Original Work The Stuarts of Texas

Two weeks later, after much wrangling and negotiating back and forth, Col. Stuarts treaty had been sealed with the Comanche band. He would be allowed to graze over 50,000 acres of Comanche land, and control 20,000 acres with future ownership likely. The tribal leaders realizing that the Confederates were defeated that they would now have to deal with the despised Blue Coats. All bets were off, and since the tribe still held hunting and fishing rights to the land, including free access, they had no trouble signing off on a treaty with the ‘French Colonel’. The annual payment for the land would be: 20 lbs of honey, 500 lbs each of beef jerky, and Corn, all the acorns the land produced, five tanned cow hides, 50 fish hooks, 5 wool blankets, and misc jewelry. Some variation and trading was allowed when circumstances required it, and both parties agreed. The Indians demanded a hostage swap, but the Col. refused as officially, there were not enough of the whites to do that. Not the real reason of course, but it worked. Col. Stuart did offer to employ one or two of the older, and useless to the tribe, warriors to teach them the ways of the land. The chiefs realizing they would have a free built in spy at the location made a show of grudging agreement. Two of the chiefs and two warriors would accompany the settlers to their home location and set up markers on the land to keep marauding war parties from harassing the whites or stealing whatever was available. They were on their own as far as the Comanchero were concerned and the Comanche would take no sides. No pigs allowed on the land.

The next day after the treaty had been signed, Col. Stuart and Ramon sat in a local Mexican restaurant drinking coffee and awaiting the breakfast that Ramon had ordered for them.

“I see that we have received some excellent service and the people here seem very friendly,” said Stuart.

“Indeed, my distant cousins run a nice establishment, and are happy to see me. I told them that you are my employer and to be sure and make me look very good in front of you. I hope you don’t mind the liberty I have taken concerning employment with you. I wanted to make sure everything went right for you after the way you have helped me.

“Actually, that brings up a subject I wanted to discuss with you. I’d like to hire you as my ranch foreman. Your knowledge of local conditions, cattle, and everything else has been and will be valuable to me. Are you interested?”

Ramon smiled and said, “To be honest, it’s not like I have anything going for me right now. Little to no jobs or money for a former Confederate, and if I got any around here, they’d just rob me like last time, so yes, I’d love to work for you.”

“Excellent, now what does a ranch Foremen make a month? I don’t want to cheat you.”

“Normally, about half again to twice what a regular ranch hand makes. A bit more on the bigger spreads. So, between 45.00 and 60.00 a month and found. Cowboys usually 20.00- 30.00 a month and found. You will have to supply horses, about 5-6 per cowboy when there is heavy work, and the horses run free as much as possible during low work months. Cowboys supply their own tack and guns whenever possible. The land where you are headed will not support more than 3,000 head, but more than likely 2,000 to 2,500 head. You can buy steers locally for about 4.00 a head. Three thousand head can be driven by at least ten cowboys with three horses each. That is the minimum. How many head do you think you will want?”

“Around 2,000 head of good cattle. I want to get good ones, not scrubs, and while I will pay a fair price I do not want to be cheated. Can Indians drive cattle?”

“Yes, they are very good driving livestock, and can rope very well too. What did you have in mind?”

“I thought I’d further ingratiate myself further with the Comanche by hiring six or so to help drive a heard along with the standard number of cowboys. How should they be paid?”

“We will have to make a deal with the chiefs. They will probably want horses or some type of trade goods. We will have to find out. Further, I can get you good cattle from around the Seguin area and keep you from being cheated. Cowboys can be had also, and I will get you all top hands if you are willing to pay for them. Even though you have a treaty, that does not mean you will never be attacked by Indians and others. That far west, you will have to hire a fighting crew, and that will cost money. How do you know that you can trust me to do all this since we just met?”

Stuart smiled and said, “I made plenty of inquires, and everyone told me that you and your family are to be completely trusted. I understand you are a third cousin to Juan Seguin, who figures greatly in Texas history. You come from good stock.”

“Indeed, but I do not trade on that. I want to make my own name. Ah, I see that our food has arrived!”

