MacCallister Kingdom Come by William W. Johnstone Page A

your pint to the table. I’ll introduce you to my friend and you can tell us who you might be, and how it is that you know my name.”
    The bartender drew a mug of beer and handed it to the Englishman, who carried it over to the table.
    â€œThe name is Hanson, sir. Cal Hanson. I represent a group of businessmen from my country who have invested in land in Texas. We intend to build a cattle ranch there, and I am to manage the operation. I know who you are because I’ve come to do business with you. That is, if you have some Black Angus cattle you would be willing to sell.”
    â€œAye, I’ve cattle, and my business is selling them.”
    â€œGood, good. I’m sure we’ll be able to do some business then. I thought it would take me a few days to find you. It was most fortuitous that I happened upon you in the first pub I visited.”
    â€œYou didn’t just happen on me, Mr. Hanson, for Fiddlers’ Green is the only pub I frequent. The owner is a good friend of mine. And this is my friend, Jason Bowles. By coincidence, he is a sheriff in Texas.”
    â€œMr. Hanson, Texas is a very big state, so I know that the chances of this are quite remote,” Jason said, “but I’ve heard that a group of Englishmen are starting a ranch in Maverick County.”
    â€œMaverick County,” Hanson said. “Indeed, sir, that is where Regency Ranch is to be located. Would that be the county where you are sheriff?”
    â€œYes, it is,” Jason replied.
    â€œTexas may be large, but the world is small. It would appear, Sheriff, that we shall be neighbors, sir. I will endeavor to be a good neighbor.”
    Hanson reached across the table and he and Jason shook hands.
    â€œRegency Ranch, you say? That’s quite a classy name for a ranch,” Jason said.
    â€œYes, but it is appropriate, as I am but a regent of the consortium that is financing the operation.”
    â€œDo you have autonomy?” Duff asked.
    â€œYes.” Hanson smiled. “It helps, somewhat, to be the majority stockholder of the consortium.
    Jason chuckled. “I would say so.”
    Hanson finished his beer. “And now, gentlemen, if you would allow me, I would like to buy the next round of drinks.”
    â€œIf we would allow you? Here, ’n what Scotsman would turn down an offer to take an Englishman’s money?”
    â€œOr anyone’s money if you are a true Scotsman,” Hanson teased.
    Robbins, New Mexico Territory
    â€œOyez, oyez, oyez, this here court of Lincoln County, Robbins, New Mexico, will now come to order, the Honorable Earl Nesbit presiding. All rise.”
    There was a scrape of chairs, a rustle of pants, petticoats, and skirts as the spectators in the courtroom, which wasn’t really a courtroom, but a schoolhouse, rose at the bailiff’s decree.
    The two defendants were A. M. Jaco and Blue Putt. Jaco had a swarthy complexion and it was known that he was a half-breed. What wasn’t known was what breed he was half of. He didn’t actually have a first name. He had only the initials A.M. and since he didn’t like that, he had always been called Jaco. Blue Putt was an albino, with chalk white skin, white hair, and pink eyes.
    The two men were being charged with the murder of Marvin Drew and his wife and daughter. There was no question as to who did it. Having survived his gunshot wound, young Mickey Drew was present, and was prepared to stand up in court and identify them again, this time for the judge and jury.
    Judge Nesbit was a big man, with a square face and piercing blue eyes, so his presence was immediately felt. He moved quickly to the bench, then sat down. “Be seated.”
    The gallery sat, then watched as the two defendants were brought in.
    â€œYour Honor, I’m going to make this case quick and simple,” prosecutor Bill Gillespie said. “These two men killed Marvin Drew, his wife Zelda, and his daughter, Jean