Day of Reckoning Read online

  As the evil four were leaving the bank with money in hand, Ernest Jones, the teller, in an act of bravery that would cost him his life, stepped out behind them and gave the alarm that the bank was being robbed. The evil men then turned their attention toward him, shooting down the husband and father of two.

  But the evil men were soon to meet their match, for Duff MacCallister, a well-known rancher from Chugwater, stood in the road before them, as immovable as the Greeks at Thermopylae. In an exchange of gunfire he killed Don and Dan LaFarge, and brought about the surrender of Clay Callahan and Zeke Manning.

  In a related story, as published last week, Duff MacCallister was accosted by Eric LaFarge and Ira York. Attempting to see revenge for the righteous shooting of their kinsmen, LaFarge and York were themselves killed. As that shooting was ruled justifiable homicide, there was no need for any further legal action.

  As to Clay Callahan and Zeke Manning, however, Judge Commodore Butrum has set the date for the trial on Monday next. The trial will be held here, in Cheyenne, and it is widely expected that a public hanging will soon follow.

  “Reading about yourself in the paper are you, Mr. MacCallister?” the bartender asked. He had left the bar and was running a towel across the table that was adjacent to the one where Duff was sitting.

  “Hello, Mel,” Duff said. “Aye, ’tis guilty I am, though I granted no interview ’n I seek no such notoriety.”

  “No, ’n I don’t think anyone believes such a thing, either,” Mel said. “But I know for a fact that the people of Archer are beholdin’ to you for stopping the bank robbers when you did. When banks are robbed, it’s the people of the town who are most hurt.”

  “’Tis sorry I am that three good citizens of the town lost their lives,” Duff said.

  “Yes, sir, well, you don’t have to be worryin’ none about that. Callahan ’n Manning will pay for what they done when they get their necks stretched within the next week or so.”

  “Aye, I expect they will.”

  “Will you be here for the trial?” Mel asked.

  “I don’t expect to be. I signed some statements as to my role. I’m hoping to avoid having to come back.”

  “Not even to watch the hanging?”

  “I take nae pleasure from watching a man hang,” Duff said. “I just came to town to see some of my friends off at the railroad depot and thought I’d stop in to have a drink to see me through the ride back home.”

  “Well I, for one, am glad you did. You’re always welcome here, anytime you’re in town.”

  Chugwater, Wyoming Territory

  Duff rode into town the next day after he returned to the ranch, to present Meagan with the gift he had bought for her.

  “Oh, Duff, this is an absolutely beautiful piece of jewelry!” Meagan said, holding the gold pendant in her hand. “I know I’m supposed to say, ‘you shouldn’t have,’ but I love it too much to say that.”

  “’Tis thinking, I am, that ’twould look even prettier around the neck of a beautiful young lady. Now if I could just find such a lass, why we could hang this on her ’n see for ourselves.”

  “If you can find one?”

  “Aye,” Duff replied with a broad, teasing smile. “If I can find one.”

  “Perhaps Miss Willeena Pearcie would serve such a purpose,” Meagan replied.

  Willeena Pearcie was a matron lady in her late forties who had the misfortune to possess a countenance that was often described as “horse-faced.” She was a stout woman who had a stubble of hair over her upper lip that was almost as heavy as a man’s mustache.

  “Och, woman, ye can be cruel,” Duff teased. He hung the piece around her neck, then bent forward to kiss her.

  “And now, lass, ’tis asking you I am, if ye would accompany me for a dinner being given by m’ neighbors, Captain Culpepper ’n his wife.”

  “You’re sure I would not be an unexpected guest?”

  “’Twas their suggestion that I make the invitation,” Duff replied.

  “Oh?”

  Duff smiled. “After I put forward the idea,” he said.

  * * *

  Two days later Duff and Meagan were the guests of Ed and Julie Culpepper, owners of the Twin Pine Ranch. Because Ed was a West Point graduate and had served for many years in the army, he was universally referred to as “Captain.”

