by Peter Grant
Walt flushed. “I didn’t tell you at the time, for fear you’d disapprove, but I used Samson as a spymaster. You see, black servants and workers are everywhere. Most white men don’t pay them no mind—they talk freely in front of them. I asked Samson to spread the word to his folk that I was willing to pay for information. To encourage him, I promised him ten per cent of everything I made from what they told me, either in cash, or in a share in our business, his choice.
“See, even before the Denver Pacific was formed, John Evans had ideas about where the city’s railroad station should be. I learned about them from one of his servants. When the panic hit in September of ’66, soon after we got here, after word came that the Union Pacific wasn’t going to come through Colorado, but rather through Wyoming, almost half the town packed up and left for Cheyenne. Land prices were already low, and that made them collapse. I bought eight prime lots for no more than a nickel on the dollar. All of them were near where Evans later put the railway station, or along the first half-mile or so of track. I held on to the land, because I knew we could live on what the livery stable brought in, plus our savings. I reckoned property prices would start to rise as soon as Evans launched his plans for a connector line to Cheyenne. I was right.”
“For a while I thought you were crazy,” she admitted, “buying lots when there were no businesses to put on them.”
“You didn’t say so at the time,” he said, surprised.
“Well, you’re my husband. It’s my job to support you. Besides, I saw how you parlayed a couple of thousand dollars in St. Louis into over six thousand dollars by the time we left Leavenworth City the next year. I figured, if you did that well there, you might well do the same here.”
“I couldn’t have done it without Samson’s people and their information. That’s why I gave him a quarter-share of our transport business when we started it. He sure enough earned it. He’s going to get a nice fat check tomorrow afternoon, too, once we complete the sale of the livery stable. With that sale, plus the last of our town lots last month, I reckon he’s got over three thousand dollars coming.”
“You don’t think he’ll take the money and set up in business for himself?”
“I’ve already asked him about that, and he says not. His quarter-share of the freight company makes it worth his while to stick with us.”
“That’s very Biblical—‘the laborer is worthy of his reward’.”
“Yeah. I figured, with a reward like that, he’ll likely stay with us for a long time. If we do well, he’ll do well. He’ll be a big man among his people one day, if he keeps on like this.”
“I’m glad. They need leaders, and he’s well equipped to be one. So, after this sale, how much will we be worth?” She sat forward eagerly.
“After paying Samson his share, we’ll have over forty-three thousand dollars in the bank. We also own this house, which we’ll keep for when we visit Denver, plus the big transport yard I’ve already bought and paid for in Pueblo. We’ll be taking twelve mule wagons and their teams with us, plus more than a dozen horses, and we own two dozen ox wagons there, plus their teams. All in all, cash and land and wagons and stock, I reckon we’ll be worth about sixty thousand dollars.”
She sat with her mouth open for a moment as she absorbed the news. “So, after just five years here, we’re worth ten times as much as when we arrived!” She smiled at him lovingly. “You know, I said back in Leavenworth City I thought you might have a head for business, dear.”
She walked through to his study with him, settling into a chair as he laid his rifle on a table against the wall and prepared to clean it. “Are you going to add this morning’s bear to your trophy collection?” she asked, glancing up at the wall behind his desk, where an impressive bighorn ram’s head was mounted. Its large, broad horns, almost forty inches along the outside of the curl, had attracted a lot of attention and admiring comments from visitors. The silvertip grizzly hide on the floor, with its luxuriantly thick fur, dated from the same hunt. The huge bear had disputed his ownership of the sheep’s carcass, with fatal results for the predator.
