Showdown at Dead End Canyon (17 page)

His warning was too late. A third volley was fired from the livery hayloft, and Hagen fell facedown in the muck of the street.

With pistol in hand, Hawke climbed out the window, scrambled to the edge of the porch and dropped down onto the street. He ran to Hagen’s still form and bent down to check on the deputy. Hagen had been hit hard, and through the open wound in his chest, Hawke could hear the gurgling sound of his lungs sucking air and filling with blood.

Hagen opened his mouth to try and speak, but no words came. Blood poured out of his mouth, he gasped a couple of times, then he died.

At that moment another shot was fired from the livery. The bullet hit the ground close by and ricocheted away with a loud whine. Hawke fired back, shooting once into the dark maw of the hayloft. Leaving Hagen, he ran to the water trough nearest the livery and dived behind it as the assailant fired again. The bullet hit the trough with a loud popping sound.

Hawke could hear the water bubbling through the bullet hole in the trough even as he got up and ran toward the door of the livery. He shot two more times to keep the assailant back. When he reached the big, open, double doors, he ran inside.

Moving quietly through the barn, Hawke looked up at the hayloft just overhead, though it was too dark to see anything. Continuing to the rear, he saw a ladder and started to climb it when he heard someone jumping down into the corral out back.

There were several horses in the corral, and they started whinnying and stomping around, disturbed by the fact that someone had suddenly dropped into their midst. There was no back door to the stable, but there was a side door, and Hawke ran to it, then looked out into the corral. It was dark and the horses were milling about, so he couldn’t see anyone.

Finally, he gave up and started back out front. By now several people had gathered in the street, most of them were standing around Hagen’s body.

“Hold it, mister. Put your hands up!” a cold, angry voice said.

Hawke complied.

“It wasn’t him, Sheriff,” someone said. “I seen him goin’ in after whoever was doin’ the shootin’.”

“Yeah, I seen it too,” another said, and several more verified the claims of the first two.

“Sorry,” the sheriff said, putting his pistol back in his holster. “Did you get him?”

Hawke shook his head. “He jumped down from the loft window into the corral out back,” he said. “By the time I got back there, he got away.”

“Did you see anything? Would you be able to identify him?”

“No,” Hawke said. “It was too dark.”

After moving through the corral, Metzger got through the back fence then jumped into a ditch.

“Shit!” he said aloud, realizing what he had dropped into. This was the corral drainage ditch, and it was filled with horse manure, liquefied by horse urine.

He climbed up to the edge of the ditch and looked back though the lowest rung of the fence to see if Hawke was still chasing him. He didn’t see him anywhere, so he was pretty sure Hawke had given up the search.

Metzger cursed himself for not taking a rifle up to the hayloft with him. If he had used a rifle instead of his pistol, he thought, Hawke would be dead now.

DORCHESTER CALLED A MEETING OF ALL THE
ranchers whose land was affected by the Sweetwater Railroad. Hawke watched the ranchers, big and small, arriving for the meeting in various means of conveyances; buckboards, wagons, open stages, phaetons, country wagons, traps, or just on horseback. Vehicles and livestock filled the curved driveway as the ranchers went into the house and gathered in Dorchester’s large parlor. By now all of them knew about the dam, and most had had some of their land confiscated by the act of eminent domain. Though Dorchester’s 144,000 acres was by far the largest amount, the others were proportionately just as badly hurt.

“I think all of you know that Bailey McPherson is behind all this,” Dorchester said shortly after he started the meeting.

“What I want to know is, how did she get the government to give her all that land?” one of the other ranch owners asked.

“Well, here,” Dorchester said, “I’ve got a copy of the act. I’ll read it to you.”

He pulled some papers from an oversized brown envelope and began to read:

“‘Whereas gold has been discovered in the Sweetwater Mountains of Wyoming Territory, and whereas it is the responsibility of the United States government to provide for the safety of those who travel, be it therefore known that:

“‘An act to aid in the construction of a railroad and telegraph line as follows:

“‘Be it enacted that the Sweetwater Railroad Company, together with Addison Ford, a commissioner herein appointed by the Secretary of the Interior, are hereby authorized and empowered to lay out, locate, construct, furnish, maintain, and enjoy a continuous railroad and telegraph from Green River City, Wyoming Territory, north along such route as Commissioner Ford directors, in accordance with the route as laid out by survey, to the area known as South Pass in the Sweetwater Mountains.’”

Dorchester quit reading for a moment and looked up. “And now, here comes the part effects us.”

