“Form a bucket brigade!” someone shouted. “We’ve got to save the buildings next door!”
Within minutes, dozens of buckets appeared. A line was formed from a nearby watering trough and, while two men pumped water into the trough to keep the level high, others dipped buckets of water out, passing the filled containers from hand to hand down the line of volunteers toward the fire. They wasted no water by throwing it onto the fire itself; it was already too late for that. Instead, they concentrated on the adjacent buildings in the hope they could prevent them from catching.
They buried Matthew Scattergood and the three Butrum brothers in the same cemetery. The Butrums had been buried the day before with nobody but the gravedigger present as the three hastily built pine boxes were lowered into the ground.
Several of the citizens of the town turned out for Matthew’s burial, including Milton Poindexter, the broker who had bought the herd, and Ethan Ellis, the banker. Matthew even had a preacher read over him as the beautiful black and silver casket was lowered.
“Poor Matthew,” Duke said. “He wanted a room next to the street, so we changed rooms. If we hadn’t done that, he would be alive now.”
“And you would be dead,” James said.
“Maybe. But at least the Butrums had some call to want to kill me. They had no call at all to shoot Matthew.”
“Sure they did,” Bob said. “They had the same reason to shoot him that they had to shoot all of us. They wanted our money.”
“I’m convinced that Henry Plummer and his bunch wanted it as well,” James said. “So if you think about it, the Butrums probably did us a favor. They weren’t able to pull off the robbery by themselves. If they had waited, if Plummer and his entire gang had come after us, we might all be lying there.”
“Maybe so, but at least they wouldn’t have gotten the money,” Duke said. “It was smart of you to suggest that we leave it in the bank.”
“Yes,” Bob said. “And I, for one, intend to leave it there, every cent of it, until I head back to Texas.”
“You can’t leave every cent there. You’re going to have to take some of it out,” James said.
“Why is that?”
“You’ll need to buy a suit for the wedding.”
Chapter Nineteen
After a winter of looking for gold with only limited success, James went south to Texas. He stayed there just long enough to introduce his new bride, and give his father his share of the money from the sale of the herd. Then he returned to Bannack, staked out some land in a grassy valley near Beaverhead River, and established North Shadows Ranch.
For now, North Shadows Ranch was much more about land than it was about cattle. That was because he had only a couple of seed bulls and a dozen or so heifers. However, there was plenty of water and grass, as well as sheltering canyons against the cold Montana winters, so James was totally convinced that his venture would eventually pay off.
Duke, Luke, and John had not even returned to Texas, but stayed in Bannack to open the Lucky Strike Saloon. Their endeavor proved to be extremely successful, for within less than a year, the Lucky Strike was the largest and finest saloon between Chicago and San Francisco.
Revelation didn’t go with James when he went into town to go to church on the morning of January 10, 1864. She stayed home because the baby, Matthew Garrison, was sick.
James’s first stop was the post office, where he checked his box. Along with his mail was a small sheet of paper with the numbers 3-7-77 on it. Those were the numbers used by the Montana Vigilante Association. The numbers referred to a grave: three feet wide, seven feet deep, and seventy-seven inches long. To the lawless, those numbers meant terror. To the lawful, they were a signal that an important event was about to take place.
After leaving the post office, James went to the apothecary. Sam Atkinson, the druggist who lived in an apartment upstairs over his store, was just coming down the outside stairs when James got there.
“ ’Morning, James,” Sam greeted. “Going to church?”
“I am, but I need something. Sam, before you go to church, would you open up your store long enough to sell me some medicine for little Matthew? He’s feeling poorly.”
“Of course I will,” Sam replied. “Come on inside.”
James watched as Sam used the mortar and pestle to grind a couple of powders into a single potion.
“Did you get one of these?” James asked quietly, showing Sam the paper with the numbers 3-7-77.
Sam looked at the paper, then glanced around before he answered.
“Yes, I got one,” he answered, just as quietly.
“Do you know what it’s about?”
“Last night Nelson Story and the vigilantes arrested Henry Plummer and some of his men. Milton Poindexter wants to hold a miners’ court. If you got one of those, that means he plans for you to be on the jury.”
“When is the trial?”
“This morning, right after church,” Sam said.
“Well, if I’m going to make the trial, then I better not go to church. I need to get this medicine back to Revelation.”
Sam poured the concoction into an envelope and gave it to James. “Twenty-five cents,” he said. “Have your wife mix about a quarter of a spoonful of the powder with three-fourths of a spoon of water. Give him one dose, three times a day. That should take care of it.”
“Thanks,” James said. “Oh, and if you see Poindexter, tell him I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Go to the Lucky Strike Saloon. That’s where we are going to have the trial,” Sam said.
Revelation was sitting in a rocking chair, holding the baby when James got home.
“How is Matthew?” James asked.
“I think he’s feeling better some,” Revelation said. “He’s not as fussy as he was.”
“I got the medicine for him,” James said. “Sam says you can give him three doses a day. I also picked up the mail.”
“Mail, oh wonderful,” Revelation said. “Sit down, we’ll read it together.”
James shook his head. “I’ll have to read it later,” he said. “There are big doings going on in town.”
“Oh? What?”
“Story has arrested Plummer and some of his men. They’re going to try him today, and they want me to sit on the jury.”
“It’s about time justice caught up with that man,” Revelation said. “Remember everything that happens at the trial, so you can tell me all about it.”
“I will,” James promised as he left.
Revelation put the mail on the kitchen table, planning to wait until James returned to read the mail. But as she went about her chores, her eyes kept darting over to the envelopes, pregnant with the promise of news from home. Finally, she couldn’t hold off any longer, so she picked up the mail, moved a chair to the window for its light, then opened one of the envelopes.
The first letter was from Billy Swan, who was now living in San Francisco, California. Billy had thrilling news in