  Twin Pine was adjacent to Duff’s own ranch, Sky Meadow, which meant that Ed and Julie Culpepper, along with their daughter, Ina Claire, were Duff’s nearest neighbors.

  “Both of my parents were Scottish,” Julie Culpepper was telling Meagan. “There were some who teased my mother for her brogue, but I think sometimes she just made it stand out even more in response to the teasing.”

  “Aye,” Duff replied. “Sure ’n ’tis an accent that sets you apart from the others. But I’ve nae wish to lose the tongue, for seems to me that to do so would be to turn my back on all that I held dear.”

  “Please don’t lose it,” Julie said. “I love to hear you speak, for it puts me in mind of my mother.”

  Meagan chuckled. “I have to confess that I love to hear his brogue as well.”

  “Then why is it, lass, that so often ye mock me for the tongue?” Duff challenged, though the smile on his face ameliorated the words.

  “Sure, ’n would ye be for tellin’ us now that ye have nae heard that imitation be the sincerest form of flattery?” Meagan responded, mimicking Duff.

  “Oh, how well you do that!” Julie said, clapping her hands in delight. “’Tis like m’ own mither ye sound!”

  “Lord save me, I’ve been invaded by Scotland,” Ed said with a little laugh.

  “Mr. MacCallister, did you bring your pipes?” Ina Claire asked.

  Ina Claire was the fifteen-, soon to be sixteen-year-old daughter of Ed and Julie Culpepper.

  “Sure now, ’n would I be for coming to visit without m’ pipes?” Duff asked.

  “I’ve learned the drum to ‘Scotland the Brave,’” Ina Claire said. “I want to play it with you.”

  “Why, ’tis proud I’d be to play the song with you,” Duff replied, “but first you’ll have to give me a moment or two to prepare. ’Twould be a sacrilege to be playing such a song without m’ kilts.”

  Duff disappeared into one of the other rooms of the house. When he reappeared a few minutes later, he was wearing kilts, complete with a ceremonial knife called the sgian dubh, and the Victoria Cross, the highest honor that could be bestowed by the British Army. He was also carrying his bagpipes.

  One month shy of sixteen, Ina Claire was already a very pretty young lady, with hair the color of copper, blue eyes, high cheekbones, a small, well-formed nose, and full lips. She had a drum strapped around her shoulders and she lifted the drumsticks just over the drumhead and glanced toward Duff.

  “All right, lass, jump in when you think the time is right,” Duff said. He inflated the bag and then started to play. Ina Claire joined in immediately, the roll of her drums matching the keening sound of the pipes. For the next few minutes the stirring tune of “Scotland the Brave” filled the house with music.

  “Ahh, lass, you were wonderful on the drum,” Duff said when they finished.

  “Thank you for playing the pipes with me,” Ina Claire said.

  “No, lass, ’tis I who should be thanking you. ’Twas as if I were listening to the Black Watch Pipes and Drum Corps.”

  “I’ve made haggis, tatties, and neeps for our dinner tonight,” Julie said. “It’s my mother’s recipe. I hope it’s to your liking.”

  “Och, sure ’n ’tis as if I’ve gone to heaven,” Duff said.

  “Meagan,” Julie said during dinner. “I’ve been admiring that beautiful pendant you are wearing. It’s the Celtic knot, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is,” Meagan said. She took it off and handed it to Julie. “I know that the Scottish Heritage Day celebration will be coming up soon. Would you like to wear it for a few days? Duff was so generous to buy it for me, but I’m sure he wouldn’t min
d me sharing it with you in this way. You can give it back to me after the celebration is over.”

  “Oh!” Julie said excitedly. “Are you sure you don’t mind, Duff?”

  “Who would I be to say that Meagan can nae be generous?” Duff said.

  During dinner Duff entertained the Culpepper family with tales of Scotland.

  “Oh, it sounds so wonderful,” Ina Claire said. “I would sure like to go there.”

  “Your pa has been promising to take me there ever since we’ve been married,” Julie said. “One of these days I’m going to hold him to it.”

  Ed smiled. “How about this fall?”

  “Papa! Do you mean it?” Ina Claire asked excitedly.

