by Doug Bowman
“The longhorns are on their way out. Even now they’re being used mostly to stock the northern ranches. And the first thing the northern ranchers’ll do when they get ’em up there is start breeding the longhorn strain right out of ’em.” He blew another cloud of smoke, then chuckled. “Ten years from now, longhorn cows’ll be as scarce as hen’s teeth.”
When Ross paid off his crew in Dodge City, the riders scattered, with each man going his own way. A few found work locally, while others caught on with herds headed north to stock new ranches. Three of the riders had decided to accompany Ross and Human back to Texas, but made it no farther than Red River. There they met a drover who was carrying a herd to Kansas. When offered employment, the riders turned around and headed right back to Dodge City. The arrangement was pleasing to Ross, for all three men were slackers and he had no intention of taking them home to County Line Ranch.
Ross had turned over nine hundred forty-three head of cattle to Thurston Starnes and had agreed to give him the first chance to bid on the next herd he brought to Dodge City. Then, looking as if he were already mentally counting his profits, the Chicagoan wrote out a draft for sixteen thousand, nine hundred and seventy-four dollars. A local bank quickly converted the draft to cash.
Ross sold the entire herd of extra horses to a northern rancher for thirty-five dollars a head—five dollars a head more than he had paid for them at Lampasas. He had made enough profit off the animals to pay for the grub eaten by his crew on the entire drive. Even after paying off the riders and all traveling expenses, there was more than fifteen thousand dollars in the poke he handed to Zack Hunter.
The two men were still standing on the porch, with Zack commending the young foreman for a job well done, when one of the hands led Zack’s saddled sorrel into the yard. Zack transferred the money to the saddlebags, then mounted. “Gotta get into town before the bank closes,” he said to Ross. “I don’t like the idea of leaving this much money lying around.”
“I don’t like the idea of you riding around by yourself with it, either,” Ross said, putting a hand on the sorrel’s bridle. He motioned to Bob Human, who sat his horse at the corral gate. Human rode into the yard quickly, a Winchester in his saddle scabbard and a Peacemaker around his waist. “I told Bob to ride into town with you,” Ross continued, “just in case somebody wants to look in your saddlebags. You never know, Zack; I believe that there is a certain breed of cutthroat who can actually sniff out money.”
Zack nodded and smiled. “Maybe you’re right, Jolly.” He twisted in the saddle to face Human. “Glad to have you along, Bob. Let’s go.” They left the yard at a canter.
They had traveled no more than five miles when they saw four men riding down the slope from the north. When the riders reached the road, they turned west, riding to meet Hunter and Human at a slow walk. When they spread their horses out to the point that they blocked the road, Hunter and Human halted their mounts.
As the riders continued to advance, Bob Human removed his broad-brimmed hat. This to hide the fact that as he removed the hat with his left hand, he had slyly drawn his Peacemaker with his right. He now held the gun under the hat, cocked and ready.
Human had been riding on Zack’s right. Just before halting the animal, he had moved his horse far to the right-hand side of the road, so that he had been able to ease his weapon out of its holster without being detected. Nor could any of the riders see that his holster was empty, for the hat blocked their view.
On the riders came. Staring at Hunter and Human coldly, they stopped their horses twenty feet away, still blocking the road. All four wore beards and had stringy hair that was badly in need of a barber. Their dirty clothing and dusty hats suggested that they had been living out of doors for a long time. Though each of the riders had a rifle on his saddle and a six-gun on his hip, none had made a move toward a weapon.
At last the larger of the men, who was directly in front of Human, decided to speak. “We can do this peaceably,” he said in a deep voice, his scraggly beard hiding every trace of the mouth from which the voice had come, “or we can do it the hard way, but we aim to have that money you’re carryin’. Now both uv ya—” The man never finished the sentence, for Bob Human had shot out his right eye, the heavy slug knocking him completely out of the saddle.
