MacCallister Kingdom Come (15 page)

When Wyatt Mattoon rode into town, he studied both sides of the street and appraised everyone he saw. It was a matter of habit from having been a lawman for fourteen years. He had been a deputy for Red Angus in Johnson County, for Isaac Parker, the Hanging Judge in Arkansas, and for Wyatt Earp.

He had also served as a city sheriff in some of the smaller towns in Arizona and New Mexico. Those small towns couldn't pay enough . . . sometimes they couldn't even pay what they had promised. And so, his law career had ended a year ago when he killed the driver and guard and took the money from a money shipment he was supposed to escort.

Having to live on the run, the money hadn't lasted all that long, so he'd pulled a couple smaller jobs since then. Recently he'd heard of the outlaw town being run by a man named A. M. Jaco.

As deputy for Wyatt Earp in Dodge City, Mattoon had once arrested Jaco. He knew he was taking a chance coming to see him, but it was a chance he was willing to take.

Dismounting in front of the saloon, he went inside and up to the bar. “Whiskey.”

“That'll be half a dollar.”

“I thought it might be something like that.” Mattoon paid for the drink. Lifting it to his lips, he looked in the mirror and saw Jaco sitting with a woman in the back of the saloon. He tossed down the drink, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then turned and walked back to the table.

Surprised, Jaco looked up.

“Do you recognize me, Jaco?”

“No,” he grunted.

“You should. The name is Mattoon, and I arrested you five years ago.” Aware that nearly every man in the saloon drew their pistols, he held up both hands. “Hold it, boys. I ain't in the law business any more. Fact is, I'm on the other side. I'm a wanted man, same as I expect most of you are.”

“What are you doin' here, Mattoon?” Jaco asked.

“Hidin' out from the law is one reason. The other reason is, I hear you're lookin' for some good men to put together a gang. I want to ride with you.”

“How do we know this ain't all a phony, so as to get in with us, 'n arrest us?” Putt said.

“Yeah,” Jaco said. “Like Putt said, how do we know you ain't just tryin' to work your way in with us?”

“I am tryin' to work my way in with you, but not to arrest you. I told you. I want to ride with you.”

Jaco shook his head. “I ain't willin' to take that chance.”

“You would be missing a good opportunity,” Mattoon said. “Because I was the law once, I know how they think.”

“He's right about that, Jaco,” Cyr said. “Having a lawman on our side would give us an edge.”

“But how do we know to trust him?”

“There is a jail in this town, isn't there?” Mattoon asked.

“Yeah, there's a jail.”

“Put me in jail until you check me out. If you find out that I'm still with the law, you won't have to come looking for me to kill me. I'll be right there.”

“All right,” Jaco replied, stroking his chin. “Puke?”

“Yeah?”

“Take Mattoon down to the jail and lock him up until we get this all figured out.”

Puke stood up. “Come along, you.”

Mattoon didn't move. “Don't you think you should relieve me of my arms?”

“What?”

“The first thing you do when you arrest someone is take their guns from them.”

“Oh.” Puke started toward Mattoon, and a pistol suddenly appeared in his hand so fast that nobody even saw him draw. Puke gasped and stepped back.

Mattoon smiled, then turned the pistol around and handed it to Puke, handle first. “What time will you feed me?”

“I don't know,” Puke replied. “I ain't never had no one in jail before.”

“Yeah, well you got someone now, and you damn well better feed me well. If you don't, soon as Jaco finds out I'm for real, and I join his gang, I'll be visitin' you.”

“Don't worry, Mattoon, we'll feed you. 'Cause if you don't check out, I'm goin' to hang you. And I want you fattened up, just like a hog for the slaughter.” Jaco laughed at his own joke.

 

 

Later that same day, after Jaco was satisfied that Mattoon was all right, he gathered his newly organized gang in Sherazade's room upstairs at the Red Dog Saloon. He wanted to make plans for their first job, and he didn't want anyone to overhear.

