Snake River Slaughter

by William W. Johnstone

  Chapter Twenty-three

  “That’s him,” Scraggs said to Clay Sherman, pointing to Matt as he left the saloon. “That’s the son of a bitch that kilt Poke.”

  Scraggs and Clay were standing at the front window in the lobby of the Del Rey Hotel.

  Sherman stepped up closer to the window to look at the man Scraggs had pointed out.

  “So, that’s the famous Matt Jensen, is it?” Sherman asked.

  “Yeah. I don’t mind tellin’ you, Colonel. He worries me,” Scraggs said.

  “He’s only one man,” Sherman said.

  “Yeah, well, he was only one man in the saloon too,” Scraggs said.

  Sherman made a tsking sound as he shook his head, slowly. “You know, Scraggs, if I were you, I don’t think I would be all that anxious to tell how one man faced down four of you.”

  “I told you how it happened. There weren’t none of us in position to get to our guns. He had the drop on us.”

  “Oh? He had his gun in his hand when he braced the four of you?”

  “Well, no, not exactly,” Scraggs said. “But it was near ’bout the same thing, I mean what with him standin’ there where he could get to his gun, and us sittin’ where we couldn’t. And then, when I stuck my head back in, well, he did have the gun in his hand. Almost like he know’d I was goin’ to stick my head back in like I done.”

  “And here I thought I had rounded up the finest men in the territory to be members of the posse,” Sherman said. “Maybe I need to raise the standards for recruiting.”

  “Here, now, Colonel, you got no call to say somethin’ like that,” Scraggs complained. “I told you how it happened. When it comes down to it, you know you can depend on me and ever’ one else in the posse.”

  “I hope so, Scraggs,” Sherman said. “We’re sort of in a poker game here. And it’s a high stakes poker game.”

  “He went into the café,” Scraggs said.

  “It’s about noon, isn’t it?” Sherman asked.

  Scraggs looked over toward the front desk of the hotel and saw a clock hanging on the wall behind the desk.

  “It lacks five minutes of twelve,” Scraggs said.

  “I think I’ll drop in over at the Railroad Café and have some lunch,” Sherman said.

  “Want me to come with you?” Scraggs asked.

  “No,” Sherman said resolutely as he headed for the door.

  When Matt stepped into the restaurant he saw that Kitty had already taken a table near the back.

  “I’ll be right with you, sir,” a waiter said as he started toward a table carrying an order.

  “I’ll be joining Mrs. Wellington,” Matt said, pointing toward Kitty.

  “Very good, sir.”

  Matt sat at the table across from Kitty, and she greeted him with a smile.

  “Did you have a pleasant morning?” she asked.

  “Made some new friends,” Matt said. He chuckled. “And probably a few enemies.”

  “Oh? What happened?”

  Matt shook his head. “Nothing to speak of. I trust you got all your womanly things done?”

  “I did. Do you like the color red?”

  “What?” Matt asked, surprised by the question that came out of the blue.

  “I’m having Anna make a dress for my trip to Chicago,” Kitty said. “A red dress. Do you like red?”

  “Red? Yes, I like red.”

  “Are you sure? Because it isn’t too late, you know. She could also do it in either white or blue.”

  Matt chuckled. “Katherine, you are a beautiful woman,” he said. “And you would be beautiful no matter what color dress you wear.”

  “You’re just being nice.”

  “No, I’m being truthful.”

  “Then, I’ll stick with red,” Kitty said. “Have you ever been to Chicago? I’ve never been there but…”

  Kitty waxed on about Chicago but it faded into the background when Matt saw someone come into the café. He was a tall, rather impressive looking man with a closely cropped, graying moustache and brindled hair. He was wearing the same uniform as the men had been wearing in the Sand Spur, but this man was alone, and he carried himself with a degree of self-confidence, almost arrogance, that made Matt think it might be the head of the Auxiliary Peace Officers.

  “…sailing on Lake Michigan. Don’t you think so?” Kitty said.

