MacCallister Kingdom Come Read online

  “Would you look at that?” murmured one of the saloon patrons. “You ever seen anyone that ugly?”

  “I’d be careful if I was you, Jeb. Don’t let ’im hear you? Don’t you know who that is?” another asked.

  “I ain’t got a idea in hell who it is. Should I know?” Jeb asked.

  “That’s Manny Dingo,” the first said, speaking the name quietly and in great awe.

  At Jeb’s pronouncement the others grew quiet, as well. Manny Dingo had the reputation of being of quick temper and even quicker with a gun. Nobody knew how many men he had killed. Stories gave him credit for as few as twelve to as many as thirty.

  Dingo looked around the saloon, then stepped up to the bar. “Whiskey.”

  The bartender turned the bottle up over the glass, but his hand was shaking so that Dingo reached up to steady it. “In the glass. I don’t plan on lickin’ it up from the bar.”

  “Y-y-yes sir, Mr. Dingo.”

  “You know who I am?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, don’t be afraid of me. I ain’t kilt no bartenders yet.” Dingo laughed at his own joke.

  Two young cowboys came into the saloon then, laughing and talking loudly. Both were wearing pistols, the holsters low, and tied down. They stepped up to the bar.

  “Willie, two beers,” one of them said.

  “And I’ll have the same,” the other said, and the two men laughed.

  “Hey, Standish, did you see the way Clemmons acted, when I told him if he said anything like that again about Sue Ann, that I was goin’ to whip his ass? He damn near peed in his pants.”

  “If you don’t shoot ’im I will,” Standish said. “A man like him don’t have no business around a girl like Sue Ann. So, tell me, Kenny, when are you goin’ to get around to askin’ her to marry you?

  “Schoolteachers can’t get married, you know that. Besides, a nice girl like Sue Ann, what could I do for her?” Kenny replied.

  “Who is this Sue Ann that you boys is a-talkin’ about?” Dingo asked.

  “Miss Pittman, the schoolteacher,” Kenny replied.

  “What did you answer him for, Kenny?” Standish asked. “Look at ’im. A fella like that don’t have no need to know anythin’ about a lady like Sue Ann.”

  “Oh, I know all I need to know about Sue Ann Kennedy,” Dingo said with a smirking smile. “I know what she used to do over in Brackettville.”

  “What?” Kenny literally shouted. “Mister, you had better take that back if you know what is good for you!”

  “She’s a harlot,” Dingo said. “And she ain’t even a very good one. I heard she give a bunch of men the clap back in Dallas. That’s how come she had to leave.”

  “Mister, you watch your filthy mouth!” Kenny shouted, so angry that spittle was flying from her lips.

  “Oh?” Dingo replied. “And if I don’t watch my mouth, what are you going to do.”

  “I’m goin’ to beat the hell out of your scrawny little ass,” Kenny said.

  “You want to fight, do you?”

  “Damn right, I want to fight,” Kenny said as he began to unbuckle his gun belt.

  “Uh-uh,” Dingo said. “If we’re goin’ to fight, let’s make this permanent.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re wearin’ a gun. Use it.”

  “Wait a minute, mister. There ain’t no reason to get into a shootin’ match over this,” Standish said.

  “You mean you don’t want to defend Sue Ann’s honor?”

  “She ain’t what you called her!” Loomis said.

  “And I say she is. And the two of you are damn fools if you don’t know it.”

  “Mister, you’ve about pushed this too far,” Standish said. “You want to turn this into a shootin’? Well, you go ahead. Only think about this. There’s two of us ’n only one of you.”

  “So, you’re willin’ to die for your friend’s lover, are you?” Dingo asked. “All right, I’m goin’ to kill you first.”

  “Mr. Dingo,” the bartender said. “This don’t need to go no further. I know both these boys. They ride for the Double R Ranch. I’m sure if you asked them, they would apologize to you. Tell you what, why don’t the three of you have a drink together and you can work this out. I’ll provide the free drinks.”

