“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.”