Sample Chapter-Devil’s Rope

Chapter 1

The sound of the first shovels of dirt echoed hollowly as they fell on the pine box which held the body of Colonel Jim Cole, one armed patriarch of the Ceebara Ranch. The colonel had been gunned down by outlaws on the streets of Dodge City, when he, Ned, Bat Masterson and Billy Dixon had attempted to arrest them for rustling Ceebara cattle. Cowboys continued the sad work until a neat mound of yellow earth covered the remains of their beloved leader in the small, family cemetery just a short distance from the ranch house and overlooking the valley of the Red Deer Creek..

Neighbors and friends walked dejectedly away from the grave, climbed into buggies and wagons and started their long journeys back to surrounding ranches which were located along the Canadian and Red Rivers in the sparsely settled Texas Panhandle. Those who had traveled great distances to show their respect to the colonel and his family, would remain another night before starting their journey homeward. Bat Masterson, Billy Dixon, and Vince Abercrombie would accompany the Honor Guard from Fort Dodge back to Dodge City. General Mackenzie, his aids and Quanah Parker would travel together back to Fort Sill. Jim Bold Eagle, Quanah’s son, would remain at the ranch for an extended visit with young Cole, the Colonel’s grandson.

Belle, Kate, Ned and Cole were the last to leave the grave site, each silently saying their last goodbyes to their beloved “Colonel.” Although he tried hard, Cole could not hold back the tears, and his fourteen year old body shook uncontrollably as he sought comfort in his mother’s arms.

Kate held him tightly as she said, “We’re all going to miss your grandad, son, but I know he would want you to be strong during this time. Remember all of the good times you had together, and remember the things he taught you. Your Pa is going to have to step into Grandad’s boots now and that means that you are going to have to take your Pa’s place in keeping the ranch going. It’s going to be hard but I know you can do it.

“I’ll try my best,” Cole said through his sobs.

They turned and walked arm in arm back to the ranch house.

The Kid, watching from the cliff above, turned and sadly mounted his steel dust dun. The only two people of influence who had ever treated him like he was worth something, Colonel Cole and Mr. Tunstall, had both been killed by the gun, and now he was wanted by the law for shooting Mr. Tunstall’s killer. He would have liked to have ridden down to the ranch house and joined Ned and the family during this time of sorrow, but with so many people around, he knew that it would only bring trouble to them. He turned the dun towards Tascosa and kicked him into a ground-eating trot.

Reaching the lawless frontier town as the stage from Fort Elliot was unloading, he watched as another load of painted ladies from Mobeetie disembarked. Since the organization of Wheeler County and the election of a judge and sheriff, a small semblance of law and order had been established in Mobeetie and many of the town’s five hundred prostitutes and gamblers were looking for greener pastures. Tascosa seemed like an ideal place to set up shop.

To call them whores or prostitutes could result in one staring into the double barreled chamber of a small derringer pistol or having a whiskey bottle broken over one’s head. They considered themselves entertainers, consequently, the cowboys and buffalo hunters preferred to refer to them as painted ladies — and the girls voiced no objection.

The town was bustling with activity, for only an hour be-fore arrival of the stage, another group had arrived. A state surveyor by the name of Munson, along with a large group of workmen and five Texas Rangers, was on his way to Buffalo Springs on the northernmost border of the Texas Panhandle. From the Springs, they planned to travel due west until they located the stake designating the corner of the Oklahoma Strip, New Mexico Territory and Texas. The stake had been set by John Clark when he made a survey of the Oklahoma Strip in 1858. From that point, they intended to start their survey, south and east, of the twenty six counties which would make up the area of the unorganized Texas Panhandle. The survey would be the first nail driven into the coffin which would carry the wild Texas Panhandle into the Boot Hill Cemetery of the lawless past. The land and its people, however, would not bow to this passage peacefully.

The Kid joined the members of the surveying party as they crowded into the Equity Bar, an adobe saloon of Jack Ryan, not realizing that five members of the party were Texas Rangers. He listened as Munson explained their mission, to make the survey in order that the twenty six counties could eventually be organized. The cowboys, gathered around the bar, realized that once organization took place, law and order would come, putting a damper on the wild entertainment that Tascosa had to offer — and with it, the end of free grazing on State lands.