  “I ain’t apologizin’,” Kenny said. “Not after what he said about Sue Ann.”

  “Kenny, are you sure you don’t want to apologize to Mr. Dingo? Manny Dingo?” the bartender asked, emphasizing the name.

  “Dingo?” Kenny said. “You . . . mean Manny Dingo . . . the gunfighter?”

  “Yes, Manny Dingo the gunfighter.”

  “Oh.” Kenny looked back toward Dingo, who had turned to face him and was holding his hand near his pistol.

  Kenny forced a smile. “Mr. Dingo, seems like me ’n you got off on the wrong foot. Why don’t we start over? We can have them drinks Willie mentioned.”

  “It’s too late,” Dingo said. “You two boys has done got me riled. Now the only way you can keep me from shootin’ both of you is if you two get down on your hands ’n knees, crawl over here, ’n kiss my boots.”

  “What?” Loomis exclaimed. “Mister, there ain’t no way in hell I’m goin’ to do somethin’ like that.”

  “Me neither,” Kenny said. “And I ain’t goin’ to draw on you neither—which means there ain’t goin’ to be no gunfight.”

  Dingo smiled, but it wasn’t a smile of humor. “You don’t understand, do you boys? There don’t have to be a gunfight.”

  “Good. I thought you might see it my way,” Kenny said.

  “I’m goin’ to count to three, then I’m goin’ to kill you whether you draw on me or not.”

  “You can’t do that! That would be pure murder!” Loomis said.

  “Yeah, wouldn’t it?” The smile didn’t leave Dingo’s lips. “One.”

  “Damn, he means it, Kenny! We ain’t goin’ to let ’im just kill us, are we?”

  “Two.”

  Both Kenny and Standish went for their guns, but before either of them were able to clear their holster, Dingo had drawn, fired two times, and returned his gun to his holster, doing it so fast that most in the room hadn’t even seen him draw.

  Kenny and Loomis went down, both dead before they hit the floor.

  Dingo turned to the others in the room. “I expect the law will be here in a couple minutes. You all seen that they drew first, right?”

  “You made them draw,” Willie said. “They would never have drawn on you if you hadn’t made ’em do it.”

  “You think I would’ve really shot ’em, if they hadn’t drawed on me?”

  “I don’t know,” Willie said. “It’s clear they thought you would.”

  “I wouldn’t have. What would be the fun of just shooting them down?”

  “Fun? You call this fun?”

  “Yeah. Think about it. Ever’one who seen this can tell their children ’n their grandchildren that they seen Manny Dingo shoot down two men in a fair fight. Now, how ’bout them drinks you promised?”

  From the Chugwater Gazette:

  English Businessman

  Makes Large Deposit

  To Buy Cattle from Local Rancher

  All who live here in the enchanting Chugwater Valley know that our fair garden spot is blessed not only with nature’s beauty, but also with bountiful water and grass which makes this area ideal for cattle ranching.

  And now we have gained world-wide attention due to the business dealings of Mr. Calvin Hanson. Mr. Hanson, an Englishman, is but recently arrived in America. He left behind in his native country a group of English investors who, in starting a ranch in America, sought out our own Duff MacCallister. Mr. MacCallister is well-known throughout the entire West as being particularly successful in raising the specific breed of Black Angus.

  To facilitate his purchase of the cattle needed to start his ranch, Mr. Hanson has placed on deposit with the Bank of Chugwater the exceptionally large sum of thirty t
housand dollars. As a way of celebrating this milestone in the history of the Chugwater Bank, Mr. Montgomery, president of the bank, will be sponsoring a reception for Mr. Hanson at the Knights of Pythias Hall this very evening.

  The hall was located over the bank and accessed by an outside stairway. Megan had been accurate in her prediction that there would be an event in Chugwater that would enable Melissa to wear the new dress Megan had made for her. But Melissa wasn’t the only one to wear an original Megan creation. The dinner could well have been an advertisement for Megan’s Dress Emporium, as almost every lady present was wearing one of her dresses.

