Authors: William W. Johnstone

A Lone Star Christmas (15 page)

BOOK: A Lone Star Christmas

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“And if you get a pistol from Mo it'll be a good one,” Dalton said. “He's the best with a gun there ever was.”

Of all the cowboys on the ranch, Mo was the one that Dalton was closest to, and one of the reasons Clay decided to bring Mo along was his hope that Mo would be an ameliorating influence on Dalton.

“All right, if nobody has any questions, go on back and get your personal gear together. We'll spend tomorrow picking out our remuda and loading on our victuals and gear into the wagons. I plan to get underway Saturday morning.”

Sky Meadow Ranch, November 8

The drive from Sky Meadow Ranch to the railhead at Cheyenne would be one tenth as long, and would consist of a herd about two thirds of the number of cattle that would constitute the drive from Dodge City down to Live Oaks Ranch. Duff thought the drive to Cheyenne would be a very good trial run for them.

On the morning they were to leave, the cattle were all bunched up in a long, stretched-out herd, the lead steer was belled, and the chuck wagon was underway. Falcon was one of the cowboys of course, as was Duff. Elmer was there as well, along with two other cowboys from the ranch.

And then there was Meghan, wearing pants and a warm jacket, with a hat that she kept pulled down low. Because of the way she was dressed, and the fact that she was riding straddle, coupled with her riding ability, made it impossible to tell from a distance the difference between Meghan and any of the other cowboys. When one of the cows tended to go astray, Meghan would ride it down and push it back to the herd with as much skill as any cowboy present.

After the chuck wagon started out, Elmer came riding up to Duff, Meghan, and Falcon, who were sitting their horses on top of a gentle rise that allowed them to see the entire herd.

“We're ready to get underway, Duff. Just give us the word.”

“All right, get them started,” Duff said.

Elmer galloped back down toward the rest of the herd. Taking his hat off, he held it above his head, and shouted out at the top of his voice.

“Yee, haw!”

The other cowboys, whistling and shouting, got the big herd in motion, a few cows in front at first, then, as if picking up momentum, more and more of the herd started moving. Finally, like unraveling a ball of twine, the herd began stringing out until eventually, every cow was in motion.

“Unless you have some other place in mind, I'll take the far side,” Falcon said.

“Good enough,” Duff replied. “Meghan and I will stay on this side.”

“Listen, you two pay attention to the cattle now,” Falcon said. “I don't want to look over here and see you sparking.”

“Mind your own business,” Meghan replied with a little laugh.

Live Oaks Ranch, Saturday, November 8

Two wagons, four riders, and eleven unsaddled horses were lined up on the road in front of the arched gate that led up to Live Oaks Ranch. Big Ben and Julia were there, along with about thirty other ranch hands. Maria was sitting in the driver's seat of the chuck wagon, smiling broadly at the prospect of going with her husband. Dalton was sitting on the driver's seat of the supply wagon, frowning to show his displeasure at having been selected for this job.

For the moment, Clay was alongside Big Ben, getting his last minute instructions.

“I'm sending twenty-five hundred dollars in cash with you, along with my letter of credit,” Big Ben said. “That should take care of just about any emergency you might encounter along the way. Send me a wire when you get to Dodge to let me know that you got there all right, and send me another just before you start back with the herd.”

“Yes, sir,” Clay replied.

“I know Dalton is a little upset now at having to drive the hoodlum wagon, but he'll get over it. I'm reasonably sure he will make a good hand for you.”

“I'm sure he will,” Clay agreed.

Big Ben stuck his hand out, and Clay took it.

“Good luck,” Big Ben said.

“Thank you,” Clay replied. Pulling his horse around, Clay galloped back down to where the little party was assembled.

“Let's go!” he shouted.

Maria slapped the reins against the back of her team of mules, and the wagon started forward. Dalton started behind her. The riders held their horses to a slow walk, equal to the speed of the wagons, and with the whistles and cheers of those assembled to watch them depart, the Black Angus retrieval party got underway.

Dodge City, November 8

It was noon, and for the moment there were very few customers in the Lucky Chance. Because of that Rebecca, Candy, and the two other bar girls who worked in the saloon were sharing a table for lunch. Candy was talking about Billy Lovejoy.

“I know he cares for me,” Candy said, wiping away a tear. “He knows what I have been, but he also knows that I would be a good and faithful wife to him. But he is afraid to go against his father.”

Rebecca didn't comment, though she knew exactly what Candy was going through. The only difference was that their roles were reversed. Candy was perceived as not good enough for Billy Lovejoy, whereas Rebecca was perceived as too good for Tom Whitman.

“Honey, it's all a dream,” Kate said. “Girls like us never leave the line. We never get married.”

