MacCallister Kingdom Come (14 page)

“I shall require a mount,” Hanson said the next morning to Ernie Taylor, one of the four cowboys Jason had found for him.

“Clem Northington has some good horses for sale down at the stable. Me 'n Barnes will come with you 'n help you pick one out, if you'd like.”

“Yes, thank you, that would be splendid.”

Fifteen minutes later, the three men were standing outside the corral. Taylor pointed to a horse. “That looks like a good one there.”

“Ain't that the horse that Coleman brung in?” Barnes asked.

“It's a good horse,” Taylor repeated pointedly.

“Yeah, well, I didn't say it wasn't a good horse. I just said it was the one that Coleman brung in.”

Clem Northington came toward the three men then. He spit out a stream of tobacco before he spoke. “Kin I he'p ye?”

“Indeed you may.” Hanson pointed to the horse that Taylor had indicated. “I am in the market for a horse, and my friends here have recommended that one.”

“They did?” Northington asked, looking at Taylor and Barnes questioningly.

“Yes. Would you saddle him for me so that I might give him a trial ride?”

“All right.” Northington turned to shout back toward the barn. “Moon! Put a saddle on Pepper!”

“You want a saddle on Pepper?” Moon called back.

“That's what I said,” Northington answered.

“Is it all right if I get Mo to help me? I don't want to saddle that horse all by myself.”

“Go ahead 'n get 'im if you want to. But just get the job done. I don't aim to keep this here gentleman standin' aroun' all day.”

“We'll do it,” Moon said.

“I take it by the discourse that Pepper is a spirited animal?” Hanson asked.

“Yeah, you might say he's got a lot of spirit. You a good rider, are you?”

“I consider myself a competent equestrian, yes.”

“Mister, you got a funny way about talkin'. You must be that foreign feller that's started a ranch out in the county.”

“Yes, that would be the Regency Ranch.”

“Well, I'm glad you know how to talk English, even it is kind of funny soundin'. I'll go check on gettin' the horse saddled.”

“Mr. Hanson,” Taylor said. “Uh, maybe we should pick you out another horse.”

“Oh? And why is that? Do you think Pepper might be lame?”

“No, sir, it ain't that. It's just that I was funnin' with you, only as I think about it, I'm a-feared you could actual get hurt 'n I sure wouldn't want to see that.”

“Can the animal be ridden?”

“Oh, yes sir, he can be rode all right. It's just that, well, he ain't exactly what you call gentle.”

At that moment, Northington and another man brought the horse to him. Walking on either side of the horse, each had a good grip of his halter.

“Here he is,” Northington said, handing the reins to Hanson. “Maybe if you are real calm with him, I mean, don't try 'n make him do anythin' more than just walk, he'll be gentle enough with you.”

“Thank you.” Hanson swung into the saddle, slapped his legs against the horse's side, and gave a yell, a battle cry that was as old as England. “Ut! Ut! Ut! Ut!”

The horse burst forward as if shot from a cannon. He headed straight for a fence that separated the back end of the stable property from the rangeland beyond.

“Mr. Hanson, look out!” Taylor shouted.

“There ain't no way that horse is goin' to take that fence,” Northington said. “He'll stop and throw his rider over, sure as a gun is iron.”

To the surprise of all watching, Pepper sailed over the fence as easily as if he had wings.

“Ut, ut, ut, ut!” they could hear Hanson shout, and he rode about fifty yards beyond the fence before he stopped, turned the horse, and came galloping back toward the fence.

“That man is a damn fool!” Northington said. “He mighta got away with it the first time, but I know that horse. There ain't no way he's going to jump that fence a second time.”

Barnes laughed. “Looks like that horse ain't goin' to listen to you,” he said as, yet again, the horse literally flew over the fence.

Hanson rode back at a gallop, and just as everyone started to dash out of the way, he stopped the horse on a dime, Pepper lowering his back haunches and literally sliding to a halt.

Hanson hopped down, then patted the horse on its neck. Pepper lowered his head and brushed it against the Englishman's face.

