MacCallister Kingdom Come

by William W. Johnstone

  Henry Crump and Vic Forney had overheard all the discussion between Duff and Hanson.

  “Well now, ain’t that interestin’?” Crump said. “They’re checkin’ in to the InterOcean Hotel.”

  “What’s so interestin’ about that?” Forney asked. “There cain’t neither one of us afford to stay there.”

  “We don’t have to stay there. All we have to do is pay a little visit there.”

  “What for?”

  “For money, that’s what for. We’re going to take it from the Englishman.”

  “How do you know he has any money?” Forney asked.

  “I told you before. It was in the paper that he put thirty thousand dollars in the bank back in Chugwater. He only bought six hundred head of cattle, so he didn’t spend all that money, ’n you know damn well he didn’t leave any of it back in Chugwater. That means he’s got it on ’im. All we have to do is take it away from ’im.”

  “All we have to do,” Forney said.

  “Yeah. He’s one o’ them highfalutin’ foreign dandies. Now you tell me, just how hard can it be? If he sees a gun, he’ll more ’n likely pee in his pants.”

  “Yeah.” Forney smiled. “I’ll bet he ain’t never even see a gun before.”

  In another part of town, Elmer and Wang were standing in front of a single-story, flat-roofed building. It was red, with gold trim, and the sign in front was in English and Chinese. AN LEE’S

  Wang was greeted in Chinese. “Wei zhong guo ren. Gi rén jiù shì Gweilo?”

  “The white man is my friend,” Wang said in Chinese. “Do not call him a foreign devil, for in this country, we are the foreigners.”

  “Wèi bio shì wèn hòu,” Elmer said, greeting the man who had greeted them.

  “You speak our language?” the man asked in English, surprised at hearing Chinese spoken by this white man.

  “A little.”

  “I am Han Sing,” the man said with a slight bow. “You are welcome in this place.”

  “I am Wang Chow,” Wang said, switching to English. “We would eat now.”

  Han Sing escorted them to a table. “We have cabbage and beef.” He again spoke in English.

  “That is good.”

  The meal was delivered, chopsticks provided for each of them. Elmer was able to use his quite adroitly.

  Halfway through their meal three American men came in.

  “An Lee!” they shouted. “An Lee, you slanty-eyed fishwife! Get yourself out here.”

  An older woman came from the kitchen. “Why are you here? Why do you disturb my guests?” the woman asked.

  Besides Elmer and Wang Chow, eight others were eating in the restaurant. Three were Americans.

  “You want to see your guests disturbed?” One of the men pulled his pistol and pointed it at a young Chinese woman who was sitting alone at one of the tables. “If you don’t give me the money right now, I’m going to blow her head off. Is that disturbing enough for you?”

  “What money is he speaking of?” Wang asked in Chinese.

  “Every week he comes into this place and demands that I give him money so that he will not do damage to my restaurant,” An Lee answered in Chinese.

  “You two quit babbling in that heathen tongue,” the spokesman of the three said. “You got something to say, you say it in English.”

  “What is it, Wang?” Elmer asked as he stood up.

  They walked over toward the three men who were causing the trouble. Elmer noticed that only one of the three had actually drawn his pistol.

  “The three Gweilos are taking money from An Lee. If she does not pay them, they will do damage to her place.” As he was speaking, Wang drew his knife and palmed it against his leg.

  “Well now, ain’t that somethin’.” Elmer said. “You three polecats get on out of here and leave these nice people alone.”

  “I don’t know who you are, mister, but this here ain’t none of your business,” the extortionist said.

  “I just made it my business.”

  “Did you? Well, that was a mistake.” The man smiled and turned his pistol toward Elmer. “’Cause I intend to kill you and the Chinaman.”

  “Now, Wang,” Elmer said.

  Wang whipped his hand up like the strike of a snake, and the knife crossed the distance between them before the extortionist could pull the trigger. The knife buried itself hilt deep into the man’s chest, penetrating his heart. He fell, dead, before he hit the floor.

  “What the hell!” shouted one of the other two men. He started to go for his gun, but stopped when he heard Elmer cock the pistol in his hand.

