Slocum 421 (13 page)

Everyone agreed, and being so close to their destination, they were pissed that anyone would try to block them from getting there. It had been way over a year since they'd left home.

Buyers had begun to show up. When Slocum got back from scouting for trouble, two men were there talking about buying half the herd and giving a paper for the rest until they got the first half sold.

Slocum told the pair he'd sell them the whole herd or part of it, but he could take no paper for the cattle. He had to sell them for cash for his boss in Texas.

“What would you take for them?” the one partner, Simpson, asked.

“What's the going market?”

“Oh, ten cents on the hoof.”

“Hell, I got more than that back in Abilene years ago.”

“I imagine you could get twenty cents.”

“If that's the market. How many do you want?”

“We'd need to buy them cheaper than that to make any money.”

“You said that was the market,” he reminded the man.

His partner jumped up. “I can see we can't do any business here.”

“Sorry we came out,” Simpson said.

Dan Black, who'd been on guard duty all day, had come in and heard their offer. “They didn't want to buy cattle, did they?”

“Only to steal them. What did you learn?”

“They watched us through their glasses a lot is all I can say.”

At dark Jim arrived back with three deputies. They ate with the crew.

“You seen any more activity from the breeds?” the lead man, Ables, asked.

“They're still scoping us all day,” Black told him.

“We've got warrants for some of them, and Jim said he could take us to their camp. They ain't struck you by morning, we'll go arrest a passel of them,” the deputy said.

Slocum thanked them for coming, and they were up at daybreak, with no raid. So Slocum and Jim rode back to the breeds' camp with them. A few shots fired in the air, and the breeds surrendered without a fight.

Slocum asked the big white guy in irons why he'd been scoping the herd.

“Aw we were only looking. Too goddamn many cows to steal.”

Slocum thanked the deputies, and he and Jim rode back to catch up with the herd.

 * * * 

Close to town they settled the herd for a stay, and Slocum went into Bozeman to find a buyer or two. It was a typical mining town, wide open 24/7, and things buzzing. Everyone trying to get a winning business going on the upswing. Everything from a millinery to dress shops, saloons galore, and plenty of whorehouses to keep the miners right there and broke. And a few blocks of nothing but narrow crib houses with scantily dressed women standing at their doors calling out for business in bawdy terms: “Hey, you with the long dick. Come fuck me.”

Past them, Slocum stabled his horse, took a room in the Montana Queen Hotel, and walked a block down to the Great North Saloon. A palace-like place with gaslights and sharp hostesses in low-cut dresses who met you at the door and offered you their services in an upstairs bed with clean sheets. “The cost is nominal during the daylight hours, sir.”

“I am really here on business. Any cattle buyers in here?”

“Some of the best are playing poker right over there.” She began to escort him over to a table of players.

“And you are drinking what?”

“A cold beer.”

“And your name is?”

“Clark, John Clark.”

“Your beer is coming. Gentlemen, this is John Clark,” she said to the players. “He is looking for cattle buyers.”

“Have a seat, Clark. You might change my luck,” said the big man smoking a cigar and dealing cards. “You're in the next hand. How many head you got?”

“Twenty-five hundred head.”

The big man frowned. “Where in the hell have they been?”

“My boss wintered them in Wyoming.”

“Who's he?”

“Jim Caltron, he had to go back to Texas, and I'm in charge.”

The cigar man took the stogie out of his mouth, laid it in an ashtray, and put down the deck. “They have any meat on them?”

“Yes, we've come easy and they're fleshy.”

“I'll be there in the morning. Where you at?”

“Oh, east of here in some grass.”

“I'll meet you at six o'clock at the restaurant, Cook's Place, and I'll feed you before we go look.”

“What are cattle worth up here?”

“What do you say to fifteen cents a pound?”

“That sounds good, but I think we can get more.”

The man drew his breath out of his nose. “Eighteen.”

