“Your herd?”
“A thousand head. For that, you have five more hands—”
“Five?”
“Counting me,” Revelation said. “I can work as hard as any man.”
James shook his head. “A thousand head? No. Even with four more—-five more hands,” he corrected himself, “a thousand more head would make the herd too large to handle.”
“What about seven hundred fifty head?” Revelation proposed.
“Make it five hundred and we have a deal,” James countered.
“Done,” said Revelation.
“James, you think that’s wise?” Billy asked, surprised that James had accepted Revelation’s offer.
“Think about it,” James said. “With five more hands and a wagon, we can take our entire herd.”
“I agree with James,” Bob said. “What about you, Duke?”
Duke demurred. “I’m not sure I rightly have a voice in this,” he said.
“Sure you do. You’ve got your own herd, same as the rest of us.”
“Well, if the difference is between taking all our cows or paring down because we have to travel light-handed, then I’m for adding the extra hands.”
“All right,” Billy said. “If you fellas are willing to take a chance on them, I reckon I am, too.”
“Go get your brothers,” James said. “Come back with them and the wagon, ready to go.”
“Give me the loan of a horse,” Revelation said, “and I’ll leave the wagon here so you can get started loading.”
“All right,” James said. “Oh, there’s one more thing. Since you and your brothers are partners, rather than riding for forty and found, you’ll be expected to come up with your share of money for the drive.”
“Fair enough,” Revelation said. “We’ll bring the money with us when we return.”
“How do we know we can trust you to have the money?” Bob asked.
“Simple. If we don’t have the money, we don’t go. If we do have the money, we do go.”
“Sounds reasonable enough to me,” Billy said.
“What about the cattle?” James asked.
“What about them?” Revelation replied.
“Word is you Scattergoods aren’t always that particular about whose brand is on the cows you run. I wouldn’t want to get jumped by a posse somewhere, claiming we’re driving stolen cattle.”
“There will be no posse,” Revelation assured them.
“If anyone does prove you are running their cattle, you and your brothers will have to leave.”
“That’s fair enough.”
“Without your cows,” James added.
“What are you saying? That you would expect us to just leave our cows behind?”
James shook his head. “No, what I’m saying is, you better own the cows you bring to us.”
Chapter Nine
Fort Worth, Texas
Wednesday, June 18, 1862:
It had taken Angus Butrum most of the morning to ride over to Fort Worth from Dallas. Dallas was a sleepy little town, but Fort Worth was full of activity, though as he looked more closely, he saw that most of the activity came from soldiers. Like ants at a picnic, the soldiers were everywhere. As far as he could tell, though, they weren’t doing anything except wearing their uniforms and parading up and down the street saluting one another. Angus reined up in front of a saloon, but just before he dismounted, he worked up a good spit of tobacco and squirted it onto the boardwalk. Although he hadn’t intended to do so, it got on the boots and pants of a young lieutenant. The young woman who was walking along the boardwalk with the lieutenant just managed to avoid it.
“Hey, mister, you just spit on my boots!” the lieutenant complained.
Angus looked at the officer but said nothing.
“Well, you just going to stand there like a dumb ox?” the lieutenant challenged. “Get down there and clean it off.”
The girl saw the danger in Angus’s eyes before the young officer did, and she pulled on his arm. “Come on, Donnie, let’s go. I’ll clean it.”
“No,” Donnie said, obviously trying to make a show of it in front of the girl. “This scoundrel is not in uniform. It is obvious that he is either too cowardly to be in the army or he is a deserter. Now, which is it, mister?”
Still silent, Angus tied his horse off at the hitching rail.
“Mister, are you mute as well as dumb? I’m talking to you.”
The blood vessel in Angus’s temple enlarged, then began to throb. He stared directly at the young lieutenant.
“Sonny, why don’t you and your whore just pass on by?” Angus said.
“Whore?” the young woman gasped.
“I don’t know where you’re from, mister, but that kind of language is killing words around here. I’m calling you out!” the young officer said, his voice cracking in anger.
“No, wait, Donnie, please!” the young girl pleaded, her voice now on the verge of panic. “It’s all right. I know he was just talking. Come on, please? Let’s go!”
“You better listen to the girl, sonny,” Angus said.
Under normal circumstances, Donnie may have recognized the danger himself, but these weren’t ordinary circumstances. Donnie was wearing the uniform of a second lieutenant in the Confederate cavalry, and carrying a new Colt pistol in his holster. Inspired with the zeal of patriotism, he was anxious to prove his manliness and bravery in front of the daughter of his commanding officer.
Donnie unsnapped the flap cover of his holster, and put his hand on the butt of his pistol.
“Now I’m going to give you one last chance. I’m going to count to three. You either apologize and clean off my boot, or go for your gun. I don’t care which,” Donnie said.
“Donnie, no!” the young woman said, her words now on the verge of a scream.
By now, half a dozen passersby had been drawn to the scene. When they heard Donnie’s challenging words, they grew tense as they waited to see what was going to happen.
“Mandy, you get on out of the way,” Donnie said, waving her away.
“Donnie, please!”
“Miss, you better get on over here,” one of the onlookers said.
“What’s it going to be, mister,” Donnie said to Angus. “Are you going to apologize? Or do I start counting.”
“Start counting,” Angus said, calmly.
Donnie blinked a couple of times, then a small patina of sweat broke out across his upper lip. It was as if, until that moment, he thought he could bluff his way through. Now he realized that this man couldn’t be bluffed. He also knew that he couldn’t take him. But that realization had come too late. It was impossible for him to back out of it now, without spending the rest of his life in shame.
Donnie licked his lips a couple of times, then with a voice that was much less authoritative than it had been, began to count.
“One,” he said. He paused, then said, “Two.” Now he paused for a long time, praying that, somehow this could all go away, that this man he had challenged would apologize, or at least, turn and walk away. The man continued to look at him with a cold, unblinking stare.
“Three,” Donnie said, starting his draw even as he said the word.
Angus drew and fired before Donnie could get his gun level. Donnie pulled the trigger on his own pistol very quickly behind Angus, so those who only heard the sound of the gunshots thought the fight was much closer than it really was. In truth, Donnie’s bullet plunged into the boardwalk right beside him—right in the middle of the tobacco quid Angus had expectorated a few moments earlier.
“Donnie!” Mandy shouted, and pulling away from the person who tried to hold her back, she rushed to Donnie’s side, looking down in his face just as he breathed his last.