Gold on the Hoof

by Peter Grant

  He laughed aloud as he hugged her. “Thank you for helping me to laugh again. It’s been a long while since I had this much fun with anyone.”

  Walt sent a third telegraph message before they left, to the Pinkerton Detective Agency’s office in Pueblo. He gave the agency all the information he had about the late Major d’Assaily’s parents, and asked them to trace his family. They were to send their report to him at Ames Transport. He was not looking forward to telling the family how their son and brother had died, but the Major’s long silence must surely have been enough for them to guess that he had not survived. At least Walt would be able to return his belongings to them, and tell them how he had died, and allow them to bury him and mourn him properly.

  They rolled out for Taos the following day, heading northwest. They took seven days to cover the distance, slowed by the trail’s passage through mountains and valleys. The wagons labored up and down the slopes, and the horse herd had to be held back to stay with them.

  When they got to Taos, Walt halted the drive a couple of miles outside town. He sent a wagon into town to buy supplies for the final leg, then allowed the Navajo scouts and herd boys to choose their own horses, as he’d promised them the previous year. They could take their pick of the animals brought back from Mexico, except for those from the estancia. They lingered over their selection, weighing up options, and in some cases swapping a horse they’d already chosen for one picked by another.

  While they did that, Nastas chose seventy-two of the Mexican horses in payment for the breeding stock he’d delivered to Walt last year. That done, he made his selection of ten mares and a stallion from the estancia’s stock. He didn’t waste time over it, having had many weeks with the animals during which to study them and make his choice. The other Navajo looked on enviously as he drove them to join the others they would be taking home.

  “He’s picked the cream of our horses,” Colleen said softly as they watched.

  “He has, but he’s earned them,” Walt assured her. “Without his backing, I’d never have come to your ranch, and we’d never have met.”

  “In that case, he’s welcome to them!”

  “Yes. It’s not like those he didn’t choose are bad horses, either. They’re just about as good as his. I’m more than satisfied with them.”

  Walt wrote out a bill of sale for all the horses, then paid the Navajo the balance of what was owed them, plus Nastas’ wages and the five hundred dollars in travel money he’d promised them. They loaded their pack saddles with food for the ten-day journey to their home on Isom’s spread, and mounted their horses. With loud calls of farewell, and promises to return, they bunched their herd and set out westward.

  Sam Davis lingered for a moment. “It’s been real good to ride with you again, boss. I reckon Isom’s just about got things runnin’ as he wants them now. We’ve taught the Navajo what they need to know about range ridin’, cattle herdin’ and suchlike, an’ they’ve taught us a lot more’n we knew before about horses. I reckon Isom won’t need me much longer. When the time comes, d’you reckon you might have work for me again?”

  “Anytime you want, Sam. D’you want to work on the ranch, or in the transport business, like you did before?”

  “I’d kinda like to get back on the wagons, boss. I’ve had my fill for awhile o’ chasin’ cows an’ horses around.”

  Walt laughed. “Show up at the transport yard in Pueblo, and Samson will sign you up. I’ll tell him you’ll be along sometime. He’ll be glad to see you. You won’t be a teamster for long, though. I reckon you’ve learned enough since you first joined us, and all you’ve done since then, that you’re almost ready to be a wagonmaster an’ lead your own train. That pays better, too.” He hesitated as a thought struck him. “In fact, if you come back with Nastas in a few weeks, I may have a scouting job with the Army for you. I’d agreed to be the civilian chief scout for the Navajos with Colonel Mackenzie, but if you’re here, I can send you instead. You were a buffalo soldier and a corporal, so you can do that job as well as I can. That way, I can concentrate on buildin’ up the ranch, an’ seein’ to Ames Transport after bein’ away for so long.”

  “I’ll see what Isom says. If he can spare me that soon, I’ll be there. Thanks, boss.”

  Sam doffed his hat to Colleen, then turned his horse and galloped after the Navajo.

  Colleen turned to Walt and hugged him. “Thank you for thinking of that, darling! If you don’t have to go with the scouts, I must admit, I’ll sleep easier at night.” She dimpled. “Warmer, too, with you there.”

