“Does he measure up to his request?” Duff asked. “What I mean is, do you think he has sufficient funds to pay twenty dollars a head for twenty-five hundred cows? That’s fifty thousand dollars.”
“It’s funny you would ask if he measured up, because measuring is what he does very well.”
“I don’t understand.”
“He is called Big Ben and they call him that for a reason. He stands six feet seven, and weighs in at over 300 pounds.”
“Oh, my, that is quite large, isn’t it?”
“And don’t worry about whether or not he is good for the money. He is one of the most successful cattlemen in Texas. He could buy a herd ten times as large and not strain his resources.”
“Good,” Duff replied. “I would hate to go to all this trouble, and then not be paid.”
“You can come up with what? Fifteen hundred head?” Smoke asked.
“That’s about it. I am hoping you could come up with the rest.”
“I thought that might be the case. Yes, I can come up with another thousand. That will meet his demand.”
“The question now, is how do we get them there?”
“I would suggest that you ship your cattle by train to Denver. I will meet you there with my cattle, and then we’ll ship the entire herd by train, or trains in this case, to Dodge City. Once we get to Dodge, we’ll have to drive the critters on down to Live Oaks.”
“What do you think? About four trains?” Duff asked.
“Let’s see, twenty to a car, it would take 125 cars. That would be just over thirty-one cars per train, plus a Pullman car. Yes, four would do it.”
“Four trains, but only two of us,” Duff said.
“That’s no problem,” Smoke said. “I know I can get Matt to go with one of the trains. By the way, I hope you don’t have any problem with Sally going with us. She’s been saying she wanted to take a trip somewhere for Christmas.” Smoke laughed out loud. “I’ll bet this isn’t exactly what she was planning on, though.”
“Of course I dinnae have any objections to the fair Sally coming with us. She is not only good company, I’ve nae doubt but that she can be helpful.”
“As for the fourth train, I’ll bet you could get Falcon, if you asked,” Smoke suggested.
“I’ll send him a telegram,” Duff said. “Thank you, that’s a good idea.”
“Yeah, I do get good ideas every now and then.”
Falcon MacCallister had received the telegram this morning, but had not yet shared it with anyone. At the moment Falcon, his brothers Jamie, Ian, Morgan, and Matthew, were out at the old MacCallister homestead. Falcon’s sisters, Joleen and Kathleen, were there as well. Even the twins, Andrew and Rosanna, were here, and that was rare, for they only managed to show up for family functions about once every five years. Andrew and Rosanna were both famous thespians, their work as well-known in Europe as it was in the United States.
The MacCallister clan was gathering for a family reunion, though, except for Andrew and Rosanna, they didn’t have far to go when they held such a gathering. Here, in the MacCallister Valley of Colorado, they were busy ranching, farming, raising kids and grandkids. By now, half of the people in the Valley were MacCallisters. To be precise, there were one hundred and three MacCallisters in MacCallister Valley who were direct descendants of Jamie and Katie MacCallister, who had been barely of age when they settled here considerably more than half a century before.
They had just had their dinner and walked out front to have a moment over the graves of their parents, Jamie and Kate.
“We should have waited to have this reunion at Thanksgiving or Christmas,” Ian said.
“Why?” Morgan asked. “This way we get to feast now, and again at Thanksgiving and Christmas.”
“Leave it to Morgan to think of food,” Kathleen said.
“Well, for my part, it’s good that we had it today. I won’t be here for Thanksgiving, and probably won’t be here for Christmas either. I’m leaving tomorrow morning.”
“You’re leaving tomorrow? Falcon, what is so important that you can’t even stay for a family reunion?” Morgan asked. “You know what Pa and Ma always said. Nothing is more important than family.”
“This
“How can it be family, when every last one of us are here?” Joleen asked. “Even Andrew and Rosanna.”
“I’m talking about Duff MacCallister,” Falcon said. “He is our cousin.”
“He can’t be that close of a cousin,” Kathleen said. “I’ve never even met the man.”
“We share a great-great-great-great grandfather,” Rosanna said. “Grandfather Falcon MacCallister from the Highlands of Scotland.”
“Great, great, great, great grandfather? What is that, fifth cousin?” Jamie asked.
“Technically, I suppose he is, but it feels much closer than that,” Andrew said. “Duff MacCallister is a wonderful man.”
“How do you two know him?”
“We were the first ones to meet him,” Rosanna said. “We met him in Scotland. Then later, when he came to America, he worked with us in New York for a while. And if Falcon feels that Duff needs him, I don’t think we should erect any impediments.”
“Erect any impediments,” Jolene said with a little chuckle. “Spoken like a true child of the theater,” she added, affecting a strong British accent as she teased Rosanna. Then she added in a normal tone of voice. “By all means, Falcon, if you feel that it is important for you to go to the aid of our cousin, Duff, go with our blessings.”
“Thanks,” Falcon said.
Matt Jensen had just finished eating his supper, and was leaving the restaurant to go back to the hotel where he had taken a more or less permanent room, when he heard someone call out to him.
“Jensen, look out!”
Concurrent with the shouted warning, Matt felt a blow to the side of his head. Someone had stepped out of the shadows of the narrow space between the restaurant and the leather goods store next door. He saw stars, but even as he was being hit he was reacting to the shout, and that kept him from being knocked down.
When his attacker swung at him a second time, Matt was able to parry the blow; then, with his fists up, he moved quickly out into the middle of the street. He didn’t know if there was more than one person hiding in the dark, and he didn’t want to take a chance. In the middle of the dirt street, lit by gas streetlamps, he was able to see the man who had attacked him. He was a big man, well over six feet tall with large arms and ham-sized fists. He was an exceptionally ugly man, with a heavy brow ridge and a protruding lower lip. Matt had never seen him before.
“Mister,” the man said with a low growl. “You kilt my brother, so now I’m aimin’ to take you apart with my bare hands.”
This was a change. Most of the men who came after Matt, either for revenge or to settle some personal score, or even to make a name for themselves, came after him with a gun. But this was a big man, and whether it would be a welcome change or not was yet to be seen.
Almost as soon as the fight started, a crowd was gathered around.
“Who’s that big man Jensen is fighting with?” someone asked.
“I don’t have no idea,” another answered.
Matt and the big man dodged and weaved around for a bit, both trying to take the measure of the other, neither of them throwing a punch.
“Who was your brother?” Matt asked. “The one you say I killed.”
“Damn, Mister, have you kilt so many you can’t keep up with ’em?” the big man asked.
“I’ve killed a few,” Matt said.
“His name was Shelton. Lucas Shelton,” the big man said.
“I remember him,” Matt said.