The big, heavy 1859 Berdan Sharps rifle Walt had used to take both trophies now rested in a display case to the right of the mounted head, along with a Henry rifle, a Springfield Model 1840 military musket, cut down drastically and converted to shotgun configuration, and a pair of Remington New Model Army & Navy revolvers, all of which he’d used to good effect on their journey to Colorado Territory. In a second case, to the left of the ram’s head, was an old Hawken percussion-fired muzzle-loading rifle, a bullet-torn deerskin ‘medicine bundle’, a headdress with three eagle feathers, a tomahawk and a sheathed knife. They were mementoes from his run-in with Hunting Wolf, a young Kiowa war chief whose luck had proved unequal to Walt’s skill with his guns. A second tomahawk, in the place of honor at the top of the display case, had been a gift from another brave, Laughing Raven, in exchange for a rifle sleeve, on the same day that the war chief Satank had given Walt his Kiowa name of ‘Brings The Lightning’.
Walt shook his head. “Its hide isn’t as good as the one I’ve already got. I’ll turn it into a rug for my office at the freight yard.”
“Will you be able to hunt near Pueblo?”
“I’m sure there’ll be game there, although I may have to travel a bit further to reach it. I’d like to take a good elk and mount its head on the opposite wall to that ram. I wouldn’t mind a buffalo head, and another good grizzly in a full body mount; but they’ll have to wait until we have a much bigger place. They’ll be far too big for any house this size.”
She smiled. “I suppose we’ll need to build a larger house in Pueblo, then.”
* * *
Next morning, Walt’s lawyer expressed concern about his departure. “You’ve done remarkably well here in Denver, Mr. Ames. I can’t understand why you’re leaving at a time like this, when the city is booming and everyone’s making money hand over fist. You could easily double your money again in a year or two, particularly if you allied yourself with one of the larger concerns.”
“That’s the problem, right there, Mr. Brown,” Walt said slowly. “Yes, I could go to a bigger outfit with my money, and offer to become an active partner; but it’d be a junior partnership. It takes a whole lot of money to run one of the big mining or commercial businesses. Forty thousand dollars is pocket change compared to that. It’d buy me a share of a business, sure, but I’d be beholden to men with larger investments than mine. That means they’d be in charge. I wouldn’t like that. I’m used to being my own boss.”
“Yes, but that’s the way of things everywhere. The man with the most money calls the shots.”
“Sure, but just look at the way business is done here. The miners can’t get a square deal from anybody. Businesses work with each other to fix prices for goods, and keep them high. Politicians are bribed, and they favor the deepest pockets, every time. Given a fair shake, I reckon I can hold my own against any man; but if it isn’t fair, the man with the most money will buy the most influence. I can’t afford to bribe politicians like that, even if I wanted to—which I don’t.”
“I… I suppose so. I’m afraid you’re right; many of our politicians are a disgrace.”
“They sure are! Then, there’s the railroad. The Denver and Rio Grande started construction this year. It aims to hit Pueblo by next year, then go on down to El Paso. If it does, it’ll open up trade all the way from here to the Mexican border. There’ll be a big demand for feeder freight lines, to take goods to and from the railroad to communities on either side of it. If I get in early, I can grow into one of the big shippers out of Pueblo to the mining towns around it. My money and my wagons are enough to give me a head start down there, but they aren’t enough to compete with the more established shippers out of Denver.”
“I suppose you’re right,” the lawyer admitted. “You seem to have thought this through very carefully.”
“I’ve been pondering on it for a long while. There’s another
thing. The railroads will expand into the mountains in due course, and take over a lot of the transport business. There’ll still be a demand to ship freight from the new lines to smaller towns, but it won’t be as big as it is now. I’ll need another business, one with room to grow; so, I aim to breed horses and mules. The Army’ll always need them, ’specially for their Indian campaigns; and I know how to train them for the Army, because I used them for years when I wore a uniform. Cattle ranches and freight wagons will want a steady supply of them, too, and anywhere from several hundred to a few thousand horses are needed every year in cities like Denver.
“There’s good horse-breeding land available within a couple of day’s ride of Pueblo, with good grass to make hay for winter feed. By the time the railroad expands to the bigger mining towns, I’ll be selling scores, maybe hundreds of horses every year. That’ll make up for any decline in the freight market. I can ship them by rail to where they’re needed, or drive a horse herd overland.”
“I see. I suppose you’d rather be a big fish in a smaller pond in Pueblo, than be a little fish in the big pond of Denver.”