  “You two boys want to shuck out of them holsters?” Elmer asked. “Wang, is there one o’ them telephones in this place?”

  Wang asked the question of An Lee in Chinese then shook his head “No.”

  “Well, tell ’em to drag that fella out to the alley so’s he don’t interfere with these folks that’s eatin’. Me ’n you will take these other two polecats down to the jail.”

  Wang translated Elmer’s words, and Han Sing answered him. Wang nodded. “Han Sing say that we did not finish our meal.”

  “Well, tell ’im we’ll come back for it.”

  Half an hour later, Elmer and Wang had turned the two gunmen over to the sheriff and learned that the gunmen and Hobbs Ketchum—the one Wang had killed—were wanted outlaws. They were in for a three-hundred-dollar reward.

  “Sheriff, we ain’t from here,” Elmer said. “There ain’t goin’ to be no trial or nothin’ ’bout this feller we kilt, is there? I mean they was a lot of witnesses that seen it, ’n they’ll all tell you exactly what happened.”

  “Were all the witnesses Chinamen? I mean, I don’t have anythin’ against Celestials, you understand, but seems like the court pays more attention to white men.”

  “They was two white men and one white woman there,” Elmer said.

  The sheriff smiled. “If they verify your story, there won’t be any need for a hearing. If you’re still here tomorrow, come on back and I’ll have the reward money for you.”

  He walked back to An Lee’s Restaurant with Elmer and Wang, where all the Chinese and the three Americans gave eyewitness testimony that validated Elmer’s story. Satisfied, he returned to his office.

  Elmer turned to Wang. “Well, what do you say we finish our meal?”

  They started toward their original table, but Han Sing waved his hand and shook his head. “You no go to that table. You come to this table.” He escorted them to a table in the back corner of the room where red and yellow silk hung from the wall. The entire table was covered with food and wine, and it was being served, not on plain white plates, but decorative blue and white china. The table was being served by two young and exquisitely beautiful Chinese women.

  One of them smiled at Elmer, put her hand on his cheek, and spoke to him in Chinese.

  “Wang, I only know a little of your lingo,” Elmer said. “I don’t have any idee what she just said.”

  “She wanted to know if you are too old.” Wang smiled, shocking Elmer, who had never seen him do that before.

  Elmer frowned. “Too old for what?”

  “Too old,” Wang repeated inscrutably.

  But it wasn’t all that inscrutable. Elmer knew exactly what he was talking about. “No,” he replied with a broad grin. “I ain’t too old at all.”

  Wang nodded. “Let us enjoy our evening.”

  “Oh, I think I will.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The bathing rooms of the InterOcean Hotel were at the end of the hallway. Well equipped, they had a tank in which the water could be heated by a kerosene flame. A pipe ran directly from the tank to the large, claw-foot tub, where it was controlled by a faucet handle. Another pipe allowed cold water into the tub to ameliorate the hot water.

  Duff took his bath first, then rapped on the door to Hanson’s room as he passed by. The Englishman opened the door.

  “I’m out,” Duff said. “Let me know when you’re
ready, and we’ll go to the Cheyenne Club to eat.”

  Half an hour later, Hanson was out of the tub, dressed, and tying his shoes when he heard someone at the door. “I’ll be out of here in just a moment, Duff.”

  The door opened and two men came in. Both were carrying guns.

  “You aren’t Duff.” Despite the fact that they were carrying guns, there was no hint of fear in Hanson’s voice.

  By coincidence, Duff had come out of his room at the precise moment the two men had gone into the bathing room. He pulled his pistol and moved quickly down the hallway. Through the door, he could hear the conversation taking place inside.

  “You got the money on you?” one of the men asked roughly.

  “What money would that be?”

  “Don’t play dumb with us, mister. We know that you put thirty thousand dollars in the bank in Chugwater, and you didn’t spend all of it on them cows you put in the holding pen today.”

  “My word. You are the men we saw standing at the gate, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, we was there. Now, where is the money?”

  “You didn’t expect me to bring the money into the bathing room, did you? It is in my room.”

  The man waved his gun. “Then let’s go get it.”

