by Peter Grant
“Yep. I make it about 185,000 acres.”
There was a shocked silence. A third scout asked, almost timidly, “How will you afford that much, boss?”
“I don’t know yet,” Tyler admitted frankly. “If we don’t do so well sellin’ the cattle, I’ll have to buy less; but if we do as well as I hope, we’ll have enough, plus enough to support the ranch for the first couple of years while we get it up an’ runnin’.”
Another scout shook his head. “Boss, my head hurts just thinkin’ about those sorts of numbers! I reckon I’ll stick to scoutin’, an’ fightin’ Injuns now and then, an’ leave the figurin’ to men like you an’ your partner.”
Tyler grinned. “Nothin’ wrong with that, Ben. We’ll allus need good scouts.”
The scouts and Tyler returned to the fort to find that Sam’s convoy of wagons had just arrived. They were drawn up in serried ranks at the settlement about half a mile beyond the fort, where a tented saloon had already been set up to draw the soldiers’ custom, and a storekeeper was busy erecting a makeshift building.
Tyler greeted Sam with enthusiasm. “What did you bring for the ranch?” he demanded. “I’ve found the place, and I want to get started as soon as we can.”
Sam described his wagons’ cargoes. “The boss sent enough support posts an’ beams for you to put up adobe buildings for your people. He’s sent molds for bricks, planks to make doors and their frames, and all the hardware to put ’em up. As soon as my teamsters have put up our warehouse and built an adobe bunkhouse, I’ll send them to start your buildin’s. You can also tell the teamsters with your herds who have empty wagons to bring ’em here an’ park ’em, then they can help out at the ranch site.”
“I’ll do that. Have you met Major Bankhead yet?”
“Nope. I got here only an hour before you did.”
“He wants to meet you. If you like, come with me. I’m going to tell him what I decided about the ranch.”
“Sure. Let me make sure everyone knows what to do, then I’ll be ready.”
The Major seemed a little taken aback when he realized that Sam Davis was a black man, but his manner changed when Sam introduced himself as a former buffalo soldier. “You were with the 9th Cavalry?” the officer asked, suddenly relaxing. “They’re a good outfit. What rank?”
“Corporal, suh.”
“Good. You understand the needs of an Army outpost, then. I’ll have our Quartermaster Sergeant go over our situation with you.”
“It’ll be a pleasure, suh.”
“Now, your present cargo. Can you spare any building materials for us? We have to order lumber from Dodge City next year for our larger buildings, but if I can put one up earlier than that, to shelter our stores, it’ll be very useful.”
Sam shook his head regretfully. “Sorry, suh, but I brought lumber for the ranch and the branch depot Ames Transport is openin’ here. I’ve got a complete warehouse in my wagons, that we took apart in Pueblo and brought down whole and entire. There wasn’t room for any more on this trip.”
Bankhead sighed. “A warehouse is exactly what I need. The Army sends supplies to us from Forts Griffin and Union, but the wagons just dump the crates and sacks on the ground, then head back. We don’t have enough shelter to keep them out of the wind and weather. We’re building adobe storerooms, but they can’t be very big, because mud brick isn’t strong enough to hold up a wide, heavy roof. I’ve tried to keep the wagons here, because that would keep the stores off the ground and under canvas, but the Army won’t let me. There are too many other stores needing to be delivered elsewhere.”
Sam thought fast. Dare he use his initiative to this extent? Would Walt be angry with him? He took a deep breath, and decided to risk it.
“Suh, my boss sent that warehouse for his company to use, but I reckon if I can present him with a good deal, he won’t mind it bein’ used for that instead. How about this? You give Ames Transport a three-year contract to ship your supplies here from the railhead, wherever it may be. In return, I’ll give you the warehouse, free of charge. My teamsters helped take it apart, so they can put it together within a week or two, I’m bettin’. I’ll also ask you to allow some o’ your troops to volunteer to help us build our own adobe bunkhouse an’ storerooms, while my teamsters build your warehouse. We’ll feed ’em real well each day as a ‘thank-you’. We’ll order lumber for a new warehouse for Ames Transport, and fetch it here in the spring.