“That’s about the size of it. Out there I’ll have more of a chance of getting where I want to get, given hard work and good help. There’ll be fewer problems with corrupt politicians and shady businessmen. I don’t say there’ll be none of them, but I reckon I’ll be better able to see them coming—and deal with them, too, if I have to.”
“I think you’ll want a good lawyer in Pueblo,” Brown pointed out. “Have you put one on retainer yet?”
“No. Can you suggest a good man?”
“As a matter of fact, I can. There’s a young fellow named Henry Lee who’s just hung out his shingle there. He and my son went through law school together, back East. Jim speaks highly of him. If you mention our names to him, I’m sure he’ll be glad to help you. If you wish, I’ll write to him to introduce you.”
“Thanks, Mr. Brown. Please tell him I’ll be arriving there next week, and I’ll make an appointment to see him as soon as I can find the time. I’ll continue to use your services for my needs in Denver, of course.”
Walt rose and offered his hand. The two men shook, firmly.
“Best of luck to you and your wife in Pueblo then, Mr. Ames. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”
Walt halted the wagon train on the outskirts of Colorado City. “Pull the wagons to that side of the field,” he instructed Samson, “water the horses and mules, then picket them to graze. I’ve made a bargain with a farmer to stay here overnight. We’re right next to the town, so I don’t think we’ll have much trouble; but just in case, let’s have one person on watch through the night, in two-hour shifts. He can ride around the wagons and keep an eye on their teams.”
“Yes, suh.”
“Rose and I will head into town, to buy fresh fruit and vegetables for supper tonight. Leave room for her ambulance near the cookfire, so Ezekiel can unload the food.”
“Got it, suh.” Samson turned to call commands to the teamsters as each wagon approached.
“We’re about halfway to Pueblo, aren’t we?” Rose asked from the seat of her Rucker ambulance as she clicked her tongue at the team, starting the horses walking. Walt had converted it into a comfortable camping and light transport wagon, which she’d driven across Missouri and Kansas to reach Colorado. She’d liked it so much that they’d kept it, even though it had mostly stood idle during their years in Denver.
“Yes,” he agreed, touching his heels to his horse’s ribs to move forward alongside her. “It’ll be two more days to Pueblo. We could have done the whole journey in three days if we’d pushed harder, but I don’t see any reason to wear out the teams. They’ll be working hard enough once we get there.”
“Have you decided what your first freight routes will be?”
“For a start, we’ll concentrate on mining towns. We’ll ship goods west to Cañon City. From there, we’ll range north-west to Fairplay, and also west to Salida, then from there as far north as Oro City. Once those routes are established, I’ll try a third one south and west to Alamosa; but the railroad’s heading that way too, so we’ll have only a few years to earn good money before it takes over. Still, I can use that time to set up secondary routes, to take freight from the railroad, when it gets there, to other towns nearby. The rails can’t run everywhere.”
“It sounds like you only plan to work to the west of Pueblo.”
Walt shrugged. “One branch of the old Santa Fe Trail between Kansas and New Mexico runs through La Junta, about two days’ wagon drive east of Pueblo. There are already freight outfits there, working the Trail and serving the towns near it. There’s also talk of a railroad there in due course. I think we’d have to scrabble to get a foothold, as we would to the north, competing with freight outfits operating out of Denver. I’d rather concentrate on towns that aren’t yet well served. There’s more money to be made south and west of Pueblo.”
“That makes sense.”
To their surprise, Colorado City appeared depressed and drab, almost run-down. Rose asked the storekeeper about it as he helped them load baskets and sacks of fresh produce, and a covered pail of milk, into her ambulance.