  “Yes. As soon as I market this season’s cattle, I think this would be a good time to go. I think you are old enough to enjoy it now.”

  “Oh, Ed! Thank you!” Julie said.

  “I was wanting to save it as a surprise for you, but with the music, our Scottish guest, and this fine meal you prepared, tonight seemed the perfect time to tell you about it,” Ed replied.

  “Sure ’n ’tis wishing now that I was goin’ with ye’,” Duff said.

  Chapter Four

  After dinner Duff answered dozens of questions about Scotland, then bid the Culpeppers good night before he and Meagan left.

  “Meagan, ’tis thinkin’ I am that it being so late, ’twould probably be better for you to pass this night at Sky Meadow,” Duff said.

  Meagan smiled. “If you want me to spend the night with you, Duff, all you have to do is ask. You don’t need an excuse.”

  Duff chuckled. “All right, lass, ’tis askin’ I am. Would ye be for spendin’ the night with this auld Scotsman?”

  “Why, I’d be happy to spend the night with you, Duff MacCallister, wanton hussy that I am,” Meagan replied with a laugh.

  * * *

  It was mid-morning of the next day when Duff took Meagan back to town, making the trip in a buckboard as he had some things he needed to pick up for the ranch.

  “I should have opened two hours ago,” Meagan said as they pulled to a stop in front of her dress shop.

  “Och, one of the joys of working for yourself is you never have to explain to the boss why you are late,” Duff said.

  “That’s true, isn’t it?” Meagan replied with a little laugh. “I also don’t have to explain why a strange man is kissing me in front of the shop.” She leaned over to kiss him.

  “Strange man, am I?” Duff said after the kiss. “And would you be tellin’ me, lass, ’tis it your habit to be kissing strange men?”

  “Yes,” Meagan replied with an enigmatic smile. “That is, if I find them appealing enough.” She kissed Duff again, then before he could react, or even speak, she stepped down from the buckboard.

  “It has been a perfectly lovely interruption to my schedule,” she said as she started for the front door of her shop.

  After picking up the needed supplies, as Duff drove the buckboard back home he spoke to the team of horses.

  “Sure now, ’n if I’m not the luckiest man in all of Christendom to have such a fine lady as Meagan,” he said.

  Hartville, Wyoming Territory

  Dooley Cooper and Pogue Morris had just broken their last dollar to buy a beer. They were sitting at a table in the Hog Waller Saloon, drinking slowly to make the beer last.

  “We got to get us some money, somewhere,” Morris said. “We’re so broke now, I’m thinkin’ ’bout actual takin’ a job.”

  “And do what? Punch cows for twenty dollars and found?” Cooper asked. Cooper had a large, purple scar on his face that ran like a streak of lightning from the side of his left eye down across his cheek to hook under his mouth. That was the result of a knife fight that Cooper liked to say “left me permanently scarred, ’n left the other feller permanently dead.”

  “Twenty dollars looks awful good to me right now.”

  “What about a hunnert dollars?” Cooper asked. “I’m talkin’ about a hunnert dollars apiece.”

  “Where we goin’ to get a hunnert dollars apiece?”

  “From the purser on the Lady Harlie,” Cooper said. “The boat is anchored here right now ’n is s’posed to go upriver to Fort Fetterman tomorrow, takin’ some supplies to the soldier boys up there. The boats always start out with two hunnert dollars in cash. All we got to do is slip on board now while there ain’t hardly nobody there payin’ any attention, then go into the purser’s office ’n take the money.”

  “What makes you think there ain’t nobody on the boat payin’ no attention?” Morris asked.

  Almost as soon Morris asked the question, the squeal of one of the bar girls was answered by the loud laughter of a group of men. There were nine men in the group, all of them wearing blue-and-white-striped buttonless shirts and dark blue trousers. There was nothing of western attire about their clothing. At least two of the men were also wearing jackets and billed caps. One of the men had four silver stripes around the cuffs, the other had two. The remaining seven men seemed to be subordinate to those two.