  “I’m sorry, what?” Matt asked.

  “Matthew Jensen, you didn’t hear a word I said, did you?” Kitty asked, petulantly.

  “You’re looking forward to going to Chicago,” Matt said, taking a stab.

  “Yes. I think it will be a wonderful trip.”

  “I’m looking forward to it as well,” Matt said. He looked again toward the recent arrival, who was now being seated at his table.

  “Matt, what has your attention?”

  “That man over there,” Matt said, pointing toward Sherman. “He may be trouble for us.”

  Kitty looked over as well.

  “How can he be trouble? He’s wearing a badge. He’s a lawman.”

  Matt shook his head. “No,” he said. “He’s not any kind of lawman you’ve ever known before. He’s with the Idaho Auxiliary Peace Officers’ Posse. In fact, unless I miss my guess, he is Colonel Clay Sherman, the head of the posse.”

  “The Auxiliary Peace Officers’ Posse? Yes, I have heard of them. Isn’t that the group that they say Poke Terrell once belonged to?”

  “Yes,” Matt said.

  “Well, they can’t be all bad. I mean, from what I’ve heard, they kicked him out of the organization. And we both know what a despicable person Terrell was.”

  “Yes, I suppose that is true,” Matt said.

  “I wonder what he is doing here, in Medbury?” Kitty asked.

  “I’m wondering the same thing.”

  Matt considered going over to Sherman’s table and asking that very question, but he feared that doing so might bring about some sort of confrontation. He didn’t want to start anything here in the restaurant, and he for sure didn’t want to do it in front of Kitty. So he did nothing.

  When he and Kitty finished their lunch several minutes later he glanced over toward Sherman, who, he saw, was looking directly at him. Sherman nodded, and Matt returned the nod.

  The Railroad Café was appropriately named because it stood directly across from the depot, so it was a short walk across the street for them to take care of ordering the cars.

  “Hello, Mr. Montgomery,” Kitty said, greeting the dispatcher. “I’m going to need to order some cars for a shipment to Chicago.”

  “All the way to Chicago, huh? That’s a long trip.”

  “I know. And a profitable one too, I hope.”

  “How many cars will you need?” Montgomery asked.

  “I’m going to need twenty-five,” Kitty said.

  “Twenty-five cars?” the dispatcher responded in surprise. He gave a low whistle. “That’s a lot of cars.”

  “I suppose it is.”

  “In fact, that’s an entire train.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “No, it’s not going to be a problem,” Montgomery said. “But it’s going to be pretty expensive. It’s going to cost you a hundred dollars per car and five hundred dollars for the engine.”

  “Oh, I have to pay for the engine too?” Kitty asked. “I didn’t know I had to pay for the engine. Isn’t that a regular part of the train?”

  “Yes ma’am, it is if you just put three or four cars on where there’s other payin’ freight as well. But when you got that many cars, you’ll have to have a dedicated engine,” the dispatcher said. “And when that happens, you have an entire train to yourself, which means you’ll have to pay extra for the engine.”

  “Oh,” Kitty said.

  “Will that be a problem? I mean, if it is, maybe we can work something else out by, say, splitting up your shipment and putting no more than three cars on per train.”

  Kitty paused for a moment, then sighed bef
ore she answered. “No,” she said. “That won’t do. I’m afraid I am going to have to have the entire shipment go as one. So schedule the train for me. How soon can we have the engine and cars here?”

  “How soon do you want them?”

  “I’d like them as soon as possible,” Kitty said.

  The dispatcher moved some more papers around, checking inventory figures, then he nodded.

  “We can have the cars and the engine here within three days,” the dispatcher said. “Will that be soon enough for you?”

  “Yes, that will be fine,” Kitty said.

  “All right. The train will probably get in sometime in the middle of the afternoon, on Wednesday. I can have it set on a side track, all ready for you on Thursday.”

  “How soon can we leave after it is loaded?”

  “Very soon afterward, I would think, but I’ll have to work out the track schedule,” Montgomery said. He chuckled. “We wouldn’t want your train runnin’ into another one now, would we?”

