MacCallister Kingdom Come (2 page)

As Duff and Wang rode into town leading riderless horses, people on the street and board sidewalks stopped to stare.

“Ain't that the Chinaman Russell 'n the others had with them this mornin'?” a man asked his neighbor.

“Hey, mister. Who are you?” someone else shouted at Duff. “What are you doin' with that Chinaman? Where at is Russell, McGill, Alberson, and Durant?”

Neither MacCallister nor Wang answered the shouted question. They rode directly to the town marshal's office, tied off the horses, and went inside. Two badge-wearing men were drinking coffee and engaged in an animated conversation. They looked up, the expression on their faces showing their surprise at seeing the Chinaman.

“Which of you is the marshal?” Duff asked.

“We ain't neither one the marshal,” said one. “We're deputies. The marshal has gone to Cheyenne to report on a lynchin'. Only this here Chinaman is the one we thought was lynched.”

“You made no effort to stop it?”

“Hell, mister, half the town was in on it. They was only three of us. What was we s'posed to do?”

“Where are the woman and baby?” Wang asked.

“If I was you, Chinaman, I'd stay away from that woman, seein' as that's what got you into trouble in the first place,” the short deputy said.

“Where are the woman and the child?” Duff asked.

“Well sir, after she got whupped, she got took down to Doctor Dunaway's office. More 'n likely that's where you'll find her now.”

“Thank you. Oh, you will find four horses tied up out front. Eventually two men will call for them.”

“Two men? What about the other two?”

“They are dead.”

 

 

Duff and Wang found the woman in the doctor's office.

Her eyes opened wide and the expression on her face was one of relief and joy when she saw Wang. “Oh! You are alive! Thank God, you are alive!”

Dr. Dunaway was just as surprised to see Wang. “What happened? I was told that the men who took you planned to hang you.”

Wang nodded. “That was their plan, but this man stopped them.”

“Oh, bless you,” the woman said. “I have been feeling so bad about all this, knowing that it was my fault. How innocent we were. No one would listen, and this man's good deed was nearly repaid by him being murdered. Oh, Mister—” She stopped. “I never even learned your name.”

“I am Wang Chow.”

“Mr. Wang, you were nearly killed for your good deed. I can't thank you enough for what you did for my baby and me.”

“How is the baby?” Wang asked the doctor.

“The baby will be just fine, thanks to you. He was very dehydrated when he got here, but I've been giving him water a little at a time. He's a strong little boy. It's Mrs. Harrison I've been worried about. I can't believe anyone could be so evil as to take a bullwhip to a defenseless woman.”

“Has Mr. Wang told you what happened? I mean, how it was that we wound up together?” Mrs. Harrison asked Duff.

“I have not pried.”

“He saved my life, that's what happened. He saved my life and the life of my baby. My husband, Lieutenant Harrison, was killed two weeks ago in a tragic accident at Fort Fetterman. I was on the way with my baby to Cheyenne to catch the train to go back home to Ohio. On the way here, the horse pulling the surrey stepped into a prairie dog hole and broke his leg. He suffered for a long time. I had not brought a gun with me so I had no way of putting the poor creature out of his misery.

“I kept hoping someone would come along who could help. I didn't think I could walk all the way to the next town, carrying a baby. By the end of the second day water and food were gone, and I knew we were going to have to try. By then, mercifully, the horse had died.

“On the morning of the third day, just as we were about to leave, this gentleman came along.” She pointed to Wang. “He had water and food, which he shared, and he disconnected the surrey from poor Harry, connected his own horse to it, and drove us into town.”

Dr. Dunaway took up the story. “Some of our seamier citizens took over then. They became incensed at seeing a white woman with a Chinaman. They pulled her down from the surrey and threatened to kill her if Mr. Wang didn't go with them. When Mrs. Harrison tried to protest, they took a bullwhip to her.”

“Why didn't someone in the town try to intercede?” Duff questioned.

“Most were too frightened to do anything and some, I am sorry to say, agreed with what was happening.”

“How long before Mrs. Harrison and the child will be able to travel?”

“Oh, they can travel now,” Dr. Dunaway said. “I have put a lotion and bandages on her back to keep down the infection. And, as I said, the baby is strong as a horse.”

Duff smiled at Mrs. Harrison. “Then I suggest we go down to the stagecoach depot and put you on the next coach to Cheyenne.”

