Product Description
Dillon arrives back home in Waco to discover that a 5-member gang of con artists have been preying on the local town folk. The MacDonald Clan are five brothers, Scottish immigrants, who have been moving through Texas, hitting every town, big and small. Dillon stops their criminal activity outside Waco.
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Colin MacDonald entered the tent in a rush, "Let's pack up. We're leavin' tonight!"
Colin was the oldest of the five MacDonald brothers and, therefore, the head of the Clan. Their parents were Scottish immigrants, now retired and living in New York City. The brothers were con artists and tricksters, taught the game by their parents. Wanted for plying their trade in Arkansas, Kansas, and Oklahoma, the brothers were now working Texas.
Max was the second oldest and always at odds with his older brother. "What do you mean we're leavin' tonight! We've only been workin' Dallas for two days! We can clean up in a city this size!"
"No arguments! I was just in town and the sheriff and a group of town folk are lookin' to tar 'n feather us. If we were stayin' in town instead of out here, we'd be in jail right now. Everybody knows his job, so let's get to it."
The MacDonald brothers had been working their cons for five years and had never been caught because they never stayed in a town too long. Word of their scams always spread quickly, so Colin had to keep a close eye on the mood of a town and determine when to move on.
George said, "John and I will get the wagons ready."
"Murray, you get started with the horses,"
"I know my job assignment, Colin."
"We'll move on to Fort Worth for a couple of days."
In less than an hour they were gone,
**
Fort Worth had become a boom town since the arrival of the Texas and Pacific Railway, transforming the Fort Worth Stockyards into a premier cattle industry and wholesale trade center. Located on a bluff above the Trinity River, the town soon became home to Hell's Half Acre, the biggest collection of bars, dance halls and bawdy houses south of Dodge City, Kansas (the northern terminus of the Chisholm Trail), giving Fort Worth the nickname of "The Paris of the Plains."
As the brothers rode through town, Colin said, "We should do good here. What with all these bars and dance halls and all the cowboys, we should be all but unnoticeable. Let's find a place to make camp south of town, maybe on the river. We'll come back into town tonight."
The MacDonald brothers rode back into Fort Worth at around six o'clock and spent the good part of half an hour surveying the town. Most of the bars, dance halls, and gambling halls were on Main Street, Houston Street, and along Weatherford Street.
Max said with more than a little irritation in his voice, "For Christ's sake, Colin, let's stop somewhere and get started! We're wastin' time with all this ridin' around!"
Colin shot back, "Shut up, Max! We need to get the layout of this place first!"
Murray made his attempt, "Can we at least eat someplace? I haven't eaten since breakfast."
"None of us have, Murray. I saw several places on Main Street. Let's head over there."
"Thank you!"
After supper, Colin layed out the plans for the night, "OK, I'll do the soaps. George, you and John will be me shills. Max, you'll be me backup and lookout. Murray, why don't you go down on Rusk Street and run the shell game. Don't stay longer than half an hour."
Max said, "Why don't you let me run the soaps? How am I ever going to get good at it if YOU always do it?"
"You can run it tomorrow, OK? Tonight I'll start things off,"
Colin's team moved to the corner of Main and Second Streets, where he opened his tripe and keister (display case on a tripod). Piling ordinary five-cent soap cakes onto the keister top, he began expounding on their wonders. As he spoke to the growing crowd of curious onlookers, he pulled out his wallet and begin wrapping paper money, ranging from one dollar up to one hundred dollars, around a select few of the bars.
-------
Colin MacDonald entered the tent in a rush, "Let's pack up. We're leavin' tonight!"
Colin was the oldest of the five MacDonald brothers and, therefore, the head of the Clan. Their parents were Scottish immigrants, now retired and living in New York City. The brothers were con artists and tricksters, taught the game by their parents. Wanted for plying their trade in Arkansas, Kansas, and Oklahoma, the brothers were now working Texas.
Max was the second oldest and always at odds with his older brother. "What do you mean we're leavin' tonight! We've only been workin' Dallas for two days! We can clean up in a city this size!"
"No arguments! I was just in town and the sheriff and a group of town folk are lookin' to tar 'n feather us. If we were stayin' in town instead of out here, we'd be in jail right now. Everybody knows his job, so let's get to it."
The MacDonald brothers had been working their cons for five years and had never been caught because they never stayed in a town too long. Word of their scams always spread quickly, so Colin had to keep a close eye on the mood of a town and determine when to move on.
George said, "John and I will get the wagons ready."
"Murray, you get started with the horses,"
"I know my job assignment, Colin."
"We'll move on to Fort Worth for a couple of days."
In less than an hour they were gone,
**
Fort Worth had become a boom town since the arrival of the Texas and Pacific Railway, transforming the Fort Worth Stockyards into a premier cattle industry and wholesale trade center. Located on a bluff above the Trinity River, the town soon became home to Hell's Half Acre, the biggest collection of bars, dance halls and bawdy houses south of Dodge City, Kansas (the northern terminus of the Chisholm Trail), giving Fort Worth the nickname of "The Paris of the Plains."
As the brothers rode through town, Colin said, "We should do good here. What with all these bars and dance halls and all the cowboys, we should be all but unnoticeable. Let's find a place to make camp south of town, maybe on the river. We'll come back into town tonight."
The MacDonald brothers rode back into Fort Worth at around six o'clock and spent the good part of half an hour surveying the town. Most of the bars, dance halls, and gambling halls were on Main Street, Houston Street, and along Weatherford Street.
Max said with more than a little irritation in his voice, "For Christ's sake, Colin, let's stop somewhere and get started! We're wastin' time with all this ridin' around!"
Colin shot back, "Shut up, Max! We need to get the layout of this place first!"
Murray made his attempt, "Can we at least eat someplace? I haven't eaten since breakfast."
"None of us have, Murray. I saw several places on Main Street. Let's head over there."
"Thank you!"
After supper, Colin layed out the plans for the night, "OK, I'll do the soaps. George, you and John will be me shills. Max, you'll be me backup and lookout. Murray, why don't you go down on Rusk Street and run the shell game. Don't stay longer than half an hour."
Max said, "Why don't you let me run the soaps? How am I ever going to get good at it if YOU always do it?"
"You can run it tomorrow, OK? Tonight I'll start things off,"
Colin's team moved to the corner of Main and Second Streets, where he opened his tripe and keister (display case on a tripod). Piling ordinary five-cent soap cakes onto the keister top, he began expounding on their wonders. As he spoke to the growing crowd of curious onlookers, he pulled out his wallet and begin wrapping paper money, ranging from one dollar up to one hundred dollars, around a select few of the bars.
