by J. T. Edson
‘It could be,’ Beauregard admitted, giving a nod indicative of gratitude for what he believed was information offered to help forward his investigation. ‘And, should it be somebody from Bosgravnia looking for evens behind this, Dusty, they’d be more likely to know how to get in touch with Bohemians than Western hired guns.’
‘Why sure,’ the small Texan concurred. ‘The three we downed weren’t range bred stock, that’s for sure. Gracias, Mr. Johnson.’
‘It was my pleasure, sir,’ the New Englander replied, pleased he would not need to direct attention to the supposition that the quartet had been hired by people from the European country. ‘And I hope what I said will be of some assistance to you.’
‘It could be at that,’ the marshal asserted. ‘I’ll get off a telegraph message to the New York Police Department, Dusty, and ask happen they know of any Bohemians working as hired killers over here.’
‘Do you know Lieutenant Ed Ballinger of the Chicago Police, Kail?’ the small Texan asked, before the peace officer could turn away from the table.
‘Not personally like you do,’ Beauregard replied.
‘Then I’ll come with you and send word to him,’ Dusty offered, shoving back his chair and picking up his hat. ‘He might learn something around his bailiwick, even if those jaspers were brought over from Europe specially, not living and working here.’
‘I hope my small piece of information will produce something helpful,’ Johnson remarked, after the two men had left the table and were beyond earshot. He exuded such apparently genuine sincerity that he might have meant the comment. Then his manner changed subtly, showing none of the satisfaction he felt at having achieved such a piece of misdirection, to suggest he was disturbed by what he was about to say. ‘I’ve heard from our backers in the Society—!’
‘And?’ Stone prompted, as the words trailed to an end.
‘It was something discussed, without any decision being reached, while we were making our plans for how to transfer the buffalo,’ the New Englander continued, looking ill at ease. ‘Now the decision has been reached and I don’t know how you will regard it when I tell you.’
‘Tell ahead and find out,’ the trail boss suggested.
‘Very well, sir,’ Johnson obliged. ‘It has been decided, without my being consulted further, that to keep the final destination a secret for as long as possible, we are to have our own men take them there.’
‘So you won’t be needing the Wedge after all?’ Stone guessed.
‘On the contrary sir, we need you more than ever,’ the New Englander corrected. ‘The men who are coming are all from the East and have had no experience in such matters, even where handling cattle is concerned. Therefore, provided you are willing to do so, we want you to train them to complete the drive and give advise upon how to watch over the buffalo until they are established at their destination.’ Watching for and failing to detect any sign of how the news was being received, he went on in an apologetic fashion, ‘I realize this must appear we do not trust you and your men—!’
‘That doesn’t bother me,’ the trail boss claimed. ‘But sometimes cowhands and dudes don’t mix too well and—!’
‘And you think this will prove the case with the men who are already on their way here?’ Johnson deduced. ‘I can assure you that none of them are like—shall we say—my present companions, although they will be going along. In fact, from what I saw of those who were suggested as the prospective trail crew, I think you will find they get along with your men all right.’
‘Huh huh!’ Stone grunted noncommittally, although he was willing to concede that the New Englander had drawn an accurate assumption with regards to his misgivings.
‘I’m empowered to offer you a substantial bonus for carrying out the training,’ Johnson declared.
‘I won’t say “no” to that,’ the trail boss replied. ‘But I reckon we’d best wait until I’ve looked over these fellers who’re coming before I give you a decision on it.’
‘That is all right with me, sir,’ the New Englander assented. ‘They are coming in on this afternoon’s train and you can meet them as soon as they arrive.’
Nine – They Could Use Some Help
‘There they are, gentlemen,’ Walter Johnson declared, from where he was standing with Stone Hart, Waggles Harrison and Johnny Raybold, pointing to a group of male passengers who were descending from the west bound train. ‘It seems they have anticipated our intentions and arrived ready for riding.’
‘They’re ready for riding, I’ll admit,’ the trail boss replied. ‘But not for working cattle.’
