A Lone Star Christmas

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The two night herders rode in a circle about twenty yards outside the sleeping cattle, and by riding in opposite directions were able to keep the cattle under constant observation. The horses caught on quickly to the routine, and would continue their route even if, as often happened, the rider would fall asleep in the saddle. Each time the riders met, they would speak to make certain the other was awake, and also to calm the cows, knowing that they were being protected against any kind of night predators.

If a rider didn’t fall asleep, then these long, quiet hours in the middle of the night were perfect for reflection. And that is exactly what Tom was doing.

It had been nine months since he came to work at Live Oaks. At first he intended it to be temporary—just until the scars on his soul were healed. Ranching was certainly unlike anything he had ever experienced before, and while it didn’t quite live up to the romanticism of the printed word—he had never read about anyone having to muck out stables, or pull cows from mud bogs—he found the physical labor therapeutic.

He also liked the men that he worked with. What they lacked in education, polish, and sophistication was more than made up for by their sense of honor and horse sense.

He laughed at a definition of horse sense he had heard. “Horse sense means that horses have more sense than to bet on a man.”

He wondered what his father would think if he could see him now, riding a horse around a herd of cows in the middle of the night, dressed in denim and sheepskin, wearing a pistol on his hip and carrying a rifle in a saddle-sheath.

“Are you awake, Tom?” Dalton called, as he passed Tom on their circuit.

“How can I sleep with you yelling at me every fifteen minutes?” Tom replied.

Dalton laughed as he rode on by. Tom continued his own circuit.

From the Dodge City Times:

REVERSE CATTLE DRIVE.

Our fair city has long been the destination for cattle herds coming north from Texas. But now we are the point of origin for a herd going to Texas. Mr. Benjamin Conyers, a Texas Cowman, has declared his intention to stop raising Longhorns, supplanting those noble creatures with a breed but recently introduced to the United States.

The breed has been raised with some success in Missouri, but this experiment will be new to Texas. The breed is the Black Angus, a cow that is, as its name implies, coal black in color. It is also unique in that it is a cow without horns.

Brought to America from Scotland, the beef it produces is said to be superior in every measure, and they are far more valuable than Longhorns. The Black Angus brings 17 dollars a head in Kansas City, 30 dollars a head in Chicago, and 60 dollars a head in New York.

Mr. Conyers’ herd of two thousand five hundred cows is making a rare winter drive from Dodge City to Ft. Worth, Texas. Having gotten underway on the 20th of this month, it is anticipated to reach Ft. Worth before Christmas.

Red Coleman was in the Lucky Chance Saloon in Dodge City. After the failure of his first attempt to steal one fourth of the herd by taking the train the cows were on, he was determined to make another try. And because he knew the herd would be coming to Dodge City, he returned to Lajunta, then took the next train east.

He arrived the day after the herd had departed Dodge City, heading south. The story of the “Reverse Herd,” so-called because rather than a herd being brought to Dodge, this herd was leaving Dodge, made the front page of the newspaper. Despite that, the story that was on the lips of everyone in town was about Frank Lovejoy being killed. It was the subject of every discussion in the Lucky Chance.

The man who killed Lovejoy was Matt Jensen. Red didn’t know what the relationship was between Matt and Smoke Jensen, but he didn’t care. He knew he was on Smoke Jensen’s trail.

“I can tell you right now,” one of the saloon patrons said. “There ain’t no way Seth Lovejoy is goin’ to let that feller get away with killin’ Frank.”

“What’s he goin’ to do about it? It was a fair fight. Ever’ one who saw it says that. Besides which, they done held the trial and found the man that kilt Frank innocent.”

“That weren’t no trial, that weren’t nothin’ but an inquiry,” the first patron said. “But it don’t make no difference anyhow. You mark my words, Seth Lovejoy is goin’ to set things right. Leastwise, by his own accounting, he is.”

“How is he going to do that? The man that kilt Frank is a cowboy with that herd of cows that just went south. Hell, he ain’t even in town no more.”

“I don’t have any idea how he’s goin’ to do it. All I’m sayin’ is, he’s goin’ to do it.”

That wasn’t news that Red Coleman wanted to hear. If this man Lovejoy hit the herd while they were going south, he could mess up the entire deal.

“Who is this fella Lovejoy they are talking about?” Red asked one of the other patrons of the saloon.

“He owns the Back Trail Ranch. He’s about the richest man in all of Ford County, and you bein’ new here an’ all, prob’ly don’t know that his boy was kilt here a few days ago by some cowboy that’s takin’ a herd down to Texas.”

“Yes, I read about the trail drive in the newspaper,” Red said. “You think this Lovejoy man might try and rustle their cattle?”

