MacCallister Kingdom Come (17 page)

Initially, Jaco and his gang, which had grown to twelve men, called themselves Jaco's Raiders. One newspaper had dubbed them the “Kingdom Come Gang” because they slaughtered every man, woman, and child in sight during their raids. That name stuck and became a sobriquet that the men wore as a badge of pride.

As a single column, their leader A. M. Jaco at the head, they had ridden through the star-filled, moonless night, arriving just as the sun was coming up, a red disc on the horizon behind them. The town had been built in the hope that it would become a railroad stop, but the tracks had bypassed it, and it was already struggling for survival.

Jaco held up his hand, bringing the column to a halt.

For a moment, the riders were quiet, staring down at the just awakening town.

A rooster crowed.

A dog barked.

A baby cried.

Blue Putt, his milky white skin nearly luminescent in the dawn's early light, rode up alongside his leader, spit out a wad of tobacco, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Look down there,” Jaco said. “If ever there was a town just waitin' to be picked, like pullin' an apple from a tree, this here is the one. They don't have one idea that we are here.”

“What if they heard about us, 'n they're just waitin' for us?” one of the gang's newer men asked.

The door opened at the rear of one of the homes and a man started across the back yard toward the outhouse. He hadn't put on a belt or galluses, and was holding up his pants as he walked.

“Does that feller look to you like he's waiting on us?” Jaco asked as the man stepped into the outhouse and closed the door behind him.

“Well, it ain't like they'd be likely to let us know they're expectin' us, is it?” the new rider asked.

“Why don't we find out?” Jaco pulled his pistol and looked at the others. “Let's ride in, makin' a lot of noise 'n shootin' up the town. Anyone you see out in the street, kill 'im.”

The others pulled their pistols and looked over at their leader, waiting for orders.

“Let's go!” Jaco shouted, firing the pistol toward the town.

The twelve men of the Kingdom Come Gang started forward at a gallop.

Just as they entered town, they saw a woman heading to the barn with a milking stool in one hand and the milk bucket in the other. Frightened by the sound of gunfire and thundering hoofbeats, she dropped stool and bucket and started running back toward the house.

“Kill her!” Jaco shouted, following his own order by shooting toward the woman.

Several of the riders fired at the same time and the woman fell, bleeding from a dozen bullet wounds.

A small group of workers had gathered outside the freight wagon warehouse, waiting for it to open. None of them were armed. They were more curious than alarmed by the unusual activity of the riders coming into town.

“Kill them!” Jaco shouted, and he began firing at the workers. The other riders of the Kingdom Come Gang followed suit, and the young, inexperienced workers were cut down like sheep in a slaughtering pen.

A few of the townspeople came out into the street, many still in their nightgowns and nightshirts. Seeing what was happening, they retreated quickly back into their houses.

While the early risers were now lying in the street dead or gravely wounded, Jaco turned his attention to the townspeople. “People of Runnels!” he shouted. “I want you out of your houses! All of you! Turn out into the street, now!”

No one came.

Jaco looked over at Dingo, who was holding a flaming torch. Jaco pointed to the roof of the general store. “Burn it down,” he ordered.

Dingo tossed the flaming brand onto the shake roof. It caught fire and, within a few moments, the entire building was ablaze.

Jaco fired a few shots into the air. “Now, if you people don't come out into the street right now like I ordered you to, I'm goin' to burn down ever' buildin' in this town. Do you understand me? Ever buildin' in the town is goin' to be burnt down, if you don't come into the street.”

Hesitantly, fearfully, the people of the town started going outside.

“Well now, you're finally beginnin' to get smart,” Jaco noticed that they had stopped in front of a restaurant. “Who owns this restaurant?”

“I own it,” a man said, stepping down from the porch. Unlike most of the others, he was dressed and wearing an apron.

“I want you to fix breakfast for us.”

“Yes, sir, I'd be glad to. Breakfast is a quarter apiece. How many of you are there?”

“It don't matter how many of us there are, this mornin' breakfast is free.”