“There’s another thing, suh, that I wasn’t goin’ to mention yet, but now might be a good time. My boss sent all o’ you here some Christmas presents, to show we really appreciate what you’re doin’ to pacify the Panhandle.” He described the contents of the wagon loaded with gifts. “I reckon we can give you the warm clothes now, ’cause it’s already darn cold, an’ save the food until Christmas. What do you think?”
Major Bankhead was all smiles. “I think that’s the most generous gesture from a civilian towards the Army that I’ve ever heard of! I’ll write to Mr. Ames to thank him, and I’ll ask the Commanding General to do the same, and to take note of this. Yes, let’s distribute the warm clothing right away, and reserve the rest for Christmas. As for giving us that warehouse, you’re a Godsend, Mr. Davis! I accept with gratitude. I’ll prepare a freight contract for signature right away, and suggest to the Commanding General that in the light of your helpfulness, Ames Transport should be considered for similar contracts with other forts. At tomorrow morning’s parade, I’ll inform the men of your company’s generosity. I’ll allow up to twenty to volunteer each day to help you with your adobe buildings, provided they have no other duties. If the food you eat is better than army rations, I daresay there’ll be plenty of applicants.”
Sam grinned. “We’ll feed the first ones real well, suh, to set a good example.”
The Major turned to Tyler. “What news of your ranch, Mr. Reese?”
“I found the place you recommended, Major. It’s just about perfect. I’ve scouted out the area, and chosen the land I want to buy. Now I’ve got to figure out how to get it surveyed within the next six months, so I can buy it straight off the plats before anyone else gets in ahead of me.”
Bankhead smiled. “I may be able to help you there. A survey team is coming here in two weeks. They’re going to start at the western boundary of the Indian Nations, and survey westward from there, while other teams will be starting on the western boundary of the Panhandle and working eastward. If you want to make an arrangement with them, I’ll put in a good word for you. Since Walter Ames is your partner, and his company is doing us so great a favor, I’ll be glad to return it in this way.”
Walking back towards the informal settlement outside the fort, Tyler grinned at Sam. “You did real good. I’ll write to Walt, to tell him I reckon you did exactly the right thing. If he don’t get freight contracts outta this for at least two or three more forts, I’ll eat my hat!”
“Thanks, suh. I figured I might be overreachin’ to give away our warehouse, but I reckoned it might pay off.”
“It sure did! Walt and I will do well out of it over the ranch, and he’ll also do well over it for his freight outfit, and you’ll be in the Army’s good books. You’ve done good for us all.”
While Sam’s teamsters erected the warehouse at the fort, and soldiers helped the rest of the teamsters build an adobe bunkhouse and another, equally long building divided into smaller storerooms, Tyler used his scouts to send messages to and fro between the herds and the floating outfit.
He was glad to learn that the search for mavericks was bearing fruit. The expanded floating outfit had covered about a third of the area he’d designated, and so far had found over five hundred head of unbranded cattle. All had now been branded with the Circle CAR, and incorporated into the herds as they drifted slowly northward. Arnie also reported finding a great many cattle marked with the brands of ranches in northern New Mexico and the Cherokee Outlet. They had probably drifted south during severe winter storms in years past. He did not round t
hem up, but suggested to Tyler that it might be worth sending word to those areas about what they’d found. The ranchers there could then decide what to do about it.
Tyler agreed, and made a mental note to push all such strays off the ranch’s land before his herds arrived. He wanted his grazing reserved for his cattle alone.
The five herds were in fair shape. Winter storms sometimes stopped them in their northward tracks, particularly when snow and ice blew down on the Arctic winds and froze on the eyelashes of cowhands and steers alike. However, they never lasted more than a few days before the weather warmed up again. Tyler was duly grateful for a relatively mild winter, compared to some he’d heard described in this part of the world. He expected the cattle would lose some weight and condition over the next few months, but they’d started out in rude good health, and would soon regain it grazing the fresh green grass of spring. Meanwhile, the young cattle he’d bought were getting older and larger. Most would be ready for sale the following year.
