Ten Guns from Texas Read online

  “Well, someone has to watch, don’t they?” Blackwell replied, eliciting a laugh from all.

  Once inside, the members of the board took their usual seats around the long conference table. Don Webb, in his position as the association’s president, sat at the head of the table. Duff, Elmer, Wang, and Post sat in chairs away from the table, lined up along the wall.

  As the office had been closed up for most of the day, it was quite hot and stuffy. One of the men raised a window to let in some air, and with the air came the odor of horse droppings from the street. To most of the townspeople the street odors were as unnoticeable as the other odors of the town—the rotting garbage, the stale beer and whiskey from behind the saloons, the several dozen outhouses that reeked in the midday sun. But most of the men gathered were cattlemen, used to the wide-open spaces, and to them, the smells of civilization were overpowering.

  Porter took out a handkerchief and wiped his face as the others looked at him, not only because he was the business manager of the association, but because he was the one who had called the special meeting.

  “All right, Webb, you got us all here,” one of the men said. “What’s this all about?”

  “Gentlemen, I didn’t call the meeting,” Webb replied. “Well, as president, I authorized the meeting, that is true. But it was Mr. Porter who called it. Mr. Porter, I’ll turn the meeting over to you.”

  Porter drummed his fingers on the table for a moment. “I was asked by Mr. Bellefontaine to call the meeting, so I’m going to turn it over to him.” He looked at the Slash Bell owner. “You have the floor.”

  “What’s this all about, Jason?” asked one of the other ranchers.

  “I wonder if any of you happened to pass by Ponder’s place on the way here?” Bellefontaine said.

  “The undertaker? Yeah, I came by. Say, I saw four bodies were standing up in front of his place. Does this meeting have anything to do with that?”

  “You might say so,” Bellefontaine said.

  “I noticed that they were all wearing blue kerchiefs. Are they Fence Busters?” Blackwell asked.

  “I believe they are.”

  “Did you have anything to do with them being killed?” one of the other cattlemen asked.

  “You might say that,” Bellefontaine answered. “They were killed while they were trying to rustle some of my cattle.”

  “Are you sure they were tryin’ to rustle cattle? Or were they just cuttin’ fence?” someone asked. His chin whiskers bobbed as he spoke.

  “What are you saying, Dobbins? Are you saying you don’t think they were stealin’ cattle?” Bellefontaine asked.

  “I’m just saying this. There’s no law against cuttin’ fence on public land. I know that we all wish there was such a law, but there isn’t. If someone would happen to catch some fence cutters in the act, and got so riled up that he shot ’em, seems to me like the easiest way to justify killin’ them would be to say they were stealin’ cattle.”

  “Shooting someone just for cutting fence, when it’s legal to cut fence, would be murder,” Bellefontaine said. “Are you accusing me of murder, Dobbins?”

  “No, no, nothin’ like that,” Dobbins said quickly. “It’s just I wonder if they were actually stealin’ cattle, or did, perhaps, a few cows sort of wander out through the cut in the fence?”

  “They were stealing cattle,” Duff said, speaking for the first time since the meeting started.

  “Who are you?”

  “The name is Duff MacCallister.”

  “How do you know they were stealin’ cattle?” Dobbins asked.

  “Because I was there, and I saw them. And, since the transaction had not yet been completed, technically the cattle that were being rustled were still mine.”

  “The cows that were being stolen were yours? What are you talkin’ about?” Dobbins asked now.

  “Mr. MacCallister had only recently brought five hundred head of Black Angus down from Wyoming,” Bellefontaine said. “He was at the Slash Bell when the rustlers hit us. At the time of the attack on my ranch, I had not yet paid him for the cattle. Therefore, he is correct in saying that the cattle being rustled belonged to him.”

  “So you killed the fence cutters?” Dobbins asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And you have no compunctions about that?”

  “None whatsoever. At the time, it seemed to be the thing to do,” Duff said.

  “What about these men? Were they in on the killing as well?” Dobbins pointed toward Elmer, Wang, and Sam Post along the wall.

