The Taylor County War

by Ford Fargo

  Benton threw back his head and his laughter echoed into the night. “You know better than that, Quaid. They’re sheep. Lambs to be sheared. Nothing more.”

  “That’s the difference between you and me, Benton.”

  “Yeah, what’s that?”

  “I still have my honor. You lost yours long ago.”

  “Hell, Quaid. I never had any to begin with.” The man lunged forward, catching Wesley off guard. Benton grabbed his wrist and they struggled for control of the gun.

  Wesley’s finger tightened on the trigger and the Colt fired into the air. Benton raised a knee toward Wesley’s groin, but he was no stranger to a rough and tumble fight and blocked the maneuver by twisting his body to the side.

  Using both hands, Benton flung Wesley’s gun hand as hard as he could, trying to dislodge the Colt. On the third effort, the gun sailed away into the darkness.

  Benton backhanded Wesley across the face.

  Wesley tasted blood and staggered backward, gazing frantically around for the Colt. He swiped the back of his hand across his mouth and stepped forward, swinging a roundhouse right hand.

  Ducking low, Benton avoided the blow and caught Wesley with a wicked uppercut to the stomach.

  Wesley grunted and stepped away. Benton swung again, but Wesley blocked it with an upraised left arm and swung a right that grazed his opponent’s cheek.

  Benton lowered his head and charged. Wesley stepped to the side and caught him with a rabbit punch to the kidney as he rushed past.

  As Benton gasped in pain, Wesley rushed him and planted a left jab directly against his teeth. The man’s head bobbed backward and Wesley pressed his advantage by stomping on Benton’s instep and then head-butting him in the nose.

  Blood gushed and Benton clamped both hands to his face. Wesley kicked him in the stomach and when the man doubled over, he introduced his knee to Benton’s forehead.

  The man dropped like a poleaxed steer.

  A door banged shut at the ranch house and lights began bobbing toward him. Wesley let out a deep breath and rolled Benton over. The man was still breathing, but was bleeding profusely.

  “Who’s the idjit now?” Wesley asked.

  Benton seemed too dazed to bother with a reply.

  Footsteps pounded to a halt and the lantern light revealed Billy Below wearing nothing but his union suit.

  “You caught him? Who was he meeting with?”

  “Rogers.”

  Tobias Breedlove lumbered to a halt and stood for a moment gasping for air. “You mean to tell me Eddie was a spy?”

  “His name ain’t Eddie Benton. It’s Benton Kingsberry.”

  “Killer Kingsberry?” Billy asked.

  “That’s the one. And Rogers is planning a raid.”

  “A raid?” The old man sucked several deep breaths. “Where?”

  “On the T-Bar-B. He intends to burn this place to the ground.”

  Tobias turned to Billy. “Put your britches on and ride to Wolf Creek. Bring the sheriff out here as fast as you can.”

  “Yes sir.” Billy spun on his heel, heading for the bunkhouse.

  “Hey, Billy,” Wesley said.

  The cowboy gazed over his shoulder but didn’t slow his pace. “What?”

  “If someone takes a shot at your posterior, don’t forget to turn the other cheek.”

  Chapter Six

  Sheriff G.W. Satterlee had developed the habit of rising fairly early during his days as a buffalo hunter, so it wasn’t that unusual to find him out and about not long after the sun rose. Today he was on his way to Ma’s Café, next to John Hix’s barber shop, in search of a cup of coffee as the light of a new day filled Wolf Creek’s streets.

  That light revealed a figure running toward him along Fourth Street from the direction of the town marshal’s office. Satterlee paused just outside the café door to see what was going on. A frown creased his forehead as he recognized the man from both his diminutive size and the awkward gait, a result of the recent wound to his hindquarters.

  Billy Below was in a hurry. And every lawman’s instinct in Satterlee’s body told him that meant trouble.

  The presence of Marshal Sam Gardner, who was following Billy at a more deliberate pace, seemed to confirm that.

  Billy winced as he came up to Satterlee and stopped. He put a hand on his aching backside and said, “I sure am glad to see you, Sheriff. Marshal Gardner said you’d probably be here at the café. Mr. Breedlove sent me to fetch you out to the ranch. There’s fixin’ to be plenty of trouble.”