They were not too overwhelmed with agreement as they began to discuss the possibilities among themselves. “First thing you know,” one of them voiced, “we’ll have a sheriff and judge and they’ll be wanting to close down the Equity and make it illegal for us to even have the gals in town. Since Mobeetie now has a sheriff, no one can have any fun there anymore without worryin’ about getting arrested for disturbing the peace.”

“Outlaw” Bill Moore, foreman of the LX, added his disappointment. “Once the counties have been surveyed, the next thing that’s going to happen is the Governor’s going to say all this grass that’s feeding our `horns belongs to the State and that’ll be the end of the LX, LS, LE, C Bar A, and JA and we’ll all be out of work.”

Deacon Bates, owner of the LX, standing next to Moore, looked around and in a voice loud enough to be heard in the entire room, said, “Now listen, men. This country belongs to us that first set claim to it. If the state comes in and tries to take it from us, they’ll have a war on their hands.”

Cowboys crowding the room, thundered their agreement.

Munson, seeing that his crew was in danger of being tarred and feathered and run out of town tried to smooth over the reasons for the survey, although he, himself, had requested that the rangers accompany him on the venture for protection from hot heads such as these. “You boys got it all wrong,” he said. “The state ain’t going to take the grass from you –what could they do with it, seven hundred miles from Austin. You’ll still have your ranches and maybe it’ll be a little easier to tell where one ranch begins and the other ends.”

As one of the men, standing next to the Kid, turned to him to offer a comment, his rangers badge flashed in the dim light. “Say,” he spoke, “Ain’t I met you somewhere before?”

“Probably not,” the Kid said, looking him square in the eye, “unless you been spending some time over in New Mexico Territory.”

“That’s it!” the ranger said, “I seen a poster with your face on it over in Fort Sumner when I was trying to find a half-breed that had killed a nester family down by the Yellow Houses.”

The Kid’s hand released the glass of beer and slid slowly downward towards his holstered Colt.

“Now wait a minute, friend,” the ranger said as he saw the movement. “We got plenty of troubles over here in Texas just trying to take care of our own law. I ain’t seen no posters saying you’re wanted in Texas — and New Mexico can take care of their own problems. Besides, if I tried to arrest everyone in Tascosa who might have done something illegal, I’d have to arrest the whole damned town.”

The Kid relaxed, smiled and said, “Now that’s right neighborly, friend. How about me buying you a drink?”

“Arrington,” the ranger said, shoving his hand forward, “Cap Arrington. You buy it, I’ll drink it.”

The Kid took the hand in a friendly handshake, “Bonney,” he replied, “Billy Bonney. But most folks just call me Kid.”

Munson had not been totally honest with the men in the saloon, whether knowingly or unknowingly. Politicians in Austin had been eying the Panhandle for a couple of years as the answer to one of their major problems. The Civil War had left the state destitute and the treasury had been drained dry. A new state capitol building was in dire need, the old one being a “fire-trap,” as one Senator had so aptly described it. But, alas, there were no funds to construct a new building.

The Republic of Texas became a state in 1845. It was the only state allowed to reserve all of the public land as State land, rather than Federal land. A smart move on the part of the founding fathers of the largest state in the Union, since most of the land had never been purchased or filed upon by settlers. Texas was land rich and dollar poor!

In April of 1879, the state legislature had passed legislation designating three million acres of ranch land in far northwest Texas to be reserved for barter in the construction of a new state capitol building. The reservation, stretching for two hundred miles along the New Mexico Territory border, had an average east-west depth of twenty seven miles. Beginning at the northwest corner of the Texas Panhandle and lying south , it would entail most of nine counties and a small part of the tenth — and would include many of the new ranches which had been established along the New Mexico border.

The legislators could care less if the reservation would cause hardship on the established ranches. They needed a new state house, and this was land owned by the state.

The purpose of the Munson survey at this time was to officially map the twenty six counties of the Panhandle, in order that the Capitol Reservation Land could be described and designated, and bids could be advertised for the swapping of the land for the new state capitol building. So much for the free grazing. The cowboys had good reason to be wary of the surveying party.

With the ranch owners and cowboys unaware of the long range plans, the Munson party embarked from Tascosa, less any tar and feathers, and proceeded to Buffalo Springs to begin the tremendous surveying job.