  Kitty smiled. “No, that wouldn’t be good.”

  “I’ll have the track schedule all worked out for you by Thursday. I expect you’ll be able to leave pretty soon after you are loaded. The engineer will have his orders by then, and he’ll know when to put aside to let the varnish have the high iron.”

  “The varnish?” Kitty asked.

  “The passenger trains,” the dispatcher replied. “They own the high iron. That means, they have the right of way on the through tracks. Freight trains are required to pull over and wait until they pass.”

  “I see.”

  “Well, you can understand, I’m sure,” Montgomery said. “Say if you were on a passenger train going to Chicago, you wouldn’t want to have to shift off the track to let every freight train pass now, would you?”

  “No, I wouldn’t think so. Oh, and I am going to Chicago,” she added excitedly.

  “When?”

  “Why, Thursday, of course. I’m going on this train.”

  “Mrs. Wellington, there are no provisions for passengers on this train,” Montgomery said.

  “Well, can’t you make provisions?”

  “What you are asking for is a private car attached to the train.”

  “Can you order one of those?”

  “Yes, but it’s going to cost you as much as the engine.”

  “Another five hundred dollars?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “So, now we are talking about thirty-five hundred dollars.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I’m afraid so,” Montgomery said.

  “I’m in the wrong business,” Kitty said. “I should own a railroad instead of horses.”

  Montgomery laughed. “Railroads are the transportation of the future,” he said.

  “All right, order the private car,” Kitty said.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Can we get it as quickly as we can the stock cars?”

  “Yes, ma’am, no problem.”

  “Thank you very much, Mr. Montgomery. You’ve been very helpful,” Kitty said.

  “I am glad to be of service, Mrs. Wellington. I’ll draw up the contract and routing orders,” the dispatcher said.

  While the dispatcher pulled out the necessary forms and began filling them out, Kitty walked over to look out over the depot platform. Matt, who had taken no part in the business negotiations, was already standing by the window. A passenger train was due shortly, and the platform was filled with people. Some were departing passengers, and a few were waiting to meet arriving passengers. But most of the people milling about on the platform were just citizens of the town to whom the arrival and departure of the trains was an exciting event. Matt had noticed also that, scattered through the crowd, were several men wearing the dark blue denim trousers, light gray shirt, and star of the Auxiliary Peace Officers’ Posse.

  He sensed Kitty coming up to stand beside him.

  “Did you get all business taken care of?” Matt asked.

  “Yes, I guess so,” Kitty replied. There was a note of concern to the tone of her voice.

  “What is it, Kitty?” Matt asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “Matt, this deal has got to go through,” she said. “I’ve already borrowed as much money as I can borrow, and I am putting every penny I have left into it. If something goes wrong, I’ll be ruined.”

  Matt chuckled. “Why, Katherine, considering your background, there are already people who would call you a ruined woman,” he said. “So how bad could that be?”

  For just a second Kitty was startled by Matt’s response, then she saw the humor of it, and she laughed out loud.

  “You’re right,” she said. “In for a penny, in for a pound.”

  “All you have to do is get your horses to Chicago, and you’ll have enough money to pay off all your debts, with enough left over to carry forward. Am I right?”

  “Yes,” she said. “All I have to do is get my horses to Chicago.”

  “Then you don’t have a problem,” Matt said. “I promise you, Kitty, we will get your horses to Chicago.”

  Kitty took Matt’s arm in her hands, then leaned into him. “Thank you, Matt. You don’t know how important that reassurance is to me.”

  “I have an idea of something we might do when we get to Chicago,” Matt said.

  “What is that?”

  “When we get to Chicago, how would you like it if we were to go sailing on Lake Michigan?”

  “What?” Kitty laughed, then she hit Matt on the arm. “You were listening, weren’t you?”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Back at Coventry on the Snake, even as Kitty and Matt were making arrangements for the stock cars, Tyrone Canfield had Prew and the other riders rounding up the saddle horses that were to be shipped out. Kitty had asked that they gather them into one holding field so it would be easy to move them when the time came.

