Chapter Twenty-eight
“You wanted to see me, Mr. Gleason?” Steve Emerson asked. Emerson was a grizzled old cowboy who had been working at Sky Meadow from the very year the ranch was started.
“Yeah,” Elmer replied. He handed Emerson a cloth bag. “They’s a side o’ bacon in here, some beans, cornmeal, flour, coffee, ’n sugar. How ’bout ridin’ over to Percy’s place ’n give this to Kirk? He’s watchin’ out for it till Percy gets back.”
“Woowee damn! With this much food, ole Sam’s goin’ to get fat ’n lazy. He won’t be worth nothing when he comes back,” Emerson teased.
“Yeah, well, we can’t have him eatin’ up all of Percy’s provisions, now, can we? I figure he ’n his new bride will more ’n likely be comin’ back home within another week.”
“It’s about time he married that girl. He was moonin’ over her even when he was workin’ over here, before he ever started his own spread,” Emerson said.
“Well, you goin’ to take that bag to ’im, or not?” Elmer asked, though his smile ameliorated the words.
“I’m goin’, I’m goin’, but I’ll tell you this, I sure hope I don’t never get as cranky as you are when I get your age.”
“Now, seein’ as you’re already older ’n me, how the hell are you goin’ to get my age, lessen you can turn aroun’ ’n start goin’ backward?” Elmer asked with a laugh.
Emerson took the cloth bag, saddled his horse, tied the bag to the saddle horn, then took the easy, four-mile ride over to Percy Gaines’s ranch.
Emerson and Percy had been friends when Percy worked for Sky Meadow, and because of that Emerson had been to Percy’s ranch several times. Emerson was a good chess player, and he taught Percy the game. They played chess when he visited, and Percy welcomed him because running a one-man operation could get very lonely.
“What do you think, Harry?” Emerson asked his horse. “After Percy ’n his new bride get back, do you reckon he’ll still be willin’ to play chess with an old man like me?”
The horse whickered, as if responding to Emerson’s question.
“Yeah, that’s pretty much what I was thinkin’, too,” Emerson said, with a little chuckle.
Percy looked out into the pasture to see how Percy’s herd was doing. To his surprise, the herd wasn’t there, not one cow.
“Well, now, just what do you reckon happened to all of Percy’s cows?” he asked aloud. “Where’d Sam move them to? Percy don’t have that much pasture to move ’em around. The grass ain’t been over et here, ’n water is good so why would he move them?”
That would be the first thing he would ask Sam, though he knew Sam was an energetic sort, and he may have moved the cows around, just to have something to do.
“What the hell?” Emerson said when he crested a little rise that would afford him the first view of the house.
What he saw wasn’t the house he knew so well, and had, in fact, helped Percy build. What he saw was a pile of blackened timbers where the house had once stood.
“Sam?” he called. “Sam, are you here, anywhere?”
The air was redolent with the odor of burnt wood, and Emerson dismounted, then walked up to look at it. It took but a cursory examination of what had been the house to see that there was nothing that could be salvaged.
“Damn,” Emerson said aloud. “How the hell did this happen? And how come Sam didn’t come tell us about it?”
Emerson’s question was answered when he looked toward the barn and saw what he hadn’t seen before. There was a body lying on the ground next to the watering trough, and even from here, Emerson could tell that it was Sam Kirk. He moved quickly to investigate. What was left of the top of Sam’s head was lying in the dirt in a pool of blood and spilled brains. He had been shot in the head at very close range with a shotgun.
Emerson ran back to his horse and urged him into a gallop. It wasn’t that he needed to report this right away—speed meant nothing to Sam Kirk now. But Emerson didn’t want to be here, and he had to tell someone.
* * *
It took about an hour for Emerson to get to Sky Meadow and back, and when he returned, Duff and Elmer were with him. Elmer was driving a buckboard, so they would be able to take Sam Kirk’s body back with them. When they arrived, the three men stood for just a moment, looking at the blackened pile of burnt lumber.
“Who would be mean enough to do somethin’ like this? ’N poor Sam, look at ’im. A shotgun can sure make a mess,” Elmer said. “What I don’t understand is, how Sam let ’im get so close.”
“His pistol is still in his holster,” Duff said. Duff reached for the Colt, took it out, and gave it a closer examination. “It’s fully loaded, except for the chamber under the firing pin. Apparently, he was nae expecting any trouble.”
“Then that means whoever done this was pure dee cold-blooded about it,” Elmer said.
“It also means he may have known them,” Duff said.
“Steve, are you sure there’s nae a steer on the place?” Duff asked. “Have you had a good look around?”
“No, sir, I didn’t exactly look aroun’, but I know this ranch just real good, seein’ as me ’n Percy is real good friends. And it don’t take a lot of lookin’ to see that they ain’t so much as a single cow on the entire place,” Emerson replied.
“That’s two of our men that have been killed now, Duff,” Elmer pointed out. “Both of ’em right here, on Percy’s ranch. Keegan ’n Kirk, ’n they was both good men, too.”