‘That’s true, sir,’ the New Englander agreed. ‘However, their attire will suffice until we reach our camp, and they can obtain more suitable clothing before we set out upon our quest. Providing, of course, you consider they will be suitable for what lies ahead. Will they pass muster, do you think?’
‘They look all right from here,’ Stone drawled.
‘But you are reserving your judgment until you have made their acquaintance,’ Johnson assessed. ‘And most wisely so, sir. Shall we go and greet them?’
‘That’s what we’re here for,’ the trail boss assented and, accompanied by his companions, he started to walk towards the passengers they were discussing.
Remaining with Stone since their meeting at the Fair Lady Saloon, the New Englander had not heard whether Town Marshal Kail Beauregard had been able to search the ruins of the Grimsdyke Temperance Hotel. While eager to find out if anything was discovered which might endanger him, he had been too wise to display any interest he had in the matter. To help divert his thoughts from it, he had been engaged in making preparations which had arisen as the result of the supposed revision to the plans for transferring the buffalo. Fortune had favored the enterprise. Knowing a rancher who was not intending to bring any more herds from Texas, the trail boss had purchased a remuda of horses trained for working cattle, and the other equipment they would need from him. As an aid to maintaining secrecy and commencing the training of the newcomers, it had been decided they would set up camp clear of Mulrooney while awaiting the discovery of the buffalo to be taken to the new location. With this done, they had come to the railroad depot to meet the party from the East.
‘Hello, Mr. Johnson,’ greeted the tallest of the new arrivals, his accent that of a wealthy and well educated Bostonian. In his mid-twenties, as they all appeared to be, he had reddish brown hair and ruggedly good looking tanned features. While also the most powerfully built of his party, he bore himself in a way which indicated he was neither slow on his feet nor clumsy. ‘Here we are, all r’aring to go as folks say out here.’
‘I’m pleased to see you and hear it, Mr. Crayne,’ the New Englander replied, his manner more affable than when speaking to Kevin Roddy and Francis Morrell. ‘However, if you can restrain your eagerness to depart for a few seconds, I would like to introduce you to these gentlemen who are to be your guides and mentors for the next several weeks.’
Although finding the general appearance and behavior of the young Easterners satisfying, as they moved forward eagerly to make the acquaintance of his party, Stone was more interested in watching Johnny. He had invited the red head to come to the railroad depot for that reason. Despite having faith in his own and Waggles’ judgment of character, he wanted to see how a member of the crew responded to the newcomers. Knowing how roughly cowhands could treat dudes for whom they had taken a dislike, he was all too aware of how important good relations between his crew and the Easterners would be. In fact, if these were not forthcoming, he doubted whether the driving of the buffalo could be carried out as was required by Johnson. Much to his relief, he concluded Johnny was sharing his sentiments about them.
While strolling along the platform, like his companions, the red head had studied the newcomers. He had reserved his final judgment about them, but he considered they might not be as bad as his meetings with Roddy and Morrell had led him to expect. Coming to close quarters and watching how
they responded to the introductions, he decided they could prove far more congenial and acceptable company than the pair who had accompanied Johnson and were now waiting outside the depot.
There was much about the Easterners to influence the red head in their behalf. All were tall, with the unmistakable look of outdoorsmen about them. Bronzed and cheerful, their faces were devoid of the self importance and surly snobbery always shown by Roddy and Morrell. They had on Eastern pattern riding boots and breeches. Under loose fitting coats were shirts with open collars, or turtleneck sweaters. Their head-dress was a mixture of flat peaked caps, round topped and curly brimmed Derby hats, or the kind of Stetsons which could be purchased on their side of the Mississippi River. None of them wore gunbelts, or showed signs of being armed in any way. However, wise in the ways of the West, Johnny regarded the absence of weapons as a point in their favor.
‘When do we get started, Captain Hart?’ Geoffrey Crayne inquired, clearly being considered as leader and spokesmen by the other young Easterners, after the introductions were completed.
‘Not for a few days, at least,’ Johnson put in, before the trail boss could speak, noticing the Bostonian had employed the military honorific without the slightest hesitation. ‘Mr. Raybold has to locate a suitable herd for us—!’
