1. Luke’s Book. 1877
SAN ANTONIO TEXAS Denny
Andrews
It
was hot as Luke stepped off the train in San Antonio. Not a searing, dry, Kansas heat but a wet,
south Texas heat, the kind that gives a steamy, sodden, oppressive feeling in
every step. The sun shone so brightly
that everyone out in it was hunched over, as if walking in a glaring
storm. It was late May, 1877 and the
Galveston Railway, also known as the Sunset Line, had opened up only three
months before. Luke Dawson, son of Prentiss
Dawson, Colonel of Cavalry under Sheridan, was making his first trip to “Sawn
Awntoneyo,” as it was locally pronounced.
Luke was a special agent for Wells Fargo and Company. Lloyd Tevis, president of Wells Fargo, had
hired him after Luke had returned $48,000 to them. Luke having recovered the money in a battle
to the death with the Bar H, a ranch trying to take over the Circle D. The Circle D ranch in Kansas was owned by
Luke’s Dad.
Luke could hear spirited negotiations in two languages, as vendors
haggled with passengers, while he walked back to the freight car to retrieve
his rig. Carrying them like a second
skin, he wore a pair of single-action 1873 model Colt Revolvers in .44-40
caliber, a gift from his Dad. The open
carrying of weapons was not unusual almost everyone was armed.
While most men who thought themselves “salty” carried their pistols low
and tied down, Luke did not. He carried
his pistols waist high, but in a cross draw arrangement in leather holsters
that were hard cured and shiny on the inside.
This cross draw was the same style that his mentor, friend, and hero
“Wild Bill” Hickock had used.
Luke lifted his black Stetson off his head to let the air cool him a
little. He picked up his bag and started
toward the back of the train to retrieve his horse a little bay with lots of
stamina. His custom boots made small
puffs of dust as he walked.
Suddenly Luke was jostled, hard. Even in this packed crowd it wasn’t difficult
to see who had done it. A large Mexican
large even by Anglo standards was standing there. He wore peasant garb consisting of white
pants, a white overshirt and a sombrero.
He wore boots, instead of the customary sandals and had a Colt .44
caliber 1860 model Army percussion revolver strapped down low on his right side
and tied down. His big handlebar
mustache twitched as he smirked, “Why don’ choo get out of thee way, Gringo?”
Luke, though standing just over six feet, looked up at the big Mexican
and smiled, a tightlipped mirthless smile.
Then he started back around on his way. The Mexican, a hardcase named Juan
Garza, shoved Luke back again. “Hey,
Ah’m talkin’ to joo, Meester Fancy Guns.
Wha’s a’ matter, you do’no wheech way to walk?”
Luke thought, “With this heat I don’t know if I can be any more
miserable. I guess I’m going to find
out.”
The crowd had separated as if by magic, leaving the two men facing each
other. Luke sighed, he smiled his grim
smile again and stepped aside to his left.
Then he gave an exaggerated bow, with his right hand sweeping the way in
front of Garza. In the process of moving
back his right hand, Luke also brought back his right leg while balancing on
his left foot and dropped his bag. The
crowd snickered at this obvious mockery of the proud Garza. Garza’s smirk changed to a snarl and he
reached for his pistol. His second
mistake of the day. With his hand
already wrapped around his pistol butt, he thought he had a big advantage since
Luke’s pistols still had rawhide thongs placed over the hammers to keep them
from falling out of the holsters........................................................
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