by Ron Schwab
“Not a pleasant thought,” Serena said.
“No, I guess not. We don’t know how the parasite gets in your system, but we know that the disease has something to do with the parasites, and they apparently go through different stages and die and then come back again. That’s why you have recurrences.”
“But you can’t get the varmints out?” Kirsten asked.
“That’s the bad news. The good news, Serena, is that this isn’t a death sentence. Control the fever and you control the disease. When the symptoms start to come on, you commence taking quinine and do anything else that helps to reduce the fever. You can head off the disease before you get so ill. That doesn’t mean you won’t have some unpleasant episodes, but you can live a normal life span. I would strongly suggest taking better care of yourself . . . getting more rest and physical activity, for instance. Build up your endurance.”
Tears began streaming down Serena’s cheeks, and Rachael began to sob. Kirsten moved to embrace the ecstatic mother. Elizabeth stayed at her post with the cool washrag and water bucket.
Thad moved closer to the bed and took Serena’s hand. “You’re going to live to see Ned’s children, probably his grandchildren.”
“Yes, thanks to you. And you’re going to see them, too. I’m not changing my plans. I’ll head back to Washington as soon as I can. But I’ll be back. I promise.”
“And I’ll give you the time you asked for. Now go to sleep.”
59
MYLES FRANKLIN LOCKE stared at the sheaf of papers on his desk but saw nothing. His mind was disconnected from the project in front of him—a rare occurrence for a man of his discipline. But he worried about what Thaddeus had in store with the changing events in his life.
His youngest son had just left the office after seeking his counsel about the feasibility of setting up a corporation for the company town he was seeking to establish with his business partner, Kirsten Cavelle. They planned multiple business ventures on a parcel of land adjacent to a projected extension of railroad service to Randolph, lying some twenty miles north of Manhattan. Their project would lie at the midpoint between the two towns, but it would take money, and that would require other investors. Myles had explained that control of a corporation required ownership of fifty-one percent of the shares. Thad could not leverage that much ownership by himself, so he could not acquire sole voting control. He and Kirsten could probably accomplish it together, but there was risk. What if they had a falling out? What was his level of trust that they could maintain their business relationship? Myles had professed his fondness and admiration for Kirsten, but relationships change, he pointed out—sometimes for the better and not uncommonly for the worse, much worse. Regardless, they needed an escape hatch, a contract provision that would set out a mechanism for resolving differences and assuring that one could buy the interest of the other if they determined they could no longer pursue business together.
This was a huge risk for Thad, but risk-takers had built America and would continue to do so for many generations, he hoped. And he thought Thad had an extremely competent partner, but such commercial undertakings between a man and a woman were unheard of. Thad and Kirsten were indeed pioneers.
He had few reservations about Kirsten’s trust of Thaddeus. He had not been at liberty to tell his son that, prior to the trial, Kirsten had named Thad as executor of her will and trustee of a trust created by its terms. The will canceled Thad’s note to Kirsten for the Rickers land purchase and gave him the Red Angus cow herd. It also provided Thad would hold all the land in trust for thirty years with the right to rent it during that time and to pay rentals to the Kansas State Agricultural College to build a fund for establishing a veterinary school. Upon expiration of the trust, the land would go outright to the college. For some reason Kirsten Cavelle had decided Thaddeus Locke was a man she could trust. Myles did not think for a moment that her trust was misplaced, but he found this instant trust rather strange for a woman of Kirsten’s business acumen. It would be interesting to watch how this venture played out.
And then there was Serena returning to the Flint Hills and bringing a new son to Thad’s life—and a grandson to his own. Thaddeus had two full plates, Myles decided. His thoughts were interrupted by a soft tapping on the door. Without waiting for a reply, it opened and Cam sauntered in and took a chair across from Myles.
“Well,” he said, “I just left Serena at the railroad station. She’ll be headed east in about fifteen minutes . . . said she’d be back in six months, hopefully less.”
“She’s a week later than she’d planned, but she seems to have recovered from her illness. I understand she can expect future attacks, but she should be able to carry on her work without much problem.”
“Yeah, I assume she told you she’s going to try to convince the Bill of Rights society to let her continue her work from here. She says we’re almost dead-center in the middle of the country. She’s going to argue that travel convenience would help carry on their work nationally. She can still take cases with our firm, but we wouldn’t have to worry about carrying any financial load at all.”
“Yes,” Myles said. “On the contrary, she could make a nice contribution to overhead. We’d discussed it at home last night, and I was going to tell you about it this morning. I’d bet she wins her argument and our office becomes headquarters for the Bill of Rights Society.”
“Little brother did himself proud in diagnosing her illness.”
“Yes, he did. He gave her hope for her life. We all need that.”
“And he’s got a son. In my wildest imagination I’d have never dreamed that up. And here I always thought my young brother was boring as hell. And now he’s got a woman moving back here with a child he didn’t know about . . . a colored woman to boot. I don’t know what that brings with it. Then he and crazy Kirsten have some wild-eyed scheme about development along the railroad. From my viewpoint he’s got two wild women in his life. Trust me, one’s about enough.”