With that the two men dug in to the Heuvos Rancheros all the food was very good, and the Col. had never had beans like these!

 

Following Raging Bulls direction the men arrived at the “town” almost two days later. They stopped on the outskirts about a half mile out where Raging Bull, Al, and the pack horses could remain hidden in the trees and down wind of the only road in the area. The men took a break to discuss what Dave was going to do.

“I do not wish to get drunk and lose my mind like so many others, but I do like the white man’s whiskey. I was told that when healing herbs were put into a jar of this alcohol that more of the plants power would be pulled into the drink and it would be more effective. Have you heard this?” Asked Raging Bull.

“I have heard that too, and that oils could be used the same way, replied Dave. How much do you think you will need?”

“I will have to guard it closely from my clan, and I would like some to sip on when I feel like it, so maybe a gallon?”

Al looked dubious and did not voice his concern but Dave knew he was thinking that the Indians would get drunk and go wild on all that alcohol. It could send them on the war path. However, Dave also knew that some of the local weaker stuff could be cut with water and not cause too much undue mayhem. That is what he would do.

“I will go into town and see what they have on hand. It could be a lot of the good stuff or very little at all. I have no way of knowing.”

“I trust you to do what is best,” said Raging Bull.

“You can count on it,” replied Dave.

Dave stepped into his saddle and turned dun toward the “town”. When it came into view, he could see that it was little more than a thrown together trading post that probably did little more than service the cavalry patrols, and a few travelers. Across the street was a blacksmith shop with some corralled horses. He probably did more horse shoeing anything else. Everything was quiet, with but three horses tied outside the trading post/saloon. Dave scanned the area, and no one was lounging about looking for trouble, and the only thing noticeable was the steady pounding of the smithy’s hammer. Swinging in to the front of the post, Dave dismounted and secured the dun to the hitching rail then removed the shotgun from his saddle and stepped onto the low porch which consisted of some boards laid flat on the ground.

Walking into the building, Dave quickly stepped to the right side of the door so his eyes could become accustomed to the dark interior. The talking stopped for a few seconds then a voice to his left spoke, offering Dave a seat at the card table and the game in progress. He politely declined then with his spurs jingling every step he moved to the far end of the bar which was just some boards nailed together on top of some barrels. It looked rickety. With a steady walk and armed with the shotgun Dave appeared to be exactly what he was, a very dangerous ice cold man off the range. In an area and time when many dangerous men were about, he stood out from the crowd, lethal, ready and relaxed. A scary look that everyone took note of and had no interest in bothering.

Reaching the end of the bar where he could face the entrance Dave placed the shotgun on top, careful to ensure that it pointed at no one, but could be brought into action instantly. The bartender raised and eyebrow and David said “Whiskey, and the good stuff if you please,” as he laid a quarter on the bar. A bottle and glass were deposited before him and the drink was poured. “Leave the bottle,” said Dave with a little too soft voice. The bartender nodded then turned to his duties.

Sipping his drink, Dave looked the place over. One half of the floor space was dedicated to a saloon with four tables, and the other side of the main room was a store of sorts with most of the staples required for frontier life. Nothing fancy, just basic foods, equipment, tools, and misc merchandise.Nothing was going on except the card game near the entry way. Evidently, a young cowboy was losing badly and not taking it well. He had a minor dispute going with the dealer, and Dave hoped that the kid would not call him out as a cheat, which he probably was but it could cost him his life to call the dealer that. After a few moments the dealer had calmed him down and gave him one of his dollars back stating he would never take a man’s last dollar. The kid looked at it ruefully then walked to the bar and ordered a beer. He glanced at Dave and quickly looked away not wanting any trouble.

It was then that one of the other players, an older man near 40 or so started running his mouth about the kid being a sore looser. The kid tried to ignore him but the loudmouth wouldn’t let it go, and kept prodding him trying to make the kid lose his temper. The kid stood there red faced trying to maintain his self image and drink his beer quietly. The loudmouth kept jabbing and finally called to Dave.