Hunter was on the ground quickly, but even as he drew his own gun, he heard Human’s Peacemaker bark twice more. Two of the remaining riders slowly fell from their saddles as Zack brought his six-shooter to bear on the third. He held his fire, for the man had thrust his arms high above his head and begun to whine: “I didn’t want no part o’ this,” he said, his high-pitched voice breaking. “I told ’em all that it’d prob’ly turn out this a-way.
“No, sir, I never did want ta do it, but they kep’ sayin’ we wuz all in it tagether, and they waren’t gonna be no backin’ out. I tell ya, I wuz plum’ scairt, ’cause them fellers wuz meaner’n a rattler. Yes, sir, I really wanted ta come tell y’all what they wuz up to, but they always watched me too close.”
The man dropped his gun to the ground as ordered. Then Zack jerked him from the saddle, slapped him across the mouth several times open-handedly and slammed him to the ground. He stepped on the man’s throat for a moment, then kicked him in the head. “You’re alive for the moment, you sonofabitch, but I can change that very easily.” He pointed to the ditch at the side of the road, where the runoff from recent rains was at least a foot deep. “I’m gonna be asking you some goddam questions, and I’d better get the right answers. Otherwise, you’re gonna be breathing water instead of air.”
Zack continued to stand with one foot on the man’s chest. “All right now,” he began. “How did you know we’d be carrying money today? Who told you?”
“One … one of th’ han’s that made th’ trail drive.”
“A name, fellow! I want a name!”
“Cain’t remember his name. I … jist cain’t remember.”
Zack stepped on the man’s throat again. “Would you know the name if you heard it?”
When the man began to make a strangling sound, Zack moved his foot. “Yes,” was the answer. “Yes, I’m shore I would.”
Zack spoke to Human: “Come over here and call the name of every man who was on that drive, Bob.” Then to the man on the ground, he said: “Stop him when he calls the right name.”
When Human began to rattle off names, he was stopped on the fourth name. “That’s it,” the man said. “That’s it right there. Eldon Mays, that’s him. I remember ’im real good now.”
Hunter allowed the man, who said his name was Joe Brown, to sit up and tell the story. It seemed that when Jolly Ross had paid off the crew in Dodge City, most of the hands, as well as Ross and Human themselves, had stayed around town for a few days of frolicky activity. Not so with Eldon Mays. Twenty minutes after receiving his pay, Mays made a beeline for Lampasas.
Showing no concern whatsoever for the well-being of his animal, he stayed in the saddle fifteen to eighteen hours a day, reaching home a full ten days ahead of Ross and Human. He lost no time in apprising Will Ballinger, a bearded outlaw of his acquaintance, that two men would be riding from Kansas to County Line Ranch with a poke full of money from selling a herd.
Ballinger immediately got in touch with Ted Peel, John Tate and Joe Brown, each man of Ballinger’s own ilk. It was agreed to by all concerned that though Eldon Mays would take no part in the actual robbery, he would receive one fifth of the booty for supplying the information.
The original plan was to waylay Ross and Human several miles north of County Line Ranch, and the quartet had ridden fifty miles for that purpose. They had camped north of the ranch for almost a week before deciding that their quarry had somehow passed them by. When Ted Peel discovered the tracks of two riders and a packhorse headed straight for the ranch, the four outlaws headed south also.
Peel had been lying on the hill with a field glass trained on the ranch house when Ross turned the payment for the herd over to Zack. The o
utlaw watched as Zack put the money in his saddlebags and made ready to leave. Then Peel mounted and whipped his horse toward the slope where his partners were waiting, five miles to the east.
“Eldon Mays,” Human said with a sigh after Joe Brown had finished the story. “That sonofabitch. Jolly had to threaten to kick his ass a time or two in order to get any work out of him, and after that happened, Mays pretty well kept to himself.” He was quiet for a moment, then added, “I didn’t think anything about it at the time, but now I remember Jolly talking about how quick Mays got out of Dodge City after he was paid.” He shook his head a few times. “Just wait till Jolly hears about this.”
None of the now dead men had moved after hitting the ground. Ballinger had been shot in the head, while Peel and Tate had been shot through the heart. Hunter pointed to the bodies and spoke to Human: “I owe you, Bob, and I won’t be forgetting it.”
