“Yeah, that’s what we’re going to do, as soon as you give us enough money to get out of here.”
“And how much do you consider to be enough money?” Bellefeontaine asked.
“I’d say about a thousand dollars apiece,” Davis said.
“A thousand dollars apiece?” Bellefontaine laughed. “You must think I’m a fool. Get out of here. You are on your own.”
“You can’t turn your back on us now, not after all we’ve done for you,” Davis said. He drew his pistol, then pointed toward the safe that sat against the back wall. “Open that safe and take out your money. We would’a been satisfied with a thousand dollars apiece. Now we want all of it.”
“You’re making a mistake,” Bellefontaine said.
“Not as big a mistake as you just made,” Davis said. “Now, open that safe like I told you to.”
Bellefontaine walked over to the safe. “What makes you think I have that much money in this safe?”
“It don’t matter to me how much money you have. However much it is, we’re goin’ to take it all,” Davis replied.
Bellefontaine opened the safe and stuck his hand inside, then, so quickly that he almost got away with it, he spun around with a pistol in his hand.
“You didn’t really think I was goin’ to let you steal my money, did you?” he shouted.
But, though he was quick, Davis was quicker. He pulled the trigger and the bullet from his gun hit Bellefontaine in the forehead. He fell, dead before he hit the floor.
“See how much money he has, Depro,” Davis said.
Depro looked into the safe, smiled broadly, then stuck both hands in and turned back toward the others with both hands filled with money.
“Look at this! There must be ten or twenty thousand dollars here,” Depro said.
Davis looked at Bellefontaine’s body. “The dumb son of a bitch should have give us the money,” he said. “All we was askin’ for was a thousand dollars apiece.”
Quickly, the three men began taking money out of the safe and stuffing it down into their clothes.
Out on the main street, the air was redolent with the aroma of fried chicken, and freshly baked pies, cookies and cakes. But no one was eating yet, because all the people of the town were lined along both sides of the street to watch the parade. Mayor Joe Cravens had invited Falcon, Cody, and Ingraham to sit on the reviewing stand with him as the elements of the parade marched by.
First came Mrs. Foley’s Grammar school, thirtyseven children from the first to the eighth grade. All were excited at being in the parade and they were waving flags they had made as a part of their school projects, ranging from no more than a few marks on a piece of paper the efforts of the first-graders, to genuine works of art among the eighth-graders.
Next came the eleven high school students, the excitement replaced by embarrassment. They were followed by the brand new pumper, consisting of glistening polished brass, the machine being pulled by six uniformed firemen. After the pumper came the Fire Brigade Band, the music of the tuba and the flute being the most noticeable.
Finally came the mounted members of the Ninth Cavalry, riding in a column of twos, led by Major Benteen. The soldiers were perfectly aligned, impeccably uniformed, and staring straight ahead as the sound of the horses’ hooves echoed back from the buildings that lined both sides of the street.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” the town auctioneer shouted through the megaphone he was using. “Here are the heroes of the Stinking Water River fight! The officers and men of the Ninth Cavalry!”
The citizens of the town applauded, then gave the soldiers a loud cheer, notwithstanding the fact that they were black.
Very soon after the parade broke up, the word began passing up and down the street, moving with telegraphic speed.
“Pierre Bellefontaine is dead!”
“Bellefontaine kilt himself!”
“He must’a read the newspaper article.”
“He didn’t kill himself, someone kilt him.”
“How do you know?”
“’Cause his safe was open and all his money was took.”
“Bellefontaine is dead.”
“Wonder who did it.”
Eventually, the rumor reached even the reviewing stand, and Falcon, Cody, Ingraham, and Mayor Cravens wondered about it, as did everyone else. That was when Mayor Cravens asked Buffalo Bill if he might come to his office for a few moments.
“I want to speak to you about your town,” Cravens said.
“Are you going to try to talk me out of building it?” Cody asked.
“On the contrary, sir. Especially if it is true that Bellefontaine is dead. I want to examine the possibility of becoming a part of your new enterprise,” Cravens said.
“All right,” Cody said. “Falcon, would you excuse me for a while?”
“Take your time,” Falcon said. “The aroma of all this food has been driving me crazy all morning, and I intend to try some of it out.”
Climbing down from the platform, Falcon recognized Juanita Kirby, Gary, and Abby behind one of the tables.
