Killer Take All

by William W. Johnstone; J. A. Johnstone

  Though Jake had located the town many times on his own, he made no comment as Norman pointed it out to him.

  “As you can see, Chugwater sits almost exactly halfway between Cheyenne and Fort Laramie. If we were to build a railroad from Cheyenne to Fort Laramie, it would make sense to set up our operating headquarters right here, in Chugwater. Such a railroad is bound to get some business from the army. In addition, we can go through these three ranches, Goodwin, Davis, and Sky Meadow. They must be very large ranches or they wouldn’t be depicted on the map, and I’m certain we can do business with them. Also our railroad would go through Walbach, Chugwater, Uva, and finally Fort Laramie. It looks to me like that would be about”—Jamison began to measure the distance on the map—“oh, I’d say a hundred and twenty miles. At ten thousand dollars per mile, we could build this railroad for one million, two hundred thousand dollars.”

  “One million, two hundred thousand? Oh, my, that is a lot of money. Do we have enough cash on hand to finance such an operation?” Jake asked.

  Jamison chuckled. “Tell him, Mr. Poindexter.”

  “I’ll be glad to. Son, we don’t have to worry about the cost, because we won’t be paying for it.”

  “Oh, I see. You are going to try and get the residents to pay for it,” Jake said. “Won’t that be pretty hard sell to get them to do that?”

  “No, it’s even better than that. We are going to let the government pay for the railroad from Cheyenne to Fort Laramie.”

  “Yeah, well, that’ll be a pretty good deal, I suppose. But tell me, how are we going to get the government to pay for it?”

  “They will pay for it by giving us land grants that we can sell, and they will grant us the power of eminent domain by which we can acquire the route for practically nothing.”

  “Why would the government do that?”

  “America is a big country, Jake. It’s to the government’s advantage to reach as much of it as possible by track, so they encourage entrepreneurs in the building of railroads,” Jamison explained.

  “I had no idea this was how it was done,” Jake said.

  “Since you are going out there anyway, I’m going to put you in charge of building this railroad,” Preston said.

  “You want me to build the railroad? Pa, are you sure?”

  “I’ve got confidence in you, son. All you need to do is develop a little confidence in yourself.”

  “You won’t have to do it alone,” Jamison said. “I have already arranged for you to be met in Cheyenne by a man named Roy Streeter. He’ll probably be alone when he meets you, but he has been instructed to round up all the people you will need.”

  “You mean railroad construction crew?”

  Jamison shook his head. “No, the actual construction will come later. The first and most important part of building the C and FL Railroad will be in getting title to the land you will need, not only the right-of-way but the sections of land that will used for financing the project. You’ll need to stake out those claims, as well as make arrangements with the residents already there to acquire their land by act of eminent domain.”

  “C and FL?”

  “Cheyenne and Fort Laramie Railroad,” Preston said. “I came up with the name, but since you’ll be building the railroad you can come up with a name of your own if you don’t like that one.”

  “No, I like it fine. But Mr. Jamison, about this eminent domain thing,” Jake said, letting the words hang without closing the question.

  “What about it?”

  “Doesn’t that mean taking land from existing owners, even if they don’t want to sell it to us?”

  “It does,” Jamison agreed.

  “But won’t we make enemies that way?”

  “We may make some enemies,” Jamison agreed, “but in the long run the railroad will be of such benefit to all the other residents in that area that we will be welcome. Even those who will have to give up their land to us will eventually come around. And if you encounter too much resistance, well, you’ll have men to help you overcome whatever resistance you might face. Just don’t give up until the job is done.”

  “What do you mean I’ll have men to help? Mr. Jamison, are you suggesting that there might be physical confrontations?”

  “I’m not only suggesting it, I’m saying there most likely will be. It has certainly happened before. But remember, you will be in the right, because you will have the law on your side.”

  “So, these men you are talking about will be like vigilantes? How is that even legal?”

  “Vigilantes have no authority, these men will. In a manner of speaking, you could consider them as deputy U.S. Marshals. Actually, they will be railroad police, and the U.S. Marshals have recognized the authority of their operation.”