‘That shouldn’t be too hard, nor take too long,’ Johnny inserted. ‘There’s still a fair few of ’em left west of here, once you get away from the railroad.’
‘Then we all wish you a speedy return, sir,’ the New Englander declared. ‘And, while you are away, Captain Hart and Mr. Harrison have kindly offered to instruct our party in all we will need to know when the time comes for us to take over sole charge of the herd.’
‘Speaking with the voice of fully qualified inexperience. I’d say we’ll need to be taught plenty,’ Crayne asserted. Then he waved in an apparently disdainful fashion towards his companions and continued, ‘And, considering what you’re going to have to work with, Captain, I can’t claim that I envy you the task.’
‘I’m game to give it a whirl, more fool me,’ Stone stated, after having waited until the cheerfully derisive protests of the other young Easterners had died away. ‘When you see the kind of knob-heads I’ve let myself be slickered into taking on for training in the past, present company not excepted, you’ll figure I’ve done wonders before and’ll maybe bring one off again.’
‘Do you reckon he meant you, or me, Waggles?’ Johnny inquired, although the pointed glance directed his way by the trail boss had given an undeniable indication.
‘Was I not natural’ given to being modest,’ the segundo replied. ‘I’d have to come right on out and say the boss I’m so loyal and respecting to couldn’t’ve meant me, so that just about only leaves you.’
‘I’m beginning to wonder whether our respected seniors in the Society realize what they have let you young gentlemen in for, mixing with such company,’ Johnson commented, adopting the light hearted spirit in which the conversation had developed. He concluded that the remarks passed between the Texans indicated they were at least willing to accept the Easterners on amicable terms. ‘Nevertheless, as I feel I have a responsibility to your parents to ensure your continued adherence to good and righteous Christian living, I have decided that you must be preserved from the fleshpots and temptations lurking in this apparently fair and unsullied metropolis.’
‘Do they really have fleshpots and temptations lurking here, sir?’ Crayne inquired with seeming eagerness. He considered the events in which he had participated made it inadvisable to let it be known he had visited Mulrooney two years earlier.
‘Not that I’ve sampled them at first hand, of course, but I’m afraid they do,’ the New Englander confirmed, employing an obviously false tone of unctuous rectitude which he felt sure would be well received by the men about him. A glance around assured him that his supposition was correct and he went on. ‘So Captain Hart, who agrees with me, and I, have decided we will make camp some five miles beyond the city limits until Mr. Raybold finds a suitable herd. In that way, not only will you be saved from said temptation and fleshpots, you will be able to commence learning your duties and there will be less chance of our presence attracting undesirable interest.’
‘We’d arouse even less if we were dressed like cowhands,’ Crayne suggested, indicating the attire worn by himself and his companions. ‘I know we wouldn’t sound like Texans if anybody talked to us, but we could say we’ve been sent West by our families to learn all we can about the ranching business.’
‘I admit I had something of that nature in mind,’ Johnson asserted. ‘Although my thoughts were more along the lines of implying your parents had sent you West to keep you from idleness and the temptations of the flesh, by having you subjected to hard work while learning how to earn a living.’
‘I prefer my suggestion, sir,’ the Bostonian claimed, accepting the version given by the New Englander as the pleasantry it had been. ‘And, to save time, we could leave our baggage here while Johnny shows us where we can buy what we need, then go out to the camp.’
‘We can save even more time,’ the New Englander supplemented. ‘There’s a wagon waiting outside the depot. Load your bags aboard and Mr. Harrison will set off for the camp with it. Horses are waiting for you at the livery barn and, with your purchases made, you can catch up with it along the way. If that meets with your approval, of course, Captain Hart?’
‘It’s all right with me,’ Stone confirmed willingly. ‘And, while you’re at it, Johnny, should you run across the rest of the crew, tell them what’s doing.’
‘Johnny!’