  “Tobias believes that, does he?” Satterlee said.

  “It’s not just a hunch, Sheriff. Ira sent that fella Quaid out there to give us a hand if Rogers tried anything else, and he grabbed himself a spy! Said his name was Benton Kingsberry.”

  Satterlee’s frown deepened. He knew that name, and after a second he recalled where he had seen it. Kingsberry was a known gun for hire and a cold-blooded killer.

  “Kingsberry’s working for Andrew Rogers?”

  “That’s what Quaid said.”

  For the next few minutes, Billy filled the sheriff in on everything Wesley Quaid had discovered. When the cowboy was finished, Satterlee asked, “Just what is it that Tobias Breedlove wants me to do?”

  “Well, he didn’t say exactly, but I figure he’s gonna have a showdown with Rogers, and he wants you to come along so he can make sure he don’t get in trouble with the law. Mr. Breedlove’s one of the old-timers who likes to stomp his own snakes, but he knows we got law and order here in Taylor County now, too.”

  Satterlee grunted. Law and order’s grip on the county was pretty slippery. The old ways could bust loose without much warning, and that might be exactly what happened if Tobias Breedlove confronted Andrew Rogers. Somebody would reach for a gun, and that would be all it took to set things off.

  “All right, we’ll go see if we can straighten this out.” Satterlee tried not to sigh as he thought about the coffee he was going to miss out on. “Sam, you want to come with us?”

  “The T-Bar-B’s not in my jurisdiction,” Gardner pointed out.

  “No, but if an actual range war breaks out between Breedlove and Rogers, it’s bound to spill over into town sooner or later. Then it’ll be your problem. Might be easier to settle it now.”

  “You’re right about that. And I said I’d be with you when you went after that bastard.” Gardner shrugged, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Besides, it might be fun.”

  “I’ll go get my horse,” Satterlee told Billy.

  “I need a fresh mount, too, if you think Mr. Tolliver will loan me one. My nag went lame on the way into town. Reckon I was pushin’ him a mite too hard. All I wound up doin’ was makin’ it take longer to get here.”

  “You said Rogers told Kingsberry he isn’t expecting those gunmen for a few days yet,” Satterlee said. “We ought to have plenty of time.”

  “That’s the way Quaid told it. I didn’t actually hear the conversation myself.”

  As the three men headed for the livery stable, Gardner asked, “Do you think we ought to let Ira know about this, G.W.? He might want to come with us.”

  Satterlee made a face. “At this time of day, Ira Breedlove is holed up in that saloon of his, sleeping off a hard night of drinking and whoring. Besides, he and Tobias haven’t seen eye to eye on anything in years. We’ll leave him be for now. Shouldn’t need much help to handle this.”

  “What is it you’re planning to do?”

  “I’ll pick up Kingsberry and tell Tobias to stay put until I can question him. If Kingsberry is willing to implicate Rogers, we’ll let the law take its course. In fact, depending on what Kingsberry says when we get there, I may go to the Rolling R and take Rogers into custody, too.”

  Billy said, “I don’t reckon that fella Rogers cares overmuch about the law, Sheriff. If you ask me, he thinks he’s above it.”

  “He’ll find out differently,” Satterlee said, grim-faced.

  They had
to pass the school on the way to the livery stable, so Satterlee wasn’t surprised when he spotted Marcus Sublette ahead of them, on his way to his day’s work. Billy saw the schoolmaster, too, and hailed him. Sublette paused, looked at the three men, and waited for them to catch up.

  “There’s gonna be a showdown with Rogers, Mr. Sublette,” Billy informed him. “He’s plannin’ to have his men raid the T-Bar-B again, and this time they’ll burn the place to the ground if we don’t stop ‘em!”

  Sublette looked from Billy to Satterlee and asked, “Is this true, Sheriff?”

  “That’s what I’m on my way to find out,” Satterlee replied. “To tell you the truth, though, I don’t doubt it. From everything I’ve seen of Rogers, he’s capable of it.”

  “If that’s the case, I’d like to come with you.” Sublette’s normally affable features settled into bleak lines. “I haven’t forgotten what happened to Obie Wilkins. I doubt if I ever will.”