  “Dobbins, for cryin’ out loud, what are you getting at here?” Lewis asked. “Are you tellin’ us that if you caught these men rustlin’ your cattle, you wouldn’t shoot ’em?”

  “Yeah,” Blackwell asked. “What is the problem?”

  “I’ll tell you the problem. We’ve already had one meeting to discuss the situation with the Fence Busters. Sure, they are cutting fence line on public land, and that’s aggravating to all of us, but it don’t rise to the level of killing someone. Most especial’ since fence cuttin’ on public land isn’t against the law. We’re either going to have to put up with it, or we’ll become outlaws ourselves. And, to kill them just because they might be cuttin’ fence line, well, gentlemen, you know as well as I do that that would be murder.”

  “We didn’t kill anyone who wasn’t trying to kill us,” Bellefontaine pointed out. “And despite what you think, those men standing up down there in front of Ponder’s were rustling my cattle.”

  “So, what are you tryin’ to tell us? That the Fence Busters, who have no history of cattle rustling, have suddenly decided to become rustlers?” Dobbins asked.

  “Damn, Dobbins, what do you mean they have no history of cattle rustlin’? No more ’n a week or so ago they took a bunch of Herefords. You don’t think they was plannin’ on just borrowin’ Mr. Bellefontaine’s cattle, do you? Because if that is what they was doin’, well, they ain’t brought ’em back yet,” Sam Post said, speaking up for the first time.

  Some of the other cattlemen around the table laughed, and Dobbins glared at them for a moment before he turned his attention back to Sam Post. “You’re one of Bellefontaine’s hands, aren’t you?”

  “You know Sam Post, Dobbins. And you know that Mr. Post is my foreman,” Bellefontaine said.

  “Yes, I know who he is. Bellefontaine, please remind your . . . hired hand”—Dobbins set the words hired hand apart, so he could slur them—“that this is a private organization with its membership restricted to cattlemen only. And since Mr. Post isn’t a cattleman, he has no business talking in here at all, unless he has been specifically invited to talk.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Dobbins,” Webb said. “He was obviously a witness to it. That makes his information valuable, and as president of this organization, I welcome any contribution he might make to this discussion.”

  “I know, I know,” Dobbins said, waving it off. “I ask you all to forgive me if I’m just a little upset. But I know two of those boys that Ponder’s got standin’ up down there. Dewey Hensen and Monk Perkins used to work for me, and as far as I’m concerned, they was good boys, both of them. Neither one of them ever gave me a lick of trouble.”

  “How is it that they wound up ridin’ with the Fence Busters?” Bellefontaine asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe Kendrick was payin’ ’em more. I just know that they aren’t”—he paused then looked around Duff—“that is, they wasn’t bad boys. And I don’t believe for a minute that they was rustlin’ cattle.”

  “Well then, Dobbins, since I have testified here that I, personally, saw them rustling cattle, that can only mean that you are calling me a liar,” Bellefontaine challenged.

  “What? No, uh, no. I didn’t mean that. I mean, what if they cut the fence, and your cattle just went through the fence on their own? It could’ve been that, and I could see how you might think they were being stolen.”

  Bellefontaine was quiet for a long moment before he repl
ied. “Yeah,” he finally said in a gruff voice. “I suppose it could have been that.”

  “Let’s get on with the meeting, shall we?” President Webb asked.

  “Yeah, what is the purpose of the meeting?” Lewis wanted to know.

  “If you people will let Mr. Bellefontaine continue, I’m sure you’ll find out,” Webb said. “All right, Bellefontaine. Let’s hear it.”

  “I want the endorsement of the Texas Hill Country Cattlemen’s Association to send someone to meet with the governor, and ask that he get behind making it a felony to cut fences.”

  “It’s already a felony to cut fences on private land,” Dobbins said.

  “I’m talking about public land.”

  Dobbins shook his head. “That would be a foolish mission. There is absolutely no way you’re goin’ to get a law like that. Public land is public land.”