“Oh, I can't take the coach. If I do, I won't have enough money to buy the train ticket.”

“Where is your surrey?”

“I don't know.” Mrs. Harrison shrugged. “I don't know what happened to it or to my luggage. My baby and I have no clothes except for what I'm wearing.”

Duff offered a suggestion. “You no longer have need of your surrey. Suppose I give you three hundred dollars for it? That will give you enough money for a coach ticket and for new clothes.”

“Three hundred dollars? Why, even if I could find it, I don't know if it is worth that much.”

“Don't worry about it. I'll find it.”

Tears formed Mrs. Harrison's eyes. She reached out to take first Duff's hand, then Wang's hand. “I thank you both, so much. I can't help but feel that Michael is in heaven, looking down on us, and that, somehow, he sent the two of you to me. God bless both of you.”

Duff and Wang Chow reached the ranch and dismounted.

Elmer Gleason, Duff's foreman and friend, came out to greet them. “What's this Chinaman doin' here?”

“He has come to work for us.”

“Really? Just what kind of work do you have in mind for 'im?”

“He's going to cook.” Duff handed his reins to a cowboy and nodded to Wang to do the same.

“Well, Chinamen have been known to make pretty good cooks.” Elmer glared at the young Chinese man.

Wang returned Elmer's gaze with an expression of trepidation.

Then Elmer smiled and stuck his hand out.
“Wei biao shi win hou. Huanying.”

Wang Chow's smile was broad as Elmer's, and he took the foreman's hand and shook it enthusiastically.
“Wei biao shi win hou
.”

“Elmer, would you be for telling me what you and the young Celestial lad just said?”

“I just said hello, and I welcomed him. He said hello back to me.”

“I had no idea you could speak Chinese.”

“I made enough ports of call in China when I was a sailor to pick up some of the lingo.” To Wang he said, “
Wo cunzai
Elmer.” He pointed to himself.

“Elmer,” Wang repeated, pointing to Elmer. He pointed to himself. “
Wo cunazi
Wang Chow.”

Duff chuckled. “I see there's no need to introduce you, you've already done that.” He motioned for them to walk toward the house.

“So he's going to be a cook, huh? That's a good idea of your'n, gettin' a cook instead of passin' it off among all the cowboys. Some of 'em is so bad it's a wonder we ain't none of us been pizened afore now.”

“Wang can't cook.”

“What? Whoever heard of a Chinaman who can't cook? Is he tellin' the truth, Wang? You can't cook?”

“He tells the truth. I cannot cook.”

“Then why in the Sam Hill did you hire him as a cook, if he can't cook?”

“It's a long story,” Duff said. “I'm going to count on you to teach him.”

Elmer smiled. “All right, I'll do it. As long as I don't have to teach him none o' that nasty stuff like neeps 'n haggis.”

“Elmer, how is it that a man of your experience and world travel has never been able to cultivate an appreciation of such a delicacy?”

“'Cause it ain't a delicacy is why. Neeps 'n haggis ain't worth feedin' to the hogs. Oh, by the way, Miss Megan said to tell you that her sister 'n brother-in-law is comin' to Chugwater soon. And they're bringin' her nephew with 'em.”

“That's good to know,” Duff said. “It will be nice meeting some of Megan's family.”

Elmer chuckled. “It ain't just a meetin', you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“It's more 'n likely she's brought 'em up here to check you out, to see iffen maybe you're a fit person for her to marry.”

“There you go again, Elmer, tryin' to be a matchmaker. When the time comes, I'll make my own match, thank you.”

Elmer laughed again. “If you say so. Come, Wang, let me introduce you to some of these critters you'll be cookin' for, oncet I learn you to cook.”

Elmer led Wang into the barn where three cowboys were standing on a board stretched between two barrels. “Boys, I want you to meet our new cook. This here is Wang Chow.” Elmer pointed to the cowboys one at a time as he introduced them to Wang.

“This here feller with his nose mashed up against his face 'cause he got into a fight with someone he ought not to have, is Tom Woodward, only don't never call him nothin' but Woodward.”

“It warn't no fight. I got kicked in the face by a mule. You know that, Elmer.”

Elmer ignored him. “And the feller that ain't hardly got no teeth to speak of is Martin. I don't know as I've even heard his first name spoke. And this long, tall, drink of water is Adam Dewey. He's the youngest, but he ain't the dumbest.”