  Satterlee wouldn’t have thought to ask for help from a schoolteacher in a matter like this, but he recalled that, from what he’d heard, Sublette had given a good account of himself during that earlier fight with the Rolling R riders.

  “It’s all right with me, but what about your students?”

  “I’ll run in at the school and leave Miss Sloane a note asking her to take care of things until I get back.”

  “Come ahead, then,” Satterlee said.

  A few minutes later, the four men were mounted and heading along North Street. Satterlee’s eyes narrowed as he noticed a cloud of dust hanging over the stockyards next to the railroad station on the eastern edge of town. As the sheriff turned his horse in that direction, Billy Below said, “I thought we was headed for the T-Bar-B.”

  “We are,” Satterlee said. “I want to see what’s going on over at the stockyards first.”

  As they approached, they saw punchers driving cattle into the pens along the railroad tracks. Two men sat off to the side on horseback. Satterlee recognized the older man as Ward Sparkman, owner of the Crown W. The rider next to him was Jake Andrews, Sparkman’s foreman.

  In the past few minutes, as they were getting ready to ride, Satterlee had begun to worry a bit about confronting Andrew Rogers, as it seemed likely he would have to do. If the boss of the Rolling R was importing hired killers like Benton Kingsberry and planning to burn out old Tobias Breedlove, he might not be inclined to give too much respect to the law. Rogers was more likely to listen to reason if he found himself outnumbered. The answer to that dilemma was right in front of them, thought Satterlee.

  “Sheriff, I ain’t sure –” Billy began.

  Satterlee ignored him and raised a hand in greeting to Sparkman and Andrews. He said, “I didn’t know you were bringing in a herd to ship today, Ward.”

  Sparkman sniffed. “Didn’t know I had to have the sheriff’s permission to do that,” he said. He was a crusty old-timer, having been around the area longer than just about anyone else in Wolf Creek.

  “You don’t,” Satterlee said. “You must have started early this morning.”

  “Depends on what you think is early. I’m not one to lay a-bed half the day.”

  “It appears you’re just about finished here,” Satterlee said. “I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you.”

  Sparkman didn’t say anything, just sat there with his hands crossed on his saddle horn and a stony look on his lined and weathered face.

  Satterlee cleared his throat and went on, “You’ve heard about the trouble between the T-Bar-B and the Rolling R, I suppose.”

  “I don’t meddle in other folks’ business,” Sparkman said curtly. His shoulders rose and fell in a tiny shrug. “But I reckon I heard talk about some shootin’. One of John Hartman’s boys got hurt, and another kid was killed.”

  “That’s right. I can’t prove it yet, but I’m pretty sure Andrew Rogers is to blame for that.”

  Billy started to say something, probably an angry claim about how he could damn well prove it because he’d been there, but Satterlee silenced him with a hard look.

  “Now I’ve gotten word that Rogers is going to have his men attack the T-Bar-B and wipe out old Tobias,” Satterlee continued. “I’m fixing to pay a visit to Rogers and let him know that’s not going to happen. They’ve got one of his hired gun-wolves out at the Breedlove place. I’m going to pick him up first, and if he’ll testify against Rogers, I’ll be making an arrest.”

  That made Sparkman’s eyes light up with interest. “You’re going to arrest Rogers?” he said.

  “If I can make a case against him, I sure am.”

  Sparkman rubbed his chin and said, “I wouldn’t mind seein’ that. I never cared much for Tobias Breedlove – that old goat always rubbed me the wrong way – but I got even less use for Rogers.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that,” Satterlee said. “Why don’t you and your boys come with us?”

  Jake Andrews spoke up in his Texas drawl, saying, “I don’t know about this, boss. Seems to me like the sheriff is just fishin’ for a posse. He don’t want to go up against Rogers and his crew by himself.”

  Sam Gardner said, “He’s not by himself. We’re going with him.”

  “That’s right,” Billy said.

  “Justice needs to be done here,” Marcus Sublette added. “Justice for Obie Wilkins.”

