Waco's Badge Read Online Free Page B

assertion!
    Having introduced himself as “Maurice Blenheim” on boarding the stagecoach, and continuing to chatter amiably throughout the journey, the speaker was middle-sized and portly. Black haired, blue eyed and perspiring freely, he had a cheerful face of the type to inspire confidence in his honesty. He wore a white “planter’s” hat, shoved to the back of his head, a matching two piece linen suit and shirt, with a multi-colored silk cravat, and Hersome gaiter boots. As was the case with his predecessors from the vehicle, he showed no sign of being armed. Nor did he convey the impression of being any more of a fighting man than the other two as, moving with a ponderous slowness, he descended and walked to where they were standing.
    â€œHey in there, it’s your turn now!” called the spokesman, after a few seconds had passed without the last occupant leaving the stagecoach. “Haul your god-damned butt outside here, pronto !”
    â€œDo you know who you’re talking to?” Twelfinch demanded, although his tone now was more querelous than pompous, peering out of the window.
    â€œSure I do, Senator,” the spokesman admitted, showing no signs of being impressed or concerned by the knowledge. “And what I said still goes, only more so.”
    Muttering under his breath, Twelfinch rose and emerged with alacrity. Of slightly less than medium height and skinny, he was far from an impressive or commanding figure. Bareheaded, his white hair looked like a not too clean mop above a miserable face so thinly fleshed it resembled a skull. While costly, his Eastern style clothing hung loosely and untidily on his weedy body. That he should not show any indication of carrying weapons of any kind came as no surprise to anybody who knew him. He was an ardent and vociferous advocate of legislation to prevent ownership of firearms unless very stringent proof of need could be established.
    â€œHey, Belle!” the spokesman called, as the politician was going to stand alongside the rest of the passengers. “We’ve got—!”
    â€œGod damn it!” the blonde barked, turning to show she had fastened her blouse and concealed the lower half of her face beneath a folded bandana. Donning the hat she took from the man she had told to assist her, she went on just as heatedly as she strode forward leaving him to disarm the still motionless shotgun messenger. “Why don’t you tell them who I am?”
    â€œSorry, B—!” the outlaw commenced.
    â€œYou damned nearly said it again!” the woman snorted, then ran her gaze along the line of men from the stagecoach. “All right, gents, let’s start having you-all handing over your valuables. Being right respectful of important folks, Senator, we’ll start with you-all.”
    â€œMe?” Twelfinch yelped and, taking a pace forward, looked by the next two passengers. “Jaqfaye, do something !”
    â€œ Oui, M’sieur le Senator,” the Frenchman answered, his attitude indicating he was far from enamored of being singled out in such a fashion. “Tell me what you would have me do and I may try, but I do not hold out too much hope of whatever it is being successful.”
    â€œDamn it!” Twelfinch protested, being waved back to his place as he tried to go toward the man he was addressing. “Tell them who you are!”
    â€œThey appear to know all too well who I am, m’sieur, ” Jaqfaye asserted mildly, but his voice took on a harder and more warning timber as he continued, “There’s nothing I can tell them will make them change their minds. I would do as they tell you.”
    â€œB—But—But—!” the politician spluttered.
    â€œCome on now, Senator, you being so all-fired eager to help the poor of the world and all,” the spokesman interrupted, gesturing with the barrel of his Winchester. “You up and shell out afore we have