Calamity caught her by the wrists, steering her to the edge of the stream.
Reaction flooded over Molly and she started to cry hysterically, but Calamity splashed cold water over her and the sobs died off.
‘Easy, gal,’ Calamity said.
‘Wh-what happened?’ gasped Molly.
‘We licked ‘em is what,’ grinned Calamity. ‘Let’s go wake the sleeping beauties, shall we?’
Anything less beautiful than Eileen and Olga would have been hard to imagine as they lay side by side, half naked, bruised, bloody and with their hair in matted tangles over their faces. Not that Calamity and Molly could feel superior for they were in no better condition.
Dragging first Olga then Eileen to the edge of the stream, Calamity dumped them into the water. While she bathed her face and torso, Calamity watched the two women recover and sit up gasping.
‘If you want any more.’ she told them, ‘my pard and I’ll be pleased to hand it to you.’
‘I’ve had enough!’ Olga gasped, much to Molly’s relief, for the little blonde did not relish the thought of another fight.
Or did she? Much to her amazement Molly found herself thinking that the fight had been exciting. In it she worked off a number of frustrations and petty inhibitions which had troubled her all the way West.
‘How about you. Boston?’ asked Calamity, but for once the name did not come out as a sneer.
For a few seconds Eileen could not speak, she managed to catch her breath and nodded her head, agreeing she was satisfied with the result.
‘Get my medicine bag, Molly,’ Calamity said, helping Olga then Eileen out of the water. ‘Hey, Boston, you was right, I do need it.’
Taking the bag from Molly, Calamity extracted a horn of the type usually employed to carry gunpowder. She shook some powder from it on to her palm and sniffed the grains up her blood-trickling nostril. Tipping some more out, she offered it to Molly.
‘Sniff her up, Molly, gal,’ ‘she ordered. ‘It’s that powdered witch-hazel leaves I told you about.’
All four nose-bleeds were treated with powdered witch-hazel and Calamity turned her attention to the other injuries. She found a balsam fir and punctured one of the bark blisters then smeared the gum on a nick upon her cheek and over a gash on her arm.
‘You’d best let me put some on that nick on your forehead, Boston,’ she said; turning to the others.
‘Thanks, Calam,’ Eileen replied.
Not until she had treated the gash did Calamity realise what’ Eileen had called her. A grin came to her face and she held out her hand. ‘Friends, Eileen?’
‘Friends, Calam, only make it Boston.’
For the rest of the time—and it covered twenty years—Eileen was on the Great Plains country, she was affectionately known by all who met her as ‘Boston.’
‘How about you, champeen?’ asked Calamity after attending to Eileen’s cut.
With a bitter frown on her face, Olga allowed Calamity to apply the gum to her minor abrasions. It hurt the woman to think that a kid had whipped her in a fight. From a mercenary point of view, she knew that her boss would not hesitate to offer Calamity a place in the troupe when he heard. Olga held her position as boss’s favourite because none of the other girls could displace her, but that would soon change should Calamity become a member.
‘Whooee, gal!’ Calamity said, smearing gum on a scratch on Olga’s back. ‘I see how you got to be champeen. I tell you, Olga, if Molly there hadn’t helped me, and I’d stayed on my feet instead of rough-housing, you’d’ve whipped me for sure.’
Apart from the piece about Molly’s aid, Calamity spoke the, truth and her words relieved the bitterness Olga felt.
‘How’d you like to be a fist-fighter?’ she asked.
‘I wouldn’t, if it meant tangling with gals near-on as tough as you,’ Calamity replied and she saw Eileen wink. It appeared her words had not fooled the officer’s lady at all.
‘We’d best get back to camp, I think.’
Reaction flooded over Molly and she started to cry hysterically, but Calamity splashed cold water over her and the sobs died off.
‘Easy, gal,’ Calamity said.
‘Wh-what happened?’ gasped Molly.
‘We licked ‘em is what,’ grinned Calamity. ‘Let’s go wake the sleeping beauties, shall we?’
Anything less beautiful than Eileen and Olga would have been hard to imagine as they lay side by side, half naked, bruised, bloody and with their hair in matted tangles over their faces. Not that Calamity and Molly could feel superior for they were in no better condition.
Dragging first Olga then Eileen to the edge of the stream, Calamity dumped them into the water. While she bathed her face and torso, Calamity watched the two women recover and sit up gasping.
‘If you want any more.’ she told them, ‘my pard and I’ll be pleased to hand it to you.’
‘I’ve had enough!’ Olga gasped, much to Molly’s relief, for the little blonde did not relish the thought of another fight.
Or did she? Much to her amazement Molly found herself thinking that the fight had been exciting. In it she worked off a number of frustrations and petty inhibitions which had troubled her all the way West.
‘How about you. Boston?’ asked Calamity, but for once the name did not come out as a sneer.
For a few seconds Eileen could not speak, she managed to catch her breath and nodded her head, agreeing she was satisfied with the result.
‘Get my medicine bag, Molly,’ Calamity said, helping Olga then Eileen out of the water. ‘Hey, Boston, you was right, I do need it.’
Taking the bag from Molly, Calamity extracted a horn of the type usually employed to carry gunpowder. She shook some powder from it on to her palm and sniffed the grains up her blood-trickling nostril. Tipping some more out, she offered it to Molly.
‘Sniff her up, Molly, gal,’ ‘she ordered. ‘It’s that powdered witch-hazel leaves I told you about.’
All four nose-bleeds were treated with powdered witch-hazel and Calamity turned her attention to the other injuries. She found a balsam fir and punctured one of the bark blisters then smeared the gum on a nick upon her cheek and over a gash on her arm.
‘You’d best let me put some on that nick on your forehead, Boston,’ she said; turning to the others.
‘Thanks, Calam,’ Eileen replied.
Not until she had treated the gash did Calamity realise what’ Eileen had called her. A grin came to her face and she held out her hand. ‘Friends, Eileen?’
‘Friends, Calam, only make it Boston.’
For the rest of the time—and it covered twenty years—Eileen was on the Great Plains country, she was affectionately known by all who met her as ‘Boston.’
‘How about you, champeen?’ asked Calamity after attending to Eileen’s cut.
With a bitter frown on her face, Olga allowed Calamity to apply the gum to her minor abrasions. It hurt the woman to think that a kid had whipped her in a fight. From a mercenary point of view, she knew that her boss would not hesitate to offer Calamity a place in the troupe when he heard. Olga held her position as boss’s favourite because none of the other girls could displace her, but that would soon change should Calamity become a member.
‘Whooee, gal!’ Calamity said, smearing gum on a scratch on Olga’s back. ‘I see how you got to be champeen. I tell you, Olga, if Molly there hadn’t helped me, and I’d stayed on my feet instead of rough-housing, you’d’ve whipped me for sure.’
Apart from the piece about Molly’s aid, Calamity spoke the, truth and her words relieved the bitterness Olga felt.
‘How’d you like to be a fist-fighter?’ she asked.
‘I wouldn’t, if it meant tangling with gals near-on as tough as you,’ Calamity replied and she saw Eileen wink. It appeared her words had not fooled the officer’s lady at all.
‘We’d best get back to camp, I think.’
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