Human shook his head. “You don’t owe me anything, Zack. I acted in self-defense.” He was quiet for a moment, then added, “Them sonsofbitches could have got that money if they’d gone about it right. All they had to do was hide along the road somewhere and gun us down. Like this man says, they’d just now found out that we were on the road and seen that we were about to get ahead of them.
“They didn’t have time to ride ahead of us and lay an ambush, so their only chance was to ride down the slope and block the road. I don’t know why and I don’t know how, Zack, but I knew what the bastards were up to the second they rode out of them cedars up yonder.”
“I can easily believe that,” Zack said, beginning to uncoil his forty-foot rope, “’cause you were certainly ready for them.”
After cutting the rope to the necessary lengths, they tied the body of each of the dead men onto the back of his own horse, then picked up the four six-guns that still lay in the road. Joe Brown had dropped his gun when ordered to do so, and Ballinger’s Colt had slid from his holster as he fell from the saddle. Peel and Tate had each drawn his own gun when the shooting started, but neither had lived to fire it.
After tying Joe Brown’s hands behind him, Hunter tied his legs beneath the belly of his horse. Moments later, with each man leading two horses, Hunter and Human headed for Lampasas at a walking pace.
Two hours later, they rode down Main Street. Several men walked or rode alongside the horses asking questions, but received no answers. Refusing to make eye contact with anyone, both Hunter and Human continued to ride toward the sheriff’s office.
Sheriff Pope was easy enough to find, for he was outside his office about to mount his horse when the two men rode up. As soon as Pope recognized the men from County Line Ranch and his eyes had taken in the horses carrying the dead men, he retied his mount to the hitching rail. “I can see what you’ve got there, Mister Hunter,” he said, beginning to walk around the horses. “Now I’d like to hear the story.”
Zack had not dismounted. “They tried to rob us out on County Line Road,” he said, nodding toward the dead men. “Three of ’em paid a stiff price.” He pointed to Brown. “This bastard here claims his name is Joe Brown. He was in on the plan right from the beginning, and he’ll tell you the whole story.” He turned in the saddle, looking the prisoner squarely in the eye. “You will tell the sheriff the whole story, won’t you?”
Brown nodded. “Ain’t got nothin’ ta lose. Not now.”
Pope did not speak again until he had finished walking around the horses and inspected each of the corpses. “Don’t recognize but one of them,” he said finally. “Ballinger’s had it coming for a long time, and this certainly ain’t the first time he’s got it in his head to rob somebody.” The sheriff untied Brown’s legs and helped him from the saddle. “Come along, Mister Brown,” he said, taking the man’s arm and leading him up the steps toward the office. “I’m just dying to hear your tale of woe.” He spoke to Zack, who had still not dismounted. “I’ll be needing you and Mister Human to witness the confession, Mister Hunter.”
Zack shook his head. “I’ll have to do it later, Sheriff. I just sold a herd of cattle and I’ve got to get to the bank before it closes.”
Pope smiled, then chuckled aloud. “By God, if I had that kind of money, I’d be anxious to get to the bank, too. Go ahead, we’ll wait for you.”
When Zack returned to the sheriff’s office forty minutes later, Bret Rollins sat on the porch. “I just heard about you bringing in some dead men,” he said, getting to his feet. “I was over at the White Horse shooting pool when Jim Whaley came in with the news.” He pointed toward the sheriff’s office with his thumb. “Bob pretty well filled me in on what happened.”
Zack handed Rollins the receipt for the bank deposit. “This is what they were after, Bret. Eldon Mays sold us out.”
“So I’ve been told,” Rollins said. He glanced at the receipt, then handed it back to Zack. He stood staring down the street for a while, then spoke again: “I’ve seen Mays more than once lately, so he’s still around town. You want me to hunt him up and kill him?”
Zack shook his head. “No, but I would like to get my hands on him before the sheriff does. Pope’ll treat him too damn nice.” He pointed toward the office. “We’ll talk about it some more in a few minutes. Right now, I’ve got to witness Brown’s confession.”