  When everyone was seated, but before the food was served, C. D. Montgomery stood and banged his spoon against the glass to get everyone’s attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, I want to welcome you to this special reception tonight, given in honor of a visitor from England, who has arrived with cash in hand to bring business to our fair community. Mr. Hanson has come to buy cattle from our own Duff MacCallister.”

  “A Scotsman and an Englishman doing business together,” Biff Johnson shouted, interrupting Montgomery. “That’s reason enough for a celebration right there!”

  The others laughed.

  “Perhaps it is,” Montgomery agreed, “but I hasten to add, it is to the Scotsman that we owe our thanks for the steaks we’ll be eating tonight. For they were carved from one of MacCallister’s own Black Angus steers.”

  “I thank ye for the kind words, Mr. Montgomery, but I want the Englishman to be aware that the animal that’s being served here tonight will be tallied against those that Mr. Hanson buys.”

  “To be sure sir, understanding the penurious nature of the Scottish, I would be disappointed if it were any other way,” Hanson said in good-natured response.

  The next morning, Duff stood at the stagecoach depot with Megan, as they told Melissa, Jason, and Timmy good-bye. The Bowles family was taking the coach to Cheyenne, where they would board the train for the long trip back home.

  “You will have to come visit us soon,” Melissa said to Duff. “You have been most hospitable, and I would like to return the favor.”

  “Perhaps I will after I conclude my business with the Englishman,” Duff said. “It might be necessary to help him get the cattle settled on his ranch.”

  “And he won’t come alone, for I shall not allow that,” Megan said.

  “Good, then it’s all settled,” Melissa said with a happy smile.

  “When you come, will you teach me to shoot as good as you do?” Timmy asked.

  “Why, Timmy, whatever do you mean?” Duff asked. “Your father shot neck and neck with me for the whole time.”

  “But you beat ’im,” Timmy said.

  Jason Bowles laughed. “My goodness, Timmy, you’re going to have to spend a lot of time learning things, aren’t you? You want Duff to teach you how to shoot, and you want Mr. Wang to teach you how to fight. Are you sure you don’t want your aunt Megan to teach you how to make dresses?”

  “What? No! I don’t want to learn how to make dresses!” Timmy said resolutely.

  Jason laughed, and reached out to run his hand through his son’s hair. “I’m just teasin’ you.”

  “Stagecoach is a-comin’,” someone called.

  At the call, a couple men came out of the stable behind the station leading a six-team hitch, already in harness. They had the team changed out in the amount of time it took the passengers and their luggage to be loaded.

  With the team hitched and the passengers loaded, the driver cracked his whip, and the coach got underway at a rapid trot.

  “Did you mean it when you said you would go to Texas?” Megan asked as they watched the coach roll swiftly out of town, trailed by a long, billowing, rooster tail of dust behind it.

  “Yes, I meant it.”

  Megan took Duff’s arm in both her hands. “Good.”

  “What do you mean, good?”

  “Just good,” she said, smiling at him.

  “Before I go back out to the ranch, I think I would like to stop by Vi’s Pies, and have a piece of black and blue pie. Would you be for joining me?”

  “I would love to join you, Duff MacCallister,” Megan said. “As long as I can choose my own pie.”

  “Aye, that you can do. But why anyone would want anything other than black and blue pie is beyond me. ’Tis no better pie in the world.”

  Vi Winslow greeted Duff and Megan effusively as they stepped into her establishment. The place was redolent with the aroma of freshly baked pies, which, except for coffee, tea, and milk, was the only thing she served. She did, however, serve a variety of pies, listing on her board twelve different kinds.

  Upon arriving in Chugwater and stepping into Vi’s Pies for the first time, Duff made the announcement that he was going to go through the entire list, one pie at a time. He started with apple, then apricot, then black and blue, which was a combination of blackberries and blueberries. He never got beyond that one, and now, he ordered black and blue every time he visited.

  “Elmer didn’t come into town with you?” Vi asked, the disappointment evident in her voice.

  “Someone has to run the ranch,” Duff replied.

