Seated in the middle was a handsome older gentleman—clearly the father. Surrounding him was a younger Catalina and a man that Allie assumed to be Dutch. Dutch had his arms around a woman with a well-honed body and rich tan skin—probably Bright Feather—and beside her was an Indian brave. Then there was the rest-a mulatto woman, a Chinese woman, and lastly a blonde white woman with striking green eyes. All shapely, all beautiful like young Catalina.
“It was painted in the mid-1870s,” Cattie said. “Those were some of the best years of our lives. The adventures we had …”
Allie was mesmerized by everything she saw. Cattie stepped towards her and placed her hand on her shoulder, staring into her eyes with a subtle expression.
“Yes, Miss Mastluehr. That is indeed my family.”
“But …”
Catalina laughed, interrupting before Allie could say anything. “But how? We were all about two years apart—give or take some—and let me just say my father had the most interesting life in the years between Cassandra’s birth in 1840 and Blue River’s in the early ‘50’s.”
“Oh, please, won’t you share?”
Allie was already dying to hear the entire story.
“I am sorry, Miss Mastluehr, but that would make a very long story. But of this, I will say: my father wasn’t much of a drinker, but on the rare occasions when he was overcome by spirits, he would say this—well, the rest of us just overheard when he said it. The only one he ever said it in front of was Honor. None of us ever said it out loud, but we all knew she was his favorite, the apple of his eye, and we were okay with it. Between us all, we each had our favorites. Cass was mine, but at the end of the day, we all loved each other and that was what was important.”
Allie nodded, feeling as if she could relate. Evan could be a pain in the ass, but she wouldn’t trade growing up with him for anything. Still she then wondered what it might have been like growing up with numerous siblings, though and sharing a strong bond.
“Miss Wilde, you were about to tell me what your father would say in front of Honor,” Allie pointed out. “Was she the woman of Oriental descent, the lady with those beautiful green eyes or was she the colored woman?”
“Oh, I am sorry. Just an old lady with a tendency to ramble I guess,” Cattie pointed to the black woman. “That’s Honor and what Papa would say was that most people are blessed in their life to find their true love and by some miracle, he not only found true love once, but four other times, only to cruelly lose them all in one form or another. He said if life were a Greek tragedy, he would have played the hero.”
Silence passed between them as soon as Cattie finished. Allie felt a cold hand close around her heart at the mention of true love. Her mind began to travel the dark path back to a past she had buried for a long time, now deep in her heart, and the toll that it had exacted on her. She thought about all that she had lost, not the least of which was the intimacy that had nearly been awakened within her in her encounter with Connor the prior evening.
Sweep away the dark thoughts, Allie.
Resolving to do just that, turned to her host and said, “Thank you for sharing that. Is there any more that you might share?”
Catalina looked at her with a cocky smile on her face.
“My, but you are an inquisitive one! I am going to guess it’s more than just your nature?”
Allie marveled at her intuitiveness and said, “I am actually a journalist by profession. I was on my way to San Francisco in the first place in search of a job opening before I had to deliver the letter.”
“Oh.” was Cattie’s simple acknowledgement of this news.
“Actually, I am thinking of writing another book in my spare time—a better one. Becoming a published author is a dream I hope to achieve one day too. I have written a few in the past, but they have always been rejected.”
“I see.” Cattie simply answered again.
Allie sighed and pointed to the man in the middle of the portrait.
“Your father appears to have been a wealthy man, given the ranch and all. What happened to him?”
“The judge happily had us and lived his life, that’s what happened,” Cattie said.
Obviously, talking about her father wasn’t a topic Cattie wanted to dig deep into. Allie shrugged and focused on her sisters instead.
“Can you tell me more about your siblings? They seem as fascinating as are you,” Allie finally said.
Cattie appeared to ponder on her question for a few moments. A warm smile found its way to her lips as she looked up at Allie.