  “Has something like this ever resulted in . . .” Jake paused to form the question. “Well, I’ll just come right out and ask it. Could there be shooting?”

  “There have been shootings before, yes, and it could happen again. But you, personally, need not get involved with that part of it. That’s why you will have a cadre of railroad police to handle that for you.”

  “Pa, you are willing to trust me with all this?” Jake asked.

  “Yes, son, I am. That is, if you are willing to give it a try.”

  “Thanks, Pa.” He took a deep and determined breath. “I’m ready for this.”

  * * *

  From the Chugwater Defender:

  Duff MacCallister and the Cattle Market

  Duff MacCallister, the largest rancher in Chugwater Valley, is currently taking a small herd of Angus cattle to a buyer in Cheyenne. The Angus breed was introduced to the valley a few years ago when Mr. MacCallister founded his ranch, Sky Meadow. Originally from Scotland, it was while still a resident of that country that he first began to raise Angus cattle and indeed, Scotland is the country credited for developing the breed.

  MacCallister is highly regarded by the citizens of Chugwater, not only for being the agent of an improved economy, but also because he has frequently brought outlaws to justice. The most recent example of that was in the role he and two of his employees played in capturing Drury Slocum, the despicable scoundrel who so brutally murdered the Gorman family, the mother and father and two children.

  This newspaper is happy to report that the villainous reprobate Slocum will murder no more as he went to the gallows to pay the penalty for his misdeeds.

  Immediately after reading the article three days ago, Grant Slocum had gone to Cheyenne, intending to be there before MacCallister arrived. Grant had been in the crowd when Drury was hanged. It was one of the ironies of life that because of a difference of opinion between the two men, seeing Drury being led to the gallows was the first time Grant had seen his brother in over two years.

  “You’re here? I didn’t think you would be here, but thank you. I’m glad you came.” Drury had said when he saw him. Those were the last words Drury spoke in his life.

  As Grant sat eating the biscuit and bacon being served for breakfast in the Bella Union Saloon, he thought about why he was in Cheyenne. The disagreement between the two brothers had been so intense that at one time Grant had contemplated killing Drury himself. So, why hold it against a man who did what he had once thought about doing?

  Grant answered his own question. Anything that had happened in the past between the two brothers no longer mattered. As far as he was concerned, Drury had made a moment-of-death reconciliation, and for that reason, Grant felt obligated to avenge his death.

  Goodwin Ranch

  Duff and Meagan took their breakfast with the Goodwins, though if Meagan hadn’t been along, Duff would have preferred to eat in the ranch kitchen with his men and those who rode for the Goodwin brand.

  Elmer and Wang were eating with the others.

  “I ain’t never seen no Chinaman cowboy before,” said Woody, one of the Goodwin hands.

  “Oh, Wang ain’t just a cowboy,” Elmer said. “He’s a Shaolin priest.”


  “Shaolin? What kind of church is that?” Woody asked.

  “It must be a Catholic church, seein’ as they’re the only ones what’s got a priest,” figured one of the others, a man called Poke.

  “Uh-uh, that ain’t so. Episcopal churches, they got priests, too.” This observation was made by Elmer. Then he laughed. “No, him bein’ a priest don’t have nothin’ to do with a church. It’s sort of a special Chinese kind of thing and you have to go to school for a long time to learn how to fight real good. And then once you learn, they call you a priest.”

  “What do you mean learn how to fight? You don’t learn to fight, you just sort of fight, don’t you?” Woody asked.

  “Hit Wang,” Elmer said.

  Wang, who was enjoying his breakfast, was seemingly paying no attention to the conversation about him.

  Woody frowned. “What do you mean, hit him? Why would I want to do that?”

  “Because I just want to show you that you can’t.”

  “I don’t want get him mad at me.”

  “He won’t get mad at you, on account of even if you try, you won’t be able to hit him.”

  “Ha. So if I tell ’im I’m goin’ to hit him, what will he do, run away?”

  “Don’t tell ’im, just go over there ’n try ’n hit ’im when he’s not expectin’ it. You won’t be able to, but you can at least try.”