“What do you think of a boy that would gamble his money away, then take offense and act like a sore loser?”

“I don’t think anything about it at all. I mind my own business and stay outa others business. Besides, we’ve all been where he is standing and had to learn the lesson. Don’t nobody start out full grown.”

The older man looked at Dave for a moment saying nothing but his alcohol fueled anger greatly increased as Dave stood there slowly sipping his whiskey with one hand while the other was next to the sawed off shotgun in front of him. Then David’s soft lethal voice came out, “Don’t fight it, let it happen.” The man jerked and started to move his right hand below the table, when his friend at his side grabbed his arm and stopped the movement. A few words were exchanged then all hands were kept on the table top and no one answered Dave.

It was deathly quiet, then from down the road horses could be heard approaching the town. They kept coming until in front of the trading post then came the military command to halt. Blast, the cavalry has arrived!

 

Twelve troopers talking rough and loudly came stomping through the door on stiff legs and backs with dusty clothes and dry throats, looking to slake their thirst with some much needed liquor. Stumbling into chairs and tables they clumsily worked out a seating arrangement that took up all but one table, and all the chairs and a couple of wooden barrels. Loudly demanding service they let the bartender know they needed beer and lots of it. A corporal yelled, “I don’t know what the rest of the women here need, but you’ve got some real men to serve and you’d best get at it!”

Dave noticed that there was no officer to keep control of the group, just a three stripe sergeant that looked like he was in over his head with this group. They were pure trash with a disheveled look to their uniforms and a couple weren’t even wearing cav boots, just infantry brogans. Swearing and pounding the table they were demanding food and drink as Dave suspected at the expense of the owner. Their sergeant made a couple of half hearted efforts to get them settled down but to no avail. The gambler and two with him silently slipped out with only the kid at the bar remaining.

The kid carefully looked about not wanting to be noticed. He wanted to leave, but he had half a beer left and instinctively knew if he drained it the troopers would start in on him. So, he slowly sipped. He was almost done when the loud corporal started on him asking if the the beer was too strong for him to drink any faster. The kid mumbled no sir and turned back to him beer. It didn’t matter what the kid did, because it would have been wrong anyway.

“Did you get smart with me boy?” Demanded the Cpl.

“No sir, I just said no sir.”

“I just heard you say no sir. You messing with me boy?”

“No sir, just want to finish my beer and head home.”

“I jes wanna go home to my mommy!” Mocked the Cpl in a loud whiney voice. That brought out a burst of laughter from the troopers. All but one that is, the quiet one sitting on a barrel against the wall, the one that didn’t laugh or do anything else but remain alert.

The kids face began to get red from his neck up and his hands shook slightly. Not from fear, but anger. The kid was unarmed like everyone else but the US Army. They had taken everything shootable when they swept through the state, leaving everyone helpless from anyone or anything that decided to attack them leaving the army free to run roughshod over the whole state.The only ones armed were union sympathizers, outlaw bands, the Mexican army, and Indians. The army did not bother to defend the civilian population from these threats though they loudly claimed to do so. So, the kid was in a tough spot, knowing that the army and the new state police had shot unarmed civilians on a whim several times. Sometimes robbery was the motive. Am I next? He thought.

The vicious Cpl began to goad the kid. “Are you a virgin boy? I bet you are, cause I ain’t seen nothing desperate enough to get into bed with something as ugly as you. You even stink, I can smell you from here. I bet you can’t fight either, you’re just like the rest of these cowardly Texans. ‘Come save me from the Indians, Mexican, bandits, or whatever!’ You can’t even stand up to your whore women. I bet your momma is a whore ain’t she?”

The kid began to shake with rage. He knew that he was going to get murdered by this lot of trash. He knew that his elderly parents depended on him to work their small ranch. He knew he could not live with the shame of not standing up to this scum, he had to face them. He began to turn and noticed that Dave gave him a short shake of his head indicating no. He kept turning anyway. As he faced the troopers, he became calmer. “I hate to be the one to tell you, but our women aren’t like the fat whore you fell out of. She probably wouldn’t be allowed to mop saloon floors around here. At any rate, she couldn’t have been much of a woman to have raised a no account fool Iike you,” he said with a smile.