Men around the table were so intent on the big man's words that it became very quiet under the hissing lamp overhead.

“You need twenty-five hundred head?” Slocum asked him

“I can damn sure handle them if they ain't skeletons.”

“I ain't got any reason to lie to you. You can see for yourself. My boss fed these cattle good last winter down there. We been coming ten miles a day to hold that flesh on them, and the graze we been on has been strong. They've been licking hair on their sides ever since I took over.”

“You been up here before?”

“No, sir. But I think it was time for me to get here.”

“There ain't hardly any head of beef around here to buy worth slaughtering. I can sure use them. I have a railroad construction beef contract and two mines to feed.”

“I reckon tomorrow we can talk business.”

“I reckon we can.” He picked up his hand and after a quick look tossed it in. “Who needs cards?”

“I never caught your name.”

“Alexander, Cy Alexander.”

“Nice to meet you. I'll raise a dollar and take two.” Poor old Caltron might have wife troubles in Texas, but in a few days he'd damn sure not have any money problems. That would be over three hundred thousand dollars. That wasn't even real. And Slocum had three of a kind in his hand—sevens. He won the pot and everyone moaned.

“Damn. He walks in, sells his damn cattle, and cleans us out. Texas welcome to Montana, Clark.”

“Thanks, gents, I can use some good news.”

“How long you been trailing them?” another player asked.

“Long enough. He hired me at Fort Laramie to bring them up here.”

Alexander nodded. “Next herd coming is in Colorado. I got a wire today. How did you get by all the lookouts?”

“I have no idea. We just headed up here. I had my boss's maps. We never had any trouble, except some breeds scouted us until the sheriff arrested them.”

“No stampedes?”

“No, sir, we just came up along the trail. Those cattle were drove far last year. Caltron wintered them on real good hay so they'd be in shape, and he waited till the grass was strong enough to head them up here.”

“He got a big ranch in Texas?”

“You know I don't know. I have never been to his place down there. Like I said we met in Fort Laramie country, and he hired me to ramrod this deal on up here.”

“He must have trusted you.”

“We hit it off. I'd driven cattle to Abilene out of Texas, and Caltron had some good hardworking boys.” He held a pair of aces in his hand. So he raised the bet a dollar and discarded two to disguise his aces.

“Mister, if I had a herd of cattle, I think I'd trust you to get them here, but that many—whew.”

“Good help. No outlaws. It all went good.”

“What'll he do with all that money?” another asked.

Slocum shook his head. “I ain't sure. I guess just enjoy it.”

They all laughed. He wound up his card playing at eleven and headed for his hotel room. The lady who'd introduced him to the buyer, and to whom he owed a tip, must have had a customer to service, since he didn't see her when he left. The night was cool, and he wondered if someone had been spying on him as he crossed the street. It was no time to have problems. Maybe by the next day he'd have some good words to send to Caltron by telegram.

He was walking toward his hotel in the night's shadows when a bullet shattered the glass window of the store right beside him. He dove behind a horse trough for cover. Two more shots followed. Gun in hand, he rose up to look in the direction the shots had come from—across the street from him. A shotgun-bearing marshal came running down the boardwalk, shouting, “Hold your fire. Hold your fire.”

Satisfied that the shooter was gone, Slocum got to his feet.

“Who did it?”

“Shots came from over there.” Slocum pointed to the place beside a dark shop across the street.

“You didn't see him?”

“I didn't see anything but the flash of a shot and took cover behind the trough.”

“You have any enemies?”

“I don't know. I have only been here for about six hours.”

“Make anyone mad or get in a fight tonight?”

“I am a drover. I came to town to sell my cattle and I found a man to buy them. Played some cards. I have no idea why I was shot at.”

“Mr. . . . ?”

“John Clark, Sweetwater, Texas.”

“I need to write that down now.”

“Sure. I feel bad about this broken glass, but I can't figure who was wasting bullets on me.”

