Read Online Trouble Trail by J. T. Edson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: J. T. Edson
Tags: Western
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shiny-butt!’ Molly put in hotly. ‘He’s just unfortunate in having been assigned to the Quartermaster Corps, but he’s hoping for a transfer when he reaches Fort Sherrard and—’
Molly’s defence had come just a shade too quickly and her cheeks reddened as she saw the tolerant smile on Calamity’s face, so stopped her details of the life of Wade H. Bigelow, frustrated captain of the Quartermaster Corps.
Once more Eileen breathed her annoyance; for she had hoped to become much better acquainted with Bigelow during the trip to Fort Sherrard and saw her chances going out of the window in the face of the pretty, single schoolmarm’s competition. Naturally Bigelow would prefer an unmarried girl, with its attendant possibilities, rather than squiring an officer’s lady which could only pass mild, innocent flirtation with the gravest risks to his career.
To give her credit, Eileen had no intention of extending her friendship with either Resin or Bigelow beyond the mildest flirtation. She loved and was loyal to her husband and reared in the strictest Back Bay Boston traditions—which were about as strict as one could get. So her interest in both men was more mercenary than licentious. Resin had been third from the top in the wagon train’s hierarchy during the trip from the East and the two higher members of the social scale were both married, with their wives along. Bigelow, as commander of the military escort, now was the head man. All her life Eileen had tried to be around the top people, not out of snobbery but because she had been born into that class. She knew the value of friendship with men in high places as an adjunct for obtaining her own way. So she planned to be known as the escort of the leader of the train; it was always a good thing to be.
Only it appeared that Molly, who Eileen had previously regarded as a rather plain, sexless little mouse, was cutting the ground from under her feet one way and the coarse, common, vulgar Calamity Jane taking her place in the other.
All in all the earlier stages of the drive were not happy for Eileen. In the course of her talk, Calamity let it slip out that she had appropriated Bigelow’s trout; which further annoyed Eileen who had been offered a supper from the fish and was disappointed not to receive it after hearing so much about the taste of fresh-caught squaretails. She resisted all attempts to make peace, snapping out chilling answers until Molly’s even temper started to wear thin and Calamity sat debating to herself whether to boot the officer’s lady from the wagon box.
Fortunately for Eileen, before Calamity reached a decision on the matter there came an interruption. Muldoon galloped his horse up from the rear and pulled in alongside Calamity’s wagon. After mopping his sweat-streaked face with an enormous bandana, he grinned at the girls.
‘The top of the morning to yez, ladies,’ he greeted.
‘Sure and ‘tis elegant yez look, Pathrick, me darlin’,’ replied Calamity. ‘If ‘twas Indian country, sure they’d see yez coming five miles off with the flash of yez fancy buttons.’
‘Elegant!’ answered Muldoon, snorting like an old bull buffalo faced with a pack of Great Plains wolves. ‘It’s the idea of that bow-neck—’
‘Now hush up there, Paddy,’ grinned Calamity. ‘Can’t you see I’ve got a lady aboard. Anyways, that shavetail from Connel’s been out enough to know better.’
‘And so he does; for hasn’t he had the teaching of Pathrick James Muldoon to show him what’s right. Sure, we’d be riding in comfort but for that—’
‘Sergeant!’ Eileen snapped. ‘Do you usually cut down your officers before civilians?’
Stiffening into a brace, Muldoon looked at the young woman. ‘No, ma’am. Only Calamity isn’t a civilian at all—’
‘Aren’t you going somewhere on duty?’ Eileen interrupted coldly.
‘That I am, ma’am,’ Muldoon answered.
Anger glowed in Calamity’s eyes as the burly sergeant
Molly’s defence had come just a shade too quickly and her cheeks reddened as she saw the tolerant smile on Calamity’s face, so stopped her details of the life of Wade H. Bigelow, frustrated captain of the Quartermaster Corps.
Once more Eileen breathed her annoyance; for she had hoped to become much better acquainted with Bigelow during the trip to Fort Sherrard and saw her chances going out of the window in the face of the pretty, single schoolmarm’s competition. Naturally Bigelow would prefer an unmarried girl, with its attendant possibilities, rather than squiring an officer’s lady which could only pass mild, innocent flirtation with the gravest risks to his career.
To give her credit, Eileen had no intention of extending her friendship with either Resin or Bigelow beyond the mildest flirtation. She loved and was loyal to her husband and reared in the strictest Back Bay Boston traditions—which were about as strict as one could get. So her interest in both men was more mercenary than licentious. Resin had been third from the top in the wagon train’s hierarchy during the trip from the East and the two higher members of the social scale were both married, with their wives along. Bigelow, as commander of the military escort, now was the head man. All her life Eileen had tried to be around the top people, not out of snobbery but because she had been born into that class. She knew the value of friendship with men in high places as an adjunct for obtaining her own way. So she planned to be known as the escort of the leader of the train; it was always a good thing to be.
Only it appeared that Molly, who Eileen had previously regarded as a rather plain, sexless little mouse, was cutting the ground from under her feet one way and the coarse, common, vulgar Calamity Jane taking her place in the other.
All in all the earlier stages of the drive were not happy for Eileen. In the course of her talk, Calamity let it slip out that she had appropriated Bigelow’s trout; which further annoyed Eileen who had been offered a supper from the fish and was disappointed not to receive it after hearing so much about the taste of fresh-caught squaretails. She resisted all attempts to make peace, snapping out chilling answers until Molly’s even temper started to wear thin and Calamity sat debating to herself whether to boot the officer’s lady from the wagon box.
Fortunately for Eileen, before Calamity reached a decision on the matter there came an interruption. Muldoon galloped his horse up from the rear and pulled in alongside Calamity’s wagon. After mopping his sweat-streaked face with an enormous bandana, he grinned at the girls.
‘The top of the morning to yez, ladies,’ he greeted.
‘Sure and ‘tis elegant yez look, Pathrick, me darlin’,’ replied Calamity. ‘If ‘twas Indian country, sure they’d see yez coming five miles off with the flash of yez fancy buttons.’
‘Elegant!’ answered Muldoon, snorting like an old bull buffalo faced with a pack of Great Plains wolves. ‘It’s the idea of that bow-neck—’
‘Now hush up there, Paddy,’ grinned Calamity. ‘Can’t you see I’ve got a lady aboard. Anyways, that shavetail from Connel’s been out enough to know better.’
‘And so he does; for hasn’t he had the teaching of Pathrick James Muldoon to show him what’s right. Sure, we’d be riding in comfort but for that—’
‘Sergeant!’ Eileen snapped. ‘Do you usually cut down your officers before civilians?’
Stiffening into a brace, Muldoon looked at the young woman. ‘No, ma’am. Only Calamity isn’t a civilian at all—’
‘Aren’t you going somewhere on duty?’ Eileen interrupted coldly.
‘That I am, ma’am,’ Muldoon answered.
Anger glowed in Calamity’s eyes as the burly sergeant
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