“Oh, what a magnificent animal! This is a fine horse, a fine horse indeed,” Hanson said. “Taylor, Barnes, I thank you very much for pointing him out to me. Mr. Northington, I should like to buy Pepper.”

“Yes, sir,” Northington said.

“How much are you asking for him?”

“Seven . . . that is . . . a hunnert dollars.”

Barnes frowned. “Are you sure? I heard you was willin' to let 'im go for fifty dollars.”

“Yes, but that was 'cause I didn't think he could be rode, and I was afraid I'd never be able to get the horse sold. But this here foreign feller wants him, so the price is goin' back up.”

“If you raise the price on him, I'll see to it that there ain't a ranch in the whole county that'll do any business with you,” Barnes said angrily.

“And we know lots of ranchers,” Taylor added.

“All right, all right,” Northington said, throwing up his hands in surrender. “He can have the horse for fifty dollars, 'n good riddance it is, too. I don't care if I don't never see that four-legged hellion again.”

Hanson gave it some thought. “I tell you what, Mr. Northington. I intend to be a longtime resident here, and I expect you and I will be doing business together many times. I want our relationship to be most cordial, so to that end, I will pay you the one hundred dollars you are asking for.”

“What? You are willing to pay me one hundred dollars when I said I would let it go for fifty?”

“As I said, I expect we will be doing a lot of business together over the next several years, and I do want us to be friends. So yes, I'm willing to pay you one hundred dollars.”

“How about seventy-five dollars?” Northington said with a broad smile.

“See?” Hanson said, returning the smile. “We are already friends. Seventy-five it is.”

 

 

He rode Pepper back to the holding pens, where the cattle, not used to being kept penned up so close, were bawling and moving around restlessly. Taylor and Barnes walked back.

“Gentlemen, I am grateful to the two of you for helping me find a horse and for speaking up for me when Mr. Northington tried to elevate the price. If either or both of you are looking for a job with some permanency, I would be glad to hire you on as hands out at Regency.”

“You'd do that knowin' we was thinkin' the horse would throw you, but we steered you toward him anyway?” Barnes asked.

“Hold it, Barnes,” Taylor said, sticking out his hand. “Mr. Hanson, Barnes is a good friend of mine, so he's just tryin' to take the blame along with me. But he didn't have nothin' to do with it. The whole thing was my idea 'cause I was wantin' to have some fun.”

“As it turned out, I was the one having the fun. I most enjoyed jumping with Pepper,” Hanson said. “You are both good men, and I would be proud to have you in my employ.”

“Was you really goin' to give Northington a hunnert dollars even after you found out he was tryin' to cheat you?” Barnes asked.

“Oh, I don't think he was trying to cheat me,” Hanson said. “Mr. Northington is a businessman, after all, and he was only trying to maximize his profit. There is nothing at all wrong with that, and Pepper is most definitely worth one hundred dollars. Were I to purchase him in London, I've no doubt I would be paying twice that amount.”

Taylor was impressed. “All I can say, Mr. Hanson, is that you are a good man. Maybe as good a man as I ever saw.”

“That's very decent of you to say. Now, about my offer of employment?”

A broad smile spread across Taylor's face. “You got us, Mr. Hanson. You got both of us.”

“Wonderful. Now, I have a proposal. To consecrate your agreement to a concomitant arrangement, suppose we have a very good meal, on me?”

Taylor laughed. “'Bout the onliest thing I understood was you sayin' you was goin' to buy us dinner. That is what you said, ain't it?”

“It is indeed. Have you a suggestion as to where we might dine?”

“I'd say the Rustic Rock,” Barnes said.

“They set a good table, do they?” Cal asked.

Barnes laughed. “Well, to tell you the truth, Mr. Hanson, I can't say, personal, that they have good food. I ain't never et there, bein' as it cost too much. But I've heard tell the food was just real good, and I've always wanted to try it.”

“Then try it we shall,” Hanson promised.

Val Cyr was the next man to show up in Jaco's town. “I'm lookin' for a man named Jaco,” he told Morris.

“What do you want with him?”

“Mister, I don't see that that is any of your business.”

“I'm tellin' you now, if you're law or a bounty hunter, you won't get out of Shumla alive,” Morris said.