“It has been so long since I’ve talked about those wonderful people,” she said. “Since Rachel—or Bright Feather if you prefer—died, I have been alone out here this whole time. Not like people were beatin’ down the door to get here before that, but it’s not like in the old days when there were all sorts of people poppin’ up here all the time. That includes ne’er-do-wells who were interested in sharin’ in or makin’ their own the riches and wealth of Cedar Ledge.”
“So, you will tell me about them?” Allie asked, her curiosity already fueled by the intensity of Cattie’s words.
“Yes, I will. Perhaps you can do me a kindness and make us some tea. You’ll find it in the kitchen area,” Cattie replied, motioning back towards the kitchen.
Allie didn’t waste a second of their time. She hurried in and out of the kitchen, getting their warm water ready and preparing the tea as fast as she could. She was serving their cups when she noticed Cattie opening a sizable steamer trunk and retrieving a large leather-bound notebook from it. The lid obscured the rest of the items in the trunk, though.
“I should start with Cassandra,” Cattie said, as Allie passed her a cup and sat across her. “She was the oldest, after all … and probably the most darin’ of us all in a family that included a Calvary officer and an Indian brave.”
“This journal is hers. Here is just one of her stories. My oldest sister was an incredible woman. She was the personal protégé of Miss Ware, the first ever woman detective of the Pinkerton National Detective Agency”.
Allie was stunned. “Your sister was a Pinkerton?”
“She was when she lived back east, but when she returned to the west she became a special deputy for the Arizona territorial governor.”
Allie wasn’t done being shocked. She froze with the tea to her mouth and lowered the cup, wanting to be fully conscious of the details she was being told. “How did that come to be?”
“My Papa’s sister, Constance was married to the governor of the territory in those days,” Cattie explained. “My uncle, Nathanial Duvalier, personally invested her with the special law enforcement commission so she could help out whenever matters called for it. Forty years ago, Arizona could still be a lawless place and it needed a person with her skills. Well OUR skills because Cassandra trained us in everythin’ that she knew.”
“Here, let me read you this story how she took down Clay Travers—just one of the numerous outlaws in the west that called bank robbery and murder their stock and trade,” Catalina said, flipping the book open and reading from it.
Allie finally brought the cup to her lips, listening attentively to a plan that had started with a tip received by the governor that notorious bank robber, Clay Travers, might be hiding out in a whorehouse in McClatchy Bluff.
Cattie surprisingly passed the book to Allie with a smile as soon as Allie dropped her cup.
“I have seemed to have misplaced my spectacles,” she fussed. “You should read yourself and also listen to me relay some of the events that my dear sister forgot to include.”
*****
The Present
Allie realized that her shocked and disapproving expressions so far might have seemed rude to Cattie. In the past hour, she had listened and read tales that involved sexual encounters that none of the women felt shy to talk or write about. A few seconds ago, Cattie had blatantly spoken about liaisons that every sister in her family had over the past years and Allie hadn
’t really been too impressed by her own speech.
“I am sorry if I seem too stunned … I …” How does one even apologize for being shocked?
“It’s nothing to apologize for, Allie.”
Luckily, Cattie only chuckled. She said, “You got a right to be shocked. Dalliances with members of your own gender is not somethin’ anyone discusses, and I doubt the day will ever come when such a thing will be discussed openly or accepted. But it’s far more common than you might imagine. Hell, honey, the Romans were engaged in such things back in their heyday on that there Tiber River.”
Allie could only nod. “Enough about me,” Cattie sighed. “There is so much more you probably want to know about Cassandra.”
“Yes, of course.” Allie studied her for a while, but continued nonetheless. “I am fascinated that not only was she a special deputy in a world of men, but was a Pinkerton before that.”
“Very few knew she had that commission from the governor. That’s what allowed her to operate in what some people refer to as “undercover,” which sounds scandalous …” Cattie chuckled mischievously as if she had made a personal joke that only she understood. “And yet somehow appropriate for the stuff we were always getting ourselves into,” she concluded.
“Go on,” Allie prodded, still listening attentively.
