Chapter 1 – The War Goes On

Some men and I reckon even a few women can't stop fighting the War Between the States. It may have officially ended about a month and a week shy of 11 years ago, but there are those who can't accept Lee's surrender back on April 9, 1865. They have to keep up the fight. Some, from both sides, carry it on as loners because they can't get out of the habit of killing. Others carry out maneuvers against the Yankees and their money by robbing banks and railroads. Beauregard Fletcher MacDonald wasn't a hardened killer or the apparent leader of a gang posing as his army, but he was still fighting the war. He was firmly convinced of the justice of his cause – so convinced that he was unwilling to give it up for the sake of peace or let others reconcile either.

I knew nothing about him the evening he arrived in town to perform reconnaissance, as he put it. Fact is I paid very little attention to the man of about 40 who was dressed like a Southern gentleman come to town from his plantation. He booked a room at the Dodge House, signing in with General in front of B. F. MacDonald. I didn't see him that first night. He ate supper in the hotel dining room I was later told and then retired to his room overlooking Front Street, keeping to himself until after his breakfast the next morning.

MacDonald probably wouldn't have been noticed at all during the hurrahing that takes place during the cattle season, but this was the first of March 1876. Dodge City was about as quiet as it ever gets. If not for the cold and the occasional late winter blizzard, I could have taken Kitty fishing. Instead, we enjoyed our time together up in her rooms when we wanted to be less than public. I'd left the bed we share just after dawn and had returned for a possible second go-round if there were no customers for either of us to handle. Instead we strolled down the street together toward the bank. We both had business with Mr. Bodkin, the bank president. The man I later learned was MacDonald was haranguing the tellers, but I couldn't hear what it was about.

Kitty immediately recognized him from his attire and accent as the former plantation owner that he was. She'd met many apparent gentlemen like him while growing up rather too quickly in New Orleans. He looked somewhat prosperous. Perhaps he was trying to secure a loan for some business venture or other. Kitty and I continued toward Bodkin's office until Wilbur Jonas stepped in front of us, which was most uncharacteristic of the general store owner, a quiet man. He would politely put up with Chester's shenanigans long after my assistant would have exasperated most other men.

"Marshal, I hate to bother you, but you've got to do something about that man. He's keeping those of us who have businesses to run from getting our transactions done in a timely manner. Can't you hurry him along?"

"Sorry Jonas. Holding up progress at the bank isn't against the law. You and your customers will just have to be patient. I'm sure he'll finish his business soon."

Sure enough, as soon as Jonas went back to his place in line MacDonald finished his business. Before I closed the door behind me to the bank president's office I noticed he walked out with Josiah Wilkins, a nester who'd been in Ford County for the past five years but was none too prosperous despite the hard work put in by him and his three sons.

It didn't take long for either Kitty or me to complete our transactions with Bodkin, although at first he was hesitant to deal with both of us at the same time. We assured him there was nothing the other wouldn't know about before long. Within minutes he'd approved a small loan for her to hire workmen to complete some renovations to her building, particularly concerning some of the upstairs rooms and the area behind the bar. My reason for seeing him had to do with the handling of a gold shipment coming in from the Denver mint. As soon as I outlined my plan for protecting it once the stage entered the western reaches of Ford County, I was also ready to leave.

Despite the short time we spent in the bank both Wilkins and MacDonald were nowhere in sight when I escorted Kitty back to the Long Branch. I didn't think anything of it then, but maybe I should have. Instead I left her heading to the safe in her office to put away the money from the loan with a promise to see her later. The later was supper at Delmonico's at seven that evening.

MacDonald was in the restaurant when Kitty and I found our table. He sat facing the door watching as the customers filed in. Reginald Crestwood sat to his left. I never could figure why Crestwood chose Dodge as his home after the war, but he was largely responsible for bringing the cattle herds up from Texas. As soon as Fort Sumter was fired upon, he made his way east to from his East Texas home to Fort Smith, Arkansas to offer his services as an officer. When the war ended he seized the opportunity to convince his fellow Texans that there was money to be made and a way to get back at the Yankee usurpers in Kansas by selling the free-ranging longhorn cattle in the towns growing up along the expanding railroad lines. It seems he was well aware of the effect of the ticks to which Texas cattle were immune but Kansas' cattle weren't. He soon became one of the top cattle buyers after settling in Dodge not long after Kitty arrived. Like many of the men who made the ride with the herds each year, he was an unrepentant Southern sympathizer who particularly hated Kansans.

Again I ignored him and his supper companion. If MacDonald was planning on settling here he had every right to talk to the other businessmen in town. Although Crestwood still championed the Southern cause and wasn't a man I cared to associate with unless I had to, he'd always stayed within the law. At least I never caught him breaking any, but I was sure I'd find he had if the proof ever turned up. The two left together. Crestwood paid the bill. I'd been watching closely, but even so I missed the quick look of contempt MacDonald sent our way. Kitty didn't. What I saw was that look far too many men get when they gaze upon her. I was sure someone would set him straight, but if it came to it, I would.