Ten Guns from Texas

by William W. Johnstone

  “I wouldn’t worry about that,” Duff said. “Elmer tells me that your governor is a good man. It has always been my observation that among good men, what is right to do takes precedence over what is legal to do. I think he will listen to our cause.”

  Swinging in to the saddle, Duff and Elmer tossed a wave toward Wang and Bellefontaine, then rode out.

  Along the Salcedo Road

  Jaco and Dawson were more than halfway to Austin when Jaco saw two boulders, each of them large enough to offer concealment for a person. What made it better was that the rocks would also provide cover from any return fire . . . and the best part of all was the fact that the rocks were on opposite sides of the road and separated by some thirty yards. It was an ideal situation for getting his quarry in cross fire without any danger of being in each other’s field of fire. It could not have been a better place for an ambush if Jaco had set about building it himself.

  He pointed to one of the rocks. “I’ll be waiting at this rock”—he pointed at one across the road—“and you’ll be waiting at that one. When they get between us, we’ll have ’em in a cross fire. You’ll be behind and I’ll be in front.”

  “What will be the signal to shoot?” Dawkins asked.

  Jaco chuckled. “The signal to shoot will be me shooting. I’ll open fire. Since you’ll be behind them they can’t turn and run away from us. Make sure when you’re shooting, though, that you are shooting in a direction that’s away from me.”

  “You goin’ to shoot at MacCallister first?”

  “Damn right I am. He kilt two of my brothers. I’m goin’ to take a lot of pleasure in killin’ him.”

  * * *

  Just about halfway to Austin, a pistol cracked and a bullet whizzed by Duff, removing his hat and coming so close to the top of his head that it fluffed his hair. “Elmer, get down!”

  The shout wasn’t necessary. Elmer had leaped from his horse as quickly as Duff.

  Duff pulled his rifle from the saddle sheath and slapped Sky on the flank to get him out of the line of fire. Elmer did the same thing, and the two men darted across the road, seeking out the protection of a shallow drainage ditch rimmed with a low-lying line of rocks that ran parallel with the road. A second shot chased them, hitting the rocks, then careening off with a loud scream.

  “Do you see the shooter?” Elmer asked.

  “I’ve nae yet seen him.” Duff wriggled his body to the end of the little bank of rocks, then peered around cautiously. Though he couldn’t see anybody, he did see a little puff of smoke drifting north on a hot breath of air, and realized that the shooter must be somewhat to the south.

  Moving his eyes in that direction, he saw the tip of a hat rising slowly above the rocks. He watched as the hat began to move up. Jacking a round into the chamber of the Winchester, he waited. When enough of the hat was visible to provide a good target, he aimed and fired. The hat sailed away.

  “Ha! That’s the oldest trick in the book,” a voice called. “I had my hat on the end of a stick.”

  At the sound of the voice, Duff fired again. His bullet sent chips of rock flying and he was rewarded with a yelp of pain.

  “Damn it! You sprayed rock into my face!” the shooter said.

  “Did I now? And here ’twas my intention to shoot you between the eyes,” Duff replied.

  “Hold it!” a voice suddenly yelled from behind Duff.

  He turned quickly and saw someone standing behind Elmer, holding a gun on him.

  “Jaco, I’ve got ’em!” the man yelled. “You can come on over.”

  “Good job, Dawkins.” Jaco stood up from his position behind a rock about thirty yards away from Duff. Both Jaco and Dawkins were wearing blue kerchiefs.

  “Get up, you two,” Dawkins said.

  Duff and Elmer got up, then stepped out into the middle of the road. Duff still clutched his rifle, but he was holding it with one hand down by his side.

  “Did I hear him call you Jaco?” Duff asked.

  Jaco smiled, showing yellowed teeth. “Yeah. You remember the name, I see.”

  “A. M. Jaco,” Duff said. “He was with the Kingdom Come Gang.”

  “That’s right. A.M. was my brother.”

  “And here you are with the Fence Busters.”

  “Yeah,” Jaco said with a chuckle. “What gived you the notion?”

  “I would say ’twas the blue bandana that gave me the clue.”