“Janie did,” Candy said. “She told me that she was just like us, once, but she met Oscar.”

Suddenly Candy realized that she might have spoken out of turn, and she put her hand on Rebecca's hand. “Becca, I'm sorry, I don't mean any disrespect for your Mama.”

“Nor were you disrespectful,” Rebecca said. “I know all about my mother's past, and I am proud of her for what she has become.”

“Well if you ask me, you don't have any business getting involved with the Lovejoy family in the first place,” Rena said. “I know they are rich, but Frank Lovejoy is a horrid person.”

“Billy is nothing like Frank,” Candy insisted. “Nothing at all.”

“I know he's not, honey,” Rena said, reaching out to put her hand on Candy's. “It's just that nothing good is going to come of this, and I don't want to see you hurt.”

“None of us want to see you hurt,” Kate said.

At that moment Rebecca saw Oscar come back down the stairs. He stood at the foot of the stairs for a moment, his head bowed, and his shoulders shaking. Rebecca felt a sudden rush of anxiety, and getting up from the table, she hurried over to him.

“Mama?” she asked, her voice catching on the word.

“She's dead, child,” Oscar said, sobbing as he told her. “The light of my life is dead.”

Boot Hill Cemetery, November 10

A cold, dry wind whipped through the cemetery as nearly one hundred people gathered for Janie's funeral. The coffin lay on the edge of the already opened grave, and Oscar stood beside it with his hand resting on the gleaming rosewood. His head was bowed, whether in prayer or grief, Rebecca didn't know.

Rebecca had never actually known her mother until this past few months, and though she had grown close to her, the truth was that, in her mind, Julia was, always had been, and always would be her mother. But she had come to appreciate Janie, even finding it easier than she thought to call her “Mama.” She was saddened by Janie's death, but had to confess that her grief didn't match Oscar's.

Most of the mourners were the men who frequented the Lucky Chance Saloon, and they stood in little clumps around the grave, a few of them coming over to mumble something to Rebecca before stepping up to Oscar to reach out and touch him. They were obviously uncomfortable around a weeping man, feeling powerless to help assuage his grief. Candy, Kate, and Rena were there as well, not dressed as they did when they greeted the customers, but as modestly as any schoolmarm.

All three of the girls had been solicitous of Rebecca, but even more so toward Oscar, whose grief was almost inconsolable.

There had not been a church service, but the Reverend T.J. Boyd volunteered to say a few words at the committal. Tall and thin, his nose was red in the cold wind as he stood looking out over the mourners.

“As I look out over those gathered here, I am reminded that I have never seen any of you in church, and that means that your souls are in peril.” He pointed to the coffin. “It is too late for this poor woman, who even now, is writhing in the agony of hell's eternal fire. But it isn't too late for all of you. Leave the saloons, the whorehouses, the dens of iniquity, and repent. Accept our Savior Jesus Christ and be born again, or you, like this poor miserable wretch, will burn in hell for eternity.”

The Reverend T.J. Boyd raised his right hand high in the air, his index finger pointed to heaven as his oratory rose to a pitch. “I ask you now to open your heart and accept ...”

That was as far as he got before Oscar laid him out with a hard uppercut to the preacher's chin. Then something happened at a graveside interment that had never happened before. The mourners broke out into a loud, rousing cheer.

C
HAPTER
E
LEVEN

Denver, November 12

It took three trains of thirty cars each to transport Duff MacCallister's fifteen hundred cows from Cheyenne to Denver. Duff and Meghan were on the lead train, Elmer took the second train, and Falcon had the trailing train.

Smoke, Sally, and Matt had already brought their cattle, and Smoke had made arrangements for holding pens where the cattle would wait until they could be moved to Dodge City.

Smoke, Sally, and Matt were waiting on the platform as the trains arrived.

“Duff, you have met Sally, but I don't think you have met this gentleman. This is Matt Jensen,” Smoke said, introducing the young man with him.

Duff shook hands with Matt, who was also greeted by Falcon, who already knew him.

“This is my partner, Meghan Parker,” Duff said, introducing the attractive young woman who was with him. “And this is my ranch foreman, Elmer Gleason.”

“Very good to meet you, Meghan,” Sally said. “Will you be coming along on the drive?”

“No,” Meghan answered. “I would love to, but I have a dress shop business to run back in Chugwater. And with the approach of the Christmas season, I can't afford to be gone. Elmer and I will be going back tomorrow.”

“Oh, that's too bad. I'm going, and it would be nice to have another woman along as company. But at least we will have your company tonight.”

“Any trouble with the drive to Cheyenne?” Smoke asked.

“Nae a bit o' trouble,” Duff replied. “Sure 'n the cows moved along as if they were the Black Watch on parade.”

