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Die with the Outlaws

Page 16

by William W. Johnstone; J. A. Johnstone


  Lt. Flipper was found innocent of embezzlement, but guilty of conduct unbecoming, and was dishonorably discharged from the army.

  * * *

  After the trial, when Isaac returned to his job at the railroad, he learned that he had been fired “for bringing discredit upon the railroad” for his defense of Henry O. Flipper. His firing had even further implications in that his “poor record with the railroad” reflected with disfavor upon the legal profession.

  As a result, Isaac was disbarred.

  That had been four years ago. Since then, he had drifted from place to place throughout the West, doing odd jobs here and there, but the big turn came when he held up a Texas and Pacific train. He believed that by firing him the Texas and Pacific Railroad had destroyed his career and ruined his life. He got less than five hundred dollars in the robbery and used the money to leave Texas.

  A few more minor holdups and burglaries here and there made him sink deeper into the outlaw life. Then, to his surprise and advantage, when people began speaking of the colored outlaw, they were ascribing all the jobs Isaac was doing to the better-known black outlaw Isom Dart.

  A few months ago Isaac had joined with DuPont and the Regulators.

  “Well, honey, are you just goin’ to sit there, starin’ off into nowhere like that?”

  The woman’s voice brought Isaac back to the present and he realized that he was sitting with Fancy, she being the only other person at the table.

  “What?” He looked around. “Where are the others? McCoy, Greene, and Carter?”

  Fancy laughed. “Honey, you really was asleep with your eyes open, wasn’t you? They’s all done got ’em a girl ’n gone.”

  “What are you doing still here?”

  “Well, ain’t I your girl?” she asked, her big brown eyes opening wide.

  Isaac smiled. “Yes. Yes, indeed you are.”

  “Well, don’t you think maybe we ought to do somethin’ about it?”

  Isaac stood and held his hand out toward her. “I think that would be a very good idea.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Sean O’Neil, who was the president of the Sweetwater Ranchers’ Association, had called for a meeting to be held in the Rongis Hotel. O’Neil’s partner Garrett Kennedy was there as well.

  Matt had come to the meeting with Hugh Conway. In addition to Hugh, several other area ranchers were present—Jim Andrews, Frank Edmonston, Bob Guthrie, Travis Poindexter, Gerald Kelly, Darrel Pollard, Norman Lambert, Eddie Webb, and Ernest Dean Fawcett. Sylvester Malcolm was there as well, though technically he was a farmer, not a rancher.

  A few of the ranchers were dressed as businessmen, but most of them, Matt realized, would have felt much more at home dressed exactly as he was. They were used to the saddle and to range clothes, and they pulled at their collars and tugged at their sleeves as they sat uncomfortably in the hard chairs around the long conference table.

  Besides Matt, the only nonproperty owners present were Sheriff Clark, Tyrone DuPont, and Merlin Boggs.

  A hotel employee came into the meeting room, carrying a tray with a couple of bottles of wine. Wineglasses were already in front of those present, and as the wine steward passed by, Matt held out his glass to be filled.

  “Gentlemen, if all your wineglasses have been charged, may I propose a toast?” O’Neil said, holding up his own glass. The red liquid in his glass caught a beam of light from the overhead gas lanterns and gave off a bright crimson flash.

  “To cooperation among all the ranchers of the valley, whether your stock be cattle or”—he paused to look directly at Hugh—“horses. May we have a profitable year, free from the menace of rustlers.”

  “Hear! Hear!” Kennedy said loudly, and all lifted their glasses to drink.

  “And, while we are here gathered, I would also like to propose an official congratulation from the Sweetwater Ranchers’ Association be extended to our member Jim Andrews on the occasion of his recent marriage.”

  “Hear! Hear!” Hugh said, mimicking Kennedy’s earlier comment.

  Every member of the association held their glass out toward Jim in salute.

  “Now,” O’Neil said. “Let us get on with the meeting, shall we? I think I can speak for everyone here when I say that rustling has been the scourge of all of us.”

  “If this goes on any longer, it’s going to drive me out of business.” Ernest Dean Fawcett was a big man with an easy smile and thinning hair.

  “And not only Fawcett, but me ’n Guthrie, too,” Edmonston added.