  Walt winked at her. “Figured you might. Let’s see what we can fix up.”

  As they left Taos behind them, Colleen noticed that Walt was becoming silent, more withdrawn than usual. She left it until mid-afternoon, then tackled him gently.

  “Honey, you’ve been kinda quiet all day. You look like something’s eating you. What’s wrong?”

  He sighed. “It’s… well, I can show you better than tell you. Let me get a horse saddled for you, and we’ll take a short ride together.”

  Consumed with curiosity, she waited in her buggy until the horse was ready, then swung lithely into the saddle. By now the hands were used to her divided skirts, and no-one turned a hair to see her riding astride. Any experienced horseman knew that a rider had far better control over their mount that way. For the wife of a horse rancher to do so, rather than ride side-saddle in a typically ladylike fashion, made good sense to the hands.

  Walt said as much as they rode off together to the eastward of the trail. “I reckon they’re gettin’ used to you ridin’ astride.”

  “Just wait until I start wearing men’s trousers. That’ll shake them!”

  He stared incredulously. “You ain’t serious, are you?”

  “Why not? When we’re out on the ranch, and I ride with you or have work to do somewhere, is there anything more practical?”

  “No, and I can’t say I’ll mind the view, but for most of the men it’s gonna be a real scandal, you mark my words!”

  “Oh, well. I’ll start slowly. I’ll wear a thin dress over the trousers, so they don’t reveal too much. Now, what are you going to show me?”

  “It’s not far; just at the top of this next rise, in fact.” They halted their horses, and he pointed. “You see that farmhouse over there, with a barn across the yard and half a dozen workers’ cottages beyond it?” He handed her a pair of binoculars.

  “Yes, I see it.” She adjusted the binoculars and studied the buildings.

  “That’s where Parsons ended up – the man who caused the death of my first wife. He ran for it after she died, ’cause he knew I’d come after him once I recovered. I traced him to this place after months of searchin’, and hired a few gunhands to back my play. We hit the house at dawn one morning in late January. He had three gunmen with him. We killed ’em, although we lost two of our own doin’ that. Parsons ran for it, got to the barn, grabbed a hoss and headed for Taos, back that way. I shot his hoss before he could get too far, then killed him, over there.” He pointed to a slight rise in the ground on the far side of the farmhouse, about a mile from where their horses stood.

  She looked through the binoculars. “There’s a big animal’s skeleton still there, just below the rise.”

  Walt fished out his spyglass and looked for himself. “Well, I’ll be darned. So there is! The farm workers must’ve decided it was too much like hard work to move or bury the horse.” He scanned lower. “There’s four graves behind the house now. They weren’t there when I was last here. I reckon that’s where they buried Parsons and his men.”

  Colleen lowered the binoculars and looked at him soberly. “Did it help you, to avenge Rose like that? Did it make you feel better?”

  “It wasn’t revenge, love. I knew all along that killin’ Parsons wouldn’t bring her back. Rather, I was dead set on makin’ sure he’d never do that to another woman, or hurt another man the way her death hurt me. He was bad clear through. He’d made a fortune stea
lin’ from other people before he tried to steal from me. I dealt with his men that time, but that led to everythin’ that followed. He had to be stopped. I wasn’t burnin’ up with anger or hatred. It just needed doin’, and I had the best reason in the world to do it. Afterwards… well, afterwards I just felt kinda empty.”

  She reached over and squeezed his arm. “I don’t understand exactly what you were feeling, of course, but I’m glad you didn’t take pleasure in his death. I hope I’d feel that way, if I were in your shoes.”

  He grinned at her. “Wouldn’t fit. My boots are like buckets compared to yours!”

  She laughed. “Come on. Let’s get back to the others. After supper, I reckon I know just how to take your mind off Parsons!”

  “You’re beautiful enough to take my mind off anyone an’ everything, anytime you want to.”

  She dimpled. “Really? I’ll have to experiment, later on tonight.”

