William Johnstone - Snake River Slaughter

“Mr. Kincaid, I am commanding officer of the Idaho Auxiliary Peace Officers’ Posse, duly deputized and authorized by the territory of Idaho to enforce the peace and uphold the law. Now, I admit that the law is often as I interpret it to be, and I also admit that in the performance of this duty, people are sometimes killed,” Sherman said, “but I want it well understood that I don’t kill on command, and I am not a professional executioner.”

“I’m sorry,” Kincaid said. “I guess I just didn’t realize you were so particular about killing.”

“I’m not particular about killing. In my business, it is sometimes necessary to kill. But I will choose the time, the place, and most importantly, I will choose who I am to kill. If you want someone killed, hire an assassin.”

“I thought I had hired one when I hired Poke Terrell.”

“Really? It was my understanding that what you really wanted was for Poke to help you take possession of Coventry Ranch. Am I wrong?”

“No, you are right. That is what I wanted. It is what I still want.”

“Do you have a plan in mind?”

“Not a plan, exactly. But I do have the means of bringing it about. I hold the mortgage on the ranch,” Kincaid said. “Kitty Wellington doesn’t know this. She thinks the bank still has the mortgage. She believes that, even if she defaults on the loan, she will still have the opportunity to save the ranch by negotiating an extension. But her loan is due on July fourth, and if she defaults on repayment, even by so much as one day, the ranch comes to me. There will be no auction. I will simply take possession of it.”

“Then the objective is to make her default on the loan.”

“Yes.”

“What does Matt Jensen have to do with that?”

“Kitty has a contract to supply horses to the U.S. Army. This contract will give her enough money to pay off the loan, but in order to fulfill the contract, she must deliver the horses to the army depot in Chicago. She has hired Matt Jensen to see to it that she gets her horses through to Chicago in time to pay off the loan.”

“So as I understand it, Mr. Kincaid, you want us to see to it that her horses don’t get to Chicago in time to pay off the loan,” Sherman said.

“Yes,” Sherman replied. “That’s it exactly.”

“I see,” Sherman said. “But tell me this. What is the legal basis for using the posse?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“There are those who consider the posse a ‘court of last resort’ if you will. But if we are a court of last resort, that means you must have a case that could be argued in court. Now, if you were to take your case to court, what would be your argument.”

“I took my case to court and I lost,” Kincaid said.

“What was your argument?”

“My argument was that I had a greater right to inherit the land than did a widow of but a year.”

“No, that won’t do. What other legal basis do you have for using the court of last resort?”

“I don’t know,” Kincaid admitted. “I mean, I am willing to pay you, whatever you ask. But I don’t know any legal basis for using you.”

“You do know, don’t you, that I don’t do anything unless I have some legal coverage?”

“Uh, no, I didn’t know that. Poke was working for me, I didn’t think it mattered whether it was legal or not.”

Sherman chuckled. “You are right. You didn’t think,” he said. “But it did matter for Poke, and it matters for me. I don’t commit the posse to anything, unless there is a legal basis for the commitment.”

“I see,” Kincaid said, crestfallen. “I thought maybe if I paid enough that maybe—”

Inexplicably, Sherman laughed. “Don’t worry about it, Kincaid,” he said. “Fortunately for you, I have found what we need. I have found a law that will cover any participation by the Auxiliary Peace Officers’ Posse.”

“What? Do you mean to say there is a law that will help me get control of Coventry?”

“Well, the law is not specifically drawn to give you control of Conventry,” Sherman said. “But it is drawn in such a way as to prevent Mrs. Wellington from selling her horses to the army, or to anyone else. And that would accomplish the same thing, would it not?”

“Yes, of course it would,” Kincaid said excitedly. “But I must confess that I am curious. What law would that be?”

“Have you ever heard of herd management law?”

“No, I can’t say that I have.”

“Let me read this to you,” Sherman said, pulling a book down from a shelf behind him and opening it. It was obvious that he had given this particular law a lot of thought, because he was able to open it to a pre-marked page.

“This is from the Idaho Territorial Livestock Law, paragraph twenty-five, subparagraph three, stroke two. It is called the Herd Management Law.”

Sherman cleared his throat, then began to read.

“The Livestock Commission of the territory of Idaho shall have power to create, modify, or eliminate herd management districts within such counties as hereinafter provided; and when such district is so created, modified, or eliminated, the provisions of this chapter shall apply and be enforceable therein. In a district that is set aside for cattle, no one shall run horses, mules, asses, sheep, or goats in excess of what is needed for the immediate operation of the ranch without specific authorization from the Livestock Commission. Such regulation or control is provided by the creation of a herd management district pursuant to the provisions of this chapter. The provisions of this chapter shall apply with immediate effect, subject to any modification as may hereinafter be enacted.”

Sherman closed the book and smiled at Kincaid. “There is your legal basis,” he said.

Kincaid shook his head in confusion. “I don’t have the slightest idea what you just said to me.”

“Is Kitty Wellington raising horses?” Sherman asked.

“Yes.”

“Would you say she is raising more horses than are required to run her ranch?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“I have checked all the filings in the herd district that apply to Coventry on the Snake, and there has been no authorization specifically granted for her to run horses.” Sherman thumped on the book he had just read. “Therefore, according to this, she is in violation of the law.”

“She is? Then I don’t know why the territorial government hasn’t stopped her. Everyone knows she is raising horses, there was even an article about it in The Boise Statesman .”

“The territorial government hasn’t done anything about it, because they probably don’t even realize she is in violation. This law was written primarily to prevent trouble by keeping the sheep herders and cattle ranchers separated.”

“Then we should tell the government about her,” Kincaid suggested.

Sherman shook his head. “No, that is the last thing you want to do,” he said.

“No?”

“Not if you really want to stop her,” Sherman explained.

“I don’t understand.”

“Look. If the agriculture commission realized that this law, which as I said was primarily designed to keep cattle and sheep apart, was stopping a productive horse ranching operation, they would simply grant her an exception to the law, and the posse would have no legal basis for involvement. But”—he said, holding up his finger to emphasize a point—“as it stands now, minus that exception, she is in violation of the law, and that is all the cover we need.”

With that explanation, Kincaid understood, and he nodded his head. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I see what you mean.”

“Now, Mr. Kincaid,” Sherman said. “As a cattle rancher, if you wish to file a complaint because someone in your country is violating the herd management law, that will give the Idaho Auxiliary Peace Officers’ Posse a legal basis for getting involved. Do you wish to hire the posse to enforce that law?”