* * *

  In the bunkhouse at Twin Peaks that night, Turley was awakened by a conversation going on between the deputies.

  “First thing we’re goin’ to do,” Jaco said, “is go out to the Pine Flats ’n take about a hunnert o’ them cows we stoled ’n move ’em over to Sky Meadow.”

  Even though Jaco thought he was speaking in a harsh whisper, Turley was able to overhear every word that was spoken.

  “Why are we goin’ to do that? Hell, we was the one that stoled the cattle, ’n we’re s’posed to be gettin’ some money for them cows. Why are we goin’ to give ’em away like that?” Pete asked.

  “We ain’t actual givin’ ’em away, we’re just movin’ ’em over there so’s it looks like MacCallister is the one that stoled them.”

  “So we’re goin’ to accuse MacCallister of stealin’? Who’s goin’ to do that? Didn’t you say he was the fastest man you ever seen?”

  “We won’t have to arrest him. All we have to do is kill ’im. ’N we’ll most likely have some help with that,” Jaco said.

  “Have help? Help from who?”

  “From anyone who wants the ten-thousand-dollar reward.”

  “What reward?”

  “This one,” Jaco said.

  “Damn!” Pete said. “You mean there’s actual dodgers out on MacCallister?”

  “Yeah. Now, come on, we got to get them cows moved before it gets daylight.”

  * * *

  Moving the stolen cows onto Sky Meadow wasn’t the only nefarious act that the deputies did during the night. When the residents of Chugwater awakened the next morning, they were surprised to see a sudden plethora of wanted posters.

  “Duff MacCallister murderin’ and stealin’?” Duke Rudd said as he examined the reward bill that was posted to the front of his leather goods store. “I don’t believe it.”

  Rudd’s rejection of the charge that Duff was a murderer and cattle thief was nearly universal, as nobody else in town believed it, either.

  Rudd took the poster to the sheriff’s office, where he found Deputy Logan sitting at the sheriff’s desk, drinking coffee.

  “Deputy Logan, where’s Sheriff Sharpie?”

  “The sheriff won’t be back till tomorrow. He took the train up to Cheyenne last night.”

  “Have you seen this?” Rudd asked, holding the poster out to show it.

  “No,” Logan said after examining it for a moment. “I’ll be damn, accordin’ to what it says here, this dodger comes direct from the governor his ownself. ’N look at the reward! Ten thousand dollars! Who but the governor could authorize that much money? Where did you get it?”

  “This here one was nailed onto the front wall of my office.”

  “There’s somethin’ fishy about this,” Logan said. “I’ve known Duff MacCallister ever since he settled here in the valley, and for as long as I have known him, he has been an honest and upstanding citizen. And how is it that these posters didn’t come to the sheriff in the mail like all the others?”

  “I don’t know,” Rudd answered. “But this isn’t the only one. They’re plastered all over town.”

  “I’m going to ride out to Sky Meadow and see what this is all about,” Logan said, but as he and Rudd stepped out onto the front porch, they saw eight riders coming into town.

  “That’s Jaco ’n the territory deputies,” Logan said, “but I don’t know who the one in front is.”

  “I’ll be damn,” Rudd said. “That’s Houser.”

  “Yeah,” Logan agreed. “Yeah, you’re right, that is Houser. What happened to that little beard he always wears?”

  “Yeah, well, it ain’t just the beard. He ain’t wearin’ a suit like always, ’n I don’t think I’ve ever seen him on a horse before, neither.”

  Instead of the three-piece suit that Houser normally wore, today he was wearing black trousers, a black shirt, and a black, low-crown hat, which was encircled by a silver band. But the most shocking thing about his appearance was that Houser, who never carried a gun, was wearing one now. And he was wearing it in the way of a man who knew how to use it.

  When Houser and the others reached the sheriff’s office, they stopped. Deputy Logan was still holding the reward poster in his hand, and he held it up.

  “Mr. Houser, are you responsible for this?”

  “I am, sir.”

  “What right do you have to put out such a thing?”

