by Peter Grant
“Yeah, I figure it’ll take a couple more years to build our new home, and that’s too long to leave ’em to gather dust an’ be eaten by moths.”
Walt and Colleen had engaged an architect to design a city home for them in Pueblo, and a stone-built house out at the Rafter A. They planned to divide their time between them. However, it would take the rest of the year to finalize the designs, and then a couple of years to bring in all the fine materials they wanted and have everything built to their very high standards. As an interim measure, Walt had taken advantage of the after-effects of the financial panic of 1873, and purchased their present home for a very good price just a few weeks ago. It was smaller than they wanted for the long term, but well laid out, with spacious rooms, and a stable and servants’ quarters at the rear of the property. The only thing they’d added was a coal-fired boiler, to provide hot water for kitchen and bathroom.
Walt’s thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the front doorbell, followed almost immediately by an impatient, demanding pounding. Startled, he put down his glass and rose to his feet. “Who the heck would be making such a noise?”
“If you answer the door, you’ll find out, darling,” Colleen pointed out with a smile.
Walt sighed. “I guess I walked right into that, didn’t I?”
“You sure did!” Nate chuckled as Walt left the room.
He opened the front door to find Samson standing there, chest heaving with exertion. “Sorry, boss. I ran all the way here. The war’s started!”
“What?”
“The war in the Panhandle, suh. Hundreds o’ Comanches and Kiowas attacked buffalo hunters at Adobe Walls late last month. The army’s movin’ to contain the hostiles.” Samson proferred a telegraph form. “Wells, Fargo just delivered this priority message to the freight yard, an’ the night watchman thought I’d better see it at once. The Army wants to line up freight outfits right away, to ship supplies.”
“He did the right thing. Tell him I said so. Come in, man, come in!”
Samson joined them in the study, and read the telegram aloud as they listened, fascinated. Nate said slowly, “This is gonna affect your plans for the cattle ranch, ain’t it?”
“It sure is,” Walt agreed. “It’s gonna speed ’em up. We saw a few months ago how ready the Army is for this. I reckon, a year from now, the back of the tribes will be broken. They’ll be forced back onto their reservations. The Panhandle will open to settlement soon after.”
“So what are we going to do to get ready for that?” Colleen asked.
“I’m going to send a telegraph message to Tyler Reese. If he ain’t at his TR Ranch near Gainesville in Texas, he’ll be bossin’ a trail drive to Kansas. I’ll send it to his ranch, and to Wells, Fargo agents in Wichita and Dodge City. One of them should get to him pretty soon. I’ll ask him to come out here and make plans with us, and I’ll start makin’ them even before he gets here. We’re going to have to move fast.”
Two days later, another telegraph message arrived. This one was from Colonel Ranald Mackenzie, commanding officer of the 4th Cavalry, asking Walt to bring or send the Navajo scouts he’d promised to a rendezvous at Fort Concho in Texas ‘with all haste’.
Walt made a fast ride out to the Rafter A. There he found Nastas, his Navajo tribesmen, and Sam Davis engaged in training some of the horses they’d helped bring back from Mexico a few months earlier. They greeted each other with real pleasure.
Walt showed them the Colonel’s telegraph message. “He said up to six scouts; so I reckon that’ll be you, Nastas, plus four of your men. Sam will be the sixth person, and liaise between you and the Army, because he knows their ways. Will that suit?”
It suited those chosen for the expedition just fine, but not those who would have to stay behind. Nastas had to use his not inconsiderable authority to make them accept the situation. “You told the Colonel that we need to be home by December?” he asked Walt.
“I did. If it looks like that won’t happen, have Sam ask him about it in good time for him to arrange it.”
Sam was looking thoughtful. “Y’know, boss, we’re gonna have to ride hard and fast to make that rendezvous. We can’t go straight there – that’d take us right through the Panhandle, where all the fightin’s goin’ on. We’ll have to ride around it, to Fort Union in New Mexico, and then cut across the Llano Estacado to Fort Concho. That’s almost seven hundred miles. Colonel Mackenzie’s message said he plans to leave there by mid- to late August. It’s already almost mid-July. We’re gonna have our work cut out for us to reach him in time.”
