The Western Adventures of Cade McCall Box Set

by Robert Vaughan

  Dutch Henry found Weasel and read the article to him.

  “Ha!” Weasel said, with a grin crossing his face. “I told you burnin’ ‘em was a good idea. We ain’t gonna be havin’ no more trouble out’a that job, and we’s a lot richer than we would’a been if we’d just sold the horses.”

  Dodge City continued to grow in spite of the dwindling buffalo herd. According to the records for the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Railroad, there were 497,163 hides shipped out in 1872 alone. As the winter wore on, more and more hunters were moving into the “no-man’s land”. This was a strip of land that separated Kansas from Texas and it was supposedly reserved for the several Indian tribes that had agreed to go onto reservations in exchange for the right to hunt buffalo.

  Even though the hunters drifted farther and farther south, they always returned to Dodge City to sell their robes. Dodge was still a wide-open town, with more and more saloons—now twenty-six in number. And still no law existed except for one US Marshal who was technically located in Hays City. On his rare visits to Dodge City, his attempt to corral the rowdies was met with taunts and ridicule.

  It was in this climate that the most successful business in town remained the Devil’s Den Saloon. It was now open twenty-four hours a day, and the noise coming from the establishment was as loud at two o’clock in the morning as it was at two o’clock in the afternoon. In addition to the noise of shouts, screams, laugher, and off-key music there was, too often, the sound of gunfire.

  One day in early spring of 1873, a big man with a dark, swooping moustache and narrow brown eyes rode into town. A knife fight had carved away part of his upper lip, leaving him permanently scarred. That same fight had left his opponent permanently dead.

  Dismounting in front of the Devil’s Den, the man, who went by the name of Edge Dunn, tied off his horse and went inside, moving away from the door to put his back to the wall as he perused the patrons of the busy saloon. He saw the man he was looking for at the back of the saloon, playing the wheel of fortune. He seemed to be winning, and one of the saloon girls was standing beside him, cheering him on. Dunn walked up to the man.

  “I’ve been looking for you, Brock,” Dunn said.

  There was an implied challenge in the tone that brought all activity to a halt. Even the man who was about to spin the wheel froze.

  The man called Brock turned away from the wheel, shoved the girl aside, and smiled, though there was no humor in his smile.

  “It looks like you found me.”

  In a saloon that was known for the high level of noise, there was now dead silence as, for a long moment, the two men stared at each other. Then, without a word of warning, Brock made a grab for his pistol, but Dunn beat him to the draw and within a heartbeat, Brock lay dead on the floor.

  Clemmie, the girl who had been standing next to Brock, looked down at his body, then at Dunn, who was still holding the smoking gun in his hand.

  “Mister,” she said, “you just cost me two dollars. This man was about to go upstairs with me.”

  “You haven’t lost anything,” Dunn said, offering her his hand.

  Clemmie flashed him a big smile. “All right,” she said. “I haven’t lost a thing.” Stepping over Brock’s body she hooked her arm through Dunn’s and they headed for the stairway.

  That very day Mack Slater hired Edge Dunn. He was to be a private security guard for the saloon. Nobody knew much about him, but everybody speculated.

  “Why, he kilt twelve men down in Texas a’ fore he come up here.”

  “It’s fifteen men that he kilt, ‘n it warn’t in Texas, it was in Wyoming.”

  Edge Dunn sat in a chair on a raised platform that allowed him to see everything that was going on out on the floor. He had a double-barrel shotgun across his lap, a rifle by his side, and a holstered pistol. In most cases, a simple warning from Dunn was enough to deter anyone who might have a hostile thought. But that wasn’t enough for everybody, and within a month after arriving in Dodge City, he had killed four more men. Every killing, according to witnesses, was justified.

  24

  Jeter was posting trip information on the blackboard when Jolly Hartzog, a young man who worked for Robert Wright, came into the office.

  “Mr. Willis?”

  “Yes, Jolly, what do you need?”

