“Kill them!” Jaco shouted, and he began firing at the workers. The other riders of the Kingdom Come Gang followed suit, and the young, inexperienced workers were cut down like sheep in a slaughtering pen.
A few of the townspeople came out into the street, many still in their nightgowns and nightshirts. Seeing what was happening, they retreated quickly back into their houses.
While the early risers were now lying in the street dead or gravely wounded, Jaco turned his attention to the townspeople. “People of Runnels!” he shouted. “I want you out of your houses! All of you! Turn out into the street, now!”
No one came.
Jaco looked over at Dingo, who was holding a flaming torch. Jaco pointed to the roof of the general store. “Burn it down,” he ordered.
Dingo tossed the flaming brand onto the shake roof. It caught fire and, within a few moments, the entire building was ablaze.
Jaco fired a few shots into the air. “Now, if you people don’t come out into the street right now like I ordered you to, I’m goin’ to burn down ever’ buildin’ in this town. Do you understand me? Ever buildin’ in the town is goin’ to be burnt down, if you don’t come into the street.”
Hesitantly, fearfully, the people of the town started going outside.
“Well now, you’re finally beginnin’ to get smart,” Jaco noticed that they had stopped in front of a restaurant. “Who owns this restaurant?”
“I own it,” a man said, stepping down from the porch. Unlike most of the others, he was dressed and wearing an apron.
“I want you to fix breakfast for us.”
“Yes, sir, I’d be glad to. Breakfast is a quarter apiece. How many of you are there?”
“It don’t matter how many of us there are, this mornin’ breakfast is free.”
“Why, sir, I can’t give you a free meal. I’m a businessman,” the restaurant owner protested.
Jaco looked out over all the people he had called outside. He saw one old man with wrinkled skin, white hair, and a long, white beard. He shot him, and the man died with a look of shock on his face.
Screams and shouts of alarm came from several of those gathered on the street.
“Let me tell you what I’m goin’ to do, Mr. Restaurant Owner,” Jaco said. “I’m goin’ to start killin’ people, ’n I’m goin’ to keep on a-killin’ people until you get back inside ’n start cookin’ our breakfast. How many I kill depends on how long it takes you to get back inside.”
“No! No!” the restaurant owner shouted, holding both his hands out. “Don’t kill nobody else! I’m a-goin’ back inside now ’n I’m a-goin’ to start in a-cookin’ your breakfast.”
“And you ain’t goin’ to charge nothin’ for it,” Jaco repeated.
“No, sir. I ain’t goin’ to charge you nothin’ a-tall.”
“You’re a good man.” Jaco turned to the others. “This man just saved your lives . . . all of you. So I think you need to give him a lot of business after we leave.”
“Ha!” Putt said. “He owes us a free breakfast on account of you drummin’ up business for ’im.”
Over breakfast of bacon, eggs, and fried potatoes, Jaco addressed all his men. “Blue, after we get through here, you, Larry, and Lenny go to the bank. Have the banker open his vault and clean it out. Clean out the cash drawers, too. Then, kill whoever is left in the bank.”
“All right,” Putt said.
“Dingo, I got somethin’ special I want you to do. I want you to take three, maybe four more men with you and kill fifteen or twenty people.”
“Anyone in particular?”
“No, it don’t make no never mind who it is . . . as long as we kill a bunch of ’em. The more we kill, the more people will be afraid of us. And the more people are afraid of us, the less chance anyone is goin’ to try and go agin’ us. You all right with that?”
Dingo grinned. “Yeah. That’ll be fun.”
Jaco nodded. “I thought you might like that.” He picked out the former law man. “Mattoon, I want you and Cyr to visit every store and select the best merchandise the store has to offer. I also want you to visit every house and take all the jewels and money you can find. If anyone protests, kill them.”
“Where you goin’ to be, Jaco?” Putt asked.
“I’m goin’ to be right out front, drinkin’ coffee ’n enjoyin’ the show.”