“And just what qualifies you to pick the dumbest?” Dewey asked.

“That's easy, 'cause there ain't nearly no one dumber 'n me,” Elmer said good-naturedly, and the others laughed. “You fellers want to tell me why in Sam Hill you got a board lyin' twixt these two barrels?” He pointed at the board in question.

“We're plannin' on usin' it as a wedge under the corner of the waterin' trough,” Woodward said. “But it's too long, 'n none of us wants to walk all the way back to the machine 'n toolshed just to get a saw. We was plannin' on breakin' it with a shovel, but so far there ain't none of us been able to do it.”

“I've only had one or two tries,” Dewey said. “Here, let me try again.” He swung the shovel hard at the board, but it just bounced back up. After four or five tries he handed it to Martin, who tried, unsuccessfully, to break it.

“Let's see what our new cook can do,” Martin said, handing the shovel to Wang. “Here, see if you can break this board.”

Wang took the shovel from Martin, held it for just a moment, then handed it to Elmer.

“No, don't give it to me. I know damn well I can't break the board.”

“You want the board broken here?” Wang pointed to the shovel marks on the board.

“Yes.” Elmer tried to hand the shovel back to Wang, but he waved it off.

“I do not need shovel.”

Wang put the knife edge of his hand on the board and held it there for a moment.

“Ha! What are you going to do? Break the board with your bare hand?” Dewey asked.

“Haiiiiiiiiiiiiuh!” Wang shouted, quickly lifting his hand, bringing it down sharply against the board, and breaking it in two.

“I'll be damned!” Woodward said. “I ain't never seen nothin' like that.”

“I have,” Elmer said quietly. “Wang, you know
wu shu
?”

“What the hell did he just say?” Woodward asked.

“I asked if he knew
wu shu
, and he said yes, he did.”

“What the hell is
wu shu
?”

“Let's put it this way. I would advise none of you to ever get into a fight with Mr. Wang.”

“Why would I want to fight a little feller like that in the first place?” Dewey asked.

Elmer laughed. “Yeah, why would you?”

“I ain't never seen nothin' like that,” Woodward said again, the expression on his face reflecting his awe.

A banner was stretched across Clay Avenue.

 

 

The shooting had started at nine o'clock that morning, with thirty-five shooters. There were only five left, all five shooting Creedmoor Rifles. For the last four rounds of shooting, all five had hit their target at dead center. The target was now three hundred yards away.

“What are we going to do now, Mr. Guthrie?” one of the townspeople asked.

Normally, Bob Guthrie was the owner and proprietor of a building supply company, but today, he was the judge of the shooting contest. “We can move the target back another hundred yards.”

“Or you could just go ahead and move it on down to Cheyenne,” one of the townspeople suggested, to the laughter of many.

“We may as well. We've got the target three hundred yards away now. Another hundred yards would be almost a quarter of a mile,” Fred Matthews said.

“Yes, well, pretty soon it's not goin' to make that much difference anyway, 'cause the truth is, we're runnin' out of targets,” Guthrie said.

One of the shooters was Duff MacCallister, and another was Duff's good friend, Biff Johnson, who owned the Fiddlers' Green Saloon. He had given the saloon that name because he was an old cavalryman who had ridden with Custer on his last fight. Cavalry legend held that anyone who had ever heard the bugle call “Boots and Saddles” would, when they died, go to a cool, shady place by a stream of sweet water called Fiddlers' Green. There, they would meet all the other cavalrymen who had gone before them, and they would greet those who come after them as they await the final judgment. Biff had managed to avoid Custer's fate because he was part of Reno's battalion.

The other three shooters still in the contest were not from Chugwater. Jason Bowles was married to Megan Parker's sister, Melissa. Megan owned a dress shop in Chugwater, and Megan and Duff were—as the women of the town explained to anyone who might ask about their relationship—courting. Jason, Melissa, and their nine-year-old son, Timmy, lived in Eagle Pass, a small town in West Texas. Jason was the sheriff of Maverick County, and they had come to Chugwater to visit Megan.

The two remaining shooters, Louis Wilson and Roy Carter, had come to town specifically to participate in the shooting match. They were drawn there because of the award money. Seven hundred and fifty dollars were being offered for first place. Second place was worth five hundred dollars, and two hundred and fifty dollars was the prize for third place. That was a significant amount of money, and it made entering the contest worthwhile.