He issued fresh instructions to each herd. They were to continue their slow northward progress, feeding the cattle on the abundant Panhandle grass, until they reached the Cherokee Outlet; then they were to turn towards the ranch site. They were to arrive there, on the north bank of the Canadian River, by not later than the first of March, 1876, and remain a few miles apart until the herds could be sorted out.
No sooner had those arrangements been made than the survey team arrived. Major Bankhead invited Tyler to have supper with them one evening. He accepted with alacrity.
In answer to his questions, the head of the survey party, a Mr. Duncan, described their mission. “We’re one of four teams that will be mapping the entire Panhandle over the course of the next year. Our work will be used to divide it into counties and control the sale of land. As we complete each major section, we’ll send the plats down to Austin by courier, and they’ll be entered into the state’s records. Once that’s been done, the land will be available for sale.”
“I get it.” Tyler thought for a moment. “Any chance someone wantin’ to buy a particular area could ride down with your courier, so he can buy it straight off the plats the moment they’re registered?”
“Well… that would be unusual, but it’s certainly not illegal. We can even note the intention to purchase on the plats, so the land office knows at once not to sell it to anyone else. The problem would be for him to be there when the plats are ready. Unless he’s willing to ride with our survey party, he won’t know that date, and we can’t predict it with certainty.”
“Hmmm…” Tyler’s face broke into a smile. “Are you a betting man, Mr. Duncan?”
“I’ve been known to twist the tiger’s tail now and again.”
“Then let me offer you and your survey team a bet. I bet a thousand dollars in gold that you won’t have the plats of the property I want, marked with my intention to buy, ready to send down to Austin, in Major Bankhead’s office on the thirty-first of May, 1876. How does that sound to you?” He knew the amount, divided four ways, would equate to almost half a year’s wages for the junior surveyors, and probably a quarter’s wages for the head surveyor.
Silence fell as Duncan and his team looked at each other, then at the table. They were clearly thinking hard. Eventually Duncan said slowly, “So, if we do have the plats here on that date, ready in all respects, we win the bet?”
“You sure do. That way, I’ll know when to be here to go with your courier. If you wish, I’ll leave the stakes with Major Bankhead here, so you can be sure I’m not bluffing.”
“I… ah…” The surveyor looked at the Major. “D’you think this is in order?”
“I don’t see why not,” Bankhead said judiciously. “He’s not asking you to do a single thing that’s illegal or unethical. I’m willing to hold the stakes if you wish. I’ll give Mr. Reese a receipt for them.”
Duncan began to smile. “Thank you, Major. Mr. Reese, under the circumstances, what can we do but accept your bet? The thirty-first of May, 1876, it is. Please show me on the map the area that interests you, so I can be sure we include all of it.”
“I’ll do that. Thank you very much.”
Inwardly, Tyler was chortling with glee. It looked like some of the five-thousand-plus gold dollars he’d recovered from the corpse of El Jefe were about to prove very useful indeed.
One of Tyler’s biggest worries had been the supply of fuel for fires. The Panhandle was almost devoid of trees, and the nearest coal mines were near Trinidad in Colorado. To bring fuel from so far away would be too expensive. The Army was bringing in firewood by the wagonload, but it didn’t have to worry about the expense – the taxpayer covered it.
The problem was solved by one of the cowhands who’d spent a winter in Nebraska. He came to Tyler and said, “Boss, I see you’re sendin’ the boys out to look for buffalo chips for fuel. There’s a better way.”
“Oh? What is it, Tad?”
“Did you ever hear of burnin’ straw bundles?”
Tyler’s eyebrows shot up. “No, I never did. Don’t they just flare up an’ burn out right away?”
“Not if they’re tightly twisted, boss. Let me show you.”
The cowhand produced a pair of leather work gloves and put them on, then took a length of hay from a feeding bin for the ox teams. He folded the ends over to make a triple thickness, then twisted it hard between his fists. It crinkled audibly as it was compressed into a tight cylinder. He tucked in the loose ends, and handed it to Tyler. “You can store it like that, or just drop it right into the fire, soon as it’s made.”