“Yeah,” Walt agreed. “You’ll have to ride relay, and cover thirty to forty miles a day, all while watchin’ your back trail and all around you for a Comanche or Kiowa war party.”
Nastas nodded. “So be it,” he boomed in his imposing voice. “We shall ride tomorrow morning. That gives us this afternoon and evening to prepare.”
“Take whatever you need from the ranch,” Walt offered. “I’ll have the kitchen give you all the food you can carry, and I’ve got ammunition in the administration building. Take pack horses, too, and load them with grain for your mounts, to keep them strong. I’ll write a letter for Sam to give to the Colonel, reminding him you need to be back here before winter.”
At dawn the following morning, the six scouts mounted their horses. Each led a string of three more animals; another riding horse, a pack horse, and a spare mount. Almost the entire ranch staff turned out to send them on their way.
“You take care,” Walt warned them as he shook hands with each man. “Don’t try to play the hero. I want you all back here safe and sound!”
Nastas grinned. “For blooded warriors such as Sam, you and I, amigo, that is good advice; but none of these four has yet seen combat. They are eager for a fight.”
Walt looked at them, a wry grin on his face. “Well, they’ll likely get one. Just remember, the enemy can shoot you as easily as you can shoot him. Stay low, and stay careful.”
They watched as the six men kicked their horses into a canter, and left the ranch buildings behind in a cloud of dust. Despite his happy marriage, and his first child on the way, and the many business commitments tying his hands, Walt couldn’t help wishing he was going with them. He’d first ridden to war when he was just sixteen, and he’d never forgotten it.
2
Late July 1874
Walt turned his horse through the gates, and headed past the house to the stable behind it. Jeremiah was forking hay down from the loft. The stable hand called down, “Your fren’ Mistah Reese came in on de train, suh. He’s in de house wid Miss Colleen.”
He sighed with relief. “Great! Thanks, Jeremiah. I’ll go straight in to join them. Please look after my horse.”
“Yassuh!”
Walt took his saddlebags and walked to the house, entering through the back door into the kitchen. He nodded to the cook, who was preparing the evening meal. “Hi, Agustina.” He raised his voice. “Colleen, I’m home.”
Her voice floated back to him from the front of the house. “I’m in the study with Tyler, dear. Come and join us.”
“I’m coming.” He glanced at the cook, busy preparing the evening meal. “Do they have tea or coffee in there?”
“Si, patrón. I made tea for the señora a short while ago, and coffee for señor Reese.”
“I’ll have tea, too. Have the maid bring another cup for me, please, and some hot water for the pot.”
“Si, patrón.”
Colleen and Tyler rose to their feet as he entered the study. He embraced her briefly, sharing a smile with her as they kissed, then turned to the visitor and shook his hand. “Good to see you again, Tyler. I’m real glad you came so soon. I was worried you’d be too busy during the trail drive season.”
“I was, but after gettin’ your telegraph message in Dodge City, I reckoned I couldn’t afford to stay away. I’m full o’ questions.”
“After supper, I’ll tell you what I’ve been figurin’. You m
ay think I’m crazy, but…”
“Hey, I’ve worked with you before, remember? I ain’t forgotten you more’n tripled my money with that hoss-buyin’ venture in Mexico. If you’re crazy, more of us should be that way!”
Walt flushed. “Thanks, but wait ’til you hear the details. You may change your mind.”
Later that evening, after the meal, they adjourned to the study once more. Walt got out two maps, one of the entire nation, the other an Army chart of the Texas Panhandle and its surrounding areas. He spread them on the bearskin rug in front of the fireplace. They all pulled their chairs up around them as he sat down and began to speak, pointing out features on the maps with a poker he took from the fireplace.
“The war’s on in the Panhandle,” he began. “Dunno when it’ll be over, but my money’s on the middle of next year. The Army’s got four or five columns in the field. You saw how they were preparin’ for a big fight when we were at Fort Clark a few months ago. I reckon they’ll break the back o’ the Comanche an’ Kiowa war bands on the Red River by the end of this year, and take care of the last hold-outs in the spring.”