“Why, sir, I can't give you a free meal. I'm a businessman,” the restaurant owner protested.

Jaco looked out over all the people he had called outside. He saw one old man with wrinkled skin, white hair, and a long, white beard. He shot him, and the man died with a look of shock on his face.

Screams and shouts of alarm came from several of those gathered on the street.

“Let me tell you what I'm goin' to do, Mr. Restaurant Owner,” Jaco said. “I'm goin' to start killin' people, 'n I'm goin' to keep on a-killin' people until you get back inside 'n start cookin' our breakfast. How many I kill depends on how long it takes you to get back inside.”

“No! No!” the restaurant owner shouted, holding both his hands out. “Don't kill nobody else! I'm a-goin' back inside now 'n I'm a-goin' to start in a-cookin' your breakfast.”

“And you ain't goin' to charge nothin' for it,” Jaco repeated.

“No, sir. I ain't goin' to charge you nothin' a-tall.”

“You're a good man.” Jaco turned to the others. “This man just saved your lives . . . all of you. So I think you need to give him a lot of business after we leave.”

“Ha!” Putt said. “He owes us a free breakfast on account of you drummin' up business for 'im.”

 

 

Over breakfast of bacon, eggs, and fried potatoes, Jaco addressed all his men. “Blue, after we get through here, you, Larry, and Lenny go to the bank. Have the banker open his vault and clean it out. Clean out the cash drawers, too. Then, kill whoever is left in the bank.”

“All right,” Putt said.

“Dingo, I got somethin' special I want you to do. I want you to take three, maybe four more men with you and kill fifteen or twenty people.”

“Anyone in particular?”

“No, it don't make no never mind who it is . . . as long as we kill a bunch of 'em. The more we kill, the more people will be afraid of us. And the more people are afraid of us, the less chance anyone is goin' to try and go agin' us. You all right with that?”

Dingo grinned. “Yeah. That'll be fun.”

Jaco nodded. “I thought you might like that.” He picked out the former law man. “Mattoon, I want you and Cyr to visit every store and select the best merchandise the store has to offer. I also want you to visit every house and take all the jewels and money you can find. If anyone protests, kill them.”

“Where you goin' to be, Jaco?” Putt asked.

“I'm goin' to be right out front, drinkin' coffee 'n enjoyin' the show.”

 

 

When the Kingdom Come Gang rode out of town early that afternoon, they had sacks filled with money and anything else they could find of value. Behind them, more than thirty people lay dead and a dozen buildings were burning.

Johnny Dane was feeling particularly satisfied. One of the dead lying on the street behind them was a sixteen-year-old girl. He had kept her alive until he was finished with her, so he could enjoy the terror in her eyes.

It had been good. So good.

Totally unaware of the terrible drama taking place some fifty miles north of them, Jason, Melissa, and Megan greeted Duff and the others warmly.

“I thought Cal would be here to meet us,” Duff said. “I expect I had better make arrangements to get cattle into the holding pens until he gets here.”

“Are you Mr. MacCallister?” a man asked, approaching him.

“Aye. And you would be?”

“My name is Taylor. I work for Mr. Hanson. I've done sent word that his cows is here. He'll be along directly, I reckon.”

“We're here now, Mr. Taylor,” an English-accented voice said as Hanson approached them. “Hello, Duff, Miss Parker. Good morning Sheriff and Mrs. Bowles.” Hanson shook hands with Duff and the sheriff. Then, seeing Elmer and Wang, he shook hands with them as well.

After the greeting, he turned to Taylor. “Mr. Taylor, if you would like to join Mr. Barnes and the others, I think we can eschew the holding pens, and start straight away to get the beasts relocated to the ranch.”

“Bless you,” Taylor said.

Hanson looked at the cowboy with a confused expression on his face. “Was the thought of putting the cattle in the pens so daunting that you feel you must bless me?”

“What? No, I was just blessin' you 'cause you sneezed.”

“I beg your pardon. When did I sneeze?”

