Chapter 3

We waited across the street from the large office and waited for Dewey to signal us that it was time to meet. The plan was for him to hit them with the two hard choices and have them ready to speak in a civilized manner. Then Opal Anne and I would come in and kick the shit out of them.

No, that’s what Opal Anne wanted to do. She was still in a killing mood after losing her dearest friend, my brothers and the baby. She still just wanted to walk in with Rory’s shotgun and blow several men flat in half. I kept telling her that doing that would seal our fate and that there was a better way. I was watching the door of the Cattle Company and saw a small, mousy man stand out in front and wave a white handkerchief up and down three times.

“Everyone,” I said. “There’s someone making Dewey’s signal. Let’s go.”

She took my hand and the five of us walked across the street. The five of us included my wife and me, our daughter Pauli sitting comfortably in her sling, Mr. Beshoar, the publisher of the newspaper in Pueblo and his secretary, Mr. Simms. We figured if we were going to come to an end that all of us should go together. Michelle O’Dell, Mick and Betty Mae’s daughter, was safe with Doc and Daisy back in Fountain City. I also felt that Pauli’s presence would calm Opal Anne.

We walked to the building and approached the small man.

“We’re here to meet with the Secretary of State and the owner of this shit hole!” Opal Anne pulled no punches.

The small man frowned and stared at us like we were ants beneath him and seemed ready to tell us to leave. He suddenly pulled back his expression and in a very stiff and formal manner said, “We were not aware that there were to be so many at this meeting. Mr. and Mrs. O’Dell, please come with me.”

“And what of these two gentlemen?” I asked.

His attitude was starting to get to me. “Who are they?”

“They are our independent fair witnesses,” I said with a smile.

The mousy man led us though the lobby and along a long carpet to a reception desk. Opal Anne paused as she was about to pass the young woman at the reception desk and loudly announced, “If you hear shooting, I suggest you head out the front door fast, because if it comes to shooting, I’ll be killing everything I see moving.”

The eyes of the small man leading us almost blew out of his head. He looked at me for some sort of calmness and I gave it to him with an expression that I heard Doc describe a few times in Fountain City as “Serious as a heart attack”.

“P ... p ... please come with me,” he stuttered and turned back towards the door.

We followed and I squeezed Opal Anne’s hand. I wasn’t sure if I was calming her or letting her know that I felt the same way. We followed the mouse down a long hallway past several offices where glances inside were returned with looks of shock by the people inside.

At the end of the hall a door was open, and the mouse led us in.

“Mr. and Mrs. O’Dell,” he announced. “And friends.”

“Friends?” Mr. Wilks looked up and scowled. “Beshoar!”

“Hello, Wilks.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been asked my Mr. and Mrs. O’Dell to come and witness the proceedings.”

Dewey stood and walked to us. He shook Opal Anne’s hand first and then mine. By doing Opal Anne first he established that she was a primary in this meeting. He shook hands with Mr. Beshoar and Mr. Simms before directing Opal Anne and I to two chairs on the long side of a large table. The newspaper men took chairs off to the side of the room and Mr. Simms began to write on one of his two pads of paper. I remained standing, waiting for Opal Anne to sit first. Then I sat next to her and took her hand again.

I looked across the large table at the three men before me. The mousy man had taken a seat across from us and to my left. He was looking very nervous. Another man sat in the middle and was looking smug, and a man, looking like he had a brain in his head, sat to my right. I scanned the rest of the room, looking for an exit if things got rough.

“Mr. O’Dell...” The mouse spoke.

“Who are you?” I immediately interrupted him.

“I am Mr. Samuel Moses, the lawyer for the Pueblo Cattle Management Company,” he looked so very self-important.

“I’m not here to talk to you, get out.”

“I will not! I’m here to represent the Mr. Wilks and the Company.”

“And I’m here to kill the people who murdered my family. Are you one of them? If so, I can take care of you right now.”

With those words the man shrank into an even smaller stance.

“Mr. O’Dell, hopefully we can come to an agreement where there will be no killing,” the man on my right spoke with the calm voice of someone who knew what was going on.

“And you would be?”

“I am Secretary of State, Norman Meldrum.”

I stood and offered my hand; he accepted it and then, wisely, offered a hand to Opal Anne.

“I asked you to come to this meeting,” he continued, “and would like very much to see this end in a civilized manner.”

“Were the twelve men that it took to kill my brother Mick civilized? Or were the six men who came into my brothers prospecting camp and murdered my brother Rory’s wife and infant son and then him civilized? Or perhaps you are calling the twenty-five men who attacked my home and killed my brother Mick’s wife, Betty Mae, civilized? You want a civilized ending to this, give me the people responsible for their deaths. If I don’t get that, then I want everything that looks like civilization off of the property the King of Spain granted me.”

