black falcon 2 part 4 the man who liked women

 

The man who liked women part 4

 

 Luke was content to sit and eat a picnic in a glade; food carried on the inside was, to his mind, a good way of carrying it.

There did not seem to be a lot of point stringing it out any longer. Luke got his parasol box down, and eased out his Winchester.

“I think we can drop the masquerade, now, Fillies,” he said, cocking the Winchester on his hip.

“Wh... what?” Fillies gaped as he spoke, completely confused.

“You’re going to drop that gun belt nice and easy, and put on these handcuffs,” said Luke, tossing a pair of handcuffs over.

“But, my dear lady...” Fillies tried.

“Drop the belt,” said Luke.

Fillies went for his gun and yelped as Luke shot it out of his hand.

“You’re a monster and an unnatural female!” cried Fillies, dropping the gun belt. “You’ve broken my hand!”

“I’ve likely dislocated your thumb,” said Luke. “Don’t make a fuss.”

“All very well for you to say,” growled Fillies. “I could do with a bit o’ sympathy and nursing.”

“What a shame you’re going to be disappointed,” said Luke. “Get them shackles on.”

Fillies complied, and Luke retrieved his captive’s gun belt.

“You’re cautious,” said Fillies.

“I know about you,” said Luke. “And now. Let us discuss the location of your hidden store of gold.”

Fillies sneered.

“I ain’t tellin nobody nutt’n about that. Even if you can take me in, it’ll be there when I get out.”

“You killed the lady who left her old man for you; you’re going to swing,” said Luke.

“They can’t prove nutt’n.”

“I think you’ll find they can match the bullets to those fired from your gun,” said Luke. “But that’s up to a jury; I don’t much care. You’re worth $1250 dollars to me alive, and ten percent of your haul if I can take that in. Alive doesn’t say you have to have any working limbs attached, though.”

Fillies stared in horror. Then he tried to run.

Luke was waiting; he had a lariat hung from his saddle, and rested his rifle, and twirled it a couple of times, before throwing and dropping it over Fillies’s head. The owlhoot tried to pull the slender figure of Luke over; but Luke’s slight build belied his strength. He hitched the end of the lariat over his saddle horn.

“Try to keep up,” he said. “I imagine it would be worse being dragged through light woodland here and into the heavier fringe between here and the railway.” He jumped onto Fillies’s horse, grabbing the bridle of the sorrel mare. “Yee-haw!” he called.

He set the pace as a fast walk for a horse, and perforce, Fillies must trot to keep up, without being pulled off his feet.

Luke had not realised there were so many ways of miscalling a woman – Fillies still had not twigged – that he had never heard before.

He slowed down as the forest thickened; he did not really want to drag Fillies on a rope end. An unfortunate stump might put paid to the man’s career permanently. And that would be a costly error. If he was likely to be a danger to the public, so be it; but Luke did not account Fillies that highly. He admitted that the capture had only been easy because Fillies was taken by surprise; but that had been the whole point. Luke had planned every step of the way.

His valise, a carpet bag which expanded very nicely, had contained everything he might have wanted; his saddlebags were stored, for a fee, like his horse. And under his costume, he wore his own shirt, and a pair of lightweight cream duck canvas trousers. He preferred black, but it had been a concession to expediency, in the light of risking Fillies seeing what was under his skirts. He had lightly tacked a wide strip of broderie anglais to the base of each trouser leg, and looked forward to pulling it off.

 

Fillies looked horrified as they emerged from the forest near the railway track.  Luke dismounted, took up the slack on his lariat, and lashed Fillies to a tree. The man was too exhausted from running to make much protest. Luke stripped off his skirts and petticoats, folding and stowing them in his carpet bag, took off the ridiculous jacket, the top of his dress, and, under Fillies’ fascinated gaze, the corset. The fascination turned to horror.

Luke dumped the bonnet into a bush; he hated it with a passion. The veil was good lace, and probably one of his sisters could use it. His white shirt and cream pants offended him slightly, but needs must.  The embroidered lace went. He fished out a string tie, a vest, and a jacket, and put them on. A rather battered and squashed Stetson needed to be thumped into shape; and a cloth, dampened in a convenient rill, dealt with the makeup. With his revolvers on display, he felt more himself.

“You were a man all along?” Fillies was horrified.

