“Sure now ’n dinnae ye be doing that, for what fun would it be to bedevil the English, if an Englishman agrees with me?”
Several had gathered at the scene, including the banker, and they laughed at the banter, as much from relief as from the actual humor.
“Mr. Montgomery, you’ll be wanting to take that back into the bank with you, I suppose,” Marshal Ferrell said, pointing to a cloth bag the bank robber had been carrying.”
“Yes, thank you,” the banker replied.
“Come along, you,” the marshal said to the outlaw. “I’ve got a nice jail cell waiting for you.”
“Jail? What about a doctor?” the bank robber complained. “You heard what this feller said. I got to get my hand looked after.”
“I’ll bring the doctor to the jail.”
“Mr. MacCallister, you’ll be dining on me tonight. Anywhere you want to go, and anything you want to eat,” Hanson said.
“I think ye kindly for the invitation,” Duff said. “But I’ve promised a lady friend I would be dining with her.”
“I’ll pay for her meal as well,” Hanson said.
Duff smiled. “Well now, as a Scotsman, how can I not be pleased to accept something for free?”
Albuquerque, New Mexico Territory
Johnny Dane started killing when he was fourteen. He’d killed a thirteen-year-old girl because she wouldn’t dance with him. He killed another girl a year later because she looked away from him when he spoke to her. He had killed six others since then, four women and two men. He had gotten away with it because nobody believed that someone that young could be that evil. But someone had seen him shoot a man in the back when he was seventeen, so he’d had to leave Denver.
A few minutes earlier, he had gone upstairs with one of the saloon girls who worked at the Tiffany House of Pleasure.
“Honey, you don’t look old enough to be with a real woman,” Bella said.
“I’m old enough,” Dane said.
“We’ll see.” Bella patted the bed she was sitting on.
Fifteen minutes later, a frustrated Dane got up from the bed. “That ain’t never happened to me before.”
“Don’t worry about it, honey. It happens to lots of men.”
“With you? It happens with you?”
“Yes, lots of times.” With her back to him, Bella sat up on the side of the bed and reached for her camisole. She didn’t see him kneel on the bed behind her or pull a knife from his belt. “If you want to try again in a few minutes, you’re going to have to pay me for it, because I’ve got other custo—”
Dane reached around to cup his left hand over her mouth. With the knife in his right hand, he slit her throat, the knife going so deep it sliced through her windpipe. Her warm blood began spilling down over his hand, and he jerked it away so he could look at the terror in her eyes as she died.
“I’m glad to hear you say that it happens with a lot of men who are with you. It just proves that it’s your fault, don’t it?”
Chapter Fourteen
Chugwater
It was early morning, and though most self-respecting roosters had announced the fact long ago, half-a-dozen cocks were still trying to stake a claim on the day. The disc was still hidden by the mountains in the east. The light had already turned from red to white and here and there were signs the people of Chugwater were rising.
A pump creaked as a housewife began pumping water for her morning chores, and somewhere a carpenter had already begun hammering.
After the dinner last night, Duff had decided it was too late to ride back to the ranch, so he had spent the night in town. Awakened by the early morning sounds, he got out of bed and poured a basin of water for his shave.
That finished, he moved over to stand by the open window and looked out onto Clay Street. He heard the clumping of hoofbeats and the rumble and rattle of a couple freight wagons as they rolled slowly down the street, just beginning what would be a daylong journey to Cheyenne. On the wooden porches and boardwalks, shopkeepers were busy sweeping them clean, the better to attract potential customers. A cowboy who had just awakened from a drunken night on the street was wetting his head in a watering trough.
There was a knock on his door. “Duff?”
It was Megan’s voice. “Duff, are you awake yet?” she called through the door.
“I’m up.” Without bothering to put on his shirt, he stepped across the room to open the door.
Megan smiled when she saw him. “I’m glad you didn’t feel you had to dress for me.”
“You’ve seen me without a shirt before.”
“And without your pants,” Megan said, her smile broadening.
“Och, lass, hush now, for ’tis embarrassing me you are, and yourself, too.”
“Duff MacCallister, I am not in the least embarrassed,” Megan said.
He stuck his head out in the hallway, then pulled her in quickly, and shut the door behind her. “Such talk for a public place.”
“It didn’t have to be public. You know you could have spent the night with me.”
“And have it be known, not only by the Englishman, but by everyone in town who would see me stepping out of your place in the morning?”
“You mean, as opposed to people seeing me come out of your hotel room, this morning?”
“Och!” Duff said. “I hadn’t thought of that. Woman, have ye no shame?”
“No shame at all,” Megan said as she leaned into him for a kiss.
Standing on the front porch of the hotel when Duff and Megan came down was Hanson. He stretched, then took a deep breath. “Beautiful morning, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it’s quite a lovely morning,” Megan said.
“I hadn’t expected to see you here, Miss Parker, but one can never complain about the company of a beautiful woman. Will you be taking breakfast with us?”
“I will indeed, since we will be discussing the sale of our cattle this morning.”
“I beg your pardon? Our cattle?”
“Miss Parker has long been a business partner in the cattle I raise at Sky Meadow,” Duff explained.