  “Mr. Wright has called a meetin’ of the town directors ‘n businessmen for two o’clock this afternoon.”

  “Two o’clock? All right, we’ll be there.”

  “We?”

  “Yes, Mr. McCall, Mr. Harrison, and I.”

  “I don’t know if he wants them to come too. He sent me down to tell you, is all I know.”

  “You did say directors and businessmen didn’t you?”

  “Yes, sir, that’s what he told me to say.”

  “Then Mr. McCall, Mr. Harrison, and I will be there.”

  “Yes, sir, I’ll tell ‘im.”

  At two o’clock that afternoon the Rath and Company store closed their doors to business. Cade, Jeter, and Jacob joined at least twenty other businessmen finding a place to sit or stand anywhere they could. Jeter noticed both Mack and Luke Slater were present as well, and he made his way to the opposite side of the room.

  When all had gathered, Robert Wright stepped up front and called for quiet.

  “Gentlemen,” he began, “it has been since last August that several of us in this room drew up the papers to make Dodge City a town. While that process has been as slow as . . . well, as slow as molasses on ice, the lawlessness and the killings have gone on. According to Eb Collar, I believe we have had fifteen killings this winter alone.”

  “I can tell you how to stop that, and stop it right now,” Winston Sweeny said. He pointed to the Slater brothers. “Ever body in this room knows that if that damn hell hole the Slaters run was shut down, why I’d say ninety percent of our trouble would stop. We all know trouble spills out of the Devil’s Den and it spreads into all our places of business. And we can’t stop it.”

  “I’ve been here since the beginning,” Frederic Zimmerman said, “and from the beginning we’ve had our troubles.”

  “But it warn’t like this,” Sweeny said. “Does anybody remember when that place was the Red House? It was a damn fine place to go back then—no whores, no fights, and most of all no killings. I say kick the Slaters out.”

  “This is a meeting of the businessmen of this town, ain’t it?” Mack retorted. “We’re businessmen, so we have every right to be here.”

  “Mr. Slater is correct,” Wright said. “He and his brother are businessmen and they have the right to be here.”

  “All right, then get back to the point of this meeting,” George Cox said. “I need to get back to the Dodge House.”

  “We need to bring law and order to Dodge City.”

  Most in the room laughed.

  “Tell us somethin’ we don’t know,” Zimmerman said. “Ford County isn’t even organized enough to have a county sheriff, so even if we was to appoint a marshal, he wouldn’t have any authority.”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of a law enforcement committee,” Wright said.

  “What kind of committee?” Sweeny asked.

  “Just a . . . committee that would take care of things,” Wright said without being specific.

  “Bob, you wouldn’t be talking about vigilantes, would you?” Cade asked.

  Wright paused for a moment before he replied. “All right, yes, maybe I am. The way I see it, a group of vigilantes, recognized by the community, is the only way we’re going to be able to combat the lawlessness.”

  “The problem with vigilantes is they can too easily become their own law; then the cure would be as bad as the disease,” Cade said.

  “Then the way to overcome that possibility is to put only the best men on the vigilante committee,” Charles Rath suggested.

  “That depends on what you mean by the best men,” Zimmerman said. “A lot of times the best men can’t deal with the violence t
hat this committee would have to confront.”

  “Fred’s right. You have to fight fire with fire,” Cox said.

  “George, are you suggesting that we should engage some of the very people who are causing our problems?” Wright asked.

  “I suppose I am. This way we could make their . . .” Cox stopped hunting for the right word. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that we can turn their meanness into a positive, rather than a negative thing.”

  “I’m afraid I have to agree with George and Fred,” Charles Rath said.

  “I have a suggestion,” Mack Slater offered.

  “What’s your suggestion?” Wright asked.

  “Edge Dunn. I think we should appoint him as the head of the vigilantes.”

  “Dunn? Absolutely not!” Herman Fringer said. “Why, he’s been in Dodge less than a month, and he’s already killed five men.”