“We are going to be different from any other gang operating out there,” Jaco told them. “We are going to kill as many people as we can.”

“Why?” Mattoon asked. “Not that I have anything against killin' when it needs to be done. But what do you mean, we're goin' to kill as many as we can?”

“It's a matter of tactics. If we make a name for ourselves as men who come in shootin' 'n killin', then folks are goin' to be a-scared of us. And when folks is a-scared of us, they're goin' to be a lot less likely to get in our way. It'll make it a lot easier to take what we want.”

“Yeah,” Putt said. “I think that's a good idea.”

The others, even Mattoon, nodded in agreement.

“Our first job will be in Bitter Creek,” Jaco said. “They got a bank there that's just waitin' for us.”

Just after nine o'clock the next morning, Jaco halted his men near the small town located thirty-five miles northwest of Eagle Pass and divided them into four groups of two.

He and Val Cyr approached the town from the north. Blue Putt and Johnny Dane came in from the south, Manny Dingo and Wyatt Mattoon rode in from the west, while Larry and Lenny Israel entered town from the east.

Riding in pairs slowly, and deliberately, they aroused no suspicion. Not until all eight converged in front of the Bitter Creek Bank and Trust did anyone notice, and even then, the only thought was that the bank was getting busy. After all, the men hadn't arrived together. However, they did go into the bank together, at least four of them did.

Neither the Israel brothers, nor Dane and Mattoon went into the bank. They remained mounted out front, each holding the reins to a horse belonging to one of the men who'd gone inside. They also kept a sharp eye out for anything that might interfere with the job at hand.

Inside the bank, Jaco stepped up to the woman standing at the teller's cage. Grabbing her, he pushed her roughly to one side. She let out a little cry of alarm.

The well-dressed man with white hair and a white beard stood up quickly from the desk at one side of the room. “See here! What is this?” he shouted angrily.

“This is a bank robbery,” Jaco said. “That's what this is.” He added a malevolent chuckle.

“What? How dare you?”

“Are you the head of this here bank?”

“I am.”

“Then give us all the money.” Jaco waved his gun around.

“I will not.”

Jaco turned the pistol toward the teller, who was looking on in shock and fear. Jaco shot him.

“My God! What did you do?” the bank president shouted.

“What's it look like I done? I shot your bank teller. Now, give us all your money like I told you to.”

“No, I will not.”

Jaco shot the woman.

“You! You are insane!”

 

 

From their position outside, Mattoon and the others could hear the shooting coming from inside, and they drew their pistols, but did nothing.

A man walking up the boardwalk also heard the shooting. Startled, he headed toward the front door of the bank.

“Mattoon?” Lenny asked.

“Let 'im go in,” Mattoon replied. “No sense gettin' the whole town stirred up yet. Jaco will take care of 'im.”

“What's all the shootin'?” the man asked, stepping into the bank.

Dingo shot him.

“Now,” Jaco said, pointing the gun at the banker. “Give us all the money, or I'll shoot you, too.”

“You . . . you can't shoot me. If you do, there will be nobody left to give you the money.”

“That's no problem. We'll kill you, then go find us another bank to rob.” Jaco pulled the hammer back on his pistol.

“No! No! Wait!” The bank president held his hands stretched out in front of him. “Don't shoot me! Please, don't shoot me! I'll give you the money!”

“Jaco, this is startin' to take too long,” Putt said. “What if some others come into the bank?”

“Cyr, you and Dingo get on back outside,” Jaco ordered. “Tell the others I want you to kill anyone you see on the street.”

As the two men stepped outside, the bank president hurried around behind the counter, then opened the safe. Several stacks of bound bills were in the vault.

“Whoowee, look at that, will you, Putt? You ever seen anythin' so purty as that? How much is there, banker?”

“Twenty-two thousand dollars.”

“Well, get the money put into this bag, pronto.”

From outside came the sound of shooting, as well as some loud shouts of men and a few screams from women.

Working as quickly as he could with shaking hands, the banker put all the money in a cloth bag, then handed it to Jaco.