  “You’re on!”

  17

  Their arrival at the Rafter A ranch was greeted with a sigh of relief by all those who’d ridden so far for so long, and an explosion of pent-up joy from the families who’d waited just as long for their menfolk to return. The ranch hands who weren’t yet married were given powerful reasons to consider that option as they watched the ecstatic reunions between husbands and wives, fathers and children.

  Walt took Colleen to meet Nate. “This is my manager. He’s been workin’ darn hard over the winter. There’s gotta be twice as many buildings as there were when we left.”

  “Honored to meet you, ma’am,” Nate greeted Colleen, then looked back at Walt. “Soon as I got your telegraph message from Eagle Pass about bringin’ all the estancia hands back with you, I got hold of Samson. He ordered a bunch o’ planks an’ such, and sent out a wagon train with them and everything else we needed, along with a dozen workmen. I had ’em put up those two long bunkhouses over there. They’re divided into little apartments, each with a front room an’ one or two bedrooms. There’s outhouses out back, an’ I built a separate bathhouse, with different sides for men an’ women. You told me you was married, too, so I took in two of the guest rooms an’ added them to your apartment. I turned one of ’em into a small bathhouse, so you an’ your wife can have some privacy. I’ll use the main one with the hands.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Colleen enthused. “Thank you so much for thinking of all that! The families can settle down right away.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Over the next few months we’ll build separate cottages for those who want them. I reckon, bein’ Mexican, they’ll probably prefer adobe over wood, but the boss can decide what he wants to use later.”

  “I don’t mind adobe,” Walt told him. “It’s pretty fireproof, too, which may be useful someday. We’ll build ourselves a house out here, but that’ll be of stone or brick.”

  “Figured as much. So, d’you reckon all those months and all those miles were worth it?”

  Walt hugged Colleen. “I’ve come back with a new wife, which is the best and most important part of the trip for me. I’ve brought back about seventy thousand dollars in gold, and more’n sixty of the best breeding stock I’ve ever seen, from the estancia. There’s well over two hundred more darned good horses from Mexico, and a dozen six-mule wagons I bought to bring our new workers here. Can you think of any way this could have worked out better?”

  Nate shook his head, laughing. “When you put it like that, no, boss, I sure can’t – unless your wife has a sister?” He looked hopefully at Colleen.

  She laughed. “No sister, I’m afraid; but Walt’s friend Pablo stayed in El Paso, to buy more horses for the Army later in the year. If you want to ride into Mexico with him, you never know. Lightning might strike twice in the same country.”

  Nate shook his head vigorously. “Not me, ma’am! I was just jokin’. I’m a confirmed bachelor.”

  Walt rolled his eyes. “You shouldn’t have said that. Now you’re bound to meet the right woman in no time at all, just so the good Lord can show you who’s boss and make you eat your words!”

  Walt and Colleen stayed at the ranch for a week, helping the new arrivals settle down, watching Nate integrate the new stock into the existing herd and breeding program, and relaxing after so long a journey. Colleen thoroughly approved of the new private bathhouse Nate had built for them, complete with its own wood-fired water heater. “That was so thoughtful of him!” she exclaimed after she’d tried it. “Why papa never thought to add one to the estancia, I don’t know. We always heated water in cauldrons for our baths. After so much washing in cold water on the trail, I reckon I might get addicted to this real fast.”

  “We’ll build a proper boiler and bathhouse into our new homes, here and in Pueblo,” Walt promised her.

  During long conversations with Walt and Nate, Colleen asked many questions about the breeding program they were setting up. Nate explained, “We can’t make money sellin’ cheap horses. Everyone an’ his brother’s doin’ that already. We want to breed quality hosses, ones people will pay more to own. Walt an’ I sat down and figured out two ways to approach it.