  “And in every case the killing was justified,” Slater replied.

  “I don’t know,” Rath said. “Dunn’s not a very likable person. We might have a hard time finding men who’d be willing to work with him.”

  “Let him recruit his own men,” Slater suggested.

  “What kind of a man would he find?” Zimmerman asked. “The men’s Sunday school class, no doubt?” he added sarcastically.

  “I don’t think a Sunday school class would do it for you,” Mack said. “You did say you wanted to fight fire with fire, didn’t you? Well, that’s exactly the kind of man Dunn would round up. And believe me, a desperado would think twice a‘fore he faced off agin’ Edge.”

  “You know what, I hate to say it, but I think Slater’s got a good idea,” Sweeny said. “Ain’t we tryin’ to keep the outlaw out of our town? And who better to do it than someone who’s not afraid to pull the trigger?”

  “It could work,” Rath agreed. “But I’d like to see Dunn work full time with the vigilantes.”

  “We couldn’t expect him to do that unless we paid him,” Zimmerman said. “And how would we do that? Let’s face it. My hardware store doesn’t need these vigilantes as much as all the saloons do.”

  “Don’t have worry about that,” Luke Slater said. “We been payin’ Edge, and we’ll keep on doin’ it.”

  “That’s all well and good, Slater,” Cade said, “but wouldn’t that mean Dunn would be working for you and not the town?”

  “It don’t matter,” Slater replied, lifting his finger. “If the vigilantes do what we want ‘em to, we’d all be better off. In the end, the outlaws would be took care of. Now ain’t that what we want?”

  “I say we take Slater’s suggestion,” Wright said. “I say we let Edge Dunn form up the vigilantes, and be the head of them.”

  “And I say we’ll be opening a bag of worms if we do this,” Jacob said.

  “I agree,” Fringer added.

  “Why don’t we put it to a vote?” Zimmerman suggested.

  “All right,” Wright said as he looked around the room. “The board of directors are all here. We can vote right now.”

  “No!” Mack Slater said quickly. “This here’s the whole town’s problem. I think everyone here should have a vote.”

  “I agree with Slater,” George Cox said. “I’m not on the board of directors, but I damn sure am a business owner and I feel like I should have some say so in this.”

  “All right,” Rath agreed. “I think the businessmen of the town should all have something to say about this. Mr. Chairman,” he said, addressing Robert Wright, “I call the question.”

  Wright cleared his throat, then began to speak. “The question before the floor is, should the town of Dodge City hire Edge Dunn as a permanent member, and the chief of the Dodge City Vigilante Committee? And, should we let him recruit those who would serve as members of the committee?”

  “Change the word ‘hire’ to ‘appoint’,” Cox said. “We can’t afford to hire him, and Mack Slater already said he’d keep Dunn on the Devil’s Den payroll.”

  Wright reposed the question, replacing the word hire with appoint. The motion carried, fourteen to nine. Cade, Jeter, and Jacob were part of the nine in opposition.

  “I have a question,” Jeter said, as everyone was congratulating themselves on taking the first steps. “Edge Dunn is being paid by the Slaters, but what about the vigilante members?”

  “They’ll be volunteers,” Rath explained. “It’ll be understood that they don’t get paid.”

  “That’s fine if the vigilantes are people who have a source of income, but we’ve just agreed to let Dunn do the recruiting. We don’t know who he’ll get so my question is how do they make a living?”

  “That’s a good point,” Fringer said. “If Edge Dunn is choosing the members of the committee, how will they be making money?”

  “We could charge a special tax,” Slater suggested.

  “No. No taxes,” Wright said. “None of the citizens of the town would go along with it, and neither would I.”

  “I say we should cross that bridge when we come to it,” Zimmerman said. “For now, the important thing is to get the committee organized.”

  “Hear, hear,” one of the others responded.