  Jaco smirked. “Ain’t you the smart one, though?”

  “Your brother was with the Kingdom Come Gang and you are with the Fence Busters. Seems neither one of you have enough intestinal fortitude to stand on your own,” Duff said.

  “Intestinal fortitude? What does that mean?” Jaco asked.

  “You have to get used to Duff. Him bein’ a foreigner ’n all, he sometimes talks just real fancy like that,” Elmer said. “But what it means is, you are a yeller-bellied coward.”

  “We’ll see who the coward is,” Jaco said. “I was just goin’ to shoot you down from behind that rock, but as it turns out, this is better. I want you to know that I’m a-killin’ you on account of you kilt my two brothers.”

  Duff frowned. “Your two brothers? I am aware of having killed only one person named Jaco.”

  “Yeah? Well, what about a feller by the name of Pollard?”

  “Pollard?”

  “Yes, Deekus Pollard. I got a telegram from a friend of my brother, a man by the name of Abe Tremble, ’n he told me that you are the one that kilt Deke. So that makes two of my brothers you kilt.”

  “Yes, Deekus Pollard, the philosopher,” Duff said easily.

  “The what?”

  “Never mind. You wouldn’t understand. By the way, in case you are interested, I also killed your brother’s friend, Tremble.”

  “I don’t care none about Tremble. I never actual met him. Just got the telegram from him. When you get to hell, you can tell A.M. that you was kilt by his brother, Pete. I think that’ll give him some comfort, for all that he’s burnin’ in hell and ever’thing now.” Jaco chuckled. “It’s likely to make Deke jealous, though, that it was me that kilt you ’n not him.”

  Because Dawkins had his gun pointed at Elmer, Jaco relaxed his vigilance to the point that his pistol was hanging loosely by his side as he started toward the men from Sky Meadow.

  From behind him, Duff heard a strange grunt and knew without being told that Elmer had just gained advantage over Dawkins.

  It took Jaco a split second to realize that he no longer held the advantage. He tried to bring his pistol up to firing position, but he was too late. With a shell already in the chamber of the rifle, and the rifle still cocked, Duff didn’t even have to bring it up. He fired it from the waist, putting the bullet exactly where he had intended to put the first one . . . right between Jaco’s eyes.

  Jacking another round into the chamber even as he spun around, he saw that a second shot wasn’t needed. Elmer had smashed his elbow into Dawkins’s face, then, grabbing him, broke his neck with one, quick jerk. Dawkins lay on the ground as dead as Jaco.

  “You all right?” Duff asked.

  “Right as rain,” Elmer replied with a smile.

  “’Twould appear that someone learned that we were going to see the governor, and they dinnae approve of the idea,” Duff said.

  “I wonder how they found out.” Elmer said.

  “My guess is that they had a spy in the meeting yesterday,” Duff said.

  “Yeah, that would be my guess, as well. And I’d bet a dollar to a nickel that I know who it was.”

  “Aye, ’tis thinkin’ I am that you would be right, too.”

  “What do you think we should do with the bodies?” Elmer asked.

  “I’d say just leave them here. I want to get on in to see the governor, and I’ve nae wish to waste time dealing with the brigands.”

  A whistle called Sky and Elmer’s horses back. The two men swung into the saddles and continued their trip.

  Behind them, the buzzards were j
ust beginning to circle.

  Austin

  Reaching the town, Duff and Elmer went straight to the capitol building, and finding the reception room of the governor’s office, they approached the appointment secretary. The rather small man with a pencil-thin mustache and slicked-back hair was wearing rimless glasses.

  “Yes, how may I help you gentlemen?”

  “We’re here to see the governor,” Duff said.

  “And you are?”

  “Duff MacCallister and Elmer Gleason.”

  The governor’s secretary made a show of checking a book. “Oh, my. I don’t seem to see either name in the appointments book.”

  “I wouldn’t think you would see it, seein’ as how we don’t have no appointment,” Elmer said.

  “Oh, well, gentlemen, surely you understand that the governor is much too busy a man to see just anyone off the street. Leave your names with me, and I will submit them for consideration.”

