Chapter 17

As the 1890s gave way to the 20th century life began to change at the Double-M and 2-C ranches. Oil had been discovered in nearby Oklahoma and the world was moving faster than the Jacob-Harcourt family could keep up. Transportation become easier as the railway system expanded in the 1890s which eased costs a great deal. A five-year drought forced many families from their farms and into different lines of work. Many families decided to depart the area altogether.

Jacob Dunleavy or Jim Harcourt usually bought up the neighboring lands — as much to help out the troubled families as because they needed more space.

It was in early 1898 that trouble brewed next for family.

At the outset it appeared to be more a matter of lack of communication than anything serious. But it soon boiled over.

A family to the west of Jim and Juliette had decided to move farther north to try to find a suitable area to farm. Jim and Jacob decided to buy the area as a place to graze since it wasn't much use for anything else.

They fenced off the area and thought little about it. At least they though little about it until 13-year-old J.J. Harcourt and 14-year-old Susanna Dunleavy came raising up to Jim's house.

"Pa," J.J. said. "There is a bunch of cattle in the west pasture and a bunch of men camped out there."

Jacob's first thought was to wonder what his daughter was doing in the west pasture with Jim's son. He had caught the two of them casting glances back and forth for almost 6 months. Jacob wasn't troubled that it was J.J. Harcourt. He would have been troubled if it was any boy.

Susanna was her father's daughter through and through. From the time she could walk she would latch on to Jacob at every opportunity. But the time she was 6 she was with him on the range every chance she got.

Lilibeth — as Little Marnie was called — was more like her mother, Susan. She didn't mind getting her hands dirty but she would prefer spending days reading or drawing. Jacob still couldn't have been prouder of her.

The boys were typical Western boys. The rode and shot and played. The Harcourt girls — because they were so close in age — were their most ready companion and Jacob wondered what Jim would think of that situation in the coming years.

Probably the same thing Jacob thought of Susanna spending so much time with J.J., Jacob mused.

"We'll lets go check it out," Jim said. He sent the teenagers to gather some other of the hands — which now numbered almost 50 between the two ranches and Jacob and Jim headed toward the pasture.

The pair was only a few hundred yards away when Jacob heard barking and snarling. The dogs he'd purchased to help with the herds had cost a pretty penny but they had been worth it.

Plus, the kids loved them — as did his wives. It might have been the best investment in tranquility that Jacob every made.

But the dogs were territorial and they took time to warm up to strangers. If the dogs had found the men, Jacob was sure the situation was well in hand.

At least those were his thoughts until he heard a rifle crack and a dog whine. He and Jim broke into a gallop and came to the attention of the interlopes just as a man raised his rifle for a shot at a second dog.

Jacob's pistol roared before he even thought about it. Luckily for the rifleman — or maybe for Jim and Jacob — the shot was in the air.

"What the hell is going on here?" Jim roared at the top of his lungs. "Mister, you better put that rifle away before you die with it in your hands."

The man sneered a Jim but a second man reached up to the barrel and lowered it toward the ground.

"Now, I asked you what was going on here," Jim asked after he and Jacob had closed the distance.

"Had some trouble with those dogs," the second man said.

"That's because those dogs are here to keep people like you off our land," Jim answered. "That fence was put up for the same reason. Now you take these steers back the way you came. This is our land and your cattle is eating the pasture we own for our steers."

The second man didn't move.

"Can't do that, Mister," he answered. "My Pa told us to take them through here and we mean to do it. The railway's up that way and this is the best way from our place to the stockyard."

"And that's a damned shame," Jacob said. "But it don't change the fact that you ain't taking them across our land. Now I suspect you'll want to head back the way you came."

Jacob had heard his hands coming from behind him and he knew the numbers were in his favor now.

"Except for this one," Jacob added, pointing the man with the rifle in his hand. "He stays here."

"Like hell he's staying here," the second man said. He too had seen the numbers changing.

"Then ain't none of you leaving here alive," Jacob answered. His pistol appeared in his hand almost by magic — a couple of the riders with the trespassers took a step back.

Jim Harcourt had his pistol in his hand, too, and was aiming at the man with the rifle.

"Now, you either change your mind or we bury you here with my dog," Jacob said.

The second man was flustered.

"You don't know who you're dealing with," he said in a voice that came out suspiciously like a whine. "My father will kill you. Ralph Bellamy owns this state."

"A lot have tried that and a lot of men died thinking that," Jim answered. "Men with a lot more balls than either you or your dad, I'll bet. Yet here we are. Now either you do as Jacob said, take your stock back through the fence and get on home or we'll send your body back to your old man."

Jacob cast a sideways glance toward Jim.

"This man and the stock stays here," Jacob announced. "This man is going to bury my dog then I'm going to give him 50 lashes for trespassing and killing it. Your Pa can have his beef back when he pays for the damages to our fence, our land and my dog. I guess about $500 should cover it. You tell him to come see me at the Double-M with the money and I'll turn his stock back to him."

"But you tell if we've got to come get our money from him, you'll get the same 50 lashes for trespassing on our land, boy," Jim added. "You got 30 seconds to get moving or we start killing — and boy, you're first."

The boy's face was red with anger and frustration. The man had his gun leveled at him so there was no way for him to even make a play. It would have been suicide. And Ralph Bellamy Jr. was not suicidal. He also saw his side was outnumbered by almost a dozen. So he made a motion toward his men to start back toward the fence they had cut.

"What are you doing leaving me here?" the man with the rifle screamed at his friend's departing back. "Wait until I tell your Pa how big a coward you are."