“Rustle their cattle? Nah, why would he want to do that? He’s got more money than he can count now. Like as not, all he wants to do is get even with this Matt Jensen fella that kilt his boy.”

“Is Matt Jensen fast?” Red asked.

“About as fast as it takes a lightning bolt to get from the sky to the ground,” the man said. “Only here’s the thing. There’s a couple of other men with that herd, Smoke Jensen and Falcon MacCallister, that they say is just as fast, or maybe faster.”

Billy Lovejoy was sitting at a table with Candy, having paid enough to buy her company for as long as he wanted it. He had been following the discussion with increasing agitation.

“It is almost like they want Pa to go after that cowboy,” Billy said.

“He won’t, will he, Billy?” Candy asked.

“I don’t know,” Billy answered. “I’m afraid he will. He was really upset by the way the hearing turned out.”

“But you were here that night,” Candy said. “You saw it just like the rest of us did. You know that the hearing did the right thing by saying he was innocent.”

“Yes, I saw it,” Billy said. “But Pa didn’t see it, and Doyle and the others who did see it are telling him just what he wants to hear.”

“Why don’t you tell him what really happened?”

“I have tried, but he doesn’t listen to me,” Billy said. “And the truth is, even if he had seen it with his own eyes, he would still believe what he wanted to believe. Frank could do no wrong, as far as Pa was concerned.”

Back Trail Ranch

When Billy Lovejoy got home that night, he saw his father sitting in the big leather chair in his parlor and staring at the burning logs in his fireplace. Seth Lovejoy had been drinking, almost non-stop, for the last three days. He was inebriated, but not the kind of staggering, fall-down, speech-slurring drunk one might expect. Instead it was a slow-mounting anger that ate at his soul.

“I see you are home,” Seth said. “Have you been with your whore all evening?”

“I’ve been with Candy,” Billy said.

Seth chortled, an evil-sounding cackle. “Hell, boy, I don’t mind you being with whores,” he said. “I know your brother spent time with whores too. The only thing I mind is you being dumb enough to think that you have fallen in love with one. She is playing you for a fool, thinking that if she could convince you to marry her, she could come out here and live high on the hog on my ranch. Well, she ain’t goin’ to, ’cause I’m tellin’ you right now, if you marry that whore I’m takin’ you out of my will. You won’t get one red cent.”

“Do you think I would let that decide whether or not I marry Candy? Pa, you need to ease up a bit on the drinkin’.”

“In case you didn’t notice it, I’ve got a reason to drink. My son, who also happened to be your brother in case you have forgotten, was killed.”

“Getting drunk isn’t going to bring him back.”

“It don’t bother you none that Frank was shot down in cold blood?” Seth asked.

“Pa, you heard all the witnesses. Every one of them said that Frank drew first.”

“They’re lyin’, ever’ one of ’em,” Seth said.

“I was there too, and I saw it. Do you think I’m lying?”

“You are either lying, or you didn’t see everything that happened. You know how fast Frank was. There couldn’t anybody beat him. Not in a fair fight, they couldn’t.”

“Face it, Pa. This was goin’ to happen to Frank sometime. He was always on the edge, always pushing people, always ready to fight over the least insult, real or imagined.”

“Just like you are always ready to run from a fight,” Seth said. “You aren’t half the man Frank was.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Billy said.

“What do I have to do, to put a little gumption in you?” Seth asked.

“I’m not sure what you mean by gumption,” Billy said. “If you mean how can you turn me into Frank, you can’t.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. Do you know how much I’m worth, Billy?”

“I have a good idea.”

“I’m sure you do,” Seth said. He squinted his eyes and looked at Billy accusingly. “And now, with Frank gone, you’re thinkin’ it’s all goin’ to come to you, aren’t you? Hell, you are probably glad Frank got himself killed so that you don’t have to split the inheritance with him.”

“I don’t think about the inheritance,” Billy said. “I wish you were nothing but a store clerk, or a wagon driver or something. If you were, Frank would probably still be alive.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Pa, you not only encouraged Frank to be the way he was, you pushed him into it.”

“I did, and why not?” Seth replied. “When you have as much property as I have, you have to be willing to protect it. It’s for sure and certain you’ll never do anything to protect it.”

“And look what it got you,” Billy said. “A dead son.”

“The wrong dead son,” Seth said with a low growl.

“You’re drunk, Pa,” Billy said. “That’s the liquor talking, not you.”

“There is a way you can redeem yourself,” Seth said.

“How? Not that I feel that I need redemption.”

“You can kill the man that killed your brother.”

“No,” Billy said. “If that’s what it takes for redemption in your eyes, I want none of it.”

Billy started toward the door.

“You are a coward!” Seth yelled at him. “Do you hear me? You are a coward, and you are no son of mine!”