  “You work him too hard. He’s getting on in years, you know.”

  “Be truthful with me, Vi. Do you honestly think I could make Elmer slow down?”

  Vi chuckled. “I don’t think you can. I’ve never known anyone who enjoys working as much as Elmer does.”

  “I just came into town to see Megan’s sister and her family off on the stagecoach, and I thought I’d stop by for—”

  Vi slid a piece of black and blue across the counter before Duff could finish his order.

  Megan ordered peach pie.

  Chapter Nine

  Onboard the coach

  “When you were with Duff, just the two of you, did he talk any about Megan?” Melissa asked

  “Sure,” Jason replied. “He talked a lot about her.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Oh, I don’t know as I can remember anything specifically. Like I said, he talked a lot about her. And I know that he really likes her.”

  “Did he say anything about getting married?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know? What do you mean, you don’t know? How can you not know whether or not he said anything about getting married?” Melissa asked in a tone of voice that showed her frustration over the lack of information Jason was supplying.

  “We talked about a lot of things. I just don’t remember whether or not the subject came up. What about Megan? Did she say anything about getting married?”

  “Not directly. But I’m pretty sure she would marry him if he asked her. They said they’re coming to Texas soon. You heard them say that, didn’t you?”

  “I heard.”

  “Maybe if you—”

  “Melissa, it’s best to stay out of other people’s business.”

  “But you know how they feel about each other. Maybe all they need is a nudge.”

  “Like I said, Melissa, it’s—”

  “Best to stay out of other people’s business, I know. Still,” she said, letting the word hang there without response.

  The coach moved on at a rapid clip.

  “Good, then it’s all settled.”

  Ten miles ahead of the Cheyenne-bound coach, two men, Lenny and Larry Israel were waiting at Horse Creek crossing. Half an hour earlier, they had put a tree limb across the bridge so that the coach coming from Cheyenne would have to stop.

  Larry was standing on the creek bank, urinating into the water.

  “What the hell you pissin’ in the creek for?” Lenny asked. “Hell, I just filled my canteen from there.”

  “If you’ve already filled your canteen, what do you care?”

  Lenny chuckled. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

  “Besides, fish piss in the water all the time. You ever thought of that?

  “What do you mean fish piss in it?�
��

  “Well, you tell me, brother. You don’t think they get out of the water to take a leak, do you? They pee in the creek.” Larry was buttoning his pants as he spoke.

  “Damn, I never thought of that.”

  “Listen,” Larry said holding up his hand. “You hear that? The coach is a-comin’.”

  Lenny nodded. “Yeah, I hear it.”

  “Get ready.”

  The two men got into position behind a rock. Cocking their rifles, they stared south, waiting for the appearance of the coach.

  Before they could see it, they could hear it, the clopping of hoofbeats, and the clank and rattle of the coach itself. By the time the two highwaymen could see the coach, the driver and guard could see that there was a tree limb across the bridge. The driver called out to his team, bringing them to a halt.

  “What the hell?” the driver said. “How the hell did that get there?”

  “You want me to pull it out of the way?” asked the guard.

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  “You shoot the lead offside horse, I’ll take care of the guard,” Larry said quietly.

  The two men raised their rifles and fired, the shots so close together that they sounded as one.

  The lead horse went down. The other horses whinnied and reared up in fear, but the dead horse kept the coach from going anywhere.

  The shotgun guard went down as well.

  “Danny!” the driver shouted, but it was the last word he spoke. He was the next target, with both Larry and Lenny shooting him.

  “You people in the coach, come out now,” Larry shouted.

  When nobody came out, Larry fired into the coach. They heard a woman cry out.

  “We’re goin’ to just keep a-firin’ into the coach till you all come out,” Larry called.

  Two men, a woman, and a young boy stepped down from the coach. One of the men was holding his hand over a shoulder wound. His face was contorted with pain, and blood was oozing through his fingers.

  “Turn around and face the coach,” Larry said as he and Lenny approached with drawn pistols.