“It’s that damned—beggin’ y’r pardon, ma’am—that darn railroad. D’ye know what that doggone General Palmer’s done? He’s laid out a whole new town, a mile or two over yonder!” He gestured angrily to the east. “At first he called it Fountain Colony, but they say he’s gonna rename it Colorado Springs. He ain’t content with makin’ money off his dang railroad. He wants more, so he’s gonna bypass Colorado City altogether. He’s laid out streets an’ lots over there, an’ he’s makin’ a fine extra profit sellin’ ’em to all comers. He knows people will want to live an’ work near the railroad station. His new town’s gonna kill this place for businesses like mine, sure as I’m standin’ here!”
Rose gasped. “But… what will you do?”
“What can we do, ma’am, ’cept buy lots in the new town an’ move there? Ain’t no point stayin’ here—most all the customers will be over there. I’ll be movin’ in a month or two, along with most other businesses here. I’ve already bought a lot for my store, an’ another for my house. I’m gonna take both buildin’s apart, plank by plank, an’ move ’em over there.”
“I can help you,” Walt said, trying to disguise his eagerness. “I’m starting a freight business in Pueblo. If you, and other folks like you, want to move their buildings, I can send some big wagons up here to help do that, and perhaps also some workers to help dismantle them and put them up again. I won’t gouge you on the price, either.”
“Mister, we can sure use your help. There’s too many of us wantin’ to move, an’ too few wagons an’ workers here. If your prices are fair, you’ll get a piece of our business. I’ll talk to a couple o’ my friends tonight. Can you visit with us early tomorrow mornin’, here at my store, afore we open our shops, to talk it over?”
“I can be here at seven. My name’s Walt Ames.”
“Heard o’ you.” The storekeeper offered his hand, and Walt took it. “I’m Frank Daggett. I’ll have the coffee hot, an’ I’ll get my wife to make up a batch o’ doughnuts for us.”
“I’ll look forward to them.”
As they headed back to the wagons, Rose smiled at him. “You don’t miss a beat, do you? We’re not even in Pueblo yet, and already you’re drumming up business!”
Walt laughed. “Actually, the railroad’s drumming it up for us. I suppose I should be grateful to General Palmer. He may be greedy, like the storekeeper said, but if that helps us earn a living, I won’t complain too hard. Still, I wonder what’s going to happen when the railroad gets to Pueblo? I reckon Palmer may pull the same trick there—bring it into a new town, rather than the existing one. If the surveyed rail line looks as if he will, I’m going to buy a good-sized freight depot site there before he can run up the value of land. I don’t want to get caught short, like these folks.”
* * *
Ezekiel prepared a thick, savory beef and vegetable stew for supper that night. Walt had hired the fat, jovial cook a couple of years before, when his growing staff of teamsters and stable hands had found affordable lodging hard to come by near the livery stable in Denver. He’d solved the problem by buying a nearby warehouse and converting it into a boarding house, with his own workers providing most of the labor, to keep costs down. Samson had recommended Ezekiel and his wife, both former slaves, to run the place. They’d done a good job, keeping it clean and orderly, and serving up hearty breakfasts and suppers to general approval. They’d chosen to make a fresh start in Pueblo with Walt’s transport company.
“How do you like cooking over an open fire, rather than on a stove, Zeke?” Rose asked him as she passed him Walt’s plate for a second helping.
“It ain’t too bad, ma’am,” he assured her as he scooped up a brimming ladleful of the steaming stew. “I likes a stove better, though. I ain’t baked ’cept in an oven, but Samson tells me you used to make pan bread on de trail comin’ here.”
“Yes, I did. It’s not as light as oven bread, but you can add herbs and spices to make it taste better. There’s johnnycake, too, of course—that’s even easier to make.”
Zeke’s wife, Rachel, looked up from the bubbling cauldron of oil where she was deep-frying apple fritters for dessert, prepared with some of the fresh fruit they’d brought from town. She was justly famous for them among the teamsters, who emptied the plate next to her as fast as she could dust them with sugar and pile them on it. “We knows johnnycake, sho’ ’nuff, ma’am, but can you teach Zeke an’ me ’bout dem herbs an’ spices you use?”
“Sure. It’s easy.” They fell into a discussion about preparing the dough in the morning for cooking among the coals in a Dutch oven in the evening, or vice versa.