“Aye, ’n Asa Hanlon ’n his wife, too,” Duff said.
“This here ain’t just rustlin’,” Elmer said. “I been aroun’ rustlin’.” He paused for moment, then because he was with two close friends who already knew some of his background he added, “Fact is, I’ve done a little rustlin’ of my own back in the day. But this here is murderin’ ’n burnin’ down a feller’s house. It ain’t just rustlin’, Duff. For some reason, whoever done this thing wasn’t satisfied with just stealin’ cows. They’re actual out to hurt people. And I tell you true, I just cain’t hardly see no reason why somebody would be a-wantin’ to do somethin’ like that.”
“I think it might be time that we had a meeting.”
“A meetin’ with who?”
“With the cattlemen of the valley,” Duff replied. “Only this time, we’ll invite all the cattlemen, the wee as well as the large.”
“I don’t figure Houser is goin’ to be wantin’ to invite the little ranchers, ’n besides which, the boardroom in the bank ain’t big enough to hold all of ’em, anyhow,” Elmer said.
“Mr. Houser will nae be calling this meeting, I will. And I dinnae intend to hold the meeting at the bank.”
* * *
After Duff put out word of the meeting, he waited at Fiddler’s Green for the appointed time.
“Did you send word to Houser about the meeting?” Biff Johnson asked.
“Aye, I sent word.”
“What did he say?”
“I have nae heard back from him.”
“Do you think he’ll show up?”
“We’ll just have to see.”
* * *
The meeting was held in the ballroom of the Antlers Hotel, a room that was large enough to hold many more people than the boardroom of the bank. And, as it was Duff who had issued all the invitations, this meeting, unlike the first one, welcomed any small rancher as might want to come.
Even with the extended facilities provided by the Antlers Hotel, the room was crowded as all the area ranchers, large and small, showed up for the meeting. And it wasn’t just the ranchers; many of the smaller ranchers brought their wives, because after what had happened to the Hanlons, they were afraid to leave them alone.
Unlike the previous meeting, held by Houser, there was no guardian posted at the door to keep people out. That was because Duff believed that the subject of this meeting was germane to everyone who lived in the valley, whether they were ranchers or not, big or small.
The pre-meeting conversation of all those who had gathered was about the murders, not only of Sam Kirk, but of Asa and Jenny Hanlon and Ollie Keegan before.
“This ain’t like shootin’s we’ve had in the past where a couple of men get into a fight ’n shoot it out,” someone said. “This is someone just goin’ aroun’ ’n murderin’ people for no reason.”
“No, they was reason. The cows was all took, so it was rustlin’.”
“They wasn’t no cows took when they kilt Keegan,” somebody pointed out.
The conversation continued in that vein until, at the appointed time, Duff walked to the front of the room and stood there for a moment. That had the effect of getting everyone’s attention, so the room grew quiet.
“Hello, friends. I would like to thank all of you for coming to the meeting today.
“As I’m sure you know, by now, one of my hands, Sam Kirk, was recently killed. I had sent him over to watch over Percy Gaines’s ranch, while Percy was in Kansas City to get married.”
“I heard that Percy’s house got burned down, too,” Ethan Terrell said. “Is that true?”
“Aye, ’tis true, all right.”
“We’ve had cattle rustlin’ before,” Prosser said. “But I’ve never heard of any rustlers that kill ever’ body then take the whole herd. That’s two whole herds that’s been took now.”
“What is going on in here?” Brad Houser called angrily, charging into the room at that moment. “I called no meeting of the Chugwater Chapter. What right do you have to be gathering without due warrant and approbation?”
“I called the meeting, Mr. Houser. Did you nae get your invitation?” Duff answered, the agreeable tone of his response in direct contrast to the acrimonious timbre of Houser’s challenge.
“I got the notification, yes, but it was not, nor could it have been, an official assembly. As I am the chairman, Mr. MacCallister, only I have the authority to convene meetings of the Chugwater Chapter of the Laramie County Cattlemen’s Association.”
It did not escape anyone’s attention that Houser had dropped the title Captain when he addressed Duff.
“Aye, Mr. Houser, you are quite correct, ’twas not an official invitation, because as you have pointed out, only you can issue an official invitation to a meeting of the Chugwater Chapter. Also, as ye can see, many of the wee ranchers are present at this meeting, and as you have specifically prohibited them from participating in the Chugwater Chapter, then ’twould have been futile for me to ask you to convene a meeting. Therefore, this is merely a friendly gathering of neighbors, for to discuss events that affect every rancher in the valley, be they large or small. So my invitation was not official, you see.”
“What good will it do? You can come up with no policy that will hold the weight of authorization by either the Chugwater Chapter, or the association as a whole,” Houser complained.
“Aye, ’tis true, that we can only discuss the problem and perhaps make a few suggestions for anything that might require an official sanction by the Chugwater Chapter. The rest, we will come up with our own solutions.”