Billy had been through previous episodes of his father’s intransigent anger and irrational behavior, and he knew that he eventually came out of such black moods. He had to admit though that this one was different in that it had been initiated by Frank getting killed, and sustained by heavy drinking. It was also much deeper and darker than it had ever been before. He had no idea how long it would be before his father came out of it this time, but he had no intention of being around until he did. He would stay in Dodge for a while.

The next morning Seth asked Doyle to have breakfast with him. Doyle was the ranch foreman, and had been Frank’s closest friend.

“Tell me, Doyle,” Seth asked as he buttered a biscuit, “how fast was this man, this Matt Jensen, who shot my boy?”

“He was fast,” Doyle answered.

“How fast?”

“Damn fast.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Doyle ran his hand through his hair as he looked across the table at his boss. It was obvious that he wasn’t sure how to answer.

“Frank is dead,” Seth said. “There’s no need to hide the truth from me now. Did Jensen beat Frank fair and square?”

“More than that,” Doyle said.

“What do you mean more than that?”

“Frank started his draw first, and Jensen still beat him.”

“If that’s the case, then I’m not likely to find a gunman who can beat him.”

“Maybe Smoke Jensen, or Falcon MacCallister could, but you know neither one of them are going to go up against him. And I don’t know if they could beat him anyway.”

“Then we are going to have to find another way to kill him.”

“You won’t be able to kill just him,” Doyle said. “Smoke Jensen and Falcon MacCallister? They are riding with him right now. Also a fella named Duff MacCallister, and while I don’t know much about him, him being a MacCallister is about all I need to know.”

“What you are saying is I will have to kill all four of them,” Seth said.

“Yes.”

“All right, that’s what we’re going to do.”

“Mr. Lovejoy, maybe you ain’t listenin’ to me,” Doyle said. “There’s no way we can go up against them fellas.”

“We aren’t going to go up against them in the way you think,” Seth said. “Come in here, let me show you something.”

Doyle followed Seth into the study. There, laid out on a table, was a map of Indian Territory.

“They are taking a herd of twenty-five hundred cows south to Fort Worth, aren’t they? Take a look at this map,” Seth said. “They are going to have to cross the Cimarron. I know that country, and I know that the only place you can ford the Cimarron with a herd is right a-here.” He tapped the location with the end of his index finger.

“They left Dodge City yesterday morning which means they are into their second day. They are driving cattle, so it is going to take at least four more days for them to reach there. But on horseback, we can be there in two days. Now, when they get there, the only thing they are going to have on their minds is pushing the cows across the river. We’ll be on the other side, laying low, waiting for them.”

“When you say we, Mr. Lovejoy, who are you talking about besides you and me? Even from ambush, I wouldn’t want to go after them with just the two of us. It would take an army. We are going to need a lot more people.”

“That’s right, Doyle, and I’m counting on you to find the people who will go with us,” Seth said. “When you recruit them, you can offer them one hundred dollars a man.”

“Did I understand you? You are going to give a hundred dollars to each man who agrees to ride with us?” Doyle asked in surprise.

“I am. I will give one hundred dollars apiece for each man who signs up to go with us,” Seth said. “And a hundred dollars for you, plus an extra ten dollars for you for every man you can round up.”

Doyle smiled broadly. “Mr. Lovejoy, you will have your army.”

“Fine. But get them here quickly, I want to leave today. We need to be there in enough time to make certain we have all the cover and concealment we need.”

Lucky Chance Saloon, November 22

When Billy first set foot in the Lucky Chance, he saw that Candy was drinking with someone. Because that was her job, he stayed up at the bar, nursing a beer, until he saw the man she was with leave.

Candy had seen Billy come in, so she came to stand beside him. “Hello, cowboy,” she said, smiling at him.

“I don’t like it when you do that,” Billy replied.

“When I do what?” Candy asked, surprised by his response.

“When you say, ‘hello cowboy,’ as if I am just another cowboy.”

Candy put both her hands around Billy’s upper arm, leaned into him, and smiled up at him.

“I mean nothing by it, Billy. As far as I am concerned, you are much more than just another cowboy.”

“Can we sit and talk for a while?”

“Sure,” Candy said.

Candy led the way to an empty table, one near the stove that was now glowing red as it pumped out enough heat to keep the entire saloon reasonably warm, if not comfortable.

“What is it?” Candy asked. “You look like something is bothering you.”

“It is bothering me,” Billy said. “Pa has rounded up a lot of men and they are going out after the herd that just left here.”

“Oh!” Candy said, putting her hand to her mouth. “No, Billy, you have to stop him.”

“I tried to stop him,” Billy said. “I didn’t get very far.”

“But you must stop him,” Candy insisted. “Becca went with them!”

“Becca went with them? Why would she do that?”