Jaco took the bag with his left hand, then lifted the gun with his right hand and pulled the trigger. The banker went down with a bullet hole in his forehead.

“All right. Let's go!” Jaco said.

With the money in hand, he and Putt ran out of the bank, then mounted. The other six men were already mounted, busy shooting up the town.

“As we ride out, kill ever'one you see!” Jaco shouted.

Slapping their legs against the sides of their horses, the eight men rode out of town, shooting through the windows of the buildings. Not one person stepped out onto the street to challenge them as they left.

Riding back into Shumla, they made their presence known by whooping and shouting and shooting into the air. Jaco reached down into the sack and withdrew handfuls of one-dollar bills, which he promptly tossed aside, allowing them to flutter down into the street behind them.

“Lord almighty!” one of the citizens of the town shouted. “That there is real money he's tossin' around!”

Most of the town had been standing by, watching the riders gallop into town with a mixture of fear and curiosity. But upon seeing real money being tossed aside, they dashed out into the street to recover it.

Jaco and his gang pulled up in front of the saloon, where they were met by Sherazade and half a dozen of her girls. Puke Cage was there, as well, the marshal's badge on his shirt clearly visible.

As the men and girls rushed together, Jaco stepped up to his city marshal. “Puke, go round up all the town's leading citizens, and bring 'em down here to the saloon. Tell 'em that the drinkin' will be free.

“Yes, sir!” Puke replied with a big smile on his face.

As Puke started out on his errand, Jaco went into the saloon, where he gave the bartender one hundred dollars. “Give anyone who comes in here a free drink. And you can keep the drinks goin' until you run out of liquor or run out of money, whichever is first.”

The bartender laughed. “As long as I've got water, I won't be runnin' out of drinks.”

 

N
INE
K
ILLED BY
O
UTLAWS

 

 

A gang of eight outlaws robbed the bank in Bitter Creek, Texas. As both the bank teller and the bank president were killed, it is not known how much money the robbers got. The vault was standing open, however, and there was no money, except for change, remaining.

The robbers not only killed the above mentioned victims, but also a woman customer who was in the bank at the time.

As the robbers rode out of town, they continued their murderous spree by firing indiscriminately onto the sidewalks, and into the stores and business establishments of the town. Two additional women and two children were among the victims of this murderous gang of outlaws.

The identities of this nefarious group of outlaws are not known.

The first half of the herd had been on Regency Ranch for just over a week when Hanson sent Ernie Taylor into town to check on when the train was due to arrive with the second half of the herd.

“It'll be here sometime tomorrow morning,” dispatcher Sterling Bobe said. “But I'll have a clearer read on the exact arrival sometime in the morning.”

Taylor smiled. “Well, I reckon I'd better spend the night here in town.”

“You want to sleep in the waiting room, Ernie? If you do, it's all right.” Sterling chuckled. “I know that when you were brakeman for the T and P, you more 'n likely spent quite a few nights in depots.”

“Yeah, too many. Thanks, Sterling, but there's no need. I'm ridin' for Mr. Cal Hanson now, 'n he's already paid me enough money to get me a room in the hotel.”

“I'm not surprised by that,” Sterling agreed. “Mr. Hanson hasn't been here very long, but everyone knows that he is a gentleman of means.”

Leaving the depot, Taylor walked down to the livery to board his horse.

“I hope you're not comin' here to tell me that Mr. Hanson has broke his neck on Pepper,” Northington said.

“Listen, you don't understand. Mr. Hanson is the best rider I done ever seen,” Tyler replied. “Why, he purdee much rides that horse like it's a part of 'im.” Tyler laughed. “He wanted me to tell you again, how much he appreciated the deal you give 'im.”

“He's a good man,” the liveryman said.

“Especially since you was trying to cheat 'im, Northington. And, it wouldn'ta been right for me to stand by 'n watch my boss man get cheated now, would it? Besides, I've got a idee that he's goin' to wind up bein' the biggest rancher in the whole county. You will be wantin' to do business with him, won't you?”