“What do you mean, for the rest? You’ll have no authority for the rest.”
“Well, now, that’s where ye may be wrong, Mr. Houser. You see, I plan to make any such suggestions as may be dealt with by the county constabulary to Sheriff Sharpie. He will have the authority to deal with it, personally, or to appoint deputies, to handle such problems as we may point out to him.”
“You forget that we already have gubernatorial appointments for deputies whose authority supersedes any authority that any county official has,” Houser said.
“Well, we’ll just have to work along parallel paths, trying not to get in each other’s way,” Duff said. Again, he flashed a big smile. “Now, if you would please take your seat, Mr. Houser, we will continue with this meeting of”—he paused, then concluded the sentence with emphasis on the word—“neighors.”
Ethan Terrell held up his hand.
“Aye, Mr. Terrell?”
“When Asa ’n his wife was killed ’n their herd was all took, that was all Herefords, so it was easy enough to hide them. But when Kirk was killed while watching Percy Gaines’s ranch, Percy’s herd was all took, too, which makes a man wonder what happened to ’em. I mean, he was runnin’ Angus, just like you are. Where at would someone hide a bunch of Angus cows, unless it was with other Angus cows?”
“Well, now, that brings up a most cogent point, doesn’t it?” Houser said.
“I beg your pardon?” Duff replied.
“It is common knowledge to everyone in the valley, in fact it was pointed out to me rather quickly, that your herd is composed entirely of Angus cattle. So, too, was Mr. Gaines’s herd. Now his cattle are gone, and as Mr. Terrell has so correctly pointed out, where could you hide Angus cattle, except in another herd of Angus cattle?”
“Where indeed?” Duff replied, refusing to rise to the bait.
“Here’s somethin’ that’s puzzlin’ me,” Prosser said. “I have been running my own ranch for three years now, and never until this year have full-grown, branded cows managed to drift into my herd. Almost every other day now, there will be one or two, or sometimes a bit more, cows mixed in with my herd, but wearing brands like Twin Peaks, Pitchfork, Trail Back, and such. How do the cows get there?”
“That’s a good question, because that selfsame thing has been happening with me,” Terrell said.
“Mr. Prosser, Mr. Terrell, would you be for answering this question for me? When these cows show up, mixed in with your herds, do you ever get cattle from any of the ranches, other than the large ranches?”
“No,” Terrell said. “Now that you mention it, I’ve never gotten any of Kenny Prosser’s cattle, or any of Ed Chambers’s cows, and both their ranches are closer to mine than any of the big ranches.”
“Have any of you who have seen branded cattle show up in your herd, ever had one of the cows that belonged to anyone but one of the larger ranches?” Duff asked.
The smaller ranchers all looked at one another and discussed the issue for a moment, then Ethan Terrell answered for all of them.
“None of us have ever gained any cattle, but what it didn’t belong to one of the bigger ranches.”
“’N we’ve always took them cows back,” Spivey said.
“That is true,” Webb Dakota said. “On at least three occasions, I have had errant cattle returned.”
“There was never any of this going on when Prescott was alive,” Terrell said. “Oh sure, there might have been a long rope thrown now and again, but nothing like that is happening now. We didn’t have cows moving around from one ranch to another, we didn’t have entire herds being rustled, and we didn’t have folks being murdered.”
“You are aware, are you not, Mr. Terrell, that when you say none of this happened when Prescott owned Twin Peaks, that you are inferring that these incidents may be the result of the present owner?” Houser asked. “I think, perhaps, you are coming dangerously close to making a charge here, and if you do, bear in mind that you can be held pecuniarily responsible for libel, and I will file suit.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Houser?” Bert Rowe asked. “So far, there hasn’t been anyone make any kind of a charge against anyone. We are discussing the facts in evidence: rustling has increased, people are being murdered, and the cattle of the larger ranches, and larger ranches only, seem to be wandering off, and that is rather peculiar, wouldn’t you say so?”
“Yes, I suppose it is,” Houser agreed. “I guess I may have jumped to conclusions here, and I apologize. Please, go on with the meeting.”
After several more minutes of discussion, Duff once again addressed the meeting.
“I have a suggestion. For the wee ranchers, continue to look for cows that have wandered into your herd, ’n if you can’t take them back, right away, let the owner know that you have them. That way he’ll be for knowing that you dinnae steal them, ’n he’ll know that he hasn’t lost them.”
“I’ve been doin’ that,” Prosser said.
A few of the other small ranchers made the same affirmation.
“And for you larger ranchers, if ye find yourselves missing cattle, give some time before you start worrying that your cows have been stolen. As we have all noticed here, of late, our cows have taken to wandering off on their own. If you’ll but wait, they may be brought back to you.”
“If a hundred cows are taken, they didn’t just wander off,” Houser said.
“Perhaps not, Mr. Houser,” Duff said without further amplification. “Well, ladies and gentlemen, if there be no other subjects to discuss, this meeting is ended.”