Thunder on the Dos Gatos by Paul Bagdon

Author:Paul Bagdon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC033000
ISBN: 9781441239525
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group

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6

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Monte leaned over Ben’s desk and drew on the blank side of a wanted poster. “See what I mean?” he asked without looking up. “It doesn’t have to be a moat. All we need is a trench maybe four feet deep, all the way around the town.”

“Whew,” Ben breathed. “You ever try to dig in that dirt? I still have calluses on my hands an’ a crick in my back from when we dug the foundation for the church.”

Monte sat back in his chair. “Oh,” he said sarcastically. “I forget about your lily-white hands, Ben. Sorry. Let’s just sit back and watch Burnt Rock be leveled.”

“You know it ain’t the work stoppin’ me. The thing is, I don’t think I’ll be able to sell the idea to the town.” He paused for a moment. “An’ to tell you the truth, I can’t say I’m 100 percent convinced it’s necessary. I’ve heard about stampedes, and I don’t doubt those longhorns would tear up the town a bit if they got to running. But if a run does start, we’ll get the folks into the biggest buildings in town—the hotel an’ Scott’s Mercantile—an’ wait it out. You can’t tell me that those cattle will breach buildings set on solid foundations and built around rough-cut beams a foot and a half thick. Why—”

“That’s precisely what I am telling you!” Monte stood quickly, leaning toward Ben. “You’ve never seen what a thousand-pound animal can do in a panic. They’re like cannonballs—nothing will stop them until they drop from exhaustion. Multiply what one can do times the three thousand or better longhorns out there, and I’ll tell you what—your town will be kindling, and you’ll have a whole lot more digging to do than a simple trench!”

Ben held up his hands. “Sit down, Monte—and calm down. Look, Toole’s men have been coming in for supplies, an’ so have Harmon Kenny’s boys from the Double D. A slew of the X2 and Tall Hill wagons came in yesterday. They’re all buyin’ staples: flour, coffee, salt, beans, sugar, canned fruit.”

Monte sat back down. “And ammunition, Ben. I talked to Mr. Scott last night. The herders bought his full supply of 30.30 and 30.06 ammo and put a big dent in his .45 and .38 stock.”

“I hadn’t heard that,” Ben said. “Could be they’re just replenishing supplies. Although . . .”

“Right. It doesn’t make a bit of sense. Buy all that firepower to go down the prairie a couple hundred miles or so and then haul the provisions all the way back to where the herds started from? You know as well as I do that the cowhands hired on for a drive are cut loose at its end, and that the wagons go back almost empty, except for what the permanent help and the cook need to get them home.”

Monte stood again and walked toward the coffeepot on Ben’s potbellied stove, mug in hand. When he spoke, his voice was controlled but there was strong emotion behind it.

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