“Do I look like the law?”

“How am I supposed to know what the law looks like?”

“If this really is an outlaw town like I heard it was, then you ought to have some idea of what the law looks like.” Cyr pulled his pistol and stuck it in Morris's face. “Now, either tell me how to find Jaco, or I'll blow your head off and find someone who will tell me.”

“I'm Jaco,” a voice said from behind Cyr.

“Jaco, I'm Val Cyr, and you just saved this man's life.”

“What do you want with me?”

“I hear you're puttin' together a gang.”

Jaco looked him over. “Ain't you a little old?”

“I can ride and I can shoot. What else do you need?”

Jaco chuckled. “Nothin' else, I reckon.”

Although Duff had been told that the second of the two trains would arrive the day after the first, the wait to ship the remaining 300 heads of cattle still in the holding pens had stretched into an entire week.

Early in the morning of the seventh day, he was awakened by the sound of a train whistle. Finally! Getting up, he dressed, then moved along the upstairs hallway and stopped just outside Elmer's room. He knocked on the door. “Train's here, Elmer.”

From the other side of the door, he heard a grunt that might have been a reply.

He continued on into the dining room. The clock showed that it was ten minutes until six. Whether the train was the one he had ordered or it was one of the regularly scheduled trains, Duff didn't know, but whichever it was, he knew he had time for breakfast.

Only two other customers were eating at the early hour. They were drummers waiting for the morning stage, and their sample cases sat on the floor beside them. They nodded a greeting toward Duff.

The waitress set a cup of steaming coffee in front of him and he ordered a stack of pancakes, two eggs, a large piece of ham, biscuits, and redeye gravy.

Elmer joined him and ordered his own breakfast, which was every bit as large as that ordered by Duff.

“Have you heard from Wang?” Duff asked.

“I saw him where he's staying in Little Chinatown yesterday. Told him you thought the train would be here today,” Elmer said. “I asked him to join us for breakfast.”

“There he is, now.” Duff nodded toward the door of the dining room where Wang was standing, his bag by his side.

“Hey, Chinaman, are you sure you are in the right place?” one of the drummers called to him. “There ain't no slant-eyes allowed here. Just whites.”

Elmer stood up abruptly.

Duff grabbed his arm. “Elmer
, dinnae
be for making a scene. We'll be checking out shortly.”

Elmer nodded. “I will be very quiet.” He walked over to the table where the drummers were sitting.

“May I help you?” asked the same man who had called out to Wang.

Elmer pulled out a chair and sat down as if to have a friendly chat. “Do you know who owns the InterOcean Hotel?”

The drummer shook his head. “No, I don't.”

“His name is Barney Ford, 'n he is a black man, not a white man. The Chinaman you just insulted is Mr. Wang. He is a Shaolin priest.”

“I don't care what church he goes to. He doesn't have any business being in here.”

“I'm afraid you don't understand. When I say he is a priest, I ain't talkin' 'bout someone all dressed in black 'n wearing a white collar, who prays for your soul. Mr. Wang doesn't give a damn about your soul. A Shaolin priest is a special kind of fella, who has a special way of fightin'. He could come over here, jerk your tongue out of your mouth, and hand it to you before you would even know what happened. I've seen men like him kill a bull in full charge, just by hitting the beast between his eyes with the edge of their hand. And you have just insulted him.”

“I . . . just called out to him. I didn't mean anything by it,” the drummer said nervously.

“Yes, but the Chinese set quite a store by what they call honor. I seen the expression in his eyes when you insulted him. Does your friend know how to get in touch with your next of kin?”

“What? No, please . . . I . . . I didn't mean anything.”

“Then sit here quietly and don't say another word. Mr. Wang is my friend, and I believe I can convince him not to come after you.”

“Yes, do! Please do!”

Elmer put his hand on the drummer's shoulder. “I'll do what I can,” he promised.

 

 

Wang had joined the table by the time Elmer returned.

He sat down, put his napkin on his lap, and picked up his fork. “I told you I wouldn't make a scene.”

Duff chuckled. “You handled it quite well.”