He cleared his throat and continued. “‘That there be…granted to the said company, for the purpose of aiding in the construction of said railroad and telegraph line, and to secure the safe and speedy transportation of mails, troops, munitions of war, and public stores thereon, every alternate section of public land, designated by odd numbers, to the amount of five alternate sections per mile on each side of said railroad, on the line thereof, and within the limits of ten miles on each side of said road. Provided that all mineral lands shall be excepted from the operation of this act; but where the same shall contain timber, the timber thereon is hereby granted to said company.’”

“So, what does all that mumbo-jumbo mean?” one of the ranch owners asked.

“That means that Bailey McPherson can take all the land she wants, and there is very little we can do about it.”

“Yeah, well, McPherson ain’t hurtin’ none, that’s for sure. Fact is, she’s not only get land give to her, she’s buyin’ land from those who will sell to her,” one of the owners said.

“That’s true,” another agreed. “She’s made me an offer for my land.” He paused for a moment before he went on. “And I have to tell you boys, seein’ as how I ain’t got water no more, I think I’m goin’ to take her up on it.”

“What did she offer you, Tony?” Dorchester asked.

“She offered me to buy my stock at half the market price, give me a dollar an acre for my land.”

“A dollar an acre?” Dorchester scoffed. “Why, Tony, your land’s worth forty times that and you know it!”

“It’s worth that with water,” Tony agreed. “But without water, that dirt ain’t doin’ nothin’ but holdin’ the world together. If it weren’t for the fact that she’s letting me water my stock on her land, my cows would all be dyin’.”

“You mean Bailey McPherson is letting your stock water on her range?” someone asked.

“Yeah,” Tony answered. Then he added, “But she’s takin’ every third cow for payment.”

“Every third cow? My God, that’s what she’s askin’?” one of the owners exclaimed. He shook his head. “And here I was, thinking about going to her, hat in hand, to see if I could work out a deal. But every third cow?”

“Tell me, Mr. Vincent, you do agree that keeping two-thirds of your herd is better than letting all of your cows die of thirst, don’t you?” a woman asked.

Dorchester and his guests looked toward the door of the parlor. Bailey McPherson was standing there, smiling triumphantly at the group of landowners.

“What are you taking the cattle for?” Dorchester asked. “I
thought you were in the railroad business, not the cattle business.”

“My dear Mr. Dorchester,” Bailey said. “The entire purpose of the Railroad Land Grant Act is to provide a means of income to enable entrepreneurs to have the means to build the railroad. The cattle will help me do that. And of course, the railroad will benefit us all. Think how much easier it will be now to get your cattle to the railhead back in Green River, for shipment to the stockyards in Kansas City and Chicago.”

As always, Dancer was with Bailey, and he looked around assembled men and women in the room until he spotted Hawke. Then, without taking his eyes off Hawke, Dancer walked over to a nearby table where a tray of cookies and several cups sat.

“Would you care for tea or coffee, sir?” Wilson offered, stepping toward the table.

Dancer paid no attention to him. Instead, he continued to stare at Hawke as he reached for a cup.

“Of course, sir, help yourself,” Wilson said weakly as he stepped back away from the table.

Dancer poured himself a cup of coffee, then moved back to stand beside Bailey, all the while staring pointedly at Hawke.

“What do you mean when you say the railroad will help us with our cattle?” Tony Vincent asked. “By the time you are through here, none of us will have any cattle, or land, left.”

Hawke walked over to the service table, all the while returning Dancer’s stare. Wilson took one step toward the table but saw that, as before, his services were neither required nor wanted. He stepped back.

Hawke poured himself a cup of coffee, then returned to his seat, never breaking eye contact with Dancer.

“We needn’t be enemies,” Bailey said. “I’m sure we can
work something out. We could have already been discussing it, if I had been invited to the meeting. After all, this is a landowner’s meeting, isn’t it? Wouldn’t the neighborly thing have been to invite me?” She looked pointedly at Dorchester.

“Of course you are welcome here, Miss McPherson,” Dorchester said graciously. “It’s just that since you aren’t facing the same sort of problems the rest of us are, I thought you wouldn’t be interested.”

“Nonsense,” Bailey replied. “If my good friends and neighbors are hurt, then so am I. I want us to find some way to resolve this, if we can.”

“Do you have any suggestions, Miss McPherson?” one of the other ranchers asked.

“Yeah,” another put in. “Can you tell us how to get our water back?”

“I think we might be able to come to some solution whereby I will open a sluice gate to allow a measured amount of water through. For a fee, of course.”