  “Yes, but the cattle grazing on public land is private. And we came to an agreement a long time ago to put fences up to keep our stock from getting mixed up,” Price said. “If you cut those fences, it exposes the cattle, which are private. I think we could use that as justification for a law that would make it a felony to expose private cattle in such a way. And the only you can protect those cattle is to make it a felony to cut fences, even on public land.”

  “I agree, that might work,” Webb said. “But you might remember that we sent Reynolds and Spencer to see the governor once before. Tell us what happened, Ron.”

  Reynolds ran his hand through his thinning hair before he spoke. “Well, we didn’t have an idea of maybe protectin’ penned-in cattle, which I think is a good idea, but it didn’t matter ’cause we didn’t even get to see the governor.”

  “There you go, Jason,” Webb said. “What makes you think you’ll even get in to see the governor?”

  Bellefontaine looked over toward Elmer. “Mr. Gleason, would you care to comment?”

  “I’ll go talk to the governor for you fellers,” Elmer said.

  “You? You are going to talk to the governor?” Dobbins asked, his voice dripping with derision.

  “Yes.”

  “What makes you think the governor would even agree to see you, let alone listen to someone like you?”

  Elmer stared at Dobbins for a moment, then he smiled. “I’ll ask him just real nice.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I’d try to explain it to you, sonny, but you’ve already shown that you don’t have any idea what it means to be nice.”

  “Why you wrinkled-up old—!” Dobbins sputtered in anger. Getting up from the conference table, he walked over to stand in front of Elmer. “I’m goin’ to teach you some manners.” He drew his fist back.

  From the time Dobbins left the table, Elmer made no move to defend himself. Suddenly, Wang shot his hand out so that his extended fingers struck the thigh of Dobbin’s right leg. The rancher let out a sharp yell of pain, then jumped back, barely able to stay on his feet.

  The cause of his pain was a mystery. Elmer hadn’t made a move, and Wang had done it so quickly and with such little effort of motion that neither Dobbins nor anyone else in the room saw what happened.

  “What the hell’s wrong with you, Dobbins?” Reynolds asked.

  Dobbins didn’t answer, but with his hand over the aching part of his thigh, he staggered back to his seat.

  “I know that you men are wondering why I would suggest that Mr. Gleason be the one to petition the governor on our behalf,” Bellefontaine said. “But he has assured me, and I believe him, that he and the governor are friends of long standing. Since we have not been able to carry our grievances to the governor by any conventional route, I see no reason why we should not approach him on the basis of an old friendship.”

  “Jason is right,” Lewis said. “The governor will either agree to listen to him or he won’t. And if he doesn’t listen to him, we are no worse off than we are now. I say we send Mr. Gleason to Austin.”

  “Gentlemen, the proposal has been made that we authorize Mr. Gleason. Is there a second?” Webb asked.

  “I second,” Reynolds responded.

  “The question has been called. All in favor, raise your right hand.”

  When the vote was taken, there were nine in favor and one opposed. Dobbins was the one who was in opposition.

  As a result of the vote, the association gave its official endorsement of Elmer’s approach to the governor on their behalf.

  After the meeting broke up, the men from the Slash Bell rode back out to the ranch. Duff, Elmer, and Wang would spend another night before getting an early start to Austin the next day.

  * * *

  At his ranch, Dobbins was met by Ned Tolson, his foreman. “We got another twenty cows to look after.”

  “Did you get paid for ’em?”

  “Yeah, a hunnert dollars. What was the cattleman’s association meeting about?”

  “Some foolish idea to ask the governor to outlaw cutting fences on public land,” Dobbins replied.

  “He ain’t goin’ to do that, is he?”

  Dobbins shook his head. “I am absolutely convinced that he will not do it. It’s been tried before, you know. I would be very surprised if the governor even agreed to meet with them. I consider the whole thing too foolish to even make the attempt, so I voted against it.”

  “Yeah, well, Mr. Dobbins, you do realize that we have a lot of public land fenced in ourselves.”

  “I’m quite aware of that, Tolson.”

  “And it’s where we’re runnin’ them cows that we’re boarding.”