Hearing his name, the red head halted the tall story he was telling to the young Easterners he was guiding to a general store which held a sufficiently large stock of cowhand style clothing to fill their needs. One glance at the speaker—a small, close to buxom and pretty young woman with fiery red hair and the attire of a saloon worker—told him something more serious than a merely friendly greeting was causing her to hurry in his direction.
‘What’s up, Ginger?’ the Texan inquired, as he and his companions came to a halt.
‘You’d best come to the Buffalo House real fast!’ the saloon-girl replied. ‘There’s going to be trouble!’
‘What kind of trouble?’ Johnny asked, setting off straight away.
‘Silent, Peaceful and Rusty are there,’ Ginger explained, after having darted a puzzled look at the party with the red head, but restraining her curiosity about them and falling into step by his side. ‘Bunch of gandy dancers’ve come in with a railroad lamp they say they’re going to hang on the front door.’
‘I’ve a feeling that could have some special significance, Johnny,’ Crayne remarked, following with his companions close on the heels of the Texan and the girl.
‘It has,’ the Texan confirmed. ‘When rust eaters from a construction crew hang out a lamp that ways, it means they claim the place for the railroad and nobody else can drink there.’
‘That strikes me as a somewhat selfish attitude,’ the Bostonian claimed, his tone and manner apparently no more than mildly disapproving.
‘Knowing those three knob-heads of our’n who’re there, that’s how they’re like’ to see it,’ Johnny drawled, giving no indication of being perturbed. ‘Who-all’s with ’em, Ginger-gal?’
‘Nobody but the morning staff,’ the young woman replied. ‘And there’s close to twenty gandy dancers.’
‘That means your friends are outnumbered,’ commented the second tallest of the Easterners.
‘You try telling them that,’ Johnny answered.
Even as he was speaking, the red head reached the front entrance of the Buffalo House Saloon. One glance over the batwing doors confirmed his suppositions. Despite the clearly hostile attitude of the railroad construction workers who formed a rough half circle around them, his three companions were leaning against the bar. Although two displayed open defiance, none were armed. Johnny had no need to wonder how the lack of weapons h
ad come about.
‘Well now, gents,’ Herbert ‘Peaceful’ Gunn was saying, his heavily mustached face doleful and his tone seemingly apologetic. About five foot nine, looking older than his twenty-nine years, he was well made without being bulky. ‘Being a man’s wants only to live peaceable with everybody, I’d admire to get out like you say we’ve got to. But, seeing as we didn’t have our chaps with us, Silent, Rusty ’n’ me’ve put our gunbelts behind the bar and it’d be a mortal sin to ask for ’em back so soon.’
‘Was we too,’ Festus ‘Silent’ Churchman went on, producing a volume of sound out of keeping with his size and nickname. While small, he had the stocky build of a pocket-sized Hercules. ‘These good folks’s words here’d think we didn’t like ’em no more and we for sure wouldn’t want that.’
‘Here Ginger-gal,’ Johnny drawled, unbuckling and holding out his gunbelt. ‘Hang on to this for me!’
‘Do you know something, gentlemen?’ Crayne said to his companions, as the girl accepted the rig and the red head strolled in a apparently leisurely fashion into the saloon. ‘Those Texans don’t seem to realize they’re outnumbered.’
‘In that case,’ declared the shortest of the Easterners. ‘They could use some help!’
‘Shall we give it to them?’ suggested another of the party eagerly.
‘I was just going to say that!’ The Bostonian protested and, feeling certain the saloon girl could be trusted with any property left in her care, swiftly removed his jacket. ‘Would you keep an eye on this, please, Miss Ginger?’
‘Sure,’ the red headed woman assented with a suggestion of relief entering her voice as she guessed what was portended by the request. Draping the gunbelt over her shoulder and taking the proffered garment, she went on, ‘I’d be pleased to!’
Shedding their jackets with an equal alacrity, just as convinced as Crayne was that the considerable sums of money in their wallets would be safely watched over in their absence, the other Easterners acted upon her suggestion by placing the discarded garments between Ginger and the wall of the saloon. With this done, they formed up behind the Bostonian to enter the bar-room.