“I already did that for you, Zack. All the sheriff wanted was a witness to what was said. Brown confessed to the whole thing, and Pope put him in leg irons and locked him in a cell. The sheriff ain’t in the office right now anyway. He left Deputy Hillman in charge and trotted his horse off down the street. Deputy Morse rode off right behind him.
“I figure Pope’s gone hunting Eldon Mays, and if he don’t find him before Bob Human does, the grave diggers’ll have one more hole to dig.”
“Human’s hunting Mays?”
“Didn’t say so, but he sure had that kind of expression on his face when he left here.”
Zack was already untying his horse’s reins from the hitching rail. “Let’s go,” he said.
Rollins had noticed that both Pope and Human had ridden down Main Street, and he did not believe that they would find Eldon Mays there. Mays’ hangout was the Twin Oaks Saloon, located well off the beaten path on a short street that nobody had bothered to name. The ride to the Twin Oaks took less than five minutes.
Only two horses were tied at the hitching rail, and both Hunter and Rollins recognized the long-legged buckskin as Mays’ mount. They tied their own horses and walked through the batwing doors side by side. A man was seated alone at the far end of the bar, and Eldon Mays sat on a stool closer to the door, engaged in a conversation with owner and bartender Jake Smith.
When Mays turned his attention to the newcomers, he found that he was staring into the barrel of Rollins’ Colt. Keeping the gun pointed between Mays’ eyes, Rollins walked forward and jerked the man’s gun out of its holster, tucking it behind his own waistband. Then he turned to Hunter, saying, “He’s all yours, Zack.”
Hunter handed his own Colt to Rollins, then jerked Mays off the stool, elbowing him in the mouth at the same time. Mays fell over a table but regained his feet quickly. Then he began to give a fair accounting of himself, proving very quickly that he was a much better fighter than Rollins had suspected. Nevertheless, Rollins was confident of the outcome. He turned his back to the fight, took a seat on a stool and ordered a beer, knowing that the conflict would end just like all the rest of the fights in which Zack Hunter was involved.
The tussle ended just as suddenly as it had begun, and Rollins turned his head to see Zack standing over the unconscious Mays. Then Zack walked to the bar. He had one shaded eye, a few bruises around his chin, and a single drop of blood fell from the corner of his mouth. “Give me a beer, Jake,” he said. When the bartender complied, Zack walked across the room and took a seat at a table beside the unconscious man. He began to sip his beer and appeared to be waiting for Mays to regain consciousness so he could beat him some more.
Zack’s full intent would never be known, for
at that moment, Sheriff Pope and Deputy Morse walked through the door. Pope spotted Mays’ feet and legs, which were well out into the aisle and in plain view. He was there quickly. “I see you found your man before I could, Mister Hunter. Is he still alive?”
Zack nodded. “Think so.”
The sheriff was soon bathing Mays’ face with a wet towel. Twenty minutes later, aboard his own buckskin, Eldon Mays was being led to jail, charged with attempted murder and attempted robbery.
After Rollins had filled Smith in on the day’s happenings, the saloon owner set a bottle of his best whiskey on the bar. Hunter and Rollins were later joined by Bob Human, and the three sat drinking till late in the night.
19
When the Twin Oaks Saloon closed at midnight, Bob Human headed for the ranch, insisting that he preferred riding during the last few hours before daybreak. Not so with Hunter. He followed Rollins home, loosed his horse in Rollins’ corral, then helped himself to the extra bed.
He could see daylight around the edges of the window shade when he opened his eyes next morning. He sat on the side of the bed stretching and yawning for a while, then walked to the kitchen. He kindled a fire in the stove, put on the coffeepot and reseated himself on the bed to await the coffee.
It was then that Zack noticed a large envelope lying on the small table next to the bed. He absentmindedly picked it up and read its face, then laid it back down with a chuckle. He sat shaking his head, wondering what kind of scheme Rollins was up to this time. The oversized letter had come from a Chicago firm and was addressed to “Doctor” Bret Rollins.