  Hugh remained silent.

  “My problem ain’t with rustlin’,” Sylvester Malcolm said.

  “I don’t hardly see how it could be, seein’ as you aren’t running any cattle,” DuPont said.

  “No, I’m a farmer, and I raise wheat. That is, I was raising wheat until a bunch of cattle was drove through my wheat field, smashing it all down.”

  “Well then, Mr. Malcolm, your problem might very well be cattle rustlers same as the rest of us,” O’Neil said.

  “What would make you say something like that?” Malcolm asked.

  “Well, think about it. What cattle would be coming across your wheat field except for stolen cattle? And if there were enough cattle to destroy your wheat crop, they were probably from the Straight Arrow.”

  “The Straight Arrow is ’bout the only ranch stout enough to keep goin’,” Edmonston continued. “In fact when I got hit so hard last year, if I hadn’t been able to get a loan from the bank, I wouldn’ta been able to keep goin’.

  “At least you’re tryin’,” Fawcett said. “You might notice by lookin’ around the table that two men who used to be members of the Ranchers’ Association, them bein’ Tucker ’n Woodward, ain’t here no more. They just give up, is what they done.” He looked over at DuPont. “They was both all in favor of havin’ the Regulators come in ’n take care o’ things. Now they’s gone.”

  “The truth is, gentlemen, that I’m afraid they were too small to survive,” O’Neil said.

  “They tried though,” Travis Poindexter said. “You sure as hell can’t say they didn’t try ’n hang on.”

  “Yes, well, they are both good men, and of course their instinct was to fight back when the rustlers started hitting them,” O’Neil said. “Their problem was that they didn’t have anything to fight with, and the rustlers didn’t leave them enough cattle to even make all the ends meet, so they went under.”

  “Where were the Regulators?” Matt asked, speaking for the first time.

  “I beg your pardon?” Kennedy replied.

  “I’ve been led to believe that the purpose of the Regulators was to prevent such wholesale rustling.” Matt looked directly at DuPont. “I’m asking you, DuPont. Where were you and all your deputies when Tucker and Woodward were being so hard hit by the rustlers?”

  “I know you asked the question of Mr. DuPont, but I would like to answer that,” Kennedy said. “To be fair to Mr. DuPont and his Regulators, they were just getting formed and weren’t ready yet to fight off the rustlers. And unfortunately Tucker and Woodward were too weak to survive until Mr. DuPont and his deputies were sufficiently organized to be effective in their campaign against the rustlers.”

  “It could’ve been worse, though,” Guthrie said.

  “How could it have been worse?” Matt asked. “Neither one of them are here anymore.”

  “The Straight Arrow bought both of ’em out,” Guthrie explained.

  “You mean you have their ranches now?” Matt asked, looking at Kennedy and O’Neil.

  “Yes, but we didn’t maintain them as individual ranches,” O’Neil explained. “We have incorporated their land into the Straight Arrow.”

  “I see,” Matt said

  “No, Jensen, I don’t think you do see,” Kennedy said. “It was not necessary that we buy them out, because it had been homestead property. Once they abandoned their ranches, the land was out there, just for the taking. Mr. O’Neil and I paid them for it when, by law, we did
n’t have to pay them a cent.”

  “I couldn’t see us just taking over,” O’Neil added. “I wouldn’t have felt good about that. After all, both men did have families to support.”

  “What about Keith Dunaway? He had a family to support as well, but it is my understanding that you made no such generous offer to him,” Matt said.

  “Mr. Jensen, I’m not sure what you have heard, or what you think you may have heard,” O’Neil replied, “but the Tumble D was the very first piece of property we acquired, and we tried to deal with Mr. Dunaway. Unfortunately he was obdurate, and unwilling to make any sort of compromise. As a result he lost his ranch, and it only made good business sense to acquire it.”

  “His ranch and livestock was worth more than the amount of the note due, wasn’t it?” Ernest Dean Fawcett asked. “He came to me for a loan and showed me the equity.”

  “And yet, you didn’t help him,” O’Neil said.

  Fawcett shook his head. “I wanted to, I truly did, but I was strapped for cash at the time, and I had my own note due. You might remember, all that happened just after the big freeze-out.”