“If they are like this from Dodge all the way down to Fort Worth, I don't think we'll have a bit of trouble,” Falcon added. “They trail as easy as Longhorns, if not easier.”

The loading pen manager came up to the group then. “Any of you fellows in charge of the cattle that just came in on this train?”

“Aye, that would be me,” Duff said.

“What do you want done with them?”

“Here you go, Mr. Dawes,” Smoke said, handing the manager a sheet of paper. “You can put those cattle in with mine. I have the holding pens reserved through Thursday.”

Dawes looked at the paper and nodded.

“All right, I'll get them off-loaded.”

“Thank you,” Smoke said. Then to the others, “I have four trains scheduled. We'll ship the cows to Dodge, then all we have to do is drive the cows from Dodge City down to Fort Worth.”

“All we have to do?” Falcon asked with a smile. “You have any idea how far that is?”

“Four hundred and fifty miles,” Smoke said. “Figure on making fifteen miles a day, it'll take us just about thirty days. We should be there just before Christmas.”

“That's pretty ambitious, considering the weather,” Falcon said. “Don't forget, most cattle drives are in the summertime. This is a wintertime drive. We aren't only going to have the weather to worry about, we are going to have to worry about finding enough grass to keep the herd fed.”

“I know,” Smoke replied. “And I've discovered since I started running them, that Angus eat a lot more grass than Longhorns, or even Herefords.”

“We'll do it,” Duff said. “We don't have any choice but to do it.”

“What do you we say we go to the hotel now, get a good supper and get you checked in.”

After taking rooms at the hotel, they met up again in the hotel restaurant. There, they were met by Smoke's two principal hands, Pearlie and Cal. There was a large round table set for nine, eight plates of which were clean. Cal had already started eating, and he stood up with a mouth full of food, chewing it quickly to avoid having to talk with his mouth full.

“Cal, I'm glad you waited on the rest of us,” Smoke said, and the others laughed.

“I did wait,” Cal said. “I just decided to have a little something to eat while I was waiting to eat.”

Smoke chuckled. “Damn, if you all knew Cal the way I do, you would know that, that almost makes sense.”

“Duff, this is my foreman Pearlie,” Smoke introduced. “And the young man with a face full of food is Cal.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Cal mumbled around food, not yet swallowed.

When the introductions were completed they sat at the table, and after ordering their meals, began talking about the upcoming adventure.

“So, Sally, is this really the Christmas trip that Smoke promised you?” Falcon teased.

“I'm looking forward to it,” Sally said.

“There you go, Matt,” Falcon said. “If you ever get married, you need to find a woman just like Sally.”

“There isn't anyone else like Sally,” Matt said, “if so, I would have found her and married her long ago.”

Sally beamed under the compliment. “Why thank you, Matt. I appreciate that,” she said. “But I'm sure that some fine day, someone is going to say the same thing about Meghan.”

Everyone around the table looked at Meghan and Duff who smiled, but made no incriminating response.

“Oh, here is something you might appreciate,” Smoke said. “I have ordered a private car to be attached to each train,” Smoke said. “Since we are going to have a very difficult winter drive, I figure we may as well take what comfort we can, while we can.”

“Nobody can find any fault with that,” Falcon said.

“Smoke, are you sure you don't want Cal and me to come along?” Pearlie asked. “You're going to have a long drive with just the five of you.”

“I've been in touch with Big Ben,” Smoke said. “He has promised to send some drovers up to meet us. He will also be furnishing the chuck wagon and a wagon to carry our gear.”

“Still, a drive in the wintertime,” Pearlie said. “That's going to be rough as a cob. I wish you would let Cal and me help out.”

“You and Cal just keep things under control back at the ranch,” Smoke said. “That will be help enough.”

“All right, if you say so,” Pearlie said.

“How have the Angus worked out for you, Smoke?” Duff asked.

“Best decision I've ever made,” Smoke said.

“Oh?” Sally asked with an arched eyebrow. “Switching from Longhorns to Black Angus cattle was the best decision you ever made.”

“Yes. They are easier to handle, they pay more at the market.”

“Smoke, you might want to rethink that âbest move you ever made' comment,” Pearlie suggested. “I mean, seeing as you decided to ask Sally here to ...”

Pearlie didn't have to finish his comment because, belatedly, Smoke caught on.

“Best move I ever made regarding cattle,” Smoke said, doing damage control. “Of course, marrying Sally was the best move I ever made.”

Sally's laugh told him that she had been having some fun at his expense, and the others laughed as well.

There was a lot of discussion during the rest of the meal, much of it driven by curiosity as to whether the relationship between Duff and Meghan was more than partnership in a ranch. Neither Duff nor Meghan provided an answer to the speculation.