  “If I sneak up behind ’im, ’n don’t say nothin’ to ’im, I’ll be able to hit ’im, all right,” Woody insisted.

  “I’ll give you a dollar if you can do it.”

  “A dollar? I don’t never bet that much money, but it’s awful temptin’.”

  “It’s not a bet,” Elmer said. “If you can’t do it, you don’t have to give me nothin’, but if you can do it, I’ll give you a dollar.”

  “Hey, Woody,” Foster said. “Come ’ere.”

  Woody, Foster, and Poke held a quick conference, speaking so quietly that Elmer couldn’t hear them. Then they separated and began to approach Wang, Foster from the left, Poke from the right, and Woody from behind.

  Elmer watched and smiled at whatever plan they had concocted.

  “Hey, Wang, I got somethin’ I’d like you to look at,” Foster said.

  Wang looked toward Foster, just as Poke ran toward him. Woody, taking advantage of the distraction, snuck up from behind and quickly and quietly swung at him with an open hand. He didn’t actually want to hurt Wang, he just wanted to prove that he could, and win the dollar.

  Sensing that Woody was there, Wang ducked just far enough to avoid Woody’s hand, grabbed the arm and, using Woody’s momentum, turned him so that he and Poke collided.

  Wang turned toward Foster. “What do you wish me to see?”

  “I, uh, that is . . .” Foster said, stunned by what he had just seen.

  Elmer laughed out loud.

  * * *

  Half an hour later, Elmer, Wang, and the other Sky Meadow drovers joined Duff and Meagan out in the south pasture. The air resonated with the bawling and the rumble of cattle activity. The sun shining down on the 750 gathered Angus caused a pungent smell, actually more of an odor at first, though it was a scent to which the men who worked around cattle quickly adjusted, so that it became a familiar part of their lives.

  When all the drovers were in position, Elmer rode up to Duff and Meagan, both of whom would be riding at the head of the herd.

  “We’re ready to go,” Elmer reported.

  “You want to move us out, Meagan?” Duff grinned.

  Meagan smiled back, then turned her horse about so that she was facing the drovers. Standing in the stirrups, she let out a loud call. “Eeeee-yah, yip, yip, yip, hoo-yah!”

  Her call was answered by all the other drovers with shouts and whistles so that the herd, spurred on by all the noise, began their slow but steady movement south toward the cattle pens at the Cheyenne railhead.

  Chapter Six

  Cheyenne

  The drive from Goodwin’s Ranch was easy and uneventful, and they reached Cheyenne by midafternoon, stopping about a mile north of the city limits.

  “Elmer, I’ll be for leaving the herd here in your hands while Meagan and I go in and make arrangements for the sale.”

  Leaving the herd, Duff and Meagan rode on ahead. Viewed in comparison to Chugwater, the town of Cheyenne was a metropolis. Both sides of the street were lined with multi-story masonry buildings, some of which were as high as four stories. A stagecoach from the Black Hills Stage & Express Line, its team of six horses standing quietly, obediently, was taking on passengers from the stagecoach depot.

  They could hear the bawling of cows as they approached the pens. Unlike the smell of cattle on the move or even on the range, this odor was quite pungent due to the fact that the cattle were confined, and their droppings were concentrated.

  Dismounting in front of the office, Duff and Meagan stepped inside to the reception area, where a very thin man with a sharp nose and light blue eyes sat behind a desk. A sign on his desk identified him as Stan Feeler, and he looked up as Duff and Meagan approached.

  “Yes?”

  “I would like to meet with Mr. Heckemeyer,” Duff said. “I’ve a herd of Angus just outside of town, and I’ve had a telegraphic exchange with him, so he’ll be expecting me.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “MacCallister. Duff MacCallister.”

  Feeler lifted a receiver from a telephone box, then turned the crank. “Mr. Heckemeyer, there is a Duff MacCallister here to see you. Yes, sir.” Putting the receiver back in the hook, he pointed to one of four doors that opened from the reception area. “He’s in there. You can go on in.”