“We tended to act as her unofficial deputies when the need arose. Now as for her days as a Pinkerton, she loved that. One never would have thought she would come back here, but the first of many schemes by those who were out to plunder Half Breed Haven drew her back west. In a funny way, we should probably thank those polecats because our lives might have been terribly different if Cassandra hadn’t returned and stayed in our lives.”
Allie was about to comment on how much Cattie admired and adored Cassandra when the air outside suddenly reverberated with a gunshot sound. Allie momentarily clenched her teeth instead. She had totally forgotten about Connor and his hunting. He obviously was having a bit of luck seeing an animal to shoot. The echo of the gunshot did nothing to Cattie, though. She only glanced through the window at the ranch outside and grimaced.
“That must be your driver you said went hunting,” she said. “Perhaps your friend is having luck on his hunt. Now who is this gentleman that brought you out here? You didn’t say.”
For a moment, Connor’s charming grin appeared in Allie’s head and for a brief moment, it was as if his lips were on hers again and his hands were trying to touch her everywhere. The image disappeared swiftly as it had come, though. Allie didn’t know she had closed her eyes until she opened them and found Cattie studying her with a keen frown.
Allie leaned forward, though and told her, “Oh, I’ll tell you all about him later, but for now, you must continue Cassandra’s story! Please!”
Cattie shrugged and opened the journal again. Allie sighed and kept her body leaning out from the chair. The older woman across her was patiently thumbing through the pages of the journal.
“Okay, here is her entry for June 1868. She was workin’ a case on the Philadelphia waterfront involvin’ a suspected card shark that was cheatin’ some of the wealthiest men the city had to offer.”
“Oh, I like this story already, Catalina!” Allie finally leaned back. There was no way she could hide her anxiety. She wanted to know everything.
“Truthfully, the story actually started days before that and I was a witness to its beginnin’.” Cattie glanced away from the pages of the journal as if she was trying to recollect a personal memory related to the one in the journal. “I was about 19 or 20 at the time and actually was the only one of Papa’s children livin’ at the ranch at the time.”
“Where were the others?” Allie asked.
“Well, Cassandra, of course, was working for the Pinkerton Philadelphia office, which had recently opened,” Cattie explicitly explained. “Honor was at Bristol-Slade, an all colored school in New York and Lijuan was there too after Papa pulled some strings to get her admitted, as even as a half Oriental, she was finding it difficult to get into the white universities. Dutch was assigned to nearby Fort McCallister, so he lived there, of course. As for Blue River, he pretty much lived full time with his tribe at the time. A few years later when he got older he came to live here full time and run the ranch’s timber operation.”
“Yes, it was just me here,” she continued. “Papa wanted to send me to school like the others, but I wouldn’t hear of it. Allie, cattle ranching was in my blood! There was nothin’ I liked better than tendin’ to my steers. So, it was just me and Papa at the ranch that day those sidewinders Hale Everett and Xavier Johnson showed up with an offer in hand. Even after all these years, I can still remember Papa callin’ me into his study where he had graciously offered the visitors to share in the lunch that they had interrupted.”
It seemed the tale had finally begun. Allie kept still and listened, noticing that Cattie hadn’t sipped her tea once. The older woman might be unwilling to share most of the tale of just how such a unique family had come to be, but it was obvious this particular story was one she wouldn’t mind spending her afternoon to discuss.
CHAPTER 2
* * *
Cedar Ledge Ranch
Alamieda
Arizona Territory
May 1868.
The judge had chosen the study to host his visitors because its stone enclosed walls helped keep the coolness surrounding them as they ate. There were only two windows in the large room and they were positioned quite high above arms’ reach. Only the cleaners had access to them with their ladders and it wasn’t until cleaning was necessary that they came into his study. He had chosen that design so he would not be easily distracted by the sweeping views of the gorgeous ranchland that surrounded his family’s home.
