by Mason, Zack
Because of the layout of the mountains in the surrounding area, if the railroad didn’t pass through Cottonwood, they’d have to make a long detour that would add over a hundred miles of track. They also noticed the proposed track’s path went right through a pass on what was now my ranch.
Outside of the railroad’s knowledge, Doc and his cousin planned for Doc to establish himself in Cottonwood under an assumed name. After enough time had passed to avoid suspicion, Doc would lay claim to my valley. Then, when the railroad arrived, they would charge the railroad company an exorbitant fee to cross the land, but one that was still less than what it would cost to detour. Doc’s cousin’s position on the planning board would allow him to keep the rail steered toward Cottonwood, and help facilitate the payoff to Doc. Then, the two of them would split the proceeds, which would be significant.
By sheer coincidence, Doc had been acting the drunk one day in the saloon, when he saw Pick eyeing an old, worn cowhide map. Pick was going on and on about the map, how he’d bought it from an old trader in the hills, how it was no good, supposed to be for some abandoned mine nearby, but Pick didn’t recognize any of the landmark features portrayed on it. He’d decided it was worthless and come close to throwing it away several times.
Doc had instantly recognized the features on the map as corresponding to landmarks on my ranch. As inconspicuously as possible, he’d paid Pick a half-dollar for the map. Pick paid no attention, hadn’t even noticed the greedy grin peering through the feigned drunken stupor. As far as he was concerned, a drunk and his money were soon parted.
Doc had taken several trips up to the valley to try to find the old mine, and after several months of searching, he’d finally found the site one afternoon.
He’d waited a few more months before he staked his claim to keep from arousing suspicion, and that had been his fatal flaw. Ben and Jessica had moved in and claimed the whole vale for a ranch, railroad pass and mine together. Doc cursed and spit for a full week when he found out — in private, of course — he didn’t want to give his cover away after so much work.
He’d quickly come up with the cattle rustling scheme as a remedy for his problems. He knew none of the other ranchers were exactly thrilled with the idea of Ben sitting on their spare watering hole, so he’d capitalized on that. He’d recruited Rob Murphy to head the cattle rustling ring and used Murphy to do the rest of the recruiting so no one would be able to tie him to it later. He made sure Rob picked reliably corrupt men from each of the three ranches, and then they stole from all three ranches, so suspicion would fall on the newcomer, Ben Talbot. They’d even done things like leaving one of Ben’s branded horses behind after a raid to make him look guilty.
Since the rustlers worked for each of the ranchers, there was never a notable absence of men from any one ranch when a raid occurred. Also, all three ranches were hit equally, so the plan of throwing suspicion on Ben had worked perfectly.
Doc had sent for the Talon boys, but made sure to never meet with them in person. Instead, he’d always used Murphy or Andrews as a go-between. Certain local ranch hands would take turns rustling the cattle and then the Talons would drive it up the trail to sell before anyone could track it. Thus, the guilty hands weren’t gone long enough to be missed and the Talons were ready to sell and make a quick buck. The Talons took a cut off the top and gave the remaining proceeds to Andrews. Andrews would take his percentage and then deposit each man’s cut into his account with the bank.
Doc’s cut was known only to himself, Carlton, and Murphy, but it was considerable. Over the past year and a half, they’d probably gotten away with nearly five thousand head of cattle.
Doc thought the pressure from neighbors would have driven Ben off, but being a Halfbreed, he’d stubbornly stayed on, with Jessica by his side.
One night, John Talon finally caught Ben by himself while Ben was tracking the rustlers. They’d been stealing him blind too, just like the Big Three.
They’d buried Ben in a shallow grave up in the hills.
It had only been a matter of time after that till they’d been able to drive Jessica from her property. After she fled, Doc had waited a little while before claiming the land for himself, again, in an attempt to avoid unnecessary attention.
Then, I showed up and took over where Ben left off. Doc must have almost had a heart attack when he realized who I was.
Just days before my arrival, Doc had sent for Michael “The Ace” Spade, hiring him to remain behind the scenes and enforce Doc’s will from the shadows. Spade was the one who’d shot the cowhand in the back the night before I arrived. I remembered now seeing Spade in the saloon the day of my arrival, but he must have been very good at his job, because I hadn’t seen him since, in spite of the fact that he’d never left town since.
Doc had hoped to be rid of me when I’d stupidly gunned down Tom Logan. He’d almost jumped with glee hearing the news that I was to be hung.
The miraculous dream sequence experienced by all the town council members had caught him completely off guard as it had everyone else, including myself. If it hadn’t been for that intervention by God, I’d be a dead man now and he’d be the very wealthy ruler of that little vale, without anyone else being the wiser.
He’d sent Spade to kill me several times after that, but everything from random circumstances to Elizabeth Miller had gotten in his way.