  “The first is wagon teams. Normal hosses are a mite too light for that job in mountain country like Colorado. They don’t have the stamina for all those hills, ’specially in a cold winter. Draft horses do, but they eat three times as much, an’ need a lot of water, too. On the trail, that can cut into the amount of freight the wagons can carry. Walt wants to see about cross-breeding American Morgans with French Percherons, to get a lighter horse than a draft breed, but heavier and stronger than a standard breed, one that won’t need so much food and water but can haul better in the mountains. We reckon it’ll take five to ten years to get that right. Walt’ll be goin’ east to buy some Morgan an’ Percheron breedin’ stock next year.”

  Walt noted, “We’ll test the cross-breeds on our freight wagons, so we can make sure they do what we need. I reckon we’ll save a bundle breedin’ our own, rather than payin’ someone else to do that; and if they’re successful, we’ll make another bundle selling ’em.”

  Nate nodded. “The second is the Spanish strain of ridin’ horses, like those the Navajo breed, and on your estancia. They’re just too good-lookin’ for words, and they run like the wind. People who want a showy horse will love ’em, and we expect there’ll be a big demand for them for horse-racin’, too.”

  Colleen grimaced. “Not like Mexican horse races, I hope, where they run them to death in a single season!”

  “Not at all, ma’am. A man can make good money betting on hosses in the mining camps an’ the cities. It makes ’em an investment, so he’ll pay to look after them. We’ll aim further afield, too, maybe even as far as the coasts. The transcontinental railroad makes that possible. If we breed a few real good racehorses, an’ they make a name for themselves, people will be comin’ to us to buy their brothers an’ sisters. We can breed ’em a lot faster than developin’ a new, mixed breed o’ wagon horse, so this place can make a profit a lot sooner.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  Walt added, “We might look at cutting horses, too – the special cow ponies that are bred to work in close with the cattle, to cut ’em out from the herd or separate cows from their calves for brandin’. I talked with Tyler Reese about it. Texas cowhands are real fond of a good cutting horse, but they reckon they have to be born with that attitude. They say, if the hoss has the gift, he can be trained, but you can’t teach a hoss without it how to do it. I don’t know about that, but I reckon if we can breed a couple of real good cutting horses to some high-quality mares, we might get a better strain of cutting horse out of it. It’s worth a try. Tyler’s promised to keep his eyes open for some real good cuttin’ horses. He’ll buy ’em and send ’em to me.”

  That evening, after enjoying the comforts of their new bathhouse once more and sharing supper with the hands in the communal cookhouse and dining hall, Walt and Colleen took a walk in the moonlight. The early summer air was pleasantly warm, and the a
ir was redolent with the scent of mountain air, trees, and the last of the spring flowers.

  “That’s quite an ambitious breeding program Nate outlined today,” she said thoughtfully as they strolled.

  “I guess it is. It won’t happen overnight, o’ course. We’ve got a long way to go.”

  “Yes, we have. As it happens, there’s another breeding program for you to think about, darling – one that’s going to happen a lot faster than that.”

  “Oh, yeah? What is it?”

  She stopped, turned to face him, and grinned as she looked up at him. “Darling, you can be very dense sometimes. I’m going to have a baby!”

  For a moment Walt was too thunderstruck to say a word. He gaped at her in astonishment. At last he managed to stammer, “I – I’m gonna be a father?”

  “You sure are, honey. You’ve been playing the stallion to my mare ever since we got married, remember?”

  He felt as if champagne were bubbling in his veins. “A baby… well, I’ll be damned!”

  She frowned slightly. “Why are you so surprised? It was bound to happen, the way you and I enjoy each other so often.”

  “Oh, sure, but… you see, Rose was bad hurt in a buggy accident before we met. She couldn’t have children. She told me that before we married, and I guess I grew to accept I’d never be a father. Meetin’ you kinda drove everything else outta my mind. I never gave kids a second thought!”

  “Well, you’d better, buster! We’ve got one coming, and I don’t aim to stop at just one. You’re too good a man not to have a lot more of you runnin’ around the place.”

  He knew he was grinning foolishly, but he didn’t care. “I can say the same about you. You’re too good a woman not to have more of you, too.”

  “Then we’d better get on with building our houses, dear. The baby’s going to need a roof over his head, or hers.”