“And how long does it burn?” Tyler asked, hefting the straw bundle in fascination.
“That’ll burn for ten minutes, or a bit more if the grass is still a lil damp. You can dampen it with water, too, iffen you want. It’ll last longer, but that’ll also make more smoke. You just keep on rollin’ more of them as you need ’em. If you do that for half an hour every day in summer, you’ll have enough fuel to heat your house an’ cook all winter long. They don’t have much firewood up in Nebraska, either, so someone came up with this idea.”
To Tyler’s frustration, Sam didn’t have any hay scythes in his wagons; but the Army had some, and Major Bankhead was glad to lend them to the teamsters. They cut several wagonloads of hay, even though the winter grass wasn’t the best for that purpose. After airing it out to dry it as much as possible, they began twisting it into sticks and feeding it into the stoves they’d brought from Pueblo, to keep their bunkhouse warm. Tyler passed the word of how to make hay twists to his cowhands, and laid in a stock of hay at the ranch site.
Tyler made Tad very happy by handing him fifty dollars in gold as a bonus for his suggestion. He also made a mental note to investigate hay-twisting further in Dodge City. Surely, by now, someone had invented a machine to do the twisting automatically? Had a stove been invented that could burn an entire bale of hay? Something so useful would surely not be ignored.
15
March 1876
The first day of March saw all five herds assembled on or near the future site of the Circle CAR. They were all on the north bank of the river, from where the final trail drive to Dodge City would commence.
Tyler summoned the five trail bosses to a meeting at the new headquarters building of the ranch. It was a low adobe structure, a big office with living accommodation behind it, including rooms for Tyler and Nate. In due course it would be replaced by a better building, but adobe would serve for now.
“We’re gonna set up the ranch breedin’ herd,” he told them. “I want all the cows south of the river, plus about a hundred of the best bulls. I reckon that’ll come to somewhere between four and five thousand head o’ cattle. After that, we’ll take a look at the remainin’ steers. I want to make up three herds o’ cattle ready for sale, which means they’ve gotta be big enough and old enough to interest the buyers, carryin’ plenty o’ meat. Any stock that’s still too small or too young will also go south of the river. We’ll keep ’em her
e for another year, to get bigger before we sell ’em.
“We’re also gonna choose our ranch hands. I’ve got a list o’ names of people I want, who worked for me before. I want each o’ you to make a list of the ten best hands on your own trail drives, and give it to me. I’ll talk to all of ’em, to see who wants to stay here an’ work for Circle CAR. We’ll let them move into the new bunkhouse. They’ll stay behind, with Nate in charge, while we take the herds to Dodge City.”
“How many you hirin’, boss?” Arnie asked.
“Up to thirty hands, plus two wranglers, two cooks an’ two scouts, and a floatin’ outfit of half a dozen more top hands. The rest will go with the herds to Dodge City, and be paid off there. I reckon they’ll have no trouble findin’ work anywhere they choose.”
Lee sniggered. “If they’ve worked on a drive this big, for this long, they’ll have trail bosses fallin’ over themselves to hire ’em. I reckon we’re gonna be famous, at least for a few years.”
Tyler shook his head. “Mebbe, mebbe not. Before long there’ll be even bigger drives on the trail north, an’ spreads bigger than ours in the Panhandle and the western grasslands o’ Dakota Territory.”
While the trail bosses began the process of dividing their herds and driving the breeding stock south of the river, Tyler wrote messages to Walt, and to several cattle buyers with whom he’d dealt in the past. He dispatched two scouts to ride to Dodge City with the messages, where they’d be telegraphed by Wells, Fargo to their addressees. He sent Walt a list of inquiries about tools and equipment he wanted to buy, and asked him to bring the answers to Dodge City by late April. He could set up a branch of Ames Transport there while he waited for the Circle CAR herds to arrive. He advised the cattle buyers to be in Dodge City, ready to do business, at the same time. He was bringing them three big herds of prime cattle, well fed and plump, ready for the hungry Eastern markets, and reckoned to be in Dodge by early May at the latest, at least two weeks ahead of any other Texas outfits. He knew the news would draw them like flies to honey.
