’s good ole Cole
Turtle’s still the head he-hooper around these parts,” the girl
hissed, relief plain in her voice “That there’s his man, Charlie
Slow-Down, I telled you about. There’s a full loaded and cocked
blunderbuss under his serape, which he’s never been slow to use it.
But do and say like I told you and we’ll be all right—I
hope’”
    “ That’s
what I like,” Ole Devil answered, studying the motionless shape. “A
girl with confidence in her own advice.”
    “Ancient and wise
Nipponese saying—” Tommy began.
    “That’s all we need!” Di
groaned.
    “Woman seldom speaks with
wisdom,” the little Oriental continued blandly. “And when she does,
it is by accident.”
    “ If
things go wrong,” the girl whispered, “I know who I hope gets shot
first—and where he’s hit.”
    For all their quietly
spoken banter, Di, Ole Devil and Tommy appreciated that, far from
being over, their problems could soon reach a crisis. The
conversation was a way of reducing the tension which all of them
were experiencing.
    While confident that Cole
Turtle would do what he could to help, Di had never minimized the
risks involved by going to ask him for it. Strangers had never been
made welcome in San Phillipe, unless they were sufficiently well
armed and tough enough to make expressions of disapproval from the
population inadvisable. What was more, almost two years had elapsed
since her last visit. Turtle might have left during that time, or
have lost his position of authority. Should either have happened,
the trio might find it impossible to achieve their purpose. It
could even prove difficult for them to escape with their
lives.
    Unfortunately, as the girl
and her companions realized, the presence of Charlie Slow-Down in
his usual position could not be regarded as conclusive evidence
that the man whom they were hoping to contact was available. While
the big Caddo Indian had acted as Turtle’s bodyguard, he could have
transferred his loyalties to the new owner if the San Phillipe
Hotel—by which grandiloquent name the establishment was known—had
changed hands. However, they were aware that it was too late for
them to turn back and attempt to satisfy their curiosity by some
other, safer, means.
    Neither increasing nor
slowing their pace,