Chapter 15

There was a new attitude in the town of Black Horse Creek during the next few days. People seemed confident about the future of their little town in the remote Kansas prairie now that each businessman’s burdensome debt had been canceled by Jimmy Hicks’s rifle. There were meetings going on almost all of the day, because there were many things to discuss and decide upon. The major issue was how to handle the dynasty left by Jacob Blanchard, for there were no heirs to claim ownership of his lands and cattle. Finally an agreement was decided upon for the whole town to own the land, and a charter created to give each one of the original business owners an equal share. A city council was established with Louis Reiner named as mayor. Burt McNally was officially elected as sheriff, with plans to rebuild the jail and sheriff’s office. Shep Barnhill was credited with the idea of establishing Black Horse Creek as a cattle town, since it was not really that far from Dodge City and the railroad, and there was plenty of good grassland for herds being driven up from Texas. As Mayor Reiner said, “The sky’s the limit. We can build our town into one of the busiest towns in the state of Kansas.”

As far as Jacob Blanchard’s ranch was concerned, the city council thought it only fair to cut out five hundred acres and award that, the house, and the outbuildings, to Rachel, with Jimmy and Stump as share owners. Stump was forgiven for having worked for Blanchard, since he had never actually harmed anyone, and he had refused to shoot Burt McNally. There was generally a bright cloud of optimism over the entire town.

*   *   *

Standing apart from the suddenly busy rebirth of Black Horse Creek, the one man who had more to do with the town’s revolution than any other, Grayson silently witnessed the scurrying about of the town’s leading citizens. From one quickly called meeting to the next, they seemed to be constantly running up and down the street, from the hotel to the saloon, to Reiner’s store in their enthusiastic quest to establish themselves as a community of promise.

Amid all the activity, he was no more than a bystander, no longer the sinister bounty hunter sent to destroy the Blanchard dynasty. No longer a figure of mystery and fear, he was greeted courteously, but he was not one of them. The only person who expressed his appreciation was Burt McNally, and that surprised Grayson, for he never expected appreciation. From the beginning, his sole purpose had been to seek revenge for his attempted murder by Slate and Troy Blanchard. And he didn’t give a damn about the future of Black Horse Creek. Seeing all the joyous activity now, however, he was moved to regret not being a part of it—or at least a part of some positive and useful future. The more he thought about it, the more resigned he became to make something of his life other than a hunter of felons. His thoughts drifted automatically to a handsome widow in Fort Smith, and he decided that he needed to get back to Wanda Meadows’s boardinghouse as quickly as he could. When he had left her, she made him promise to be careful. That wasn’t much, but it might mean that she cared what happened to him. “Worth lookin’ into,” he stated.

“Did you say somethin’?” Burt asked.

“Yeah,” Grayson replied, “I said so long.”