  “I’m sure that you know that I hold a special commission from the governor, and as such I am authorized to speak directly for him. My position gives me gubernatorial authority. It has come to my attention that Duff MacCallister, who is a man of some repute in this town, has been guilty of murder and cattle rustling. I owe an apology to the small ranchers, as I have been blaming them for the rustling, when it was MacCallister, all along.”

  “What makes you think it was Duff ?”

  “I don’t think, sir, I know. We have found the stolen cattle on rangeland belonging to Duff MacCallister.”

  “Yeah? Well, I’m not going to arrest him,” Logan said. “Maybe you can talk the sheriff into it when he gets back from Cheyenne tomorrow, but I’m not going to do it.”

  “I don’t expect you to arrest MacCallister, or anyone else, for that matter,” Houser replied. “I am suspending you from duty and asking you to take off your badge. I am declaring a condition of civil emergency, and as such, I, and my deputies, will, henceforth, assume all law enforcement activities. As of now, this town and all activity herein, is under my control.”

  “What?” Logan’s shouted word was so loud that it caused passersby on the other side of the street to look over in curiosity. “The hell you say! There’s no way I’m going to let you get away with a thing like that.”

  Houser drew his pistol and pointed it at Deputy Logan. “I said, take off your badge,” he repeated ominously.

  Reluctantly, but with no other choice, Logan removed his badge.

  “Inside,” Houser said, with a waving motion of his pistol. He followed Logan into the office. “Now, release my brother.”

  Logan took the key ring down from the wall hook, then walked back to the cell to open the door. Shamrock was standing there with a big smile.

  “So, big brother,” he said. “Have you decided to go back to being Wynton Miller?”

  “Wynton Miller?” Logan gasped.

  “Get into the cell,” Houser ordered.

  Sky Meadow Ranch

  “Will you be comin’ over to the buildin’ site today, Mr. Gleason?” Emerson asked.

  “I’ll be along in a while,” Elmer replied. He was watching Emerson and Percy load a wagon of tools and supplies needed at the site where Percy’s new house was being built.

  “Poke is already over there,” Percy said. He chuckled. “He’s a good kid, and one hell of a good worker.”

  “Yeah, he is,” Emerson said. “He’s better ’n anyone when it comes to climbin’ around in the trusses. He can climb like a monkey.”

  Percy chuckled. “Steve, have you ever actually seen a monkey?”

  “Well, no, but I’ve heard they can climb real good.”

  “That’s a fact,” Elmer said, thinking of the ones he had seen in China.

  Elmer was about to go back in for another cup of coffee, when he saw someone coming up the long drive that led to the house.

  “Here comes someone,” he said. “More ’n likely someone wonderin’ why you two hadn’t got to work yet and . . .” He stopped and looked again as the rider came close enough to be identified.

  “Why, that’s Ben Turley from over to Houser’s place. I wonder what he wants.”

  “Mornin’, Mr. Gleason. Is Mr. MacCallister in?”

  “Yeah, he’s here. What do you need?”

  “He might want to see this,” Turley said, holding out the reward poster.

  * * *

  “From what I was able to overhear, they planned to take over the town ’n then just wait for you to come in,” Turley said after he told of the stolen cattle that had been moved, during the night, onto Sky Meadow.

  “Meagan is there. I will go.”

  “Mr. MacCallister, how do we know we can trust Turley?” Emerson asked. “Remember what happened to Kirk and Keegan.”

  “Turley speaks the truth,” Wang said of Turley.

  “Yeah, he sounds good. But how do we know?” Emerson repeated.

  “He speaks the truth,” Wang said again.

  “If you’re going into town, I’m going to go with you,” Turley said. “You’re worried about Miss Parker, ’n I’m worried about Mary Ellen.”

  “Yeah, I’ll come with you, too,” Emerson said, his declaration followed by Percy’s own intention to go.

  “’Tis good of you lads to volunteer,” Duff said. “But I’ll need only Elmer and Wang.”