When the Kingdom Come Gang rode out of town early that afternoon, they had sacks filled with money and anything else they could find of value. Behind them, more than thirty people lay dead and a dozen buildings were burning.
Johnny Dane was feeling particularly satisfied. One of the dead lying on the street behind them was a sixteen-year-old girl. He had kept her alive until he was finished with her, so he could enjoy the terror in her eyes.
It had been good. So good.
Eagle Pass
Totally unaware of the terrible drama taking place some fifty miles north of them, Jason, Melissa, and Megan greeted Duff and the others warmly.
“I thought Cal would be here to meet us,” Duff said. “I expect I had better make arrangements to get cattle into the holding pens until he gets here.”
“Are you Mr. MacCallister?” a man asked, approaching him.
“Aye. And you would be?”
“My name is Taylor. I work for Mr. Hanson. I’ve done sent word that his cows is here. He’ll be along directly, I reckon.”
“We’re here now, Mr. Taylor,” an English-accented voice said as Hanson approached them. “Hello, Duff, Miss Parker. Good morning Sheriff and Mrs. Bowles.” Hanson shook hands with Duff and the sheriff. Then, seeing Elmer and Wang, he shook hands with them as well.
After the greeting, he turned to Taylor. “Mr. Taylor, if you would like to join Mr. Barnes and the others, I think we can eschew the holding pens, and start straight away to get the beasts relocated to the ranch.”
“Bless you,” Taylor said.
Hanson looked at the cowboy with a confused expression on his face. “Was the thought of putting the cattle in the pens so daunting that you feel you must bless me?”
“What? No, I was just blessin’ you ’cause you sneezed.”
“I beg your pardon. When did I sneeze?”
Duff laughed. “I think it was the word eschew.”
Taylor nodded. “Yeah. You mean that wasn’t a sneeze?”
It was Hanson’s turn to laugh. “No, dear boy, that wasn’t a sneeze. But I thank you for your response, anyway.”
“Well, if it warn’t no sneeze, what was it?”
“Eschew is a perfectly good word. It means that we will avoid using the holding pens.”
“Yes, sir. Well, that deserves a bless you, as well. I expect I’d better get over there ’n start helpin’ Barnes get all them cows offen the train.”
Hanson shook his head as Taylor left. “How can two nations approach the same language with such vast differences?”
As the cattle were off-loaded from the cars, Elmer and Taylor, who was the ranch foreman, kept a head count by tying a knot in a strip of rawhide for every tenth cow. When a strip had ten knots, they started another strip. The final tally was 306, the additional cows added as an extra measure in case any were lost along the way.
None were lost, and Duff threw them in as a bonus.
Three hours later, Hanson’s cowboys had all the cattle off-loaded from the train. Since the depot was on the east end of town and Regency Ranch was seven miles from the west end of town, it was necessary to drive the herd down Main Street right through the middle of town.
Because Black Angus was a new breed, many of the people of the town who had not seen the first half of the herd watched with keen interest as the black, hornless creatures passed by.
“What kind of cows did you say them was?” someone asked.
“They’re what you call Black Angus, ’n there ain’t no better tastin’ beef anywhere in the world,” Elmer replied.
“You don’t say. Well, I’d love to eat me somethin’ ot
her ’n pork ’n stringy beef all the time,” another man added.
Near Shumla
On Bullhead Trail, approximately ten miles east of Shumla, Matt Garrison was driving a single wagon down a rutted road. His wife Jennie sat on the seat beside him while their ten-year-old-boy Ethan was riding in the back, wedged in between boxes of clothing, a few items of furniture, household goods, a plow, and several more farming implements.
“Do you think we’ll have any trouble farming out here?” Jennie asked.
“Trouble? Why should we have trouble? Look around you. Things are growing everywhere. I think we’ll make a good crop the very first year. I plan to grow cotton.”
“I’m not talking about whether or not we can make a crop. You’re a good farmer, Matt. I’ve seen that. But Uncle Jake says this is cattle country. I’m worried that ranchers won’t be welcoming us.”