  “Why should I?”

  “What do you mean, why should you? ’Cause we’ll kill you if you don’t, that’s why.”

  “Let me tell you how I view this situation, gentlemen. And, I must say, that I am using the term gentlemen in its widest application, for you two are certainly not gentlemen in any sense of the word. If I don’t give you the money, you will kill me. But, if I do give you the money, you will kill me anyway. I would rather you kill me and not get the money, than kill me and get the money.”

  “What’ll we do now, Crump?” Forney asked.

  “Forney, you are damn dumb. What did you use my name for?”

  “Oh, now you have put yourselves in quite a conundrum, haven’t you?” Hanson said. “I know your names, which I will, of course, supply to the constabulary.”

  “What the hell is he talkin’ about? Why don’t he talk English?” Forney asked in frustration.

  “Let me think, let me think!” Crump said.

  “Yes, Mr. Forney. Let him think. You must know how difficult that is for him.”

  “Shut up! Just shut up!” Crump shouted.

  Hanson kept talking. “May I offer a suggestion? Suppose I give each of you fifty dollars apiece. We can say it is for providing me with an exciting, Wild West experience. There would be no need for me to inform the constabulary and no one will be hurt.”

  “Why the hell should we settle for fifty, when we can have all of it?” Crump asked.

  At that moment, Duff jerked the door open. “Because you won’t get any of it and you might find the alternative quite unsatisfactory.”

  Gasping, the two men whirled around to see a pistol pointed at them.

  “Indeed you might,” Hanson said, and hearing the hammer being drawn back on a pistol behind them, Crump and Forney turned to see that he, too, was holding a gun.

  “Where did you get that gun?” Crump asked.

  “Oh, do you like it? It is a Webley and Scott forty-five-caliber pistol that I picked up in the Gun Quarter in Birmingham, England. Duff, I believe you are familiar with that district.”

  “I am indeed,” Duff replied, smiling broadly.

  “Are you two men crazy? Or, are all foreigners like that?” Forney asked in frustration.

  “I’m quite sane,” Duff said. “But Mr. Hanson is an Englishman. And Englishmen are quite mad. All of them.”

  Hanson grinned slyly. “He’s quite right, you know. Englishmen are mad.”

  “Cal, what I think they want to know is, where did you get the gun at this moment?”

  “Oh, yes, of course, they would be curious about that, wouldn’t they? It was right here under this towel.” Hanson patted the towel he’d used after his bath. “Along with my money belt.”

  “Uh, that offer for fifty dollars apiece. Does it still stand?” Crump asked.

  “Surely you jest,” Hanson said.

  “What is it I do?”

  Hanson looked at the two men and sighed. “I will renew the offer, but with a codicil.”

  Forney looked at his partner in confusion and Crump asked, “With a what?”

  “A condition,” Hanson explained. “I will give each of you fifty dollars on the condition that you empty your guns and leave this hotel.”

  “And you ain’t goin’ to tell the sheriff nothin’?”

  “I’ll say nothing about our arrangement.”

  “All right. Yeah, we’ll do it,” Crump said.

  Hanson gave each of them a fifty-dollar bill. “We plan to take our dinner at the . . . what was the name of that establishment, Duff ?”

  “The Cheyenne Club,” Duff said.

  “Yes, the Cheyenne Club. I would suggest you not go there to spend your money.”

  “Don’t worry. There ain’t no way we’re goin’ to go to a fancy place like that,” Crump said.

  Duff had one more condition. “Oh, Mr. Crump and Mr. Forney—”

  “How did you know our names?” Crump interrupted.

  “I heard you through the door. You called each other by name.”

  “That’s right, Crump. We did,” Forney said.

  “Crump and Forney, disabuse yourselves of any idea that you might try this again. Next time, we will shoot you dead.”

  Crump looked at Hansen.

  “You had better listen to him. He is a Scotsman, and they have been known to kill just for the pleasure of it.”

  “Don’t worry, we ain’t goin’ to try this again,” Crump said. “Come on, Forney. Let’s go get drunk.”