After Elizabeth partnered up with me, dressed as Will, they’d given up on attacking me directly, not so much because Doc saw any wisdom in that, but more because Spade was simply spooked by me by then. He said I was unkillable. He had apparently been a very superstitious man.
Over the next months, Doc had the Talons and various members of the rustling gang attack my ranch and steal cattle. They were the ones who’d burned down my cabin, of course.
On top of everything else Doc had his fingers in, he was running a blackmail operation in conjunction with Michael Byers, the newspaperman. That was the one feat of this whole operation which made me appreciate the skillful intricacies of deceit Doc knew how to play. How on earth he managed to glean so much dirt on others from his other criminal operations, and then use Byers to blackmail those people, without their suspicions ever coming back to rest on him, I would never figure out.
Even with that scheme, he maintained the same pattern, doing everything through Byers, never acting directly.
It was with the help of Byers that he was able to stir up so much public opinion against me and even make sure I could not find local help for my herd.
Doc and Renee DuBois had been lovers, of which he bragged and she confessed in tears. She’d clenched my pant legs from her knees as she begged me to forgive her. She’d allowed him to use her to lure me into the alley. She swore she hadn’t known he was going to try to kill me. She’d thought he was only going to scare me. Big wet tears rolled down her painted cheeks as she recounted the story. I thought they were real tears, but you can never be quite sure with a woman like her, especially if you’ve been burned before.
She’d expected Doc to be the one in the alley that night, but as it turned out, it was Spade who’d attacked me and shot Elizabeth from the dark. Doc had been watching from across the street.
Carlton Andrews denied any knowledge of any of the schemes, especially the rustling ring. He admitted knowing about the gold mine on my property, but said his partnership with Doc had been a pure business decision. He admitted some of his methods in dealing with me had been less than ethical, and he regretted them, but had felt, at the time, they were unavoidable.
When asked why he’d helped Doc conceal his identity, he said he had no idea Doc was anybody but who he claimed to be. Doc had simply asked him to keep their business relationship a secret, and he had, not finding the request unusual, even though he had not understood the reasons for it.
As for the cut he took from the rustling operation, he apologetically explained that he’d had no idea of the source of those funds. The Talon brothers had simply agreed to
open an account with him and pay him ten percent in fees for handling the money.
I wasn’t buying any of it, but since, according to him, I’d been his only “ethical” victim, the rest of the town and the ranchers were willing to let it go. He’d been a respected member of the community for too long to have his reputation questioned easily. I figured it probably had a lot more to do with the fact that he held the deeds to a lot of the property here in town. Plus, he wouldn’t go down without a long legal fight, and nobody seemed to have the dander to take him on.
Doc was hung the next day. It was a simple affair. Not a lot of people came out to see it, not even close to the number that had come to watch me die.
I got a hold of the rope they were to use ahead of time and slicked it down with oil. I wanted no more nightmares filled with the sounds of a creaky rope.
As he approached the gallows, he was smiling. He didn’t look around. He did look at the sky for a moment right before they slipped the rope around his neck, but he never stopped smiling.
He didn’t have any final words, which I thought was sad. I hated it, but I found myself feeling pity for this man who’d killed my brother and so many others. I don’t know if I could have extended mercy to him if I’d been given the choice. Either way, it wasn’t mine to give. He had to pay for his crimes. Society demanded it. God demanded it.
The trap door fell open, just as it had fallen open for Joshua Miller, and as it would have fallen open for me. Doc dropped swiftly, and when the rope drew taut, the cracking of his neck was audible. At least, he’d gone quick.
Staring at his body swaying in the wind, I thanked my God who had saved me from that fate. I felt a stab of guilt when I considered the many He’d allowed to die in my place since this drama began, and I still did not understand the why of it all. Maybe I never would.
Regardless, if there was any emotion I felt toward God, it was a deep and sincere gratefulness. Because of His mercy on me, I could breathe deep the fresh morning air and witness the wide array of oranges and pinks spilling across the western desert every night at sunset.
Because of Him, I was alive. I would live another day to cry, laugh, and love.
Doc’s body swayed, but mercifully, the rope didn’t creak.
***
Back at my ranch later that day, I inspected the blackened ruins of my cabin — or Ben’s cabin, I should say. It was a big sooty mess. The recent rains had just made it worse.
I thought about heading back east again, selling this land, or even just giving it away. It had brought me nothing but heartache.
Still, something inside me couldn’t quite let it go. Maybe it was sentimental attachment to Ben’s legacy, or maybe it was just a stubborn desire to prove I could make something out of it and myself.
“Are you going to stay?”
Jessica was there, hands on her hips, her lips parted expectantly. Sunlight danced on her golden hair. Her eyes watched me, two deep pools of blue.
I could easily lose myself for hours in their depths, I thought.
“I was thinking about it.”
“We both have a right to it. We’re both heirs, you know.”
“No, ma’am, I guess I don’t rightly know that. You are the rightful heir.”