“Don’t you know? Her Pa is the one who owns that herd. She is just going back home.”

“No, I didn’t know that.”

“Billy, please try to stop them.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Billy promised.

Live Oaks Ranch, November 22

The Western Union Delivery boy handed Big Ben a telegram.

“Sorry, Mr. Conyers, but this telegram is a couple days late. Mr. Hayward’s wife took sick yesterday and he wasn’t there to get the telegrams so they was all sent to Dallas. We didn’t get them until this morning.”

“That’s all right,” Big Ben said. “I was expecting it anyway.” He gave the boy a half-dollar tip.

“Thank you sir,” the boy said. Remounting, he rode back to town.

Big Ben took the telegram back inside, sat down in his reinforced chair, then opened it. He was not in any way apprehensive about it. As he had told the messenger boy, he was expecting the telegram, because he had told Clay to telegraph him when they left Dodge City.

The first thing he noticed when he opened the telegram was how long it was. Most telegrams were one or two lines at the most, sometimes three, rarely four, and almost never five. But this telegram had eight lines. This he wasn’t expecting.

HERD ARRIVED IN DODGE CITY BY TRAIN

WITH ALL COWS SURVIVING THE TRANSIT.

THERE WERE FOUR MEN WHO DELIVERED

THE HERD AND THEY WILL ASSIST US IN THE

DRIVE BACK TO LIVE OAKS. WE WILL DEPART

DODGE CITY THIS DAY, NOV 20. REBECCA

WILL BE RETURNING WITH US.

THERE WAS A SHOOTING INCIDENT IN

DODGE CITY. MOSES COFFEY WAS KILLED

WHILE DEFENDING DALTON. DALTON WAS

NOT HURT.

CLAY RAMSEY

After reading the telegram, Big Ben leaned forward and closed his eyes. Julia came into the room then and saw him sitting in the chair, clutching the telegram in his hand, with his head bowed, his eyes closed.

“Ben?” she said, her voice weak and frightened. Telegrams always frightened her. “Ben, what is it?”

Big Ben opened his eyes and looked at her. He lifted the telegram from his leg and waved it slightly.

“The herd has left Dodge City,” he said.

“Oh,” Julia said, relieved. “Oh, is that all?” She sat on the settee. “Seeing you like that frightened me.”

“There is more,” Big Ben said.

“What?” she asked, anxiously.

“Mo was killed.”

“Oh, Ben, no. That poor boy. He was such a friend to Dalton. Dalton must be—Dalton!” she suddenly gasped. “Ben, is Dalton all right?”

“Yes,” Big Ben said.

“Oh, thank God. Oh, how terrible of me to be thankful that it was Mo instead of Dalton. God, forgive me.”

“I’m sure He has already forgiven you, Julia,” Big Ben said. He waited for a moment before he added, “There is more.”

“More? What more? What more could there be?”

“Rebecca is with them,” Big Ben said. “She is coming home.”

“Rebecca is coming home?”

“Yes. She must have been in Dodge City.”

“Oh, Ben. She will be here for Christmas! Won’t that be wonderful?”

“Yes. Wonderful,” Big Ben said. There was more anxiety in his voice than there was joy over the return of his daughter.

It was nearly suppertime, so Big Ben walked over to the cookhouse. The cookhouse was a long, narrow building. One third of the building was the kitchen, while two thirds made up the dining area. Here, in the dining area, were three long tables with chairs on either side of the table. Those hands who had not made the drive and who were not married were having their supper now, and there was a lot of talking and laughter going on when Big Ben stepped into the building. For a moment nobody saw him, and he stood quietly, just inside the door, leaning back against the wall. Finally someone saw him, and within less than a minute, all conversation had halted. The eating had stopped as well, and everyone turned their attention toward Big Ben.

“Men,” he said. “I have some bad news to report.”

The cowboys looked at each other to see if anyone had any advance knowledge as to what Big Ben was about to say. As nobody did, they turned their attention back to him.

“Mo Coffey was killed up in Dodge City.”

“How?” someone shouted.

“He was shot,” Big Ben said.

“It must have been some kind of shooter who done it,” one of the cowboys said. “I’ve seen Mo shoot, and he was as good as anyone I ever seen or heard about.”

There were a few other comments and questions most about what a “good man” Mo was, and how loyal he was to Live Oaks and the others who rode for the ranch. It was during that discussion that Big Ben began to get an idea as to what he wanted to do.

“Do any of you know the name of the orphanage Mo came from?” Big Ben asked.

“Yeah, I know,” one of the cowboys said. “It is Our Lady of Mercy. He talks about it all the time.”

“What were his feelings about it?” Big Ben asked. “Would you say they were positive or negative?”

“Oh, positive!” someone shouted, then several others threw in their own comments.