  “Gentlemen, that is all old business and is behind us now,” O’Neil said. “The purpose of this meeting is to see what we can do to keep such a thing from happening to anyone else. That’s why the Regulators have come into being.”

  “Well, I’m still around, and despite the presence of the Regulators, I am still having to deal with rustlers,” Hugh said.

  “Yes, but your situation is a little different from the others,” O’Neil said. “You are raising horses, and because horses are easier to take than cows, they would always be a prime target for rustlers. Also they are worth more money per head, and they are much easier to sell.”

  “I’m sorry ’bout all the rustlin’ that’s goin’ on at your place, Conway, but we’re spread pretty thin now, ’n if I’m goin’ to defend ever’one, I’m goin’ to need some more men,” DuPont said.

  “And yet, you were about to hang one of my men for attempting to recover four of my horses,” Hugh challenged.

  “We was just doing our job,” DuPont replied. “We caught a man, red-handed, herding four horses. We knew those horses were yours, and we thought he was stealing them from you. We were merely trying to recover your stolen property, that’s all.”

  “How could it be stolen property if it was my man with the horses?” Hugh asked.

  “Well, that’s the problem, you see. We knew he was your man, but the horses weren’t on your property. So it’s like I say, we thought he was stealin’ from you. It wouldn’ta been the first time someone stole from the person he was workin’ for. Anyway, all we did was try ’n stop it.”

  During this discussion and throughout the meeting Matt and Boggs continued to study each other, neither of them looking away. Sheriff Clark had pointed him out to Matt when he arrived.

  “What do you mean you’re going to need more men?” Fawcett asked.

  “It’s like I said, seein’ as Shardeen got hisself kilt by Jensen there”—DuPont nodded toward Matt—“I’ve only got seven men left in the Regulators.”

  “Now, DuPont, I looked into that killin’,” Sheriff Clark said. “They was plenty of witnesses to it, ’n ever’one of ’em told the same story. Shardeen was the one who started that fracas, ’n when Jensen kilt ’im, it was in self-defense.”

  “Yeah, well I admit that Shardeen may have been out tryin’ to prove somethin’, so I ain’t a-sayin’ it warn’t in self-defense. But what I am sayin’ is that since Shardeen got hisself kilt, I only got seven men left,” DuPont said, replying to the challenge. “’N I already didn’t think I had enough, which you men have pointed out by tellin’ me how all the rustlin’ is still goin’ on ’n all.”

  Hugh looked over toward Clark. “Sheriff, it was my impression that you had suspended the position of deputy for the existing members of the Regulators. Surely you won’t be appointing anyone new.”

  “I have suspended all the Regulators from their positions as deputies, and I won’t be makin’ ’em deputies again, ’n I won’t be makin’ no more, neither,” Sheriff Clark said.

  “Yeah, but what none of you understand is that it don’t make no difference whether my men are deputies or not,” DuPont said. “’N I don’t need to be a deputy no more neither, which is why I’m about to give my badge back to you.”

  “So do you plan for the Regulators to just be a bunch of vigilantes?” Poindexter asked. “I mean having that many deputies running around was a little disturbing in itself, but having vigilantes is even worse.”

  “Oh no, it won’t be nothin’ like that ’cause we ain’t goin’ to be vigilantes. What I’ve done is, I’ve gone to the Union Pacific Railroad ’n I got them to appoint me as a railroad detective. I can hire as many as I want to help me out, which’ll be the men I already got in the Regulators ’n maybe a few more. That way we can keep an eye on all the ranches.”

  “What does the railroad have to do with ranchin’?” Guthrie asked.

  “Oh, it has plenty to do with ranchin’,” DuPont replied. “Why, if the rustlin’ don’t stop, you ranchers won’t have no horses or cows to ship out on the railroad, ’n if the railroad don’t have no livestock to ship, why that’ll wind up costin’ them lots of money. ’N bein’ as I was oncet a police officer before I was even a deputy, I have lots of experience at bein’ a lawman, which is what I told the folks at the railroad when I went to talk to ’em. ’N that’s why the Union Pacific hired me as a railroad detective.”

  “Is the Undertaker goin’ to be one o’ your new men?” Poindexter asked.