  As Cade, Jeter, and Jacob left the meeting, Cade shook his head. “I can’t see anything good coming from this.”

  “Yeah,” Jeter said. “Putting Edge Dunn in charge of keeping the peace is like . . .” he paused, searching for an analogy.

  “Putting a fox in charge of the henhouse?” Jacob suggested.

  “Yeah, putting a fox in charge of the henhouse.”

  “I suppose the only thing we can do is wait and see how it works out,” Cade said.

  From the Dodge City Messenger

  COMMITTEE FORMED

  The Dodge City Town Company of Ford County held a meeting on the 4th instant, to which were invited, in addition to the members of the Board of Directors, those gentlemen of the town who own and operate businesses.

  The purpose of the meeting was to discuss what could be done about the increasing amount of murder, mayhem, and all other acts of violence taking place within the city limits. It was decided by all present that a law enforcement committee be formed to provide for the peace and tranquility of our new and growing community. Although this law enforcement committee lacks the jurisdiction of state law, or even country statutes, it does have the moral authority of a beleaguered body of citizens who are determined to rid their city of the despotism of desperadoes.

  Edge Dunn, who is currently employed by the Devil’s Den Saloon, has been appointed chief of the committee, and charged with the responsibility of recruiting its members.

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  25

  For the next several days the citizens of the town were aware of new arrivals. The new men weren’t buffalo hunters, nor were they storekeepers or lawyers or even gamblers. There was a sameness though: the look in their eyes, the confident, almost arrogant way they held themselves, the way they were dressed. But what was most noticeable about them was the way they wore their guns, with the holsters low, and kicked out for quick draw.

  Any question as to whether or not they were to be vigilantes was quickly answered when they were seen patrolling the town with Edge Dunn.

  Within two days after the “law enforcement committee” was organized, Dodge City got its first look at the vigilantes in action.

  Four Buffalo hunters, unaware that any such committee had been formed, were in the Alhambra Saloon. Having recently sold their hides, their pockets were full of money, and they were drunk. They decided to celebrate, and the celebration was beginning to get out of hand. />
  “Hey, Hog Jaw,” one of them called to his friend. “Why don’t we give these folks an ‘exhibition’? Let’s show ‘em some real shootin’.”

  “How we goin’ to do that, Stubby?”

  “Hell, it’ll be easy,” Stubby said. “We’ll line us up a bunch o’ whisky glasses up on the piano, then we’ll shoot ‘em off the top.”

  “No, now, don’t you boys be doin’ nothin’ like that,” the bartender said. “You can’t go shootin’ guns off in here.”

  “Ahh, don’t worry none about it,” Stubby said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “As long as the bullets go where we want ‘em to go, there ain’t goin’ to be no problems.”

  Even as Stubby was talking, Hog Jaw put a glass on top of the piano.

  “Now, watch this,” Stubby said. He fired at the glass and shattered it cleanly, with no sign of his bullet hitting the piano, though it did punch a hole through the back wall.

  “Now it’s my turn,” Hog Jaw said.

  “Billy Ray,” the bartender said, quietly. “Go get the vigilantes.”

  Billy Ray sneaked out of the saloon without his departure being noticed by either Stubby or Hog Jaw, then he hurried down the street and across the tracks.

  Edge Dunn had taken a small building on the south side of the railroad tracks for his office. The building had been a land agency, but Dunn ran the agent off. He was enjoying a cigar while sitting in what had been the agent’s chair, with his feet propped up on what had been the agent’s desk, when Billy Ray came in.

  “Sheriff?”

  “I ain’t no sheriff.”

  “But you’re like one, ain’t you? I mean if we need a sheriff, ain’t we s’posed to come to you?”

  “What’s it that you need a sheriff for?”

  “Stubby ‘n Hog Jaw . . .they’re a couple of buffalo hunters, ‘n they’re shootin’ up down at Mr. Kelley’s bar is what they’re a’ doin’.”

  “All right, I’ll go take care of ‘em.”