hurt.”
“Thanks,” Smoke replied.
“They had obviously come to rob you. Of course, I guess that could have been any of the four of us, seeing as we are all carrying large sums of money.”
“Except that doesn’t explain the three one-hundred-dollar bills that were found in the shirt pocket of one of them,” Phillips said. “To me, that’s proof that they weren’t there just to rob Mr. Jensen. I believe they had come to kill him, and someone had paid them to do it.”
“That’s not very likely, is it?” Quentin asked.
“Maybe not,” Smith replied. “But then, how likely is it that a man could build up one of the largest ranches in Colorado by stealing land from all his neighbors?”
The smile on Quentin’s face had been forced from the moment he walked over to the table. Now, even the forced smile left his face, to be replaced by an irritated scowl.
“Are you suggesting I did that?” Quentin asked.
“No, I’m just repeating what I’ve heard others suggest,” Smith said.
Quentin stood there for a moment longer, then nodded. “I’ll see you men at the auction,” he said.
When Smoke stepped into the sale barn a little later that afternoon, his entry didn’t go unnoticed. Most of the town had heard of the incident in his hotel room the night before, and several came over to speak to him about it, offering their sincerest appreciation that he had come through the robbery attempt unscathed.
The gathering of all the ranchers was congenial, because most had no intention of bidding on Prince Henry, and as there were cattle and bulls enough to go around, there was no competition between them. And Smoke, Smith, and Phillips had established a friendly relationship so that the competition between them wasn’t in the least acrimonious. The only person to show a bit of hostility toward the others was Pogue Quentin, but even that didn’t cause a problem as he and his son kept to themselves until the auction began.
“Gentlemen, if you will all take your seats, we’ll get the auction under way,” Lindsey Beck, the auctioneer, said.
The buzz of conversation quieted as the ranchers all found a place to sit.
“Before we begin the bidding, I need to go over the rules with you once more. Only those of you holding a valid ticket will be authorized to bid. The ticket will cost you one hundred dollars. If you bid successfully, that one hundred dollars will be applied to your bid. If you do not buy anything, the one hundred dollars will be refunded at the conclusion of the bid.
“Also, you understand that all transactions are to be in cash and payable immediately, so I caution you not to make any bid higher than the amount of cash you have on your person right now. If you cannot come up with the cash for your purchase, the next highest bidder will be declared the winner.
“And I should not have to tell you that all bids are final. Are there any questions?”
There were none.
“Gentlemen, if there are any among you who have not yet purchased your bidding ticket, I invite you to do so now.”
For the next few minutes, several of the ranchers, most of whom were late arrivals at the auction, hurried over to the clerk’s table to make the purchase.
“Now, gentlemen,” the auctioneer began. “Our first sale will be one bull and ten heifer calves. Though they are not of champion stock, they are all purebred Herefords and will be a good addition to your existing herds, as well as a good means of starting your Hereford herd. We will sell all eleven animals in a single lot, so your bidding will be for all eleven. Do I have an opening bid?”
“Fifty dollars,” one of the ranchers shouted.
“I have fifty, do I hear fifty-five, five, five, five, do I have fifty-five?”
“Five.”
“Fifty-five, now sixty, sixty, sixty, fifty-five now sixty,” the auctioneer droned on in an almost lyrical, singsong voice.
There were several ranchers at the auction, and through all the early rounds the bidding was brisk. Then the excitement reached its crescendo when Prince Henry was introduced.
Although there as many as one hundred people at the auction, there were, as Murchison had pointed out, only four who could realistically bid for the bull, and the auctioneer and everyone else present knew who they were. The four were sitting in different parts of the bleachers, having, for this particular sale, purposely separated themselves from each other.
Prince Henry was a fine-looking specimen, and as he was led into the circle, he held his head high.
“Here he is, gentlemen, Prince Henry, the bull you all came to see, but only one of you came to buy.”
The audience laughed at the auctioneer’s joke.
“Prince Henry weighed ninety-five pounds at birth, is guaranteed to be completely free of defects or any history of illness or injury, and now weighs thirteen hundred and fifty pounds.
“The seller has stated that the opening bid must be five hundred dollars or higher. Do I have an opening bid?”
“Five hundred and five dollars,” Tucker Phillips called out.
“And ten,” Miller Smith said.
“Five hundred fifty dollars,” Smoke bid.