“A fee? You intend to make us pay for the water that by rights is ours anyway?” someone asked angrily.

Bailey shook her head. “Oh, but it isn’t yours anyway,” she said. “The government was very specific about making certain that I had control of the water. All the water. Why, it is absolutely necessary for the operation of steam locomotives. But surely you already knew that.”

“But still, to make us pay for water?” the rancher said. “No. I won’t do that. I’ll see my cattle die of thirst before I pay you one cent for water.”

“Same here,” another said. “I won’t pay for one drop of water.”

“Oh, gentlemen, I do wish you would change your minds,” Bailey said. “I think you will find my rates quite reasonable.”

When nobody answered, Bailey smiled again, then nodded.

“Yes,” she said. “Well, I can see how this might come as a shock to you at first. But I’ll give you gentlemen more time to discuss this. I’m sure that, as you think it over, you will realize that I am offering you a way out. The only way out,” she added pointedly. “Perhaps it was best that I not attend this meeting after all. Do carry on,” she said as she started toward the door.

Dancer set his cup down and left with her, backing out of the room so as not to break eye contact with Hawke.

Shortly after the last of Dorchester’s guests left, a lone rider approached. Hawke could see someone was coming, but it was too dark to make out who.

Thinking it might be one of the landowners who forgot something, he called back into the house, “Mr. Dorchester, there’s a rider coming.”

Dorchester came out onto the porch while Hawke stepped into the shadows and drew his gun, just in case.

“Mr. Dorchester?” a voice called from the dark. “It’s me, Rob Dealey.”

“It’s all right,” Dorchester said, waving to Hawke that he could holster his gun. “It’s my foreman. Or rather, the man who used to be my foreman.” Then, to Rob, he called out, “Come on up, Mr. Dealey.”

Rob rode all the way up to the house, dismounted, and tied his horse at the hitching post.

“I didn’t expect to see you again,” Dorchester said.

“No, sir, I don’t reckon you did. And I didn’t figure on comin’ back, only I found out somethin’ I figured you ought to know.”

“Oh? And what’s that?”

“There ain’t no gold up there in the Sweetwaters.”

Dorchester laughed. “Heavens, man, you didn’t have to
tell me that. Eddie and Win have already come back with the report that they didn’t find any gold.”

“Yes, sir,” Rob said. “Only it’s more’n that. They didn’t find no gold, I didn’t find no gold, and there ain’t nobody goin’ to find no gold, ’cause there ain’t no gold there.”

“I can see how it might be frustrating if—”

“No sir!” Rob said again, more forcefully this time. “I ain’t makin’ myself clear. There ain’t no gold there and there never was. Luke Rawlings and Percy Sheridan just put some color around to make it look like there was gold up there.”

“Now, why in the blazes would they do something like that?” Dorchester asked. Then, as soon as he asked the question, he knew the answer.

“Bloody hell!” he said. “I see it all now. This has been a ruse to justify the railroad! There is no gold, and if you want to know what I think…there is no railroad and there never will be a railroad. This was just a way to get land.”

“And water,” Hawke said.

“Yes, and water. I can’t believe I let myself be taken in like this. Now, half my land is gone and my cows are dying of thirst.”

“I don’t know what to do about the land,” Hawke said, “but I can guarantee you that, after tonight, your cows won’t be thirsty again.”

“Why? What do you plan to do?”

“You’re better off not knowing,” Hawke said.

Jay Dupree, Libby, Lulu, and Sue returned to Green River with much less fanfare than there had been at their departure. When they left, they were riding in a carriage, complete with driver, followed by an entourage of four fully loaded freight wagons. They returned in a buckboard that Jay was driving, and they were alone; no freight wagons followed them.

The town was almost as crowded as it had been when they arrived the first time, only now the crowd was leaving.

Jay stopped the buckboard at the railroad station. “I’ll get tickets back to Chicago,” he said, climbing down. “You ladies wait here.”

Libby was sitting on the front seat, Lulu and Sue were on the back. They began talking among themselves as they waited.

“Well, it was fun while it lasted,” Lulu said.

“Yes,” Sue said. “But I can’t help but feel sorry for all those men who worked so hard, when all along there was nothing there.”

“I feel sorry for them too,” Libby said. “And for Jay. He lost a lot of money in this venture.”

Jay returned to the buckboard.

“Did you get tickets?” Sue asked.

“Yes,” Jay said. He climbed into the driver’s seat and picked up the reins. “But because so many people are leaving, the earliest I could get all of us booked on the same train is seven days from now.”