Hilliard took the document and began to read, growing angrier as he did.
Hilliard finished reading the document and, without a word, handed it back to the man who had been called Metzger by the one with the scar.
“We will expect you to be off this property by noon tomorrow,” Dancer said.
“Mister, I’ve got five hundred head of cattle,” Hilliard said. “What am I supposed to do with them?”
“Like the order says, you can take your cattle with you.”
“Take them where? This is a small ranch. There’s only my wife, my boy, and me. And my boy’s only eight years old. How are the three of us going to move five hundred cows? And where would we take them?”
“That’s none of my concern,” Dancer said. “My only concern is to see that you are off this property by noon tomorrow.”
“And if I ain’t off tomorrow?” Hilliard challenged.
“Then you’ll have to dance with the demon,” Dancer said.
“Dance with the demon? What does that mean?” Hilliard asked. It wasn’t a term he had ever heard, but it had an ominous ring to it.
“You’ll find out what it means when the music starts,” Dancer said.
Hilliard sighed, then walked toward the house. His strides were measured and purposeful, and he didn’t turn around as he walked away.
“Hi, darlin’,” Cindy Hilliard said. “Dinner’s ready. Have a seat and I’ll bring you a plate.”
Hilliard didn’t say a word to his wife. Instead he got the double-barrel twelve-gauge shotgun down, broke it open, slid two shells into the chamber, then snapped it shut.
“Roy, what is it?” Cindy asked in a frightened tone of voice. “What are you doing? What’s wrong?”
“Stay inside,” Hilliard said as he started toward the door.
When he saw Hilliard go into the house with such purposeful strides, Dancer loosened the pistol in his holster and waited.
As Dancer knew he would, Hilliard came charging back out of the house, holding a shotgun.
“Get off my land you thieving son of a bitch!” Hilliard shouted, raising the shotgun.
The shotgun never reached his shoulder. Dancer’s pistol was out in a heartbeat, and he fired one time. The impact of his bullet knocked Hilliard back against the wall of his house. The shotgun discharged with a roar, but the gun was pointing straight up, so no one was hit, though a moment later the buckshot came rattling back down against the roof of the house.
“Roy!” a woman screamed. Running out of the house, she knelt beside her husband, who was already dead. “Roy!” she cried again. She looked up at Dancer, who was still holding the smoking gun in his hand.
“You killed him!”
Dancer stared at her but said nothing.
“Why?” she asked. “Why?”
“Your husband didn’t leave him no choice,” Metzger said. “He come charging out of the house with that scattergun.”
“What did you say to him? What set him off like that?”
“I’ll tell you what I told your man,” Dancer said. “The government’s taking over your land. Be out of here by noon tomorrow.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“It’s all in that piece of paper, there in your man’s shirt pocket,” Dancer said.
Cindy was just reaching for the paper when Roy Jr. came running up from the barn, where he had been doing his chores.
“Papa!” the boy shouted. Seeing his father dead and his mother distraught over the body, Roy Jr. grabbed the shotgun and pointed it at Dancer.
“Roy Jr., no!” Cindy said, reaching for the gun.
Because he had not expected that reaction from a mere boy, Dancer was beaten to the draw. Roy pulled the triggers, but because his father had already discharged both barrels, nothing happened.
Cindy took the shotgun and tossed it to one side. “Go,” she said to Dancer and Metzger. “Please, just go away. Leave us alone.”
“You have twenty-four hours,” Dancer said, then looked over at Metzger and nodded. Then the two of them rode away.
Chapter 15
ALTHOUGH WAGONS HAD BEEN MAKING REGULAR runs up to South Pass in the Sweetwater Mountains, this morning a sizable train had formed up on Railroad Avenue. Leading the train was a surrey in which Dupree, Libby, Lulu, and Sue were riding in the facing seats at the back, while a driver sat up front. The surrey and driver, like the four freight wagons and their drivers lined up behind the surrey, belonged to the Gold Nugget Haulers.
Hawke came down to see them off, shaking hands with Jay Dupree to wish him good luck and to say good- bye to the women. Libby held his glance a little longer than the others and smiled a knowing smile but otherwise made no allusion to the “concert” they had played upon the bedsprings in Hawke’s hotel room the night before.
Several men were gathered around the wagon train. Most of them had just arrived in town and were eager to begin their search for gold. Dupree stood up then, to address those assembled.
“Gentlemen, how many of you will be going up to South Pass?” he asked.
At least twenty men held up their hands.
“Well then, allow me a few minutes to introduce myself and these three beautiful young women. My name is Jay Dupree, and these ladies and I are going ahead of you to South Pass, to open an establishment for your relaxation and pleasure. Propriety forbids my getting too detailed as to
The men laughed at his inference.
Dupree held his hand out toward the women. “Stand up, ladies, one at a time, and let these gentlemen behold true beauty.”
Lulu stood first, curtsied and blew kisses to the crowd.
“My friends, this is Lulu. Lulu is only nineteen years old, a New York debutante, and almost a virgin. As you can see, she is a fire-haired beauty. Oh, and in case you are interested, I can personally attest to the fact that she is a natural redhead.”