  The two men took their money, then moved quickly through the hallway to the stairs. Their feet drummed loudly on the stairs as they hurried down.

  Duff and Hanson looked at each other, then laughed.

  Shumla, Texas

  Jaco had taken over a table in the Red Dog Saloon, and word went out that he was putting together a gang of men for what promised to be a very profitable operation for all concerned. Putt and Dingo were his top recruiters, and they had spread out over all of West Texas and East New Mexico to find men who were suitable for the operation.

  Almost every day someone new would come into the saloon, then stand at the bar looking around nervously, trying to determine who it was that they were supposed to meet. It wasn’t hard for Jaco to pick such a person out. He knew they were there to see him, but part of his testing was to see if they had enough confidence to come to him first.

  As he sat at his table, someone came into the saloon who didn’t have to be told who Jaco was. He knew Jaco, and Jaco knew him. He was Lou Miller, the trusty who had helped Jaco escape.

  Miller quickly saw Jaco and he marched toward him. The expression on his face was one of anger. “You didn’t meet me in Seven Rivers.”

  “I couldn’t meet you there. I had to get out of New Mexico as fast as I could. I figured we’d meet up later, if not in Seven Rivers, then some‘ers else.” Jaco smiled. “And here we are, meetin’ just like we planned.”

  “No, this here ain’t at all the way we planned. The plan we had was that we would meet in Seven Rivers, ’n you would give me a thousand dollars. This ain’t Seven Rivers, but if you give me the thousand dollars, I can forget that you wasn’t there.”

  “I ain’t got a thousand dollars,” Jaco said.

  “Get if from your stash.”

  “I ain’t got no stash, neither.”

  “Then you lied to me, didn’t you?”

  “Would you have helped me escape if I hadn’t told you that?”

  “Hell no, I wouldn’t have.”

  “Well, then, that’s why I lied. But don’t worry, I can make it up to you. I’m puttin’ together a gang. You can join the gang, if you want to. Do that, ’n you’ll have yourself a thousand dollars sooner ’n you think.”
<
br />   Miller smiled. “Oh, I’ll have more ’n that, soon enough. You see, they’s a twenty-five-hunnert-dollar reward for you ’n another twenty-five hunnert for Blue Putt. I done tole’ the Shumla marshal about it. He didn’t even know there was a reward out for you ’n Putt. But he knows now. He ’n his deputy is waitin’ right outside. Soon as I give ’em the word, they’re goin’ come in here, arrest you, then inform the sheriff back in New Mexico that you two has been caught. That’s when I’ll get my money.”

  “You go ahead ’n tell ’em I’m here,” Jaco said. “He ain’t goin’ to do nothin’ to me.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Miller said.

  Jaco waited until Miller turned to go back outside. As soon as his former fellow inmate presented his back, Jaco pulled his gun and shot him.

  “Here! What’s goin’ on in here?” the city marshal shouted as he and his deputy dashed into the saloon with their guns drawn.

  Jaco was waiting for them. He shot them down, killing both.

  Two other men and four women, including Sherazade, were in the saloon.

  “My, oh, my,” she said. “You have had a busy day, haven’t you?”

  Jaco walked over to the two bodies, then reached down and removed their badges. He took the badges down to the two men standing at the other end of the bar. “Tell me, Puke, how would you like to be the new city marshal?”

  The man’s actual name was Poke Cage, though he had long ago picked up the sobriquet Puke.

  “Yeah,” Puke said. “I’d like that.”

  “You can be the deputy,” Jaco said to the other man. “You two will answer to me.”

  “What about the mayor?” Puke asked.

  “We don’t have a mayor.”

  “Sure we do, it’s—”

  Jaco held up his hand to stop Puke in mid-sentence. “Wait here. I’ll be back.”

  Ned Urban, the mayor of Shumla, was sitting at a workbench in his hat shop, blocking a hat. He was the only one in the store when Jaco stepped in.

  “What can I do for you?” Urban asked, looking up with the practiced smile by which he greeted all his customers. When he saw that Jaco was pointing a pistol at him, the smile left his face. “What is this? A robbery? You must know that I don’t keep very much money in my shop.”