“Oh, my. What a delightful surprise to know that I will be doing business, not only with the man who saved my life, but his beautiful lady friend as well.”
Duff, Megan, and Hanson started toward the Tacky Mack Café. As they passed the general store they saw a woman picking through the fruits and vegetables on display on the front porch of the store.
“Good morning, Joanne,” Megan called cheerily.
“Good morning, Megan,” the woman replied. “Oh, I must tell you, when Frank and I went to Cheyenne last week everyone was talking about how beautiful the dress was that you made for me. I just love it so.”
“I’m glad you do,” Megan replied.
“Megan, is there anyone in town you haven’t made a dress for?” Duff asked as they continued on up the street.
“I haven’t made a dress for everyone,” Megan replied. Then she added, “Yet.”
“You appear to be a most enterprising young lady, Miss Parker,” Hanson said. “You are involved in the cattle business and a seamstress, as well?”
“Oh, Megan is much more than a seamstress,” Duff said. “She owns her own shop and she designs the creations she sells.”
“That’s quite impressive,” Hanson said.
Duff smiled. “I got that right, didn’t I, Megan? They aren’t just dresses, they are creations.”
Megan chuckled. “I’m proud of you.”
“Nae, lass, ’tis proud of you, I am.”
Stepping into the Tacky Mack Café, they were met by Rudy York, the proprietor.
“Hello, Duff, Miss Megan. I heard about savin’ that foreign fella yesterday. I’ll bet he’s pretty thankful today.”
“Indeed I am, sir, indeed I am,” Hanson replied.
York looked surprised. “It was you?”
“It was.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean nothin’ by that ‘foreign fella’ comment.”
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“As I am a foreign fellow, there is absolutely nothing offensive in your remark, and no apology is necessary.”
“Rudy, this is Cal Hanson. Mr. Hanson, this is Rudy York. If you don’t like the food this morning, he is the one you must blame.”
“Ha!” Megan said. “I’ve never seen you offer any complaints about Rudy’s food.”
“You’ve got me there, lass,” Duff agreed with a smile.
“Let me escort you to a table,” York offered.
Fifteen minutes later, Megan and Hanson were having a second cup of coffee, and Duff was having another batch of pancakes when two men approached the table. Both of them were wearing suits, and neither of them was wearing a gun. The short, baldheaded man was Charley Blanton, editor of the Chugwater Defender. The taller of the two men was Joe Cravens, the mayor of the town.
“Mr. Hanson, as mayor of this town, I would like to officially welcome you to Chugwater, and I thank you for choosing to do business here.”
“And, my Lord Mayor, I would like to express my appreciation for the treatment I have received since arriving in your fair city.”
The mayor chuckled. “Would that include being taken hostage in the attempted bank robbery?”
Hanson chuckled. “I must confess that there were moments when I was concerned as to my future, but thanks to the unerring marksmanship of the Scottish gentlemen here, no harm was done, and it but added to the excitement of the visit.”
“Mr. Hanson, I’m Charles Blanton, editor of our local newspaper. I wonder if you would consent to an interview,” the shorter of the two men asked, extending his hand.
“I would be happy to,” Hanson replied, taking the offered hand.
“Good. If you would, then, just drop by my office when you have finished breakfast. Duff can show you where it is.”
“Would you two be for joining us?” Duff asked.
“No, I thank you kindly for the invitation, but I’ve city business to attend to,” Mayor Cravens said.
“And I must check on the layout of today’s edition,” Blanton said. “We’ll leave now, and let you good people enjoy your breakfast in peace.”
“Mr. Hanson and I have had our breakfast, Charley,” Megan said. “You may have noticed that the only thing we’re doing now is seeing just how many pancakes Duff can actually eat.”
Blanton, Cravens, and Hanson laughed.
“Here now, ’n I’ve had no more than eight,” Duff said.
They laughed again.
“They seem to be a couple very nice gentlemen,” Hanson said after the two men left.
“They are interesting men as well,” Duff said. “Joe Cravens, the mayor, is a graduate of West Point.”
“Ah, yes. I am familiar with West Point,” Hanson said. “We learned about it when I attended the Royal Military Academy at Sandhurst.”
“Mayor Cravens reached the rank of brigadier, and performed with gallantry in the Civil War.”
“Dare I ask for which side?”
“Aye, for ’tis a good question. Like many other graduates of West Point, Mayor Cravens resigned his commission in the U.S. Army and fought for the South.”
“Charley Blanton owns the newspaper. He was a journalist for the New York Times, but he grew weary of city life and came west. We have a mutual connection in New York. He was a very good friend of my kinfolk, Andrew and Rosanna MacCallister, who are quite well-known thespians.”
Finished with pancakes, Duff, Megan, and Hanson stopped by the newspaper office where Hanson would be interviewed by Blanton. Duff had a great deal of respect for the press, and he could almost believe there was something sacrosanct about a newspaper office. He looked around, taking in the editorial bay where Blanton had his desk, the composing room with its tables and drawers of type, and the press room where reposed the steam-powered rotary press, recently purchased to replace the Washington hand press, which for many years had been the backbone of western newspapers.
