“Not just my herd,” Duff said. “Don’t forget, Meghan Parker owns one fourth.”
“What are Angus bringing at the market now?”
“About fifteen dollars and seventy cents a head.”
Biff took a tablet and pencil from under the bar, then did some figuring. “That makes her share worth thirty-nine thousand, two hundred fifty dollars, which is about ten times more that her dress store is worth. She’s not only beautiful, she is one smart lady.”
“Aye, she is that, all right,” Duff said. He tossed down his drink, then with a salute of his empty glass started to the door. “Slàinte, sonas agus beartas to ye, m’ friend,” he called back over his shoulder.
“Health, wealth, and happiness to you as well, Duff,” Biff called back.
Chugwater, July 4
There had been a baseball game between the cowboys and the merchants of the town, the game won by the merchants as they had played it much more often. There were also foot races and horse races.
Duff had watched the baseball game, though he had no idea what was going on. He enjoyed the foot racing and horse racing because at least he could understand what it was.
It was Meghan who came up with the William Tell idea. She advanced the proposal that Duff was a good enough shot that she would trust him to shoot an apple off her head from fifty paces. Duff protested and would have absolutely refused, had not Sir Anthony Wellington made his comment.
“I’ve never yet met a Scotsman who would match his purse with his mouth.”
Wellington was an Englishman who had come to America to buy some ranching property, taking advantage of the ill fortunes of those who had lost much during the great freeze and die-out of a few years earlier.
“Mayor Matthews,” Duff said. “Did I not hear some discussion as to the cost of building a new school in Chugwater?”
Fred Matthews, who owned the mercantile and was one of Duff’s first friends upon moving to Chugwater, was the current mayor of the town.
“It has been discussed, but so far we haven’t been able to raise enough money.”
“How much do you need?”
“We think twenty-five hundred dollars would be enough to build it,” Matthews said.
“Mr. Wellington, would you care to wager?” Duff asked.
“Actually, that would be Lord Wellington,” Wellington corrected.
“Nae, not in America. Here, in America, on the day of its celebration of independence from the black-hearted English, here, Mister Wellington, there are no Lords.” He looked over at Meghan and smiled. “But there are ladies,” he said.
“You wish to wager for twenty-five hundred dollars to build the school? How gallant of you, sir. Yes, I shall wager twenty-five hundred dollars. And I will even buy the apple,” he said.
Word quickly spread throughout town that Duff MacCallister was going to shoot an apple off Meghan Parker’s head, and a crowd gathered on First Street to watch the demonstration.
When Wellington returned with the apple, everyone in the crowd gasped. The apple was no bigger than an average-sized plum.
“That’s not fair!” Guthrie shouted. Guthrie, another of Duff’s friends, owned a building supply store. “The bet was that he would shoot an apple.”
“I bought this in His Honor the mayor’s own store,” Wellington said. “It was represented to me as an apple. Am I to believe that the mayor is dishonest?”
“You bought the smallest apple you could find, and you know it,” Biff said.
“Nevertheless, it is an apple,” Wellington said. “And the wager is only that, from fifty paces, he will shoot an apple from the young lady’s head. There were no specifications as to how large the apple must be.”
“Put the apple on a stake,” Duff said. “I will shoot it from fifty paces.”
“Oh, no, no, no, my dear sir,” Wellington said. “The wager is that you will shoot the apple as it rests upon her head. It is such a pretty head too. It would be a shame to see some injury befall her.”
“Give me the apple,” Meghan said.
The fifty paces had already been stepped off, and she went to the place marked for her, turned to face Duff, and put the apple on her own head.
“Meghan, I ... ,” Duff started, but Meghan interrupted him.
“Do it, Duff,” she said. “Do it, and only your name will be on my dance card tonight.”
Duff nodded, smiled, raised his pistol, aimed, and pulled the trigger. The apple flew into pieces as the bullet penetrated the pulp. The crowd applauded, as much in relief as from appreciation of the marksmanship.
True to her promise, Duff was the only name on Meghan’s dance card that night, though she had confided with her friend that his name already was the only one on her card.
Live Oaks Ranch, July 4
The banner read: “Happy 114th Birthday, America!” In addition to the banner, all the posts and pillars of all the buildings of Live Oaks Ranch were decorated with red, white, and blue bunting. The cowboys, enjoying a rare day of festivities, were laughing and shouting, and running about, setting off firecrackers.
Two very long tables, each one capable of seating forty diners, had been built by placing planks across several sawhorses. The tables under the spreading live oak trees that gave the ranch its name were filled with cakes, pies, biscuits, potato salad, baked beans, sliced tomatoes and cucumbers.
Early this morning two of the cowboys, Dusty McNally and Mo Coffey, had built a fire of mesquite, then spitted half a steer over the fire. And though only Coleman, the cook for Live Oaks, had the right to apply his “special” barbeque sauce, the rest of the cowboys had taken turns during the day turning the beef slowly over the fires and filling the compound with the delicious aroma of roasting meat.
Everyone on the ranch had eaten beef all their lives, but all agreed that they had never tasted anything this good, and they all complimented Coleman on the wonderful job he did cooking.
“It wasn’t nothin’ particular I done,” Coleman said. “It was the beef. It was Hereford, come over from the Rocking H.”
There would be no Live Oaks cattle drive this season because Big Ben had, in accordance with his agreement with William Hurley, sold all his cattle to the Union Stock Exchange in Fort Worth. But Big Ben’s friend Walter Hannah, who owned the Rocking H, a neighboring ranch, would be driving his cattle north. In fact, the drive would get underway on the next day after the 4th of July, and because of that, the Rocking H did not celebrate the Fourth. Instead, Hannah presented a side of Hereford beef to Big Ben as his contribution, and he and his cowboys came over to celebrate with the people at Live Oaks.
“What do you think of this beef?” Hannah asked. He and his wife, Louise, were at a table with Big Ben, Julia, and Rebecca. Dalton, by his own request, was sitting at the long table with the cowboys.
“It’s good beef,” Big Ben said.
“You should have listened to me when I suggested that you switch over to Herefords,” Walter said.
“I know.”
“Well, now is a good time to do it, seeing as you don’t have any cattle.”
“I know.”
“So are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Are you going to switch over to Hereford cattle?”
“I’m thinking about it,” Big Ben said. “I just haven’t made up my mind yet.”
“Here is a little something to help you make up your mind,” Walter said. “Hereford are selling for twelve dollars a head in Kansas City. They cost no more to raise, and they cost no more to drive up to Dodge City, but they are bringing in twelve dollars a head, compared to what? I think Longhorn are now down to about three-fifty a head.”