  “There’s something else for you to consider, Ward,” Satterlee said. “Rogers told me to my face that he’s going to be the biggest rancher in these parts, whatever it takes, and that means gobbling up all the other spreads. That’s why he’s going after the Breedlove place. But that’s just the start. Feed a range hog and he just wants more and more. If he’s not stopped . . . one of these days he’ll come for the Crown W.”

  A glare as dark as a prairie thunderstorm about to break came over Sparkman’s face. “He’d damned well better not try it. He’ll find that he’s bitten off more trouble than he can swallow.”

  “Why let it come to that point?” Satterlee argued. “Let’s stop him now.”

  One thing about a man like Ward Sparkman: when he made up his mind, he didn’t believe in wasting any time. He turned to Andrews and said, “Jake, I’m goin’ with the sheriff to the Rollin’ R. You round up the boys as soon as they’re finished here and come after us.”

  “If you’re sure, boss,” Andrews said.

  “By God, when was I ever not sure about somethin’ I said!”

  Satterlee reminded them, “We’re going to the T-Bar-B first, then to Rogers’ place.”

  “Fine,” Sparkman said, jerking his head in a nod. “Let’s just get it done.”

  Satterlee turned his horse and heeled it into motion, the others following suit. With their group numbering five now, the men rode out of Wolf Creek.

  ***

  The always-talkative Billy Below used the time it took them to get to the Breedlove ranch to repeat everything that had happened for Marcus Sublette and Ward Sparkman.

  Benton Kingsberry was the key to everything, Satterlee thought as he listened to the cowboy. A hired gun like Kingsberry didn’t ride for the brand; his only real loyalty was to himself and the money he was owed. If he believed that his own freedom was in danger and that there wouldn’t be any more paydays from Andrew Rogers, he was more likely to betray his former employer.

  Satterlee wanted to settle this today, one way or the other. He didn’t like having potential problems hanging over his head. That interfered with enjoying life.

  So did being shot at. They weren’t far from the T-Bar-B headquarters when Satterlee reined to a halt and frowned. He leaned forward a little in the saddle and listened intently as the others came to a stop as well.

  “You hear that?” Satterlee asked after a moment.

  “I do,” Marcus Sublette said. “And I’ve heard something like it before. It sounds like a battle.”

  The schoolteacher was right. Dozens of gunshots were echoing over the Kansas prairie.

  “Those hired guns Rogers sent f
or must’a got here early!” Billy yelped. “They’re hittin’ the ranch now!”

  That was what Satterlee thought, too. It was the only thing that would explain the amount of gunfire they were hearing. He snapped, “Come on!” and dug his heels into his horse’s flanks, sending the animal leaping ahead.

  The five men galloped toward the T-Bar-B, which was only about a mile away. Satterlee would have felt better about charging in like this if he’d had the rest of Ward Sparkman’s crew with him, but he didn’t think they could afford to wait for the Crown W punchers. If they did, Rogers’ men might wipe out Breedlove and his allies before they could get there.

  They came in sight of the ranch house, the bunk house, the barn, and the surrounding corrals. A pall of gun smoke hung around the buildings as men who crouched, knelt, or lay behind every available bit of cover poured lead at the ranch house. Muzzle flame spurted from the house’s windows as the defenders forted up inside returned the fire.

  “Billy, who-all’s in the house?” Satterlee called as he reined in again.

  “The old man, Jimmy Spotted Owl, Wes Quaid, and Sen Yung, I reckon,” Billy replied. “Unless one or more of ‘em got caught outside and gunned down.”

  Satterlee doubted if that were the case. He saw gunfire coming from three different windows in the ranch house. Breedlove, Jimmy, and Quaid would be the ones putting up the fight, he figured, with Sen Yung reloading for them.

  “How many bushwhackers do you make out, Sam?” he asked the marshal.

  Gardner squinted. “Close to twenty, I’d say. Which makes the odds still more than two to one even if we take cards in this game.”

  “Don’t forget my boys will be comin’ along behind us,” Sparkman snapped. “That’ll even up the odds in a hurry.”

  “So we have to keep them from overrunning the house before help gets here,” Satterlee said. He wished he had his old buffalo gun with him. He could have picked off several of the attackers before they realized what was going on.