“If you want to catch mice, set a bait of grain. If you want to catch a squirrel, use nuts. To catch a man who fancies himself with the ladies, a lady,” said Luke. “Now, I suspect I can find your gold without you, but we shall see.”

 

 Luke began a methodical search; and started turning up wheels and metal in the bracken and undergrowth of the forest. He untied Fillies and shifted him, closer to where most of the debris was to be found. He did not bother to explain to his captive what he was doing; that was apparent. He did not bother to explain his reasoning, either.

“How?” asked Fillies, goaded beyond measure. “How did you get this far?”

“I can read a map,” said Luke. “If I’m unlucky, I’m not the only one, and someone else has already lifted all the gold, not content with ten percent. But people don’t seem to use the gumption God gave an ass.”  He methodically marked the debris, and found a trail of sorts between it. Some planks lay embedded in new growth, having made something of a road into the forest.

The mossy mound by an old tree looked slightly too square to be natural, and Luke smiled, grimly to himself.

He checked on Fillies, who appeared to have fallen in on himself, as bombastic men often do when their world falls apart.  Nevertheless, Luke checked his knots, and removed from his prey the folding knife he was easing into his hand. Fillies cursed, and tried kicking.

Luke used the man’s own gun-belt, minus the guns, to secure his legs.

“Now, you stay here like a good little boy before Ma gets cross with you,” he mocked.

 

The mossy mound turned out to be more planks over such gold as could not be stored in the hollow trunk of the tree.

Luke kicked vegetation off the plank pathway, and fished in his carpet bag for the coil of new rope he had in there. Running it round one of the railway wheels, upside-down, and round the back of the boxes in which the gold was stored, he made light work of dragging the heavy boxes over the damp and now mossy planks by using this makeshift pulley.

“How the hell you come up with that?” asked Fillies, impressed, despite himself.

“Because I’m cleverer than you,” said Luke.

 

Having lifted every last bit of gold, and sundry other monies, to next to the train line, Luke set his own detonators; and waited for a train. There was enough of the picnic left over to make a meal if he did not feed his captive; and Luke saw that as a waste of good food. He did hold his canteen for the man to drink, which he did, thirstily.

Then there was the distant discordant hoot of a train, breasting the other hill, warning anyone crossing the line. Luke sat pat at the detonators, and watched the locomotive come to a halt after they went off.

The fireman ran back.

“What is it?” he demanded. “You’ll face a fine if you haven’t a good reason to stop the train.”

“Oh, but I have,” said Luke, with an impish smile. His dimples popped. “In fact, I have fifty thousand reasons that your company lost to a bandit known as ‘Fillies,’ whose person I also have in charge, to collect the bounty on him. You can help me load his ill-gotten gains into the caboose.”

“Well, I’ll be all durn-jiggered,” said the fireman.

“You may very well be, but it’s against my religion,” murmured Luke, who was in a whimsical mood.

With the aid of the fireman and the guard, the monies and Fillies were stowed in the caboose to head back for the city.

Luke left the horses. The sorrel mare was a hire beast, and would sooner or later wander back to her stable.  Doubtless the other horse would go with her; and the livery stables would acquire a new hire beast.  Fillies might well have stolen it anyway, but sorting out ownership was not, Luke thought, anything to do with him.

 

oOoOo

 

“What am I supposed to do with the spondulicks which ain’t from the gold robbery, or the robbery from the man whose wife he killed?” asked the marshal, when Luke had triumphantly brought in his quarry and the loot.

“Advertise for anyone who has been bilked by him?” suggested Luke. “I can take it away, if you like.”

“You’ll leave it with me three months, and then you can claim it,” said the marshal.

“As you please,” said Luke.

He was happy with his cut.

Losing his moustache had been well worth it.

He called in at the hotel to throw a bag of paper money to Tommy.

“Put it in the bank; and by that, I mean an institution to store money, not a mossy bank in a forest,” he said. “‘He heapeth up wealth and knoweth not who will gather it.’ Your help is much appreciated.”

“Thanks, Mr. Falcon!” said Tommy, with enthusiasm.

He only counted it when Luke had left.

“Paw! He gave me two hundred dollars just for helping him disguise himself as a woman!” said Tommy, awed.

It would go a long way towards getting him a college education.

 

Darkwind was so pleased to see Luke again that he bit him, to show that he had not really missed the man.

Luke bit him back; and they rode out of the city and into legend.