“You fellas ready to give up?” Carter asked. “If they move that wagon any farther back, I doubt any of you will even be able to see it, let alone hit the target.”

The paper targets had been printed by the newspaper just for the occasion, and they were attached to a wooden frame that had been placed into the bed of a wagon.

“Ha! I seem to remember you sayin' somethin' like that up in Soda Creek,” Wilson said. “But I beat you up there, an' I'll damn sure beat you here.”

“We'll see about that,” Carter replied. Their bantering was good natured because the two had competed against each other many times before. They could be considered professional shooters, so many contests did they enter. As a result of their frequent head-to-head competition, they had become good friends.

“Mr. Guthrie,” Duff said. “Would you be open to a suggestion as to how to solve this dilemma that has been created in the shooting match as it is currently constituted?”

“I would be open to anything that would put an end to a match that seems like it might be goin' on until this time next week.”

“I would say move the wagon back another two hundred yards. Place it five hundred yards from here, and let us continue.”

Gasps of surprise and disbelief came from those who had spent most of the day watching the contest, drawn by a demonstration of shooting such as had rarely been seen before.

“Nobody can put a bullet into a bull's-eye no bigger than a silver dollar at five hundred yards,” Carter said. “This is ridiculous. This is a waste of time. We will all miss, then we'll just have to reset the wagon in order to start over again. I say just move it another fifty yards and be done with it.”

“I won't miss at five hundred yards,” Duff said.

“What? Of course you will,” Wilson said. “I'm telling you, nobody can hit the bull's-eye from that far out,” Carter said. “What do you other fellas say?”

“I don't know,” Biff said. “I've seen Duff shoot before. If anyone can do it, he can.”

“Impossible.”

“I have a suggestion,” Duff offered. “If I don't hit the bull's-eye, no matter what the rest of you do, I'll drop out of the contest. Then you can pull the wagon back to whatever distance you want and resume shooting.”

“You mean even if all of the rest of us also miss, you'd still be willin' to pull out?” Wilson asked.

“Yes.”

Wilson grinned. “What do you say, Carter? If he misses, he's out?”

“Yeah, if he wants to do it that way, I don't see no problem with it.”

Duff wasn't finished. “However, if I hit the bull, dead center, I'll be declared the winner.”

“Dead center? You mean, not touchin' the line anywhere?” Wilson clarified.

“Yes.”

“Mister, you're on,” Wilson said. Carter quickly concurred.

“Biff, Jason, what do you think?” Duff asked.

“Then the rest of us will be shootin' for second and third prize?” Biff asked.

“Yes.”

“I don't have a problem with that, do you, Jason?” Biff asked.

“No problem,” Jason said.

It wasn't until all four of the other shooters had agreed to Duff's proposal that four men went out, then half pulled and half pushed the wagon all the way down to the far end of Clay Avenue. From where the shooters stood, the entire target could barely be seen, let alone the bull's-eye. It looked like a tiny white patch.

Wilson turned to Duff. “You do understand, don't you, mister, that we're goin' to be holdin' you to your brag. Hittin' that little old piece of paper don't count for nothin'. You got to hit the bull's-eye dead center. How are you goin' to do that?”

Biff concurred. “Duff, I got to ask the same question. You can barely even see the bull's-eye from here. How are you going to hit it?”

“Mathematical calculation,” Duff replied.

Biff frowned. “I know that in the artillery, the gun crews use geometry to find their targets, but I've never heard of anyone firing a rifle that way.”

“It's simple,” Duff said. “I know the size of the target paper because I'm the one that arranged to have 'em printed. The size of the target is twelve inches wide by fifteen inches tall. So, I just estimate my target point as seven and one half inches up from the bottom of the paper and six inches in from the left-hand side. If the target isn't a misprint, that is where the bull's-eye will be. All I have to do then is squeeze the trigger.”

Everyone grew quiet expecting Duff to pause for a long time to control his breathing and lay in his sight picture. To the surprise of everyone who was holding their collective breath, Duff brought the rifle up to his shoulder smoothly, then pulled the trigger almost as if in the same fluid motion.

Some of the women let out a little startled reaction to the loud pop. It wasn't that the shot was unexpected; people had been shooting all day. What was unexpected was the fact they he had fired so quickly at his target.

