MacCallister Kingdom Come by William W. Johnstone

which piece is mine.”
    â€œWhat about that little pouch thing you’re a-carryin’? Do you want to leave that here, as well?”
    â€œNo, thank you. I’ll take care of it myself.”
    After making the arrangements for his luggage, Hanson went to the bank, and, stepping up to the teller’s cage, put the briefcase on the counter beside him. “My good man, I just arrived on the afternoon coach, and would like to open an account.”
    â€œVery well sir. We’ll be glad to oblige.” The teller opened a book, entered Nathan Hanson’s name, then had him sign it. “All right, Mr. Hanson, how much do you wish to put in your account? Fifty dollars? One hundred?”
    â€œThirty thousand,” Hanson said.
    The bank teller gasped. “How much did you say?”
    â€œThirty thousand,” Hanson repeated. “I have it right here.”
    Hanson loosened the straps on the briefcase, then opened it. When he did so, it exposed several stacks of money.
    â€œGood Lord, man! Are you telling me that you had all that money with you on the stagecoach?”
    â€œYes. I thought it would be more convenient for me to bring the money with me.”
    â€œI don’t know that it was such a good idea for you to have so much money on your person. You were wise to say nothing about it.”
    â€œYes, I thought that would be the better part of discretion.”
    The teller chuckled. “You’re a foreigner, aren’t you?”
    â€œHow could you tell?” Hanson asked, though the teller didn’t pick up on his sarcasm.
    â€œI can tell by the way you talk. Don’t get me wrong, we’ve got nothing against foreigners in this town. One of our leading citizens is a foreigner.” The bank teller offered no further information. He was busy recording the deposit.
    The money Hanson deposited wasn’t his alone. Though he was the majority investor, the consortium consisted of English investors who had bought a ranch in Texas. Hanson was going to manage it for them. After doing a little research, he’d decided that, instead of longhorns or Herefords, it would be more profitable to raise Black Angus. The others agreed with him, and gave him carte blanche to do whatever he felt was necessary.
    That same research had led him to Chugwater, where he planned to buy Black Angus cattle from a man named Duff MacCallister. He’d decided that, under the circumstances, the transaction could be better facilitated if he paid in cash, rather than waiting for a bank draft to be enacted.
    Hanson had not met with Duff, nor had he communicated with him. but he was sure that two honest men could make a business arrangement that would be satisfactory to both sides. From what he had learned about Duff MacCallister, he was certain he was an honest man.
    Even if he was a Scotsman.

Chapter Seven
    With the money safely deposited, Hanson left the bank, and seeing Fiddlers’ Green, he decided to go there. One of the first things he had learned since arriving in this country was that, in America, just as it was in England, a pub is where you went if you wanted to find out what was going on in the local community.
    Removing his hat, he went into the saloon and stepped up to the bar.
    â€œYes sir, mister, what can I get for you?” the bartender asked.
    â€œI wonder if I might trouble you for a pint.”
    â€œA pint? A pint of what?”
    Duff heard the man order, and noticing his accent, he chuckled, and turned toward the bar. “Sure now, Willie, and if Biff were here, he would be for knowin’ what that is. Give him a mug of beer and put it on my tab.” He turned toward the stranger. “If I’m right, you’d be an Englishman.”
    â€œI am, sir, and I can tell that you are Scottish by your brogue. Might I also presume that you are Duff MacCallister?”
    â€œAye, ye can presume that, and ’tis right ye are in your presumption. Bring