Bloody Newton by Johnny D. Boggs

Author:Johnny D. Boggs [Boggs, Johnny D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2024-04-24T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

Mr. Pierce, familiarly known among extensive cattle dealers as “Shanghai Pierce,” who has been one of the largest and heaviest dealers at this point, says that . . . we have the greatest stock country in the world, not excepting Texas.

—The Wichita City Eagle,

November 21, 1872

He was younger than Gary by a few years, and quite a bit taller, even without those high-heeled boots. His thinning hair remained dark, but his beard had started to show flecks of gray. Folks said he could find more cattle in the cane breaks than a Tonkawa and knew more curses than all those polite words Mr. Webster put in his dictionaries.

But even Shanghai Pierce had to stop once in a while to breathe.

“Mr. Pierce,” Bill Bailey said when Pierce paused his verbal cannonade. “Gary didn’t start this ruction.”

Whirling, Pierce cursed Bailey, told him to keep his tongue from wagging, and looked back while pointing a long, gloved figure at Gary’s face. “All I know is that the steer I saw purging its bowels on my bedroll was wearing your road brand.”

“I take full responsibility,” Gary told him.

Pierce spat, cursed, spat again, shook his head, and waved that gloved finger again. He hailed from somewhere back east—Rhode Island, Gary had heard—but years back stowed away on a ship bound for Texas. “You have no other choice but to take full responsibility.” His curses took a hiatus, but that would be temporary. “We have five or six herds scattered and mixed—and a plenty dead. It’ll take us to the Fifth Coming of the Lord to sort everything out. And you, Hardee.” The finger wagged harder, stopping only as Pierce invented new curses. “You and your crew will be doing most of the sorting. And not until every herd has crossed and all those others that will be backed up till Christmas. Only then will you swim the Red.” He spit, and finally looked like he was spent.

“It’ll be done, Shanghai,” Gary said softly.

Bailey cleared his throat and eased his horse closer. “Mr. Pierce,” he said. “It was Wat Anderson’s son who caused this mess.” Sighing, he turned toward Gary and explained. “There was another herd pushing behind us. Hugh said he wasn’t losing his place in line; he started pushing the cattle faster. And faster. I kept yelling at him to slow down, but he just got wilder and wilder. I don’t know what happened. Next thing I know, the leaders just shot out like a fireball from a Roman candle on Davy Crockett’s birthday.”

He wiped sweat off his forehead with a shirtsleeve and looked back at Pierce. “It was—”

“You said you were in charge of both herds when we met at my camp.” Pierce’s hard eyes locked on Gary.

“And I just told you,” Gary said, “I take full responsibility.”

Pierce must have detected that Gary had reached his limit, so he gave a curt nod, and spoke as quietly as Shanghai Pierce could manage. “Good. We all have a big task before us, and we must work together.

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