In a few minutes he asked Rooster this question, indicating the big revolvers in the saddle scabbards: “Did you carry those in the war?”
Rooster said, “I have had them a good long time.”
LaBoeuf said, “I suppose you were with the cavalry.”
Rooster said, “I forget just what they called it.”
“I wanted to be cavalryman,” said LaBoeuf, “but I was too young and didn’t own a horse. I have always regretted it. I went in the army on my fifteenth birthday and saw the last six months of the war. My mother cried because my brothers had not been home in three years. They were off at the first tap of a drum. The army put me in the supply department and I counted beeves and sacked oats for General Kirby-Smith at Shreveport. It was no work for a soldier. I wanted to get out of the Trans-Mississippi Department and go east. I wanted to see some real fighting. Right toward the last I got an opportunity to travel up there with a commissary officer, Major Burks, who was being transferred to the Department of Virginia. There were twenty-five in our party and we got there in time for Five Forks and Petersburg and then it was all over. I have always regretted that I did not get to ride with Stuart or Forrest or some of the others. Shelby and Early.”
Rooster said nothing.
I said, “It looks like six months would be enough for you.”
LaBoeuf said, “No, it sounds boastful and foolish but it was not. I was almost sick when I heard of the surrender.”
I said, “My father said he sure was glad to get home. He nearly died on the way.”
LaBoeuf then said to Rooster, “It is hard to believe a man cannot remember where he served in the war. Do you not even remember your regiment?”
Rooster said, “I think they called it the bullet department. I was in it four years.”
“You do not think much of me, do you, Cogburn?”
“I don’t think about you at all when your mouth is closed.”
“You are making a mistake about me.”
“I don’t like this kind of talk. It is like women talking.”
“I was told in Fort Smith that you rode with Quantrill and that border gang.”
Rooster made no reply.
LaBoeuf said, “I have heard they were not soldiers at all but murdering thieves.”
Rooster said, “I have heard the same thing.”
“I heard they murdered women and children at Lawrence, Kansas.”
“I have heard that too. It is a damned lie.”
“Were you there?”
“Where?”
“The Lawrence raid.”
“There has been a lot of lies told about that.”
“Do you deny they shot down soldiers and civilians alike and burned the town?”
“We missed Jim Lane. What army was you in, mister?”
“I was at Shreveport first with Kirby-Smith—”
“Yes, I heard about all them departments. What side was you on?”
“I was in the Army of Northern Virginia, Cogburn, and I don’t have to hang my head when I say it. Now make another joke about it. You are only trying to put on a show for this girl Mattie with what you must think is a keen tongue.”
“This is like women talking.”
“Yes, that is the way. Make me out foolish in this girl’s eyes.”
“I think she has got you pretty well figured.”
“You are making a mistake about me, Cogburn, and I do not appreciate the way you make conversation.”
“That is nothing for you to worry about. That nor Captain Quantrill either.”
“Captain Quantrill!”
“You had best let this go, LaBoeuf.”
“Captain of what?”
“If you are looking for a fight I will accommodate you. If you are not you will let this alone.”
“Captain Quantrill indeed!”
I rode up between them and said, “I have been thinking about something. Listen to this. There were six bandits and two stock thieves and yet only six horses at the dugout. What is the answer to that?”
Rooster said, “Six horses was all they needed.”
I said, “Yes, but that six includes the horses belonging to Moon and Quincy. There were only four stolen horses.”
Rooster said, “They would have taken them other two as well and exchanged them later. They have done it before.”
“Then what would Moon and Quincy do for mounts?”
“They would have the six tired horses.”
“Oh. I had forgotten about them.”
“It was only a swap for a few days.”
“I was thinking that Lucky Ned Pepper might have been planning to murder the two stock thieves. It would have been a treacherous scheme but then they could not inform against him. What do you think?”
“No, Ned would not do that.”
“Why not? He and his desperate band killed a fireman and an express clerk on the Katy Flyer last night.”
“Ned does not go around killing people if he has no good reason. If he has a good reason he kills them.”
“You can think what you want to,” said I. “I think betrayal was part of his scheme.”
We reached J. J. McAlester’s store about 10 o’clock that morning. The people of the settlement turned out to see the dead bodies and there were gasps and murmurs over the spectacle of horror, made the worse by way of the winter morning being so sunny and cheerful. It must have been a trading day for there were several wagons and horses tied up about the store. The railroad tracks ran behind it. There was little more to the place than the store building and a few smaller frame and log structures of poor description, and yet if I am not mistaken this was at that time one of the best towns in the Choctaw Nation. The store is now part of the modern little city of McAlester, Oklahoma, where for a long time “coal was king.” McAlester is also the international headquarters of the Order of the Rainbow for Girls.
There was no real doctor there at that time but there was a young Indian who had some medical training and was competent to set broken bones and dress gunshot wounds. LaBoeuf sought him out for treatment.
I went with Rooster, who searched out an Indian policeman of his acquaintance, a Captain Boots Finch of the Choctaw Light Horse. These police handled Indian crimes only, and where white men were involved the Light Horse had no authority. We found the captain in a small log house. He was sitting on a box by a stove getting his hair cut. He was a slender man about of an age with Rooster. He and the Indian barber were ignorant of the stir our arrival had caused.
Rooster came up behind the captain and goosed him in the ribs with both hands and said, “How is the people’s health, Boots?”
The captain gave a start and reached for his pistol, and then he saw who it was. He said, “Well, I declare, Rooster. What brings you to town so early?”
“Is this town? I was thinking I was out of town.”
Captain Finch laughed at the gibe. He said, “You must have traveled fast if you are here on that Wagoner’s Switch business.”
“That is the business right enough.”
“It was little Ned Pepper and five others. I suppose you know that.”
“Yes. How much did they get?”
“Mr. Smallwood says they got $17,000 cash and a packet of registered mail from the safe. He has not got a total on the passenger claims. I am afraid you are on a cold trail here.”
“When did you last see Ned?”
“I am told he passed through here two days ago. He and Haze and a Mexican on a round-bellied calico pony. I didn’t see them myself. They won’t be coming back this way.”
Rooster said, “That Mexican was Greaser Bob.”
“Is that the young one?”
“No, it’s the old one, the Original Bob from Fort Worth.”
“I heard he was badly shot in Denison and had given up his reckless ways.”
“Bob is hard to kill. He won’t stay shot. I am looking for another man. I think he is with Ned. He is short and has a black mark on his face and he carries a Henry rifle.”