Matt chuckled. “Don’t worry about that. I’ve got that all planned out. I bought fifteen hundred acres from Philbin, ’n I don’t plan on usin’ more ’n eighty acres. Leastwise, not for some time. I figure to let the cattlemen use the rest of the acreage for grazin’. That’ll do two things. One is, it’ll get us in good with the ranchers, so’s there won’t be no trouble. Another thing is, it’ll keep the weeds from overtakin’ the land so that when I’m ready to farm more, it’ll all be there for us.”
“I wish you had waited until there were two or three more wagons wantin’ to go in the same direction,” Jennie said. “I would feel a lot safer.”
“We couldn’t wait for another wagon,” Matt said. “You heard what Philbin said. If we don’t take possession of it within a month, the land will revert to the county.”
“So, what if it does?” Jennie replied.
Matt looked at his wife as if she had lost her mind. “This is good land, Jennie. It can set us up for life. Most people go a lifetime and don’t get a chance like this.”
“I’m just worried about what Mr. Philbin said about why he left. He said the town had turned into an outlaw town.”
“Why would that bother us? We won’t be livin’ in town. We’ll be livin’ out in the country.”
“But we’ll need to be goin’ into town from time to time for supplies ’n such,” Jennie said.
“There ain’t nothin’ says we got to go into Shumla. I’ve looked on the maps. They’s a town named White’s Mine that ain’t but about twelve miles farther away, ’n it’s in the opposite direction so we wouldn’t never even have to go through Shumla.”
“I wonder what the house is like?”
“Philbin said the house was in good shape when he left it. There’s even some furniture in it that comes with it. Why, I’ll just bet we can move into in no more ’n a couple hours.”
Jennie reached over to take Matt’s hand. “You’re right. It will be nice to have a place all our own.”
Chapter Twenty-six
Eagle Pass
Hanson invited his new friends from Chugwater and Eagle Pass to his ranch for dinner that evening, and to prepare the meal, he’d hired the sous-chef from the Rustic Rock. The meal was a great success, and afterward they gathered in the parlor where the Englishman surprised them by playing several classical pieces on the piano.
“You play beautifully,” Melissa said. “I had no idea you had such talent.”
“It was my intention, at one time, to be a concert pianist,” Hanson said. “But, alas, that was not to be.”
“Why not?”
“I am the . . . or I was, the Heir Presumptive to the Earl of Warwick. Members of the peerage do not engage in such pedestrian pursuits as concert pianists.”
“You said you were. You mean you aren’t the heir anymore?” Megan asked.
Hanson smiled and shook his head. “I’m afraid not. One is not allowed to keep a title in the United States.”
“Oh. Are you sorry you came here?” Melissa asked.
“Not at all, my dear lady. I gladly gave up my title and commission to live here in this marvelous country. How could anyone not want to live in a place as vibrant and alive as America? Duff, you having come from Scotland, you must feel the same way.”
“Aye.” Duff chuckled. “It pains me to find myself in agreement with an Englishman, but agree I must. ’Tis no country on earth like the United States, and while I wasn’t born here, ’tis here that I call home, now. But we aren’t the only ones who have left our native land to come to America.” He glanced toward Wang.
“Yes,” Wang said. “I too, am glad to be in America.”
“Wang, why don’t you show some o’ them magic tricks I’ve seen you do?” Elmer said. “I expect these people would enjoy seein’ them.”
“You are a magician?” Timmy asked, excited by the prospect.
“They are called illusionists,” Hanson said. “There is no such thing as magic. But a good illusionist can make you think it’s magic. Please, Mr. Wang, do give us a demonstration.”
“Yes,” Timmy said. “Please do.”
“Jin ze de Shaolin moshu,” Wang said, looking at Elmer.
“They will never know,” Elmer replied. “Go ahead, there is no danger.”
“Yes, no danger,” Wang said. “I will do.”
“Good!” Hanson said.
“Blindfold me please,” Wang said. Jason applied a blindfold, then satisfied himself that Wang couldn’t see.