  “We’ll put them in the north field. Castle Creek runs through that, so they will have plenty of water,” Tyrone said.

  “How long we goin’ to keep ’em there?” Prew asked.

  “As long as it takes. Which is until we move them down to the rail head,” Tyrone answered.

  “The reason I ask is, there’s good grass in that field, but when you consider there’s goin’ to be five hunnert horses there.”

  “I think there will be enough grass to last them three or four days, anyway,” Tyrone said. “And if we have to, we’ll bring in some hay just to stretch it out.”

  “Yeah, I hadn’t thought of that,” Prew said. He chuckled. “I reckon that’s why you’re the foreman.”

  “You got that right, sonny, and don’t you forget it,” Tyrone said. “All right boys, let’s go round up some horses.”

  Tyrone, Prew, Jake, Crack, and four other spent the morning rounding up the horses. The cavalry had purchased Arabian horses, selecting that particular breed because they were known for their courage, intelligence, disposition, and endurance. It fit the army requirements perfectly, that they could run at a gallop, or trot for miles without stopping. Also, because the army had promised a bonus if all the horses would be the same color, Kitty had given specific instructions to round up only chestnuts.

  It took from early morning until midafternoon before all the selected horses were cut from the herd, then moved into the smaller field where they would be held until they were shipped.

  “You fellas don’t know it yet, but you’re all joinin’ the army,” Prew said to the horses, laughing as they were moved into the field. “Yes, sir, no more wanderin’ around free as the breeze. From now on you’ll have to get up early in the mornin’, work all day and listen to bugles and the such.”

  “Hey, the cavalry ain’t a bad life for horses,” Jake said. “Hell, I was in the cavalry. The horses has it better than the privates. I mucked out their stalls, fed them, rubbed them down. Didn’t no horse ever do that for me.”

  The others laughed as the last of the horses were put into the field.

  “Did
you get a count, Crack?” Tyrone asked.

  “Yeah,” Crack answered. “I counted five hundred and twenty-three.”

  “That’s good,” Tyrone said. “All right, boys, let’s get this fence up and stretched across the opening, here.”

  For the next hour, the men worked at constructing a fence that stretched some fifty yards across the south end of the field, thus closing off the field to keep the horses put.

  When Kitty and Matt returned from their trip into town they rode out to the field where the horses had been gathered, arriving just as the last part of the fence was finished, completing the enclosure. Seeing his boss, Tyrone rode over to her.

  “How do they look?” Tyrone asked.

  “They are beautiful,” Kitty said. “And it looks like they all match.”

  “I tell you the truth, Mrs. Wellington, they are near ’bout all as alike as peas in a pod,” Tyrone said. “But you are right. They are a good looking bunch of horses. I bet you hate to sell them off.”

  Kitty laughed and held up her hand. “Well, let’s not go that far with it,” she said. “I don’t have any choice. I have to sell them off.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I know,” Tyrone said. “But don’t it make you feel good to know that you got ’em right here, ready to go?”

  “It makes me feel very good,” Kitty replied. “You and the others did a really good job. And when you get back up to the house, I’ve got something that will show my appreciation.”

  “Now, Mrs. Wellington, you don’t have to do nothin’ to show your appreciation,” Tyrone said. “You are real easy to work for, and the boys and me are glad to be here. And roundin’ up these horses? Well, that was our job, that’s all.”

  “Then let’s just say we’ll be celebrating the fact that the horses will be sold soon, and there will be enough money to keep you and all the others working here.”

  “Yes’m, well, keepin’ a job, now, that is somethin’ worth celebratin’.”

  Even before the riders returned to the compound they could smell the rich, enticing aroma of cooking meat. Then, when they rode up the bunkhouse they saw, on the lawn between the bunkhouse and the big house, a huge haunch of beef on a spit, glistening a deep brown as the cook turned it slowly over an open fire.