“Mr. Clark, we consider our town a safe place to live. Shooting makes everyone nervous, you understand. I will need lots of information so we can prevent this happening again.”

“I understand, but I have a business meeting at six
A.M.
to sell my cattle, so make it as brief as you can.”

“I understand. My partner is the guy running up here now so don't concern yourself about that.”

“Thank you. Being shot at is unnerving.”

“I agree. This is Marshal Hart. Sir, this is John Clark. He was shot at. He has only been here six hours and was shot at.”

“Anyone contacted Ira Counts about his broken window?” Hart asked.

“No. If you can do that, I'll stay here till he gets someone to watch things.”

“You have enough from me?” Slocum asked.

“If I need more—”

“I will be either here at the Montana Queen Hotel or with the large herd out east of here.”

“Thank you.”

 * * * 

At the hotel, Slocum asked the desk clerk to wake him at six. A chair against the doorknob, he woke up when the clerk knocked. He called a thank-you. Dressed, he met Alexander in the café, and they ate a breakfast of eggs, ham, hash browns with biscuits and gravy, plus coffee.

“They say someone shot at you last night?” Alexander asked.

“Crazy deal. I was walking back to the hotel and a shot rang out. I dropped off to hide behind a horse trough, and the shooter sent two more at me. I never saw him or heard what he wanted. He shot out a large window in a store.”

“Might be settling an old score?”

“Have no idea.” Slocum shrugged his shoulder. It could have been mistaken identity—the shooter thinking he was someone else—but he believed it more likely that he knew the shooter or the shooter knew him. He would have to be more careful.

At the livery, he got his horse and Alexander got his. Two men who worked for Alexander joined them—a tall man named Ulmer and another, older man called Olsen. They trotted out to where the men held the herd.

Rufus made them fresh coffee. Slocum could tell that as he rode into camp Alexander was impressed by the cattle's condition. After the coffee break he and his two men rode through the grazing herd looking to be sure there weren't many questionable beeves blended in. Alexander rode back to the camp and dismounted.

“They are great cattle. He hired the right man to drive them up here. We can weigh about six to seven hundred head a day and put them on some rangeland I own. That means driving in about that many to the scales each day. So in about three to four days they will all be weighed. I will settle with you the following day at the Silver National Bank. That's going to be lots and lots of money.”

“I know, and Wells Fargo can get it to Texas for my boss and put it in his San Antonio bank. I am not worrying about that. These boys have been gone from home almost two years, and they have earned their wages. They are some of the best men I have ever worked with. They have never complained since I joined them and took over for Jim Caltron.”

Alexander shook his head. “That is amazing, but I say your boss, you, and these men have done a wonderful job. I did not believe these cattle could be in the shape they are. When those other cattle get here later, they won't be in near the same shape as these are.”

“Where do we deliver tomorrow?”

“The scales are at the railroad depot. They have certified scales and are bonded.”

“Good. We can find it. I'll send my scout in to find it today and make the way.”

“I know you can handle it.” Alexander shook his head. “If you ever need work, look me up.”

“Thank you.”

After Alexander and his men left, Slocum explained their needs to Dan, the two point men, and his scout, Jimmy Evans, so they could figure out the route. They would be delivering six hundred head in the morning.

The men smiled and reassured Slocum that they'd find everything and do it right.

He also wrote out a telegram to Caltron in Texas. He was about to sell his cattle for a large sum, and if all went well, in five days Slocum would send the money via Wells Fargo to Caltron's bank in San Antonio. He turned to Rufus as Jimmy and the two point men rode off to set the route. The old man had reloaded and lit his pipe and was shaking out the match.

“I figured we'd get up here and sell the cattle,” Rufus said. “It's been a long time getting here, but Caltron culled all the bad apples out of this crew before we got to Colorado. He treated us all well. I sure hated him to have any trouble at home about his wife, but those may have been rumors. I am not that good with math. What will these group bring?”

“Three hundred thousand dollars plus.”