  “So?”

  “So, what if them fences gets cut, and all them cows get out?”

  “Think about it, Tolson. Do you really think those fences will be cut?”

  “No, under the circumstances, I reckon not.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Blowout

  “It is of no consequence,” Dirk Kendrick said to Martell, who’d brought him the news that the association had authorized someone to approach the governor. Sitting at “his” table in the Pair of Kings Saloon, Kendrick didn’t interrupt his game of solitaire during the subsequent discussion. He laid a red ten upon a black jack. “There have been others who went to the capital to try and talk to Ireland, but he’s never agreed to see anyone, and he won’t see these people, either.”

  “Well, it’s Bellefontaine that’s pushin’ it, and this MacCallister feller that Jaco was talkin’ about is the one that put ’im up to it, I think.”

  “I don’t think the governor makes a habit out of meeting with just anyone who comes in off the street. What makes MacCallister think the governor will see him?” He put a black seven on a red eight.

  “Well it ain’t MacCallister as much as it is that other feller that’s with ’im all the time. Gleason, his name is, ’n the word I got is that this Gleason feller is a personal friend of the governor’s.”

  “Gleason? That white-haired old man is a personal friend of the governor’s?”

  “Yeah. It turns out they fought together durin’ the war.”

  Kendrick laid down three more cards. Turning up an ace of hearts, he put it at the top of the board.

  “What you are telling me, then, is that MacCallister and Gleason are the ones who will be carrying the petition to the governor.”

  Martell nodded. “That’s what I’ve found out.”

  “When do they plan to see the governor?”

  “From what I was told, they’re stayin’ at the Slash Bell tonight, and they’re plannin’ on leavin’ for Austin first thing in the morning.”

  Kendrick stopped playing cards for a moment so that he might contemplate how to react to the news. He stroked his chin. “Hmm. As I recall, there’s only one road that goes from the Slash Bell to Austin, isn’t there?”

  “Yeah, the Salcedo Road.”

  “Good, that’s what I thought. I plan to have a little surprise waiting for them on Salcedo Road.”

  “What kind of a surprise?”


  “The kind of surprise they won’t appreciate. Where is Jaco right now? Have you seen him recently?”

  “Last I seen ’im, he was out at the cabin, playin’ poker.”

  “Bring him to me,” Kendrick ordered.

  * * *

  An hour later, Jaco showed up at Kendrick’s table in the Pair of Kings. “What did you want to see me about?”

  “How would you like to earn five hundred dollars?”

  “Damn! I’d like that a lot!” Jaco said.

  “Were you serious when you said you wanted to kill MacCallister?” Kendrick asked.

  “Yeah, I was serious. Why do you ask?”

  Kendrick smiled. “I’m glad you were serious. I will pay you five hundred dollars to do it. The opportunity is about to present itself.”

  * * *

  The next morning Jaco and Dawkins were out on Salcedo Road at just after daybreak.

  “Where do you want to do this?” Dawkins asked.

  “I don’t know yet, but I’ll know just the place when I see it.”

  They continued their ride down Salcedo Road.

  Slash Bell Ranch

  After breakfast Bellefontaine and Wang accompanied Duff and Elmer out to the barn and stood there talking to them as the two men saddled their horses.

  “Tell the governor we are well aware that he’ll be taking a political risk,” Bellefontaine said. “But tell him also, if we don’t get something done about this, the cattle industry in Texas could wind up just about destroyed.”

  “Mr. Bellefontaine, if this here is the same Colonel Ireland I know, he ain’t goin’ to let somethin’ like a little political risk stop ’im from doin’ the right thing,” Elmer said.

  “Yes, well, that is the question, isn’t it? Is this the right thing for him to do? I sincerely believe that it would be the right thing for the Texas cattle business for him to outlaw fence cutting on public land. But the problem is, I’m not sure it is legal for him to do that. And there is no doubt in my mind that if he does get a law passed, it’s goin’ to be challenged in court. Believe me, the New York and Texas Land Company has more than enough money to prosecute this case.”