“I ask all of you to find something in this house, something small enough that you can hold it. Cover it so that no one can see it and only you know what it is. Then come back. Madam Bowles, I ask that you stay here and keep an eye on me, so that others will know I have not seen.”
Melissa agreed, and the others left to find an object, then returned. Everyone had their object covered, Duff, Elmer, and Jason had whatever they were holding, covered by a hat. Hanson and Timmy covered their objects with a table napkin, Megan had her object covered by a stole from her dress.
“They are all back,” Melissa said.
Wang turned his back to them. “Point to someone. Do not tell me who you have pointed to,” Wang said.
Melissa pointed to Jason.
“You have pointed to your husband. He is holding the picture of a man. It is Mr. Cal Hanson. He is sitting on a white horse, and he is wearing the uniform of a British officer.”
Jason pulled the picture from his hat, and the others gasped in surprise.
Wang did that successfully with everyone else. Then, to the applause of all, he turned back around and removed his blindfold.
“You did not choose anything,” Wang said. “Please tell your husband what you would have chosen.”
Melissa whispered something to Jason, speaking so quietly that no one else could hear her.
“You would choose a silver spoon from the dining table,” Wang said.
“How the hell can you do that?” Jason asked with a gasp. “That’s exactly what she said!”
“I learned many things in the temple,” Wang said without further elaboration.
Shumla
True to her word, the woman Ernie Taylor knew as Peggy left Eagle Pass for Shumla. Two miles outside town, she stopped and changed out of the jeans and shirt she had worn for the ride, into a very low-cut and formfitting dress. She applied makeup with the artistry of a master.
“Dancer,” she said to the horse she was riding. “Say good-bye to Peggy. We’re going to leave her here. Say hello to . . . hmm . . . who shall I be? What about Belle? Yes, I shall be Belle.”
She mounted the horse. “All right, Dancer, let’s get Belle to town.”
The sight of a woman riding into town alone was unusual enough to draw a great deal of interest. The fact that she was a very pretty woman caused even more attention, and when the people of the town saw that the dress she was wearing was an obvious advertisement for her profession, being that of a lady of the evening, the interest grew even more intense. Men began pouring out of the buildings that fronted the main street, hurrying down the street on each side, looking on in
curiosity and unrestrained lust.
Belle stopped in front of the Red Dog Saloon and smiled when she saw that a least a dozen or more men had followed her. She leaned forward to pat her horse on the neck. That action, by design, showed the tops of her breasts almost all the way to the nipples. Looking out at the crowd of men, she put on her prettiest smile. “Tell me, gentlemen, do any of you know where I might find a lady named Sherazade? She is a friend of mine.”
“Sherazade a lady?” one of the men called from the crowd, and several of the others laughed.
“Is that a nice thing for you to say?” Belle asked, rolling her lips out in a pout. “I’ve been thinking about moving here, but if that is the way you treat ladies, then I may have to change my mind.”
“Cooper didn’t mean nothin’ by it,” one of the other men said. “Did you, Cooper?”
Several of the others glared at Cooper.
“No, I didn’t mean nothin’ by it. If you ask me, Miss Sherazade is a lady. Same as all the ones that works for her.”
“What are you lookin’ for Sherazade for?” asked the man who had chastised Cooper.
“Oh, I thought I might join her in providing”—she paused for a moment, then leaning ever farther forward, finished the sentence is a husky, breathy tone—“a pleasurable experience for any gentleman who is willing to pay for it.”
Upon hearing that, the men cheered, whistled, and applauded.
“Unless, of course, this town has an ordnance against pleasure,” Belle said.
“Miss, we ain’t got a ordnance against anything,” Cooper said, and everyone laughed.
“Of course, I only intend to entertain real gentlemen. Do you think you could be gentlemen?”
“I can be the dandiest, most sissified gentleman you done ever seen.” Holding one hand out, Cooper curled his finger.
“Oh, I want a gentleman, not a girly-man,” Belle said, and again the others laughed.
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