Northington smiled. “Yeah, I guess that's right, ain't it? Me 'n him made up. You seen it yourself.”

“How much do I owe you for leavin' my horse here?”

“I ain't a-goin' to charge you nothin' at all on this first night, on account of you 'n Barnes was the ones that brung Hanson to me to do business with in the first place.”

“Well, that's just real decent of you, Mr. Northington.”

With his horse taken care of, Taylor walked back out onto the board sidewalk in front of the livery stable where he stood for a moment, rubbing his hands together in eager anticipation of doing a night on the town.

The boardwalk ran the length of the town on both sides of the street. At the end of each block, planks had been laid across the road to allow pedestrians to cross the road without having to walk in the dirt or mud. Taylor waited patiently at one of them while he watched a lady cross, daintily holding her skirt up above her ankles to keep the hem from soiling.

“Good afternoon, miss,” he greeted, touching the brim of his hat with two fingers.

The woman returned his greeting with a nod.

Once she passed, Taylor stepped onto the plank himself. Walking around town for a bit more, he stopped and stared in the window of a leather goods shop. His attention had been caught by a pair of good-looking boots he would love to have. The boots he owned were so worn there were holes in the leather. He had held off buying new ones because he could still wear them, and other things had held a greater priority. But, with a job now, he was beginning to think that the boots might just be in his near future.

He strolled all the way up one side of the street and down the other, finally winding up at the High Pockets Saloon. Pushing his way through the batwing doors, he stepped up to the bar.

The bartender approached carrying a damp rag with him, which he used to make a swipe just in front the cowboy. The rag reeked with a sour stench. “Hello, Taylor. What you doin' in town? I heard tell that you and Barnes was workin' for that foreign feller.”

“His name is Mr. Hanson,” Taylor said. “And yes, we're workin' for him. He ain't no foreign fella. He's a good man, is what he is.”

“Didn't mean nothin' by it,” the bartender said. “What'll you have?”

“Whiskey.”

The glass was set before Taylor and he took it, then turned with his back to the bar to survey the room. The evening customers were just beginning to gather, and the soiled doves were moving about the room like bees working in a field of wildflowers, going from table to table to ply their vocation. Soon the tables were filled with drinking, laughing customers, and at one of the tables, a card game was in progress. One of the players left the game, and Taylor walked over to the table.

“Mind if I join you?”

“You got money now, Taylor?” asked a tall man with a handlebar mustache.

Taylor smiled. “I got a little. I also got me a job.”

“Then sit in.” The man with the mustache pushed a chair out with his foot.

An hour after Taylor joined the game, he was fifty dollars richer and decided that, instead of getting a room at the hotel, he would spend the night right there with Peggy. He didn't choose her by chance. For the last three months, anytime he could afford one of the working girls, she was always the dove of his choice. But it was the first time he had ever been able to spend the entire night with her.

 

 

Later, as they lay together in bed, Peggy raised up on one elbow and turned toward Taylor. Her naked breast swung forward as, with her other hand, she reached up to brush back a fall of Taylor's hair. “I'm glad you could stay with me tonight, honey, 'cause I'll be leaving soon.”

“What? Where? Where are you goin'?”

“You ever heard of a town called Shumla?”

“Yeah, I've heard of it.”

“Well, that's where I'm goin'.”

“Why? I thought you liked it here in Eagle Pass. I know Sheriff Bowles don't give none of you no trouble, 'n far as I know, he ain't takin' no money from any of you, is he?”

“No, Sheriff Bowles is a good man. That ain't got nothin' to do with why I'm leavin'.”

“Is it Gibson?” Taylor asked, referring to the owner of the High Pockets Saloon. “Is he cheatin' you? Is he beatin' you? 'Cause if he is, I'll take care of that.”

Peggy laughed softly, then bent down to kiss him on his forehead. “My brave cowboy. I really think you would. No, I have a friend in Shumla, and she told me that if I came there, I could make five times as much money as I can here.”

