Chapter 39
The End Of The Trail
Major Frank Walcott walked out of the Western Union office and squinted into the afternoon sun. A cool wind was blowing in from the north and was picking up anything that wasn’t tied down and blowing it down the main street. He could see the Powder River to the South, twisting its way through the Montana Territory. He welcomed the cool weather after the blistering heat he endured while eating the dust of two thousand head of cattle for the past two months. But he was glad he would be gone by the time the snow fell. He heard stories of how bad it got in Bozeman when winter came and he wanted to be far from it
Tom Corlett and the Champion brothers were waiting for him. They were all mounted on their horses with their rifles lying across the pommel of their saddles, ready in case someone decided they wanted to take the money I.P. Olive just wired to Frank to pay the boys. He thought he should have brought the Texas Kid along, as he was the fastest man he knew, but Frank was going to give him his pay and then tell him to clear out his stuff when he got back to the Circle L Ranch. Frank didn’t like what he had done to that Mexican boy, Enrico, back at Red Angus’ ranch. Frank planned on stopping off at Doc Andrews’ place to pick up the boy and bring him back with him to the Circle L. He would put him to work there and show him how to rope and brand the cattle. Maybe by next year he would be ready to go on a cattle drive when they were ready to take them to market.
They had just finished delivering the cattle to the Black Foot Reservation just north of Bozeman and now were ready to return to Bosler and a few days of relaxation before getting back to mending fences and putting up hay from their final cut. Some would be taking off until next spring when they would return for the next drive.
Walcott grabbed his reins from Tom Corlett, swinging his long leg over the saddle and settling onto the back of Bandit, his big grulla gelding. “See anyone suspicious looking, Tom?” Walcott asked.
“Been quite as snow falling, Frank. Nothing is moving in this town that I could see.”
“Good. Let’s get outta here and pay the boys and then head on back to the Circle L.”
When they returned to camp Tom Corlett cleared the table from the chuck wagon and pulled over two chairs; one for himself and the other for Major Walcott, who would be handing out the pay envelopes. Tom would record the payment in the payroll book where each man signed after receiving his pay. The Champion brothers were standing behind them with their Remington rifles lying in the crook of their arms. Major Walcott deliberately held the Texas Kids’ pay envelope until last.
As the Kid stepped up to the table, Walcott looked up at him and pulled the envelope back.
“You’re through here, D.E. I want you to clear out your stuff when we get back to the Circle L and I don’t want to see you around these parts again.”
“What for, Major? I din’t do nuthin’.” the Texas Kid whined.
“There was no call for what you did to that Mexican boy at Angus’ ranch. You maimed that boy. Now take your pay and get out of my sight. If your stuff ain’t gone within an hour after we get back, I’m gonna’ burn it. You hear me? You’re through!”
“The hell I am. We’ll see what I.P. has to say about this.”
Walcott was out of his chair in a split second, grabbing the front of the Kid’s shirt and pulling him across the table so they were inches apart, looking eye to eye.
The Kid’s right hand dropped down to the butt of his gun, holstered low on his hip, while his left hand tried to push Major Walcott away.
Walcott was too strong for him so he was forced to look at the fury burning in his eyes while Tom Corlett pointed his pistol at the Kid’s belly and said: “Don’t even think about drawing your gun Kid. I’ll drop you like a sack of cow shit before you clear leather.”
Tom reached out and removed both of the Kid’s guns, opening the chambers and dropping the bullets on the ground. Walcott pushed him back. The Kid stumbled and fell to the ground. Getting up, he brushed off the seat of his pants.
“You ain’t seen the last of me yet, you son of a bitch. Nobody treats the Texas Kid like this and lives to talk about it.”
“Get out of my sight, Kid, before I do something I regret,” Walcott said.
Major Walcott was a big strong man, but the Texas Kid was never to be trusted to fight fair, especially if he had his guns within reach.
As the Kid turned and walked away mumbling, Tom Corlett addressed the rest of the men who had been standing around, hoping to see some action. “Okay, let’s get them horses to the train yard and load ‘em on the box cars for the ride back to Bosler. We got some whiskey for y’all once we get ‘em loaded and y’all are on the train ready to go.”
A collective cheer went up from the men as they passed the payroll table on their way to gather the horses for the trip home.
Tom turned to Walcott and said: “I’ll try to watch your back, Frank, but you gotta know the Kid won’t let this lie. He’ll go to Olive for sure. He an’ Olive seem to have some kinda bond of some sort.”
“Don’t worry about Isom, Tom; I’ll take care of him. I appreciate you keepin’ my back covered. If I see that son of a bitch coming anywhere near me, I’ll break both of his arms and send him packing.”
Turning to Gabby, Walcott said, “Okay, Gabby, you can pack ‘er up and take this wagon to the train. We’re done here.”
“Yes sir, Major. We’re on our way.” Gabby replied as he grabbed the chairs to put them in the back of the chuck wagon along with the table and the rest of his cooking equipment as the Circle L boys reached the end of the trail.