“Nonsense, Jake. This land belongs to both of us, and to Ben.” Her eyes welled up, but no tears spilled. “I’d take it mighty kindly, Jake, if you would see fit to stay on and help me run the place.”
I couldn’t think of anything I would like better at the moment.
"Lord of the Dance"
by Sydney Carter
I danced in the morning when the world was young
I danced in the moon and the stars and the sun
I came down from heaven and I danced on the earth
At Bethlehem I had my birth
Dance, dance, wherever you may be
I am the Lord of the dance, said He
And I lead you all, wherever you may be
And I lead you all in the dance, said He
I danced for the scribes and the Pharisees
They wouldn't dance, they wouldn't follow me
I danced for the fishermen James and John
They came with me so the dance went on
Dance, dance, wherever you may be
I am the Lord of the dance, said He
And I lead you all, wherever you may be
And I lead you all in the dance, said He
I danced on the Sabbath and I cured the lame
The holy people said it was a shame
They ripped, they stripped, they hung me high
Left me there on the cross to die
Dance, dance, wherever you may be
I am the Lord of the dance, said He
And I lead you all, wherever you may be
And I lead you all in the dance, said He
I danced on a Friday when the world turned black
It's hard to dance with the devil on your back
They buried my body, they thought I was gone
But I am the dance, and the dance goes on
Dance, dance, wherever you may be
I am the Lord of the dance, said He
And I lead you all, wherever you may be
And I lead you all in the dance, said He
They cut me down and I leapt up high
I am the life that will never, never die
I'll live in you if you'll live in me
I am the Lord of the dance, said He
Dance, dance, wherever you may be
I am the Lord of the dance, said He
And I lead you all, wherever you may be
And I lead you all in the dance, said He
A few months later, I was back in town getting supplies when a man arrived from a lawyer in Albuquerque bearing a message addressed to me.
It was simple in content, but it left me floored emotionally for several days. Looking back now, I don’t think I really ever got over the complete surprise of that notice.
I probably never will.
Mr. Talbot,
We are moving back east to stay with family as certain memories are proving too painful to continue in our current estate.
We have decided not to sell the Logan ranch. Instead, our attorney has instructions to place all our holdings in your name. You may inquire with him here in Albuquerque regarding any details.
We do not wish to communicate with you any further about this, or anything else. Please do not insult us by refusing this endowment or by offering payment.
Sincerely,
Sarah Logan
At first, I thought the note had to be a mistake or some kind of sick joke. Why would those two women ever want to consider giving me, their man’s killer, all they possessed? It was ludicrous.
Ludicrous it may have been, but a joke it was not. I telegraphed the lawyer in Albuquerque several times, and eventually went to see him. He had the papers in order — all I had to do was sign.
My gut instinct was to refuse. I could never accept such a gift. Not from them. But, crazy as it seemed, this was their last wish. I’d no choice but to take it.
I wrote them repeatedly over the years, thanking them for their unbelievable generosity.
They never answered. They wished no further contact with me was all the lawyer from Albuquerque would say.
Elizabeth’s memory faded with time, as all memories soon do, relegated to mere flashes of significant moments, snapshots of bright smiles or heartfelt tears.
Except for her eyes. The memory of her eyes as she died in that alley never left me, nor did her last words. That I must make her sacrifice worth it. I would never forget that.
Jessica brought healing to my spirit as much as she’d doctored me physically in that Apache village. It wasn’t long before I’d fallen in love with her. One of the happiest days of my life was the day I got up enough courage to ask her for her hand. She said yes, and the size of her smile put to rest forever the idea her feelings might be any le
ss than my own.
We were married, and she is the absolute joy of my life. Over the years, Jessica has blessed me with her heart, her life, her love, and eight wonderful children.
Before number three had even arrived, we decided to open up an orphanage on the old Logan ranch. Over the years, we’ve helped care for over one hundred children who passed through our doors after losing their parents to one of the many dangers out west. I cannot begin to explain what a blessing that has been to both of us.
Our natural children are all grown now and have moved on to start their own lives. A prouder or more content father, I could not be. I count myself blessed to have seen it all.
I did make that ranch a success, as much for them, and for Ben, as for myself. More than two thousand head of cattle run on both properties. It’s quite a sight at round-up time. I made sure the large water hole on Ben’s original ranch was kept open to Dunagan and Hartford, and thus we've always kept the peace.
Bill Hartford and I did go in together on that mining operation. Never would have thought we could go into business together, but he softened toward me after all that happened. We became equal partners in mining the veins I’d seen in that cave and we made a decent go of it. It’d been profitable enough, but truthfully, neither one of us was really a miner at heart. We both loved the open range and working cattle more, so eventually, we just stopped. The ranches did well enough, and we didn’t really need it.
Several men and companies approached us over the years to secure permission to mine it further, but we turned them down. The only one we let work it was Pick. Him we let at it as much as wanted, which was off and on.