  Boggs, whose staring at Matt had been without remission, turned to look at Poindexter. Made nervous by the scrutiny, the rancher used his forefinger to pull his collar away from his neck.

  “I can answer that,” O’Neil said, speaking quickly before DuPont could respond. “Mr. Boggs is not a member of the Regulators, nor is he any kind of a lawman. Mr. Boggs is in the employ of the Straight Arrow Ranch.”

  “There’s nobody who hasn’t heard of Merlin Boggs,” Fawcett said. “And from what we have heard, and know, it’s clear that you didn’t hire someone who is called the Undertaker to punch cows for you. So why do you need someone like him?”

  O’Neil forced a smile. “Why, you might say that Mr. Kennedy and I have hired Mr. Boggs for much the same reason that Mr. Conway of the Spur and Latigo has hired Matt Jensen. We believe that someone with Mr. Boggs’s unique skill will be able to provide the protection an operation like ours needs.”

  “When you say skill, you mean his skill as a gunfighter,” Fawcett challenged.

  “As I just told you, Mr. Fawcett, Mr. Kennedy and I have hired Mr. Boggs for our protection. And for that matter, isn’t Mr. Jensen known primarily as a gunfighter?

  “We represent no challenge to Mr. Conway, but given the situation that we both face, we would hardly hire a bookkeeper for protection now, would we?”

  “No, I reckon not.”

  “Gentlemen, let’s get on with our meeting. We’ve many things to discuss, from water usage to grazing procedures,” O’Neil said.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  After the meeting, Matt, Hugh, Jim Andrews, Ernest Dean Fawcett, and Bob Guthrie were having lunch at the Palace Café.

  “Jim, I’m surprised Mary Ella wasn’t at the meeting,” Fawcett said.

  “Why are you surprised? None of the other wives were.”

  “It’s just that Mary Ella has taken more of an interest in ranchin’ than the other wives,” Fawcett said. “I mean, even before you ’n Mary Ella was married, she was a partner in the ranch the two of you put together.”

  “That’s true,” Jim replied. “But we figured there was no need for both of us going to the meeting.”

  “Yeah, I reckon that’s true,” Fawcett agreed.

  “Say, Matt, I seen that you ’n Boggs seemed to be starin’ at each other for ’most the entire meeting,” Guthrie said.

  “I h
ad to do something, Bob,” Matt said. “The meeting was about the most boring thing I’ve ever sat through.”

  The others laughed.

  “It was pretty boring, all right,” Jim agreed. “Now you know why Mary Ella didn’t go.”

  “Matt, what do you know about Boggs?” Fawcett asked.

  “I know that he’s someone who sells his gun to the highest bidder.”

  “Sells his gun? I’m not familiar with that term,” Hugh said.

  “Hugh, when you were giving concerts, you were being paid for your skill and talent to play the piano. You used that skill to make music for people. Merlin Boggs is paid for his skill and talent with a gun, and he uses that skill to shoot and often to kill people.”

  “Matt, are you saying that Kennedy and O’Neil have hired Boggs to kill people?”

  “They didn’t hire him to play the piano.”

  “I’m having a hard time accepting that,” Hugh said. “I mean, yes, Shardeen was a known killer, but he was working for the Regulators, and that entire membership is composed of men with questionable backgrounds, starting with DuPont himself. Kennedy and O’Neil are ranchers and supposedly respectable businessmen. The thought that they would hire a known killer is quite disconcerting.”

  “Who is it, do you think, that they want this Boggs person to kill?” Fawcett asked.

  “I expect that would be me,” Matt said easily as he buttered his biscuit.

  * * *

  After returning to Purgatory Pass from the Sweetwater Ranchers’ Association meeting, DuPont called a few of his men together. “Being as we’re now private detectives for the railroad, we need to find some cattle rustlers.”

  “Well hell, we don’t have to look very far,” Carter replied with a little laugh. He made an encompassing motion with his hand. “Here we are.”

  The others laughed as well.

  “No, we need to find someone else who is rustling,” DuPont said.

  “That’s goin’ to be kind of a problem, on account of there prob’ly ain’t nobody else that’s doin’ any real rustlin’. That is, unless you count catchin’ mavericks as rustlin’,” Moe Greene said.

 

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