Wyoming Territory by David V. Hesse - HTML preview

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Chapter 17

Chugwater Wyoming, 1875

They didn’t want to announce their arrival so they slowed down to a walk as they approached Horace Plunkett’s cabin. After they buried Angus and his men behind Red’s barn, they rode out, leaving behind, who Walcott thought, was a scared young Mexican kid cowering in a stall. Major Walcott was unaware of what the Texas Kid did to the young boy. Nick and Ray Champion took about one hundred head of Olive’s calves that they found and started the drive toward the Circle L while the rest of them took off to Plunkett’s place. Plunkett had built a corral west of a small barn and in it were about forty cows all with calves. They could make out Plunkett moving about in his cabin. It seemed like old Horace had some mighty good luck calving this year. Not too many folks could brag that all their cows calved. Walcott wanted to check out the brands. He knew Plunkett was a no good cattle thief and had been for years. He wasn’t so sure about Angus, although he heard plenty of rumors over the years. If any brands were altered from the Circle L’s, they would hogtie the rustler and bring ‘im back along with the calves for Olive to deal with as he saw fit.

 “I wonder where everyone is.” Walcott said.

“Tom, why don’t you take Bill and Ben and go down to the corral and check out the brands. I’ll take the rest of the boys and head to the cabin and have us a talk with Horace.”

“Ok, let’s go boys”, Tom said, as he turned his Appaloosa and headed toward the small herd of cows with Bill and Ben moving in alongside him.

Major Walcott and the rest rode up to the cabin where they all dismounted and walked to the door. Before they could knock, Horace Plunkett, a small thin man with long gray unkempt hair, stepped out onto his porch. He looked like he just woke up. He wore a filthy sweat stained shirt and his face was smeared with grease and soot. A foul odor emanated from him while he stood holding what Walcott immediately recognized as an old 1860 .44 caliber Colt Army revolver, used by the Union Calvary because of its lighter weight and improved balance and superior ballistics. In a flash the Texas Kid had drawn down on Horace and told him to drop his gun, which he did. Sam Clover stepped forward and picked up the Colt and stuck it in his belt.

“What do you boys want and what are those boys doin’ in my corral?” Horace asked.

“We’re just makin’ sure those calves aren’t where they don’t belong. If they ain’t been rebranded, we’ll be on our way. But for now, why don’t we set a spell and relax?”

“Where are your men, Horace?” Walcott asked.

“Only got a half breed named Johnny Bearfoot. He went to town to pick up provisions. Probably won’t be back ‘til late,” Horace replied.

Walcott didn’t believe him. He had to have more than one wrangler with him when he rustled cattle. They probably were in town as well.

It wasn’t long before Tom rode over. He leaned down in his saddle toward Walcott and said: “Them’s definitely rebranded Circle L stock.”

“Alright, let’s round ‘em up and head ‘em out to Olive. Kid, you and Sam help Mr. Plunkett here saddle his horse. Then we ride.” Walcott said. “I’ll gather up some provisions from the cabin.”