There was a dead silence for what seemed like several minutes, then Opal Anne spoke up.

“Look, my husband is the soft one here. I’m the hard case. I want to take every man involved with this company and cut off his cock and stuff it in his mouth and then drive them down the main street until they bleed out.”

“You!” the smug man in the middle shouted at my wife.

“And who are you?” I asked.

“I am Mr. James Wilks, the president of this company, and you’re the b...”

“WILKS!” I gave him pause when I stood and put my hand on my pistol. “If you say the word that I think you’re going to say, you’ll be dead before you hit the floor.”

Although his mouth continued to open and close in shock, no words came out of Mr. James Wilks’ mouth.

“I am the President of the Pueblo Cattle Management Company,” he said more cautiously.

“Then you are first man who needs to die!” Opal Anne said, pulling her pistol out from behind our daughter.

“Opal Anne! Hold off,” I shouted.

Mr. Wilks looked a lot less smug with the small .36 caliber Colt pointed at his forehead.

“Mrs. O’Dell! Please calm down!” the Secretary said rather firmly and yet calmly.

She looked at me and I nodded. She slowly let the hammer go back into its uncocked position and then slowly lowered the pistol, returning it to its holster behind Pauli, while enjoying the growing sweat on Mr. James Wilks face.

“Good,” the Secretary said. “Now please, I understand your absolute anger over the deaths of your family. I’m told that Mr. Wilks doesn’t know anything about it.”

“One of the few surviving agents for this Company told us that we were suspected of rustling cattle and that we had a gang of men on our property on the plain.”

“That’s not true,” Mr. Moses said.

“It is, and we have a survivor of those attacks who will tell that story in open court before they hang you, Wilks,” I said quietly. “I intend to see everyone who had a hand in the murders, who ordered the murders, and who hired the men who authorized and/or carried out the murders, hell, the men who took care of their horses, hung or shot.”

“And Mr. Secretary,” Opal Anne stepped in. “If that means that you lose a portion of the State of Colorado, that’s your problem. Now where do we go from here?”

Mr. Wilks stood and walked to the door, opened it and screamed out a name.

“POTTS!”

In a matter of seconds, a man came to the door and Wilks spoke to him. Potts nodded and walked away. Wilks turned, returned to his seat behind his big desk, took a breath and spoke.

“I’ve sent for all the information we have on the situation. I’ve not been fully versed on everything.”

“I’ll tell you that your man said he and the others were told that we were rustling cattle and had an army.”

“I understand what you were told. I had my people look into who came up with that information. The area you are in isn’t on any of the normal routes’ cattle are driven to Pueblo. It just never sounded right.”

Just then there was a knock on the door and Potts came in with a big file. He walked to the desk and handed the file to Wilks. He opened the file and handed a small stack of papers to Dewey and the Secretary. Dewey began to read the file and at some point, on the second page he stopped and dropped the file on the floor. I leaned forward to pick it up when he touched my arm and spoke.

“Paul don’t read that! It is a bucket of bullshit. I’ll make my copy available to you Mr. Beshoar.”

Wilks looked at Dewey and then at Mr. Beshoar, and then me. Opal Anne pulled out her pistol and began to slowly rock Pauli in her sling. She looked at Wilks and he began to sweat, again. The Secretary kept reading for a few more pages.

“Mr. Howe?” The Secretary asked. “Are you saying that this is not correct?”

“Mr. Meldrum,” the lawyer explained, “the O’Dells are miners. They have no interest in cattle in any way, shape, or form. Even back on their farm in Nebraska they didn’t deal in cattle. They were farmers. I want the name of the man who compiled this load of bullshit. I want him on the list of men to hang.”

Potts began to sweat at the sound of that threat. He slowly began to move towards the door, but Opal Anne pointed her pistol at him. He froze in place just when she began to speak.

“Potts, is it?”

“Yes ma’am,” he answered weakly.

“Why are you leaving? Did you have a hand in writing that report? Are you one of the men I’m going to enjoy killing?”

The man’s knees went a bit weak.

“Opal Anne! Leave the man alone. I don’t think that he’s high enough on the ladder to be making decisions. Dewey, you read some of the report, I’ll let you ask the questions.”

“Mr. Wilks,” Dewey said coldly as he leaned over and picked the report off the floor. “According to this, you sent a dozen men to look into cattle being rustled along the trail from the mountains to Fountain City. That ended in the death of Mr. Mick O’Dell but not before he killed eleven of them. What was the basis of your belief?”

“I don’t remember that I was informed of the source of the information. When I heard that we were losing cattle in that area I sent agents out to stop it.”