From the
Colorado Springs Gazette, November 13, 1890

B
IG
C
ATTLE
S
HIPMENT
.

Intelligence has been received of a large rail shipment of cattle which will pass through Colorado Springs on the night of the 14th Instant, for Dodge City, at which point they will be taken from the cars and driven to a ranch near Fort Worth, Texas.

The shipment is the result of a business transaction conducted by Mr. Duff MacCallister of Chugwater Valley, Wyoming and Mr. Smoke Jensen of Big Rock, Colorado with Mr. Benjamin Conyers of Live Oaks Ranch in Tarrant County, Texas. Black Angus Cattle are a much better breed than the Longhorn in that they have more weight, and the beef is said to be of the finest quality. A measure of the animals' superiority can be ascertained by their price at the Kansas Market. The price for Longhorn cattle has fallen precipitously, while the cost for Black Angus remains around $17.00 per head. Two thousand five hundred of these valuable beasts are being shipped, that number being sufficient to require a total of four trains.

Most people who read the article did so with an interest that was generated only by their curiosity in the transaction, or by a bit of pride in the fact that cattle from Wyoming and Colorado were being shipped to Texas.

One of the readers was Red Coleman, and his reaction to the article was considerably different from that of all the other readers. The first thing he noticed was the name Smoke Jensen.

“Lookie here, McDill,” he said. “Looks to me like we might be able to square things with Smoke Jensen after all.”

“How?” McDill asked. The two men were having a beer at a saloon in the small town of Salcedo.

“It seems that Mr. Smoke Jensen is in the cow business. And not just the Longhorn cow business, but a special kind of cow that's worth seventeen dollars a head. He is puttin' them real valuable cows on four trains that's going to be passing right through here, and we're goin' to steal them cows.”

“How we goin' to take four trains?”

“We ain't. We'll only take the first train, and we'll take it when it reaches Lajunta.”

“When will it be comin' through?” McDill asked.

“According to the paper, they'll be comin' through tomorrow night.”

“How many cows will be on that train?” McDill asked.

“Well, if it is one of four trains, I figure that means that it breaks down to about six hundred and twenty-five,” Red replied. “And that's about ten thousand dollars.”

“Ten thousand dollars is a lot of money all right, but it's for sure and certain that we ain't goin' to be able to do this alone,” McDill said. “We're goin' to need some more folks.”

“You don't worry about that. I've got a couple of men in mind,” Red said. “I'll gather them up and we'll meet back here this afternoon.”

Though it was still mid-afternoon, the saloon was already crowded and noisy with the sounds of idle men and painted women having fun. Near the piano, three men and a couple of women filled the air with their idea of a song, their discordant voices killed whatever melody there might have been, and their interpretation of the lyrics, complete with ribald phrases, would render the song unrecognizable by the composer.

At the moment McDill was standing at the bar, his foot propped up on the rail as he stared into the single beer he was nursing. Every time someone new would come in, he would look over to see if it was Red. After waiting for an hour, all the time nursing a single beer that had grown flat, he saw Red come in with two other men. One, a man named Woodward, McDill recognized. McDill and Woodward had been in jail together back in Denver. But he had no idea who the other man was.

The three men ordered beer at the counter, then started toward an empty table at the back of the place. McDill followed.

“All right,” Woodward said. “Now, what's this job you were talkin' about?”

Red told of the four trains that would be going from Denver to Dodge City, Kansas, each one filled with cattle.

“And these ain't your ordinary kind of cows neither,” Red said. “They're Black Angus, and Black Angus cows are worth a lot of money.”

“How are we going to take four trains?” Woodward asked.

“We ain't,” McDill said, speaking up quickly to show that he and Red were the ones who came up with the idea. “We're just goin' to take the first one.”

“Still, there's only goin' to be the four of us,” Woodward said, keeping up the argument. “You think we can off-load a whole trainload of cows before the next train comes along?”

“We ain't goin' to be off-loadin' 'em,” Red said. “We're goin' to leave 'em on the train.”

“Leave 'em on the train? Now, that don't make no sense at all,” McDill complained. Even McDill had not been filled in on Red's ultimate plan.

Smiling, Red looked around the table at the men he had recruited just for this job. “Burgess, I think it's about time we tell these other two men what you used to do.”

“Until I got fired for bein' drunk while workin', I was a railroad engineer,” Burgess said.

“That's what I did, all right.”

“And he's going to do it again,” Red said. “Burgess, tell them what we have in mind.”

“We're goin' to steal the train,” Burgess said. “When it gets to Lajunta, we will steal it, then we will leave the Santa Fe tracks,” Burgess said.

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