“What? How? That's impossible!”

“She said it's what they call an outlaw town. It's a place where people wanted by the law can go and be safe. But they have to pay a lot more to live there.”

“Don't go, Peggy,” Taylor said. “It don't sound to me like that's the kind of place you need to be.”

“But if I went and stayed for just one year, why, I'd make enough money I'd never have to be on the line again.”

“Then what would you do?”

“I don't know. Maybe I'd go back East and get married.” A smile spread across her face. “I could marry you. You'd like to marry me, wouldn't you? I know you like me.”

“I do like you, but I don't want to go back East. 'N I don't want you goin' to no outlaw town.”

“Why? Would you be worrying about me?”

“Yeah, I would.”

“Then I've got an idea. Why don't you come with me?”

“Peggy, I ain't proud of ever'thing I've ever done before, but I ain't never rode the owlhoot trail, 'n I got no plans to start now.”

“You wouldn't have to be an outlaw to live there,” Peggy said. “Sherazade said that ever'body that lives there is makin' a lot of money. You could find somethin' to do there. I know you could.”

“I got me a job now, Peggy. A good job with a good man. Why, you don't have to go to no outlaw town. If you want to get married, me 'n you could get married right now, 'n you could move out to the ranch with me. More 'n likely, you could get on with Mr. Hanson, too.”

“And what would I be paid? Twenty dollars a month and found? Why would I do that, when I can make much more money in Shumla?”

“There's more to life than money,” Taylor said.

“There may be, honey, but it takes money to find it.”

“I tell you what. Why don't I just go down to the hotel for the night? That way, you'll be free to make even more money.”

“Now, honey, don't get all upset. You don't have any hold on me, and I don't on you. I'm flattered that you will be worried about me, but I can take care of myself.”

“I'm sure you can,” Taylor said as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and reached for his trousers.

Silas Dunn, owner of the meat market and one of the businessmen who'd stayed in town when so many others left sat in the saloon, wasting his morning.

Jaco walked up and gave the butcher one hundred dollars. “Dunn, I want you to set up a spit right in the middle of town and roast half a steer. Think you can do that?”

“Well, yeah, I can do that,” Dunn replied. “But that's going to be a hell of a lot more meat that you 'n your men can eat.”

“Oh, it isn't just for us. It's for the whole town.” Jaco turned to the bartender. “And Morris?”

“Yes, Mr. Jaco?”

“Maybe you'd better hold back a barrel of beer. This town is goin' to have a party!”

“Yes, sir!” Morris said.

Dunn left the bar at a clip, set up the spit, and started cooking the meat. For the rest of the day, an enticing aroma swept through the town. News that there was to be party with free food and beer spread through the community.

By sundown the party was in full swing. The meat was cooked and Sherazade and her provocatively dressed girls moved around, teasing the men.

Jaco climbed up onto a buckboard, and pulling his pistol, fired two shots into the air. That got everyone's attention, and all looked toward him.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is just an example of what this town is going to be like. We have declared our independence from the state and from the country. We are a free town with our own laws, and we will not allow any U.S. Marshal, Texas Ranger, or county sheriff inside the city limits. If they do come here, they'll stay here.” He pointed to the cemetery. “We'll make a special lawman's section over there in the graveyard.”

The others laughed.

“We can have a fine place here as long as ever'one understands that the only laws in this town are the laws that I declare.”

“Wait a minute,” one of others said. “If we really are goin' to be a free town, seems to me like we ought to all have some say-so in whatever laws we're a-goin' to have.”

Jaco raised his pistol and shot the protester. Gasps and cries of alarm came from several of the others.

“Is there anyone else who wants to have a word about who will be makin' the laws in this town?”

The others looked at each other with expressions of shock and fear, but nobody spoke.

Smiling, Jaco returned his pistol to his shoulder. “I didn't think there would be. Now, what do you say that we get back to the celebration?”