  “But that will be only three of you, and there are nine of them,” Turley said. He counted them off on his fingers. “There’s Houser, Harris, Malcolm, Dobbins, Jaco, Wix, Pete, Hawke, and Evans. By the way, I learned that Harris is actually a man named Shamrock. Have you ever heard of him?”

  “I cannae say as I have.”

  “Yeah, well, people don’t change their names unless they’re on the dodge. And I haven’t liked that son of a bitch since the first time I ever seen ’im.”

  “Boss, that’s a lot of men for just the three of you to go up agin,” Emerson said.

  “Go and work on your house,” Duff said. “They will be needing these things.” He pointed to the wagon.

  “All right, if you’re sure you don’t want us.”

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Before they were close enough to be seen from town, Wang and Elmer left the main road so they could circle around and approach town from the opposite side. That left Duff as the only one, and he rode into town leisurely, as if making a normal visit. Dismounting in front of Meagan’s Dress Emporium, he tied off his horse and saw in the mirror that was just inside the front window, somebody on the roof of Hart’s Bakery, the building just across the street. The man on the roof was aiming his pistol at Duff, thinking that he had an easy shot.

  Duff drew his pistol, whirled, and fired. The man on the roof grabbed his stomach, then pitched forward and fell, heavily, to the boardwalk in front of the bakery.

  From just up the street Duff heard another shot and, looking toward the sound, saw someone go down. The shooter was Elmer, who smiled and waved at Duff, then stepped in between two buildings.

  Catching a motion out of the corner of his eye, Duff saw Wang, racing along the roofs of the town, leaping from building to building.

  “MacCallister!” someone shouted, and three men stepped out into the street, all three with guns already drawn.

  Even before the shooting began, one of the men went down, making a futile attempt to stem the flow of blood from around the throwing star in his neck. Duff shot the other two.

  Duff started down the street toward the three bodies, when he heard someone behind him call his name.

  “MacCallister!”

  Turning, he saw someone coming out of Meagan’s shop. Meagan was in front of him, and he was holding his pistol to her head.

  “Drop your gun,” the man called.

  “Why should I do that?” Duff replied.

  “Are you a fool? Can’t you see I have a gun pointed to this woman’s head? I heard that she’s your woman. Is that true?”

  “Aye, ’tis true. Meagan is my woman.”

  “I ain’t goin’ to ask you again to drop your gun.”

  Jaco was the deputy holding Meagan, and he was positioned in such a way that only about two inches of his head was exposed. But two inches was all Duff needed, and in a very swift and smooth action, Duff raised his pistol and fired. The bullet hit Jaco above the eye, killing him before he was even aware of Duff’s action.

  “Duff, in the livery!” Meagan shouted, even as Jaco was going down, but her warning wasn’t necessary, for Evans, the deputy who was aiming a rifle at Duff from the loft of the livery, dropped his rifle and fell, mortally wounded by a shot from Elmer.

  * * *

  “Son of a bitch!” Shamrock said, looking through the front window of the sheriff’s office. “All of ’em! MacCallister has kilt ever’ damn one of ’em! Me ’n you’s all that’s left.”

  “Then the odds are just about right,” Houser said with a confident smile. Houser loosened the pistol in his holster, then opened the door and stepped outside.

  “Captain MacCallister,” he called.

  “Mr. Houser,” Duff replied.

  “It would appear that I have no deputies left, yet the issue remains. You are wanted for murder and rustling, so it is now incumbent upon me to bring you to justice.”

  “I suppose it makes nae difference to you, that I am innocent of the charges on the poster,” Duff replied.

  “Most astute of you, sir, you are right. That you are innocent of these charges makes no difference at all. I’m afraid I’m going to have to kill you.”

  “Are you that sure of yourself, Mr. Houser? It could be that you may be the one getting killed.”

  “Oh, I’m quite sure. And, by the way, for your edification, sir, before I assumed the alias dictus of Brad Houser, I was known as Wynton Miller. Perhaps that name means something to you.”

  “’Tis nae a name that is familiar to me,” Duff replied.