William Henry “Whip” Wilde concentrated on the men that had obviously come to see him because of business—possibly that of land. It was why many wealthy men like Everett came to see him, anyway. The forty-five-year-old gambling house owner always dressed in a pair of black trousers and a dull color shirt that matched his suspenders. He was a tall man, precisely the same height as Whip, but had wider shoulders and a full moustache that he played with whenever he spoke. Unlike Whip who had crystal blue eyes, an easy smile and a smooth face unexpected for a man his age of over six decades, Everett looked forty-five every time, with rumpled skin adorning his face with its graying moustache.
He came with his lackey whom he had introduced as Johnson—a young man that was probably in his late twenties. He was gangly in a pale color shirt and brown pants, with brown hair, thin eyebrows, and kept a few strands of hair on his cheeks and chin. He was a handsome one, too, despite his frame, Whip thought, also noticing that his eyes frequently scanned the walls of the study. On second thought, Whip concluded that Johnson might be an overly curious young man.
Both men slowly used their napkins to wipe the sides of their mouths, happy expressions on display as they finished their meal.
“Oh, if this isn’t a fine repast, Mr. Wilde.” Everett extolled after he dropped the napkin on the table. “It’s been a while since I ate meat freshly killed and roasted in a kitchen fire.”
Johnson kept quiet, but he nodded at his boss’ words, showing his agreement.
“Oh, I am glad you liked it. I will call on Mrs. Chow to dispose of the plates as soon as we are through talking business. It is why we are here, is it not?”
“Oh, definitely. You are a man that likes to go straight to the point.” Everett replied Whip with a nod.
“I just like to not waste time dallying around,” Whip said firmly but with good cheer.
Again, Everett nodded, this time around, with an approving smile. He seemed like a man that hardly spoke long about a matter too.
“Okay then,” Everett said, shrugging. “I understand, Mr. Wilde that you sometimes sell off parcels of your five hundred square mile ranch. Is that right?” he asked.
“Mostly to the homesteaders, of course,” Whip replied, a
lready getting curious why Everett was interested. “Especially people streaming in after the wake of the Civil War. They are looking for a new life and herein is where I can help give them one.”
“Good. Good.” Everett nodded his head in approval.
“You have an interest in some of my land?” Whip asked, deciding to save Everett the stress of asking.
“Yes.” Everett said immediately, sighing softly.
“What parcel?”
“It would be a section of land along the Rock River that runs through Cedar Ledge, close to the southern border of the ranch.” Again, Everett response was immediate. He seemed relieved every time he spoke about what he wanted.
“Southern border? Why that parcel? Being virtually at the far end of the ranch with nothing but water and animals.”
Whip watched as Everett exchanged an unreadable look with Johnson before he said, “Well, Mr. Wilde, the promontory of the mountain on said land would make an excellent location for … uh … one of a series of watch towers to scout for forest fires and hostile Indian activity.”
That surprised Whip. Fires could be a dangerous thing, but this was the first time he had heard of anyone wanting to purchase land for the purpose of fire prevention. Whip raised an eyebrow at both men and cleared his throat. “Last time I checked, Mr. Everett, you own a wealthy gambling hall in nearby Carter’s Creek. Why real estate all of a sudden?”
“Diversity, Mr. Wilde, diversity,” Everett chortled, crossing his fingers. “I am thinking of something different … a whole new business for the county, at least for a change! Now, once I get these watch towers in place, I can provide a service to the local ranches at a fair price as well as working out a deal with the Army to have them manned to be on the lookout for enemies such as that blood thirsty Black Hawk!”
Whip shifted slightly at the mention of his old enemy, Black Hawk, but said nothing, deciding against pressing further on the merits of what the man was proposing. If Everett wanted the land and believed in what he was proposing, he obviously felt it was worthwhile enough to make a pitch and travel to Cedar Ledge.
The Wildes of the West #1: The Daughters of Half Breed Haven: Old west fiction of action adventure, romance & western family drama (The Wildes of the West/Half Breed Haven) Page 5