“That’s sound figurin’,” Tyler agreed. “From what we heard at Fort Clark, the Army’s gonna keep pushin’ ’em the whole time, never givin’ them or their hosses a chance to rest, destroyin’ their supplies every chance they get. Injuns usually fight, then get clear ’til next time. They never learned to fight all the time. I reckon it’ll wear ’em down.”
“Uh-huh. That means the Panhandle will be opened to settlement soon afterwards. The surveyors will get busy later next year, and people will follow on their heels as soon as they can buy property legally. Some probably won’t wait. They’ll move in, squat on likely land, and try to buy it as soon as the law allows. If someone else has bought it by then, sight unseen, I reckon there’ll be trouble.”
Tyler looked worried. “Yeah. If more’n one outfit wants the same land, there may be gunplay, just like claim-jumping on the mines.”
Walt nodded. “Seems to me, if we want to buy a big spread, like you talked about durin’ our trip to Mexico, we’re gonna have to move fast. We want to be on the ground before anyone else can squat there, and hold it against all comers; and while we guard it, we want to buy it right off the survey plats, before others can beat us to it.”
The Texan nodded. “Uh-huh. I’m figurin’ on buyin’ land with water rights, along a river, ’cause grazin’ without water ain’t much use to anyone. We can buy the drier lands around ours later, or just graze our cattle on open range without buyin’ it. We can cut hay there, too.”
“Makes sense to me. I had a look at the map. There are several rivers runnin’ across north Texas and the Panhandle. The one that caught my eye was the most northerly, the Canadian, here, and its northern fork. It’s usually got water, and we can dig wells for the dry years. It’s also close to the railheads in Kansas – only two or three weeks’ drive to Wichita or Dodge City – and to the railroads building out of Colorado into New Mexico.”
“What are those?” Tyler asked, looking up alertly. “I ain’t heard much about them.”
“The Denver an’ Rio Grande is buildin’ south from Pueblo towards Trinidad. Meanwhile, the Atchison, Topeka an’ Santa Fe is buildin’ towards La Junta, east o’ Pueblo, along the old Santa Fe Trail. Both railroads aim to go through to New Mexico. I reckon at least one will reach it within three, four years from now, either through Raton Pass or down the Cimarron cutoff.”
Tyler looked thoughtful as he followed the point of Walt’s poker as it traced the route on the map. “There’s also the Fort Worth an’ Denver City Railway. It was chartered just last year. They aim to build out to west Texas, then north to Colorado. Dunno how long it’ll take ’em to get to the Panhandle, but it surely can’t be more’n a few years. That’ll mean three railroads competin’ for business from that area, besides the Kansas railroads that’ll build south and west.”
Walt nodded. “The same thing’s likely to happen up north. People are already buildin’ up big cattle ranches in Nebraska, an’ they’re startin’ in eastern Dakota Territory, too. The grasslands west o’ the Black Hills are still blocked by the Sioux an’ other tribes, but they’ll likely get cut down to size as soon as the Army’s dealt with the Comanches an’ Kiowa in the Panhandle. In a few years there’ll be ranches there, too, an’ railroads connectin’ to the transcontinental line. Give it twenty years or so, and cattlemen everywhere will be able to drive their herds to a railhead no more’n a few days or weeks away.”
Tyler’s eyes traced the routes Walt had indicated. “I can’t argue with you.”
“I reckon we need to move fast, before too many others figure this out. To do that, we need money. Last time we spoke, you reckoned you’d have thirty thousand to invest, maybe a bit more. I promised I’d come in with you as a partner. I can find that much myself, but sixty thousand ain’t enough to do this on a big enough scale. We’ll have land an’ cattle to buy, houses an’ barns to build, and hands to hire. The operation’s gonna need a couple o’ thousand every month just to keep goin’, over and above those startup costs, and it’ll take a year or two to build up our herd enough to have cattle to sell. I reckon we’ll need at least a hundred thousand dollars to start with. A hundred fifty or more would be better, if we can raise that much.”
Colleen stared at him in astonishment as he named the enormous figure. Tyler whistled, long and low. “I ain’t sayin’ you’re wrong, not if we want to do this in a big way, but that’s a helluva lot of money! I can’t come up with half of it.”
“Neither can I, so I tried to figure out a way to raise it.” Walt grinned.