“I’ll let him deal with the women . . . but I think they have the railroad project well thought out.”
“I sure as hell hope so. Kirsten’s talked Pilar into ten percent of the stock and a seat on the board of directors. We had a little unpleasantness over it, but I knew I’d lost that battle before it started, so I made a hasty retreat. I’m sort of a kept man, I guess. Pilar has her own money from her family’s holdings in Texas, and I don’t have any say about what she does with it.”
“Pilar’s a good woman. She’s perfect for you.”
“I know.”
Fall 1885
60
THE SUN NEARLY blinded Kirsten as she stood near the edge of the mesa and looked eastward over the Big Blue River Valley this mid-November morning, and she tugged the brim of her hat down to nearly cover her forehead. Her eyes surveyed the brown, dormant grass that blanketed the landscape for acres and acres between the mesa and the river, and in her mind’s eye, she saw the ribbons of steel that would start threading their trail northward and parallel to the river’s course next summer. She could envision the buildings rising from the earth, one by one: the auction barn with its adjacent stockyard, a large general store, and Quincy Belmont’s blacksmithing and metal works with an adjacent smoke house.
Negotiations were underway for both a sawmill and flourmill to be built on the northern outskirts of the central complex. There would be a small company office with the auction barn. They had not initially planned for residences on the site, but when the realization came that employees living nearby could be more available and productive, they began to rethink the plan. Managing the stockyards, for instance, was more than a daytime job. Thad had already decided to build a new home with a large attached clinic building somewhere on the site. The house would include several additional bedrooms to accommodate guests. He obviously intended for his son to occupy one of those rooms as often as possible.
A noticeable wind had suddenly started biting at her ears and neck, and she turned away and s
tarted meandering back toward the medicine wheel. This was her first visit to the spot. She knew about it, of course, and in a vague way she understood it had meant something special to Thad and Serena. Thad had suggested several times that she view the commercial site from the bluff but had not offered to accompany her. That was fine by her. She had little interest in visiting people’s pasts. To Kirsten, life was now and the future.
As she studied the medicine wheel again, it occurred to her that some knowledgeable person should take a look at it before the table top of the mesa was overrun by civilization. There might be something to learn here, and it should probably be preserved. She would broach the subject with Thad. That wouldn’t be difficult; he was always approachable and seemingly unflappable about anything she might bring up. She found him receptive to her opinions but firm when he disagreed. But not once in the some three months since the trial had their differences burst into angry words. Somehow, they always worked their ways to a common decision without even knowing which one had given ground.
As the wind picked up, she looked skyward to the west. Dark, menacing clouds rolled her way. Such was November in Kansas, a warm, balmy day one minute and a bitter ice storm the next. She decided she had better head home. Thad was riding over to the C Bar C early afternoon to finalize plans for organizing the new land company, and she should clean up a bit and straighten up the house.
It suddenly occurred to her that she hadn’t given a damn about her appearance for anybody until a few months back when she started replacing some of her threadbare shirts with some new ones and picking up a few fragrances at the Manhattan shops. She had rationalized that she needed to appear more the businesswoman in her new enterprise and even bought a few professional-looking dresses for meetings with prospective investors. But it occurred to her now that Thad’s opinion had come to count for something with her.
61
THAD SAT AT the table in Kirsten’s ranch house, a stack of papers scattered out in front of him. Kirsten was brewing coffee, which he knew would be bitter and grainy. Maybe that’s why she generally offered to add a thimble of whiskey, an offer he routinely declined while she added it to her own cup. He had shared light meals at her home when they were working and quickly learned her cooking was little better than her brewing. She had not protested when he gradually started helping her with the food preparation. He was glad, because it was the only way he could get a meal that wasn’t burnt to a crisp.
None of this mattered anyway. Her enthusiasm for the company town had been contagious, and he was caught up in the planning, but he had lately come to realize how so much of what he looked forward to in their meetings was less the project than whom he was meeting with. She had somehow inched her way into becoming his best friend. He guessed that wasn’t saying all that much, since, outside of family, he was a man of few, if any, close friends but many acquaintances.
Kirsten sat a cup of steaming coffee in front of him and joined him, taking a chair on the opposite side of the table. The wind howled like a prairie wolf outside, but the crackling fire only a few paces away was keeping up with it. The room was toasty and comfortable.
“I didn’t offer you any whiskey this time . . . passed on it myself,” Kirsten said. She took a sip of the coffee. “Having second thoughts, though.” She smiled and he grinned back and gamely tried his own.
“It will keep us awake,” he said diplomatically. “You’ve been doing some work on your house.”