Carter laughed out loud. “Ha! You missed. Are you going to just stay here and watch the rest of us shoot, or have you had enough for now?”

“I didn't miss,” Duff said.

“How do you know? You can't even see the bull's-eye from here.”

“Then how do you know I missed?”

“Because there can't nobody hit a target that small, from this far away.”

“Duff can, and he did.” Guthrie was staring through a pair of binoculars.

“Well? How far off the bull's-eye was he?” Carter asked.

“He wasn't off at all,” Guthrie said in a matter-of-fact voice. “On the contrary, he put the bullet dead center.”

“Mr. MacCallister,” someone called. “Swede, Clovis, and Loomis is takin' off on your Chinaman. You'd better come get 'im, or they're goin' to beat him up bad.

“Where is he?”

“He's down in front of the grocery store.”

“Oh, Duff, don't let them hurt Mr. Wang,” Megan said. “He is so much smaller than they are.”

Duff, Jason, Megan, and Elmer hurried down to the grocery store. Holding a bag filled with groceries, Wang stood in the road in front of the store, surrounded by three large men.

“I'm goin' to tell you one more time—put them groceries down and walk away. If you don't, we're goin' to beat the hell out of you 'n take 'em ourselves.”

“Mr. Bloomington, what seems to be the trouble here?” Duff asked.

“Your Chinaman bought the last package of brown sugar I had in the store a moment before Swede came in, looking for the same thing. When the Chinaman wouldn't give the sugar up, Swede and the two who came in with him got mad.”

“Wang, do we really need the brown sugar?” Duff asked.

“Yes,” Wang said.

“Well, there you go, Swede. My cook says that he needs it.”

“You takin' a hand in this fight, MacCallister?”

“Me? No. Wang says he needs the brown sugar, and you want it as well. My suggestion to you is, if you want it badly enough, go ahead and take it from him. That is, if you think you can.”

“Look here, MacCallister. Are you sayin' you ain't goin' to take a hand in this?”

“That's what I'm saying.”

“Duff!” Megan gasped. “What do you mean? How could you?”

“Watch,” Duff said calmly.

“You hear that, Chinaman? MacCallister has done give us permission to take it from you.”

“That's not quite what I said, Swede. I'm sure you heard me add, ‘if you can.'”

“Oh, yeah, I heard you say that,” Swede said, an evil smile spreading across his face as he raised his fists. “And we can. We damn sure can.”

“Go ahead, Wang,” Duff said.

Wang nodded and set the bag of groceries down, then he assumed a fighting position with his right arm bent at the elbow, his hand in front of his face, and his left arm stretched out before him. His hands were open and the fingers extended and joined.

“Ha! Look at him, Swede!” Clovis said. “I think he's going to slap us.”

“I almost feel guilty about fightin' someone that fights like a woman,” Loomis said.

“No need to feel guilty,” Duff said. “Go ahead, teach this Chinaman a lesson.”

“Duff, I can't believe what I'm hearing,” Megan said with a gasp.

“Don't worry none, Miss Megan,” Elmer said. “I've seen how these Chinamen fight before. It's different from anything anyone around here has ever seen, but Wang will be all right.” To Wang he said, “
Y
jue cíxiong, Wang, pengyou.”

“What did you say to him?” Megan asked.

“I told him to fight well.”

Swede was the first to commit himself, using his size and strength in a bull-like charge.

Wang bent his knees, lowering himself so the roundhouse swing went over his head. He shot out his right arm and drove the point of his fingers deep into Swede's solar plexus. Swede, with a sudden expulsion of air, bent over trying to breathe, out of the fight.

Wang's right foot smashed into Clovis's face, taking him down, while he stopped Loomis with a knife-edged blow of his hand to the Adam's apple. All three of his attackers were immobilized in less than five seconds.

As everyone looked on in shock, Wang picked up the grocery bag. “I understand that you are having guests, Mr. MacCallister.”

“I am.”

“I will make something special for dinner.”

“That's why you needed the brown sugar?”

“It is.”

“I appreciate that.”

Wang walked over to the buckboard, put his purchases in the back, then drove off.

“Did you see what that one little Chinaman did to them three big men? I ain't never seen nothin' like that in my livelong life,” someone said.

“You knew he could fight like that?” Megan asked.