Duff laughed. “I think it was the word
eschew
.”

Taylor nodded. “Yeah. You mean that wasn't a sneeze?”

It was Hanson's turn to laugh. “No, dear boy, that wasn't a sneeze. But I thank you for your response, anyway.”

“Well, if it warn't no sneeze, what was it?”

“
Eschew
is a perfectly good word. It means that we will avoid using the holding pens.”

“Yes, sir. Well, that deserves a bless you, as well. I expect I'd better get over there 'n start helpin' Barnes get all them cows offen the train.”

Hanson shook his head as Taylor left. “How can two nations approach the same language with such vast differences?”

As the cattle were off-loaded from the cars, Elmer and Taylor, who was the ranch foreman, kept a head count by tying a knot in a strip of rawhide for every tenth cow. When a strip had ten knots, they started another strip. The final tally was 306, the additional cows added as an extra measure in case any were lost along the way.

None were lost, and Duff threw them in as a bonus.

Three hours later, Hanson's cowboys had all the cattle off-loaded from the train. Since the depot was on the east end of town and Regency Ranch was seven miles from the west end of town, it was necessary to drive the herd down Main Street right through the middle of town.

Because Black Angus was a new breed, many of the people of the town who had not seen the first half of the herd watched with keen interest as the black, hornless creatures passed by.

“What kind of cows did you say them was?” someone asked.

“They're what you call Black Angus, 'n there ain't no better tastin' beef anywhere in the world,” Elmer replied.

“You don't say. Well, I'd love to eat me somethin' other 'n pork 'n stringy beef all the time,” another man added.

On Bullhead Trail, approximately ten miles east of Shumla, Matt Garrison was driving a single wagon down a rutted road. His wife Jennie sat on the seat beside him while their ten-year-old-boy Ethan was riding in the back, wedged in between boxes of clothing, a few items of furniture, household goods, a plow, and several more farming implements.

“Do you think we'll have any trouble farming out here?” Jennie asked.

“Trouble? Why should we have trouble? Look around you. Things are growing everywhere. I think we'll make a good crop the very first year. I plan to grow cotton.”

“I'm not talking about whether or not we can make a crop. You're a good farmer, Matt. I've seen that. But Uncle Jake says this is cattle country. I'm worried that ranchers won't be welcoming us.”

Matt chuckled. “Don't worry about that. I've got that all planned out. I bought fifteen hundred acres from Philbin, 'n I don't plan on usin' more 'n eighty acres. Leastwise, not for some time. I figure to let the cattlemen use the rest of the acreage for grazin'. That'll do two things. One is, it'll get us in good with the ranchers, so's there won't be no trouble. Another thing is, it'll keep the weeds from overtakin' the land so that when I'm ready to farm more, it'll all be there for us.”

“I wish you had waited until there were two or three more wagons wantin' to go in the same direction,” Jennie said. “I would feel a lot safer.”

“We couldn't wait for another wagon,” Matt said. “You heard what Philbin said. If we don't take possession of it within a month, the land will revert to the county.”

“So, what if it does?” Jennie replied.

Matt looked at his wife as if she had lost her mind. “This is good land, Jennie. It can set us up for life. Most people go a lifetime and don't get a chance like this.”

“I'm just worried about what Mr. Philbin said about why he left. He said the town had turned into an outlaw town.”

“Why would that bother us? We won't be livin' in town. We'll be livin' out in the country.”

“But we'll need to be goin' into town from time to time for supplies 'n such,” Jennie said.

“There ain't nothin' says we got to go into Shumla. I've looked on the maps. They's a town named White's Mine that ain't but about twelve miles farther away, 'n it's in the opposite direction so we wouldn't never even have to go through Shumla.”

“I wonder what the house is like?”

“Philbin said the house was in good shape when he left it. There's even some furniture in it that comes with it. Why, I'll just bet we can move into in no more 'n a couple hours.”

Jennie reached over to take Matt's hand. “You're right. It will be nice to have a place all our own.”