  Duff knocked lightly on the door and, receiving an invitation, opened the door then followed Meagan inside.

  “Mr. MacCallister, what do you have for me?”

  “I have seven hundred and fifty Angus, and ’tis holding them I am, just north of town. Before I bring them in, I wanted to be sure that you had space for them.”

  “Oh, yes indeed, we have space for them. Angus, you say? Well, they’re bringing top dollar right now, about—”

  “Eighty-seven dollars per head,” Meagan said, interrupting Heckemeyer.

  Heckemeyer laughed. “That is absolutely correct, young lady. You have done your research.”

  “It wasn’t hard to do. I read it in the paper.”

  “Come with me and I’ll show you which pens I have reserved for you.”

  Duff and Meagan followed Heckemeyer outside, where he called out to someone who was leaning against the corral fence. “Creech, show Mr. MacCallister where he is to bring his cows.”

  “What cows would them be, Mr. Heckemeyer? I don’t see no cows.” Creech was a few inches shorter than Duff, with close-set dark eyes, dark hair and eyebrows, and a short, scraggly black beard.

  “They’ll be here shortly, as soon as I know where to be taking them,” Duff said.

  “You ain’t American, are you, MacCallister? But you ain’t Mexican neither. I don’t know as I’ve ever heard nobody that talks like you do.”

  “I’m Scots.”

  “Scott? I thought Mr. Heckemeyer told me that your name was MacCallister.”

  “Scots means that I’m from Scotland.”

  “Scotland, yeah, seems to me I’ve heard of it, but don’t know nothin’ about it, or where it is. Anyhow, when you get the cows, we can put ’em in here.”

  “I’ll be for bringing them now,” Duff said as he and Meagan remounted.

  “What an ill-mannered person this man Creech is,” Meagan said. “He didn’t even acknowledge my presence.”

  “Aye, he was a bit impolite,” Duff agreed. “But we’ll nae be seeing much o’ him.”

  It took less than fifteen minutes to reach the herd where they were met by Elmer.

  “Did we get what we were thinkin’ we would get?”

  “Aye. Your share will come to almost ten thousand dollars.”

  Elmer smiled broadly. “Well, what are
we doing just standin’ aroun’ like this? Let’s get these here cows to market.”

  “We’ll take them down Snyder Street,” Duff said. “That’s a quiet street, but we must keep them bunched tightly so as not to be for causing any trouble.”

  “If we keep ’em bunched too close, it’s goin’ to stretch out the herd a long way,” Elmer said.

  “I’ve done some calculations,” Meagan said. “If we keep them six abreast, we’ll have a line about two hundred fifty yards long. Staggering the men will let us have someone on one side or the other every twenty-five yards. We should be able to keep them under control that way.”

  Elmer laughed out loud. “Whooee, Duff.” He jabbed his finger toward Meagan. “Now that is one smart little lady there.”

  “Aye,” Duff agreed with a wide smile. “Meagan is a lass of uncommon intelligence. “

  “Wang, Jones!” Elmer shouted and Wang and Jones came riding up. “We need to get the herd moving.” Elmer gave the two men Meagan’s explanation as to how the cows were to be moved.

  * * *

  The residents of Cheyenne were used to seeing cattle being driven through town, though the fact that these were Angus rather than Herefords did draw a little extra attention. Many stood out in their front lawns to watch the cattle pass. Several young boys ran down the street keeping pace with the parade until it reached the Union Pacific tracks. There, the punchers swung the line of cattle to the left and crossed a sidetrack just before they approached the cattle pens which were about 150 yards west of the freight depot.

  Creech, Heckemeyer, and Feeler were waiting for them. Feeler was perched on the fence next to the gate, and he had a tablet and pencil in his hand.

  “We need to control the entry into the pen so that Mr. Feeler can count them,” Heckemeyer said. “I think we can get them all in in little over half an hour.”

  “Aye, we’ll manage the herd for you till all the creatures are in,” Duff said.

  “Mr. Heckemeyer, would you mind if I sat on the fence on the opposite side of the gate from Mr. Feeler so I could also make a count?” Meagan asked.