“Are you folks all right in here?” Falcon asked.
“Yes, we are fine,” Mrs. Kirby said, “thanks to you three gentlemen.”
“And the shotgun guard,” Falcon added.
“I have taken the trip to Sheridan many times,” Mrs. Kirby said. “I have never known the Indians to be so bold. I have no idea what might have provoked them to such a thing.”
When they rolled in to DeMaris Springs two hours later, several people noticed that there were arrows sticking out of the side of the coach. And because they had noticed it, they began running alongside, keeping pace with the coach until it pulled into the depot.
“What happened?” one of the townspeople called up to the driver.
“What happened? We was attacked by injuns, that’s what happened,” the driver said. “But we run them heathens off.”
“And we kilt five of ’em while we was runnin’ ’em off,” the shotgun guard said.
“You kilt five of ’em, did you, Hank?”
“No, far as I know, I only got one,” Hank said. “Buffalo Bill, Falcon MacCallister, and Mr. Ingraham got the others.”
“Buffalo Bill is here?”
“Yep, he’s in the coach.”
“Are you sure it was Indians, and not just some bandits dressed like Indians?” someone asked.
“Oh, they was Injuns all right. There ain’t no doubt about that,” the driver said.
When Cody and Falcon stepped out of the stage, Cody was recognized immediately.
“It’s Buffalo Bill!”
“Buffalo Bill, what are you doing here?” another asked.
“I’m here to show my friends where my new town is to be built,” Cody said.
“Does Bellefontaine know about that?”
“More to the point, will he approve of it?”
“I have not discussed this with Mr. Bellefontaine,” Cody said. “And to be honest, I don’t care whether he approves of it or not. My business dealings are with Thornton Beck, not with Pierre Fontaine.”
Five minutes later, Davis and Regret were in Bellefontaine’s office, smiling broadly.
“Did you hear about the stagecoach from Sheridan gettin’ attacked?” Regret asked.
“I heard. Are you boys responsible for that?”
“No, sir. This attack was for real,” Davis said. “What we’ve been doin’ is workin’. We’ve been stirrin’ folks up and the Indian war has started.”
“It’s good that it has started,” Bellefontaine said. “Now we need to keep it going.”
“We’re working on that,” Davis said. “I’ve got a line on some guns that we’re goin’ to sell to the Injuns.”
“The army will have to come in here then,” Regret said.
“And once the army comes in, the whole valley will be cleared out, Injuns, prospectors, homesteaders, the lot of them,” Davis said.
Bellefontaine smiled and took down a bottle of good blended whiskey. He poured three glasses, then handed one to each of the other two men. He held his glass up.
“Gentlemen, to our success,” he said.
“To our success,” Davis repeated.
Later that morning there was a town meeting held in the community center to discuss the growing Indian problem. The meeting was chaired by Mayor Joe Cravens, but Pierre Bellefontaine had a seat at the head table. Falcon, Cody, and Ingraham were sitting in the front row, as were Bo and Hank.
Mayor Cravens called the meeting to order.
“Now, friends, I reckon you know why we have called this meeting. The truth is, this Indian problem is beginning to get out of hand. First off, we had some prospectors kilt, and it was plain that it was Indians that done it. Then we had a rancher, Frank Barlow and his whole family, good people they were, get kilt by Indians too. And all of ’em was scalped, includin’ even the woman and the boy.
“Mr. Bellefontaine has somethin’ he wants to say to us now. Mr. Bellefontaine?”
Bellefontaine was a tall, slender man with silver hair and light blue eyes. He was exceptionally well dressed, and looked like the wealthy entrepreneur he was.
“As most of you know, after the incident where the Barlow family was slaughtered by the heathens, I authorized a posse to go after the Indians. Some of you may think that, as a private citizen, I had no right to do this. But I have several employees who are required to work all up and down the valley between here and the Crow camp. I have their safety in mind. I also have the safety in mind of all the independent prospectors, homesteaders, ranchers, and farmers who are trying to live peacefully out there. To that end, I am proposing to pay one hundred dollars to any prospector who will abandon the valley, and five hundred dollars to any rancher or farmer now living out there who will give up his land.”
“Where are we goin’ to get that kind of money to pay those people to do that?” one of the citizens of the town