  “That won’t do. We need to see him now. Tell him that Elmer Gleason is here and wants to see him. Tell him that he might remember me from Jenkins’ Ferry.”

  The secretary laughed a rather condescending laugh. “Sir, just because you may have met the governor while on a ferry, I hardly think that would justify interrupting his busy day to meet with you. After all, he is recognized everywhere he goes. I’ve no doubt but that he exchanged some pleasantries with you. But really, I must ask you to go now.”

  “We ain’t leavin’ till we see the governor,” Elmer said.

  “If you gentlemen don’t leave immediately, I will call security, and you will be forced to leave.”

  Elmer pulled his pistol, pointed it at the supercilious official, then pulled back the hammer. The secretary’s eyes opened wide in fear as he heard the ominous metallic click of the pistol being cocked.

  “Tell him that Elmer Gleason from Jenkins’ Ferry wants to talk to him.”

  “J-J-Jenkins’ Ferry,” the clerk repeated nervously.

  Chapter Sixteen

  When the frightened secretary stepped into the inner office, the governor looked up from behind his desk.

  “Yes, Mr. Fitzhugh, what is—Good heavens, man, you look as if you have seen a ghost. What is wrong?”

  “There are two men here, demanding to see you,” the secretary said. “When I told them that you saw no one without an appointment, one of them pulled a gun and pointed it at me.”

  “What? Who are they? What do they want?”

  “I don’t know what they want, sir, but one of them gave me his name. I believe he said it was Elmer Jamison. He said you would remember him.”

  Governor Ireland shook his head. “No, the name means nothing to me.”

  “He said I should tell you about Jenkins’ Ferry. I told him that just because there might have been a casual meeting on a ferry that—”

  Suddenly and inexplicably, the governor laughed out loud. “Wait just a minute. You said Jamison, but could his name have been Elmer Gleason?”

  “Gleason, yes, sir. Now that I think about it, I believe Gleason is the name he gave me. What shall I tell him, sir?”

  “You don’t have to tell him anything,” the governor said. “I’ll tell him myself.”

  “Yes, sir,” Fitzhugh replied. “I think perhaps it should come from you.”

  Governor Ireland opened the door and looked into the outer office. When he saw Elmer, a wide smile spread across his face. “Lieutenant Gleason, you old horse thief! Get in here!”

  “Hello, Colonel. I was beginnin’ to think you might not remember me,” Elmer replied.

  “Now how am I going to forget the man that saved my life?”

  “This man saved your life?” the secretary asked in surprise.

  “Yes, Mr. Fitzhugh, at Jenkins’ Ferry. My horse had been killed, and when I looked up, I saw that there were three Yankees coming toward me, thinking, perhaps, that they had a rebel colonel all set up for the slaughter. All my men were in full retreat. I don’t think any of them knew what had happened to me.

  “Then Lieutenant Gleason showed up, spouting off a string of cusswords, most of which I had never even heard before.” The governor paused. “Though I think, somewhere in there, I did hear the words damn no-good Yankees.”

  “That ain’t words, Colonel,” Elmer said. “That’s only one word. Damnnogoodyankees.”

  The governor laughed. “Fortunately, Elmer did more than just curse the Yankees. He also began shooting at them. After he took two of them down, the third one turned and ran. Elmer scooped me up onto the back of his horse and, well . . . as you can see, I’m here today.

  “Elmer, come on in here and bring your friend with you,” the governor said with a wave of his arm.

  The governor’s secretary cleared his throat. “Governor, you have a meeting with the head of the university board at two o’clock.”

  “Cancel it. I’ll see him tomorrow.”

  “But Governor—”

  “I said cancel it, Mr. Fitzhugh.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Who is your friend, Elmer?” The governor led them over to a seating area with a leather sofa and two leather chairs on one side of his office.

  “This is Duff MacCallister,” Elmer replied. “He’s a Scotsman so he don’t talk real good English. I mean, what with his accent ’n all. Now, me, I don’t have no trouble understandin’ ’im on account of ’cause I’m used to it by now. Some folks might have a problem, but iffen you listen real close you can near ’bout always make out what it is he’s a-tryin’ to say.”