The stunned troopers sat frozen in place and silent for a moment, all except the silent one smiling from the wall. Then, some exploded with laughter, but most with anger.

“boy, I’m gonna kill you. I’m gonna blow your head off.” Said the enraged Cpl.

“Then you’d best do it now while I’m unarmed cause there ain’t no way you can take me with a gun.” Replied the boy.

The enraged Cpl stared at him for a moment then an evil smile spread across his face. “Smith, give me your gun, now!”

Trooper Smith handed over the weapon and stepped back. The Cpl waved away the others sitting between him and the kid then drew his own Colt and tossed Smith’s pistol to the floor near the kids feet.

“There ya go boy, make your play.” He said with a sneer.

The kid swallowed, crossed himself and was about the dive for the pistol when two loud clicks were heard from the end of the bar. Everyone looked and there stood Dave with the cocked shotgun in one hand and a cocked Remington in the other pointing at the Cpl. “I reckon that’s about enough.” He said in a soft voice. The hard face and ice cold blue eyes were enough to convince most of them that he was dead serious. “Let’s just all be good little boys and get along.”

The Sergeant was obviously shook but said, “Look cowboy, you can’t get away with this, or even survive it if shooting starts. Put them guns away, and let’s talk this out. Nobody has to hang and you wont be in jail very long, just put ‘em down and let’s talk.”

Dave’s cold smile let the Sergeant know that he had failed. “I’d say that somebody shooting off their mouth is what started this in the first place. I know you ain’t gonna punish this fool, and I also know that you ain’t gonna arrest me for anything. Besides, when the Cpl. was about to murder this kid, you didn’t say anything. I guess that part wasn’t important enough to talk over was it?”

“Look, there are thirteen of us against just you. You may get a couple of us, but you can’t get us all.”

“I ain’t exactly new at this, you got it to do. Now either start shooting or start running, it’s all the same to me.”

The bartender cleared his throat standing there with a Colt .44 in each hand and said, “Make that two to thirteen.”

The quiet soldier on the barrel tipped it forward then stood and moved to Dave’s right while still on the wall and said with a smile, “Make that three to thirteen.”

Dave said, “Kid, when the shooting starts or earlier drop to the floor so you ain’t hit by a stray round.”

Looking like a walleyed horse, the kid nodded.

Outraged the Sergeant yelled, “Jackson you traitor you’ll hanged for this! What’s gotten into you?”

Jackson calmly looked at him and said. “I guess y’all don’t remember kidnapping me from my home at fourteen and making me a slave on your building projects, then beating me until I signed the enlistment papers. I fought the Souix for four years and nearly got killed several times. I and my people came from North Carolina and had moved to Colorado prior to you dragging me north to fight Indians I never seen. I don’t owe any of you anything.”

“I’d say them is workable odds!” Said Dave.

The Cpl then made his last mistake of the day and raised his pistol to aim at Dave who let him have a blast of 00 buckshot in the chest knocking him over. The other barrel went into the Sergeant then Dave dropped the shotgun and drew his other pistol as he heard the bartenders .44s open up. Jackson in the back shot the two facing him then stepped to the side and began shooting at the others. With the heavy concussion of guns firing inside a building the kid was a bit stunned but managed to hit the floor very quickly while men shot, screamed, and died in front of him. It seemed over in an instant and the air was filled with choking smoke from the shootout. Dave stepped forward and began checking bodies for life and one tried to raise a gun when rolled over. Dave shot him in the head, looked around and found no further wounded. Turning to the bartender he said, “Looks like we’ve got a mess to clean up.”

“Looks like it.”

“We might as well go thru their pockets and see if they can pay for their drinks and damage.”

The bartender agreed and they did so. In the end, they had enough to cover the drinks and damage leaving 21.26 in coin as surplus. “I guess you deserve the rest since they couldn’t be cleaned out any other way.”

“I’ve got enough money. Why not give the rest to the kid since he can use it.”

“Sounds good to me.”