“Oh, Miss Parker, I beg your pardon,” Blanton said. “I had no idea you would be stopping by my establishment. Had I known that, I would have swept the place out and cleaned it up a bit.”
Megan laughed. “Why go to all that trouble? You never have before when I have brought advertising copy by for you. By the way, have you set my latest ad, yet?”
“I have indeed. Would you like to see it?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to take up your valuable time. I know you want to interview Mr. Hanson.”
“No problem at all. It’s over there on the composing table,” Blanton said.
Megan stepped over to look at it.
LADIES
FINEST DRESSES
Made to Order at
MEGAN’S DRESS EMPORIUM
On either side of the copy was a cut of a dress.
“Yes, Mr. Blanton, that looks very nice,” Megan said.
“It will run in the next five issues,” Blanton said. Then he turned his attention to Cal Hanson.
Although the main part of the interview dealt with the business Hanson was transacting, Blanton also asked him how he felt when he was being held hostage by the would-be bank robber, who was in jail, recovering from his hand wound.
“Well, I would be lying if I didn’t say that I was frightened,” Hanson said. “I quite didn’t expect the outcome that transpired, that is, to have the gun shot from the hand of the brigand who was holding me captive. The gunshot was from what had to be a considerable distance.”
“We walked it off,” Blanton said. “And we believe that it was about two hundred and fifty yards.”
“An amazing shot. Especially considering that the gun was being held to my head.”
“That was nothing,” Blanton said. “You should have been here for the shooting contest.”
“I expect Mr. MacCallister won.”
“Oh, yes.”
Blanton went on to describe in some detail the shooting contest.
“Tell me, Mr. Hanson, what made you decide to leave England and come to America to raise cattle?”
“You will think me foolish.”
“Now, how could I ever think that an English gentleman like you would be foolish?”
Hanson laughed. “You are aware, I’m sure, of the novels of the American West, the dime novels. I’m sure the stories are all fiction, but some of them have stirred my imagination. One character I have found particularly intriguing is Smoke Jensen. I know he doesn’t exist but—”
“He most certainly does exist,” Blanton said.
“Really? How fascinating. At any rate, such stories stirred my interest, so I wrote up a prospectus for a cattle ranch in Texas, put up as much money as I had, and secured the necessary investment for the rest I needed to bring that to fruition. And, that done, here I am.”
“Well, sir, you have started in the right place. All evidence points to the Angus cattle as being the most productive, and I can vouch for the fact that you are doing business, not only with the most knowledgeable of the breed, but also one of the most honest and sincere men in the business.”
“I am not surprised to hear such accolades about Duff MacCallister,” Hanson replied.
“Well, Mr. Hanson, I thank you very much for consenting to the interview. And Duff, thank you for bringing him by.”
“I always want to stay on the good side of the press,” Duff said.
“Well, where to now?” Hanson asked when he stepped back out into the street with Duff and Sally.
“Would you care to come out to the ranch and examine the cattle you’ll be buying?” Duff asked.
“I would be delighted to. Have you a carriage of some sort? I have no means of transportation.”
“You do ride, don’t you?”
“Yes, I ride.”
“Then there is no problem. We’ll stop by the stable and rent a horse for you.”
“I’m going as well,” Megan said. “Just give me time to put a closed sign on the door.”
Chapter Fifteen
Sky Me
adow Ranch
“Oh, what a beautiful estate,” Hanson said when they crested a little rise in the road, and the ranch came into view. “I hope, one day, to make Regency as beautiful and as attractive.”
As they rode down the long road that led to the ranch, a rabbit jumped up from the dusty grass alongside, then bounded quickly ahead of them, its long strides kicking up little clumps of dirt before it left the road and disappeared into the bushes.
A welcoming gate arched over the road, bearing in wrought iron the words Sky Meadow. Beyond the gate was a spreading, two-story house, its mansard roof bracketed by chimneys. The porch stretched all the way across the front of the house. This was what the cowboys called the “Big House.”
Set between the Big House and the bunkhouse was the ranch office, a small wood frame building painted red. The bunkhouse was a long, low structure, which was also painted red. A smaller, but quite functional house was behind the bunkhouse. It was where Elmer lived. Indoor plumbing had been installed in all the living structures, which meant no outhouses.
In addition to the living quarters, a barn, a granary, a machine shed, and a smokehouse were on the property.
A large paddock around the barn enclosed at least two dozen horses, all belonging to Duff, and used by the cowboys in operating the ranch.
They were met by Elmer just as they reached the house.
“What would be the cow to bull ratio?” Hanson asked.
Elmer answered the question. “Twenty bulls, three hundred and eighty heifers, along with two hundred one-year-old steers. The steers will put on weight and increase their value, and also, help to keep the bulls calm.”
“Would you like ride out and see the cattle?” Duff asked.
“Oh, yes. I would very much like to see them.”
Duff, Megan, Hanson, and Elmer rode out to the east pasture to take a look at some of the cattle. Their black coats shining in the sun, they moved around quietly nibbling at the grass and drinking from Big Creek.
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