  “Governor, ’tis pleased I am to make your acquaintance,” Duff said, speaking in a heavier brogue than normal. “Aye, ’n ’tis a fact that any man who calls himself a friend of Elmer’s can count himself my friend as well.”

  “See what I mean, Colonel? He calls that a brogue. I say it’s a foreign accent that you have to work at to understand.”

  The governor laughed. “I shall make a concerted effort. Now, what brings you here, my friend? What can I do for you?”

  “Colonel, are you aware of a group of no-account polecats that call themselves the Fence Busters?” Elmer asked.

  “Yes, unfortunately, I am quite aware of them.” The governor’s smile left his face. “Have you had a confrontation with them?”

  “Yes, sir, we truly have.” Elmer told about the incident at Slash Bell. He made no mention of the incident that had occurred on the road en route to Austin.

  “The reason we’re here, Governor,” Duff said, “is to ask you to make it a felony to cut the fences.”

  “It’s already a felony to cut the fences on private land,” Governor Ireland said. “It’s only the public land where it’s not against the law, and I’m not sure how we could get around that.”

  “But would you be for considering this?” Duff asked. “The cattlemen have all made agreements with each other to erect fences so their stock doesn’t all get intermingled. When the fences are cut the cattle, which are private property, can wander off. Or, what’s more likely, can be stolen by the same people who have cut the fence. Then, of course, it would be a felony. But even if the cattle aren’t stolen, they could wander off as a result of the fence having been cut. Couldn’t you classify that as reckless disregard of private property?”

  “Whew, I don’t know,” Governor Ireland replied. “It seems to me that might be a bit of a stretch. If such a law is passed and is challenged, I’m not sure that it would hold up in court.”

  “Aye, but there’s a good chance that it would hold up in court. And even if the court overturns the law, the cattlemen will have bought enough time to, perhaps, stop the Fence Busters from stealing any more of their cows.”

  “Colonel, what can we tell the cattlemen back in Merrill Town?” Elmer asked. “Can we tell ’em that you’re goin’ to help ’em out, that you will give ’em a law that says it’s illegal to cut the fences, even on public land?”

  “Do you really think that would help?” Governor Ireland asked.

/>   “Aye, sir, I believe it would,” Duff said. “As it is now, the cattlemen cannae protect their cattle until after the fence is cut and the rustlers start running off their cattle. Only then is it legal to oppose them for cattle rustling, but by that time ’tis often too late.

  “On the other hand, if you would make the cutting o’ the fence illegal in the first place, the cattlemen could defend their cattle before they were put at risk.”

  “You do present a good argument.” Governor Ireland chuckled. “Perhaps if the bill is challenged, you can present the state’s argument before the court. All right. I’ll introduce a bill before the legislature making the cutting of all fences a felony. That will be a political risk but”—he looked at Elmer and smiled again—“a political risk doesn’t compare with the risk this old varmint took when he came galloping in to scoop me up from the ground and save my hide. Consider it done.”

  “Thank you, Colonel,” Elmer said, reaching out to shake the governor’s hand.

  * * *

  During Duff and Elmer’s conversation with the governor a young woman entered the office unannounced. She was quite pretty, of medium height, slender, and with hair the color of burnished copper. Duff had noticed her when she came in, but because she stood silently, he gave no indication that he had seen her.

  “Daddy?” the young woman called out once there was a lag in the conversation.

  “Hello, darlin’. I didn’t see you come in,” Governor Ireland said.

  Duff and Elmer stood when the young woman approached.

  “I wasn’t sure you would be here since Mr. Fitzhugh isn’t at his desk.”

  “I sent him on an errand. Oh, let me introduce these two gentlemen to you. The young, handsome man is Duff MacCallister, and the old, ugly-looking reprobate is Elmer Gleason. Gentlemen, this is my daughter, Rosalie.”

  “Gleason? Daddy isn’t he . . . ?”

  “Yes, darlin’, this is the very man who saved my life during the war.”