“You’re very observant, considering it’s been finished for two months. Yes, I’ve repainted all the rooms. Cleaned everything out of the bedroom and replaced the bed . . . I had to sleep on the floor till I got that done. I don’t find anything creepy now. I miss Killer, but ever since that night he’s taken up residence in the bunkhouse with Chet and Asa . . . only visits during the day. And, of course, Henry’s abandoned me.”
“I brought him back.”
“Yeah, and the next day he was back at your place.”
“I’m sorry. We’ve got to be pretty good friends.”
“I’ll find me another more appreciative cat sooner or later. I do like having a cat around.” She abruptly changed the course of the conversation. “I visited the medicine wheel this morning.”
The remark caught him by surprise, and he was uncertain how to respond. It wasn’t like she had trespassed on a sacred temple, or at least it was sure as hell time for him to quit thinking of it that way. “What did you think?”
“The view was stupendous. You’ll be able to see every detail of our development from there. In fact, it gave me an idea for the name of the company. Your father says we need to come up with a name for what he calls the ‘umbrella’ company. What would you think of ‘Medicine Wheel Properties’?”
Thad did not respond immediately, running the name through his mind several times and repeating it out loud. “I’m okay with that.”
She handed him several sheets of paper. “Here’s what I’ve figured out for the stock based on cash and property contributions. You’ll deed forty acres of river bottom to the corporation in exchange for twenty percent of the stock. I’ll put in twenty-five thousand dollars for twenty-five percent of the stock . . . I can get that with a mortgage on my land now. Pilar will take ten percent, and Quincy wants fifteen. John Cooper from the Riley County Bank is in for ten percent. Your uncle El and aunt Nancy want ten percent. The other ten percent will be split four ways among the ranchers we talked to.”
“No one person’s got voting control.”
“No, but if you, Pilar and I hang together, we’ve got the votes to run the company, and everybody can see that. I’m sure your aunt and uncle would stick with us, too.”
“And if we don’t hang together?”
“The whole thing blows to shit anyway.”
“I don’t want to run the thing day to day once it’s set up. I’ve got my vet practice to look after, and we’ve already agreed I’m selling off my Herefords and going into the Red Angus business with you.”
“I’ll manage the company if you and Pilar will support me for president. I thought we’d put all the shareholders on the board to get their active involvement. Pilar could be vice-president and you’d be secretary-treasurer.”
“Damn, you had this all figured out, didn’t you? I don’t know why I came over.” He was relieved, not angry. Kirsten had the vision for the project and the management skills. He would not have been involved if he had not been confident she would take the project and run with it. The other investors had understood the pecking order, and after they met Kirsten, that’s why they signed on. Conservative Uncle El had been totally smitten, and Aunt Nancy, an astute judge of men and women, had given her enthusiastic blessing.
They spent the rest of the afternoon reviewing Kirsten’s sketches of the site plans. Here they had to hammer out some differences over building locations, and there were issues over whether the lots would be platted and sold to business operators or whether the company would build and lease. They agreed to hire a surveyor to divide the land into platted lots and then decide on a case by case basis whether to sell or lease. They had concluded it might take too much borrowed money to be everybody’s landlord. Certainly, Thad would own his own tract and bear the cost of constructing his home and clinic. That was one reason he had elected to take fewer shares.
Dusk was settling in by the time they had exhausted their ideas for the day, and Kirsten had already lighted a few kerosene lamps to brighten the house. Thad went to the window and peered out. “I probably need to get on my way. It’s spitting snow. Henry’s been confined to the barn this afternoon, and he’ll bitch if he has to mouse for his supper.”
“I know Henry won’t starve, and he’s no doubt curled up in the hay. And this is Asa’s day for chores at your place. Stay for supper.”
He hesitated. “On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“I cook.”
She stuck out her tongue at him. “I’ve some of Quincy’s s
moked sausages and the fixings for flapjacks.”
He walked into the kitchen. “That sounds good, I’ll get to work. Do you have some eggs?”
“I do. Fresh. Chet dropped some by this noon. I can make the coffee.”
He gave her a warning stare.
“I guess I’ll just add a log to the fire and sit.”
“Do that.”
After supper, Thad and Kirsten silently cleaned up the dirty pans and dishes together. They had barely spoken since he put supper on the table, but that was one thing he enjoyed about their friendship. They could be quiet together for long stretches without compulsion to break into each other’s thoughts. Thad chided himself for eating too much, although Kirsten had out eaten him by far. She was slender as a young willow branch, and how she did it eating like that, he couldn’t imagine. On the other hand, she had to eat her own cooking most of the time, he guessed.
When the dishes and pans had been put away, he looked outside again. “Oh, God, it’s snowing and blowing like hell out there. This could get serious. I’d better get out to the barn and get Cato saddled up.”
“Wait for it to blow over.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“Sit down with me in front of the fireplace. We need to talk.”
She did not wait for his reply but scooted the settee closer to the fire.
“We’ve been talking all afternoon,” he said.
“About business. This isn’t business.”
They sat down together, just inches apart, and took in the warmth of the fire. He decided to let her set the agenda.