  Cooper pointed toward them. “All them men is from the Lady Harlie, ’n the ones that’s wearin’ the jackets is the officers. There ain’t normally never no more ’n ten men on one o’ them boats, ’n since they’s nine of ’em here now, it’s likely there ain’t no more ’n one man that’s been left on board. Right now would be the best time there is to go on board, take the money, then be gone.”

  Morris smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

  * * *

  The Lady Harlie lay bow first against the bank of the Platte River, connected by a two-inch-thick hawser that was attached to a forward stanchion on the boat, then wrapped around a wooden post that had been buried deep enough in the ground to be well secure. A lantern hung from a hook on the bow, and two more were at the stern. Besides those three dim lights, there was no other illumination other than the moon itself at this point on the river.

  There was no actual fire in the boiler furnace, though it was kept banked so the fire could be quickly rebuilt in the morning to make steam. Because of that, a tiny rope of smoke climbed up from the twin chimneys, and a little wisp of steam curled up from the relief pipe.

  Cooper and Morris stepped on board, then looked back along the deck. They saw no one.

  “The purser’s office is in here,” Cooper said. Though Cooper had never been on board the Lady Harlie, he did know riverboats, having worked as a deckhand on one until he was fired.

  The two men slipped into the purser’s office and lit a lantern. Cooper began jerking open drawers until he found a small canvas bag. Opening the bag, he found two hundred and twelve dollars.

  “What did I tell you?” Cooper asked with a broad grin.

  “Yeah, that’s good. That’s real good.”

  “What are you doing back on board, Mr. Roland? I thought you were going to stay in town tonight and . . .” the sailor who was asking the question stopped as soon as he realized this wasn’t the purser, or anyone he knew.

  “Who are you? What are you—?”

  That was as far as he got before Morris, who, because he had stepped behind the door and stayed out of sight, stepped up behind the sailor and stabbed him in the middle of the back.

  The sailor went down with a muffled groan.

  “Help me move him,” Cooper said. “We’ll tie him on a log and set him adrift. The crew will think he ran off with the boat’s money.”

  * * *

  Cooper and Morris went back into town, where they bought themselves a late dinner before returning to the Hog Waller for more drinks, and spent the night with a couple of the bar girls.

  The newspaper the next day carried the story.

  DECKHAND STEALS PURSE FROM THE LADY HARLIE

  The Lady Harlie, which was en route from North Platt, Nebraska, to Fort Fetterman, had, as the riverboats often do, put in here at Hartville for rest and restocking of the boat’s larder. Also, as often happens, the purser drew
two hundred dollars on a draft drawn from the Platte River Transport Company.

  During the night, while all the crew but one had come to town, the remaining crewman, a deckhand by the name of Abner Keller, took advantage of being the only one on the boat and stole the money from the purser’s office. Keller has since disappeared, no doubt to visit his criminal ways on some other innocent and unsuspecting person.

  “Look here,” Morris said, having read the story over the supper they were enjoying at Kirby’s Café. “You were right.”

  Cooper read the story and chuckled. He started to hand the paper back, when another story caught his attention.

  “Oh, damn,” he said.

  “What is it?” Morris asked.

  “Here’s a story that was picked up from the Cheyenne newspaper. A couple of real good friends of ours is in bad trouble.”

  “Who are you talkin’ about?”

  “Clay Callahan and Zeke Manning.”

  Cooper showed Morris the article in the newspaper.

  “We have to go get ’em out of jail,” Cooper said.

  “Why?”

  “Why? ’Cause I think they’d do the same thing for us, iffen we was to be in the same fix,” Cooper replied.

  “Yeah, but we ain’t in the same fix.”

  “We might be some day, ’n it would be good to have somebody like Callahan owin’ us.”

  “All right,” Morris agreed. “If you’re a-wantin’ to do somethin’ like that, well, I’m willin’ to go along with you.”

  Twin Pine Ranch

  Captain Culpepper was drawing a bucket of water from the well when he saw two riders approaching. Seeing riders out on the road was not that unusual, but these two had come through the gate and were coming up the approach to his house.