  Duff’s declaration that he was unfamiliar with the name came as somewhat of a surprise to Houser.

  “Well, it has been a while since I was known as such, and you, being a relatively recent immigrant, may not have heard of it. But, in some circles, I say with apologies for my pride, it does elicit a begrudging respect and, dare I say it, fear.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Duff said.

  “You have been busy this morning. So before we proceed any further, I feel it incumbent upon me to inquire if it is necessary for you to recharge your weapon. Have you sufficient bullets to engage?”

  “I have two remaining. I need but one,” Duff said.

  “Shall we count?” Houser asked.

  “Aye. Elmer?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Would you count to three, please?”

  “One, two . . .”

  Houser started his draw on two, but Duff was not surprised by his move. The moment Houser suggested that there be a count, Duff suspected that it was but a ploy to give Houser the advantage.

  Duff let his “hand think,” and even as Houser started his move, Duff’s hand was already pulling the pistol from his holster. Houser was fast, faster even than Bodine, because whereas Bodine had barely completed his draw, Houser managed to bring his gun up and fire. The reason he missed was that the bullet that plunged into his chest had pulled his aim off.

  Houser got a surprised look on his face, then fell.

  As Duff stood there with a smoking gun in his hand, he heard another shot, and turning quickly, he saw Shamrock going down. Looking back to the source of the shot he saw that Meagan was also holding a smoking gun, having shot Shamrock with Jaco’s pistol.

  * * *

  Six weeks later Percy and Sara Sue gave a party to celebrate moving into their new house. Everyone who had helped build the house was present, as were all the neighboring ranchers.

  Ben Turley was there as well, along with his new bride, Mary Ellen. Turley was still foreman and, for now, sole custodian of Twin Peaks. Turley’s first act was to return all the cattle that had been stolen, and illegally confiscated, by Houser. The court had already negated Houser’s filing on the open range so that once again every rancher in the valley would have access to the grass and water.

  Eventual ownership of Twin Peaks was now being decided by the court. A petition, signed by every other rancher in the valley, large and small, was submitted to the court, recommending that the ranch be owned by hands who had worked there, with Turley owning 51 percent. The preliminary indications were that the court would grant the petition.

  “Oh, Sara Sue, your new house is beautiful,” Meagan said.

  “Yes, it is, thanks to our wonderful neighbors,” Sara Sue replied. “And thank you for making this beautiful dress for the occasion.”

  “Miz Sara Sue, you want me to bring out the cakes now?” Poke asked.

  “Yes, Poke, that would be very nice of you, thank you.”

  “How is it working out with Poke living with you and Percy?” Meagan asked as Poke went back into the house to get the first of four cakes that had been baked.

  “Poke is a wonderful boy,” Sara Sue replied. “Percy and I were planning on having a family. Poke is just giving us a head start.”

  “Yes, having a family is a wonderful thing,” Meagan said.

  Meagan searched through the crowd until she found Duff, who was engaged in conversation with Webb Dakota, Burt Rowe, and Ben Turley.

  “A wonderful thing,” she repeated wistfully.

  Keep reading for a special preview

  of all new Western series

  from the legendary Johnstones!

  THE CHUCKWAGON TRAIL

  Framed for murder, Dewey “Mac” McKenzie is

  running for his life. Though Mac’s never even

  made a pot of coffee, he talks his way onto a cattle

  drive heading west—as a chuckwagon cook.

  Turns out he has a natural talent for turning salt

  pork and dried beans into culinary gold.

  He’s as good with a pot and pan as he is with a

  gun—which comes in handy on a dangerous trail

  drive beset with rustlers, hostile Indians, ornery

  weather, and deadly stampedes. Mac can hold

  his own with any cowboy twice his age.

  At least until the real showdown begins . . .

  Mac’s trail boss, Deke Northrup, is one mean spit

  in the eye. Before long, he’s made enemies of

  all his men. Mac learns that Northrup is planning

  to double-cross the herd’s owner, Mac stands up to

  the trail boss and his henchman. He might be

  outgunned and outnumbered, but Mac’s ready to