Tyler’s eyes lit up. “I know that look! Come on, man, out with it!”
“I think you an’ I need to start work right now. First off, we’ll put in thirty thousand apiece up front, as we agreed, with maybe a bit more later if it’s needed, and if we both do well this year. We’ll use the money to buy young cattle, not yet mature. While we were in Mexico, I noticed that yearling longhorns could be had for no more’n one or two dollars per head. Two-year-olds sold for two to two-fifty; three-year-olds for three to four.”
“Yeah, I noticed that too. It’s less’n what they sell for in Texas right now.”
“Uh-huh. You remember my talkin’ about Pablo Gomez, the man who ran the El Paso end of our hoss buyin’ journey to Mexico?”
“Sure do.”
“He’s gonna do the same thing again on his own account later this year, buyin’ remounts for the Army. We can ask him and his people to pass the word in Mexico while they’re doin’ that. Anyone wantin’ to sell us young cattle, two to three years old, has to bring them to meet us on the American side of the border, near Las Cruces in New Mexico, in April or May next year. We learned last time that gold US dollars are worth even more in Mexico than they are here, compared to greenbacks. If we pay in gold dollars, they’ll come, and they’ll accept lower prices, too.
“You’ll pick out good cowhands over the rest o’ this year – your regular hands, plus enough more to see us through. You’ll take ’em down to New Mexico next year to meet the sellers. You can buy horses for your remuda while you travel through Texas. When you get there, you’ll buy as many young cattle as we can afford – up to ten thousand.”
“Ten thousand?” Tyler’s voice was incredulous. “Why so many? We can’t sell them as beef at that age. They won’t have their full growth. An’ why make them meet us in New Mexico? Why not in Texas? For that matter, why don’t we go into Mexico ourselves to collect them, like we did horses?”
Walt shook his head. “I know they’ll be too young to sell right away, but they’re a lot cheaper than full-grown steers, an’ they’ll have time to grow. If sellers meet us in New Mexico, that takes care of two problems before we start. We’d have to pay customs duties if we brought the cattle over the border ourselves. If we buy ’em on American soil, we don’t. To make it easier for Mexican sellers, the New Mexico border doesn’t have th
e Rio Grande blocking their way. There ain’t even a fence along most of it. We’ll protect ourselves with a clause in the deed of sale sayin’ that the seller has paid any duties an’ taxes that are due.”
Tyler grinned. “You wouldn’t be trying to wide-loop Uncle Sam out o’ his share, would you?”
Walt raised his eyebrows in an unsuccessful attempt to look innocent. “Who, me?”
Colleen poked him in the ribs. “Yes, you!” They all laughed.
Walt went on, “The second reason to make ’em come to us is that some sellers are sure to try to pass off stunted or diseased animals as healthy. They did that when we were buyin’ horses, remember?” Tyler nodded. “If they have to drive the cattle to meet us, those that are too weak or sick won’t make it. By travellin’ scores or hundreds of miles, the ones we buy will already have proved they’re healthy, fit an’ strong.”
“Good point,” the cattleman agreed. “What then?”
“You’ll divide the ten thousand into smaller herds, starting each herd north-east as soon as it’s big enough, then buying more cows for the next herd. I reckon we should move them real slow over the fresh spring an’ summer grass, stoppin’ for a week or two every now an’ then on good grazin’ an’ water. That’ll keep them clear o’ the last of the fightin’ between the Army and the Indians, until it’s over. Scouts will guide each herd to the best grass and water, lettin’ the cattle get bigger and stronger as they travel. The land ain’t heavily settled there yet, so we should find more’n enough open range.
“By fall of 1875, our herds will reach the lower Texas Panhandle. Most’ve the Indians will be gone by then, either killed, or driven back onto their reservations. There may be a few small bands prowlin’ around, but I reckon a herd’s cowhands should be able to deal with ’em, if they’re alert an’ well armed. There won’t be many people in the Panhandle yet, because there won’t have been enough time after the fightin’ for them to move in. You’ll spend the winter there, still driftin’ our herds slowly north an’ east. With few other cattle around, there should be plenty of grass for them. If need be, you can split ’em into even smaller herds and spread ’em out, to make the most of the grazin’. With me so far?”
