“He’s building a damn town,” Mark Junior told the rancher. “I heard he’s sent letters to his attorneys asking them to invite people to settle in the town of Valley View.”
“What the hell is a Valley View?” Grant asked, sitting down and pouring himself a drink of whiskey.
“That’s the name of the settlement now. It’s official too.”
“Since when?”
“Ever since the territorial governor signed some damn paper making it legal.”
Grant sat and sipped his whiskey and stared at the younger man. “That means they’ll soon have a marshal and mayor and judge, and maybe even a town council and all that crap.”
“I guess so.”
Grant cussed, loud and with much feeling.
“I say we attack the town,” young Mark said. “Tonight. Burn the damn place to the ground.”
Grant shook his head. “No. That’s completely out of the question.”
“Why?”
“It’s a town now. A regular town. You pull something like that, and the governor will ask for troops to be sent in. That, or federal marshals. We don’t want that.”
“No, we sure as hell don’t.” Mark looked puzzled for a moment. “Then . . . what do we do?”
Grant slowly shook his head. “I don’t know. Give me time to think on it some. Time. I need time to think. How’s your pa?”
“Out of his head. He’s crazy. This time he ain’t comin’ out of it. We got him locked in his room. He rants and raves and slobbers and hollers. I guess we’re gonna have to chain him up like some wild animal and haul him off to an asylum somewheres.”
The young man spoke of his father’s condition with about as much emotion as asking for someone at the dinner table to pass him the mashed potatoes.
“You don’t seen too broke up about it, boy,” Grant said, his distaste for the young man showing on his face.
“I ain’t broke up about it at all, Grant. And neither is Peaches or Mike. Livin’ with Pa was like livin’ in the house with a grizzly bear.”
He hesitated and looked around for a moment. “Grant, your house is awful quiet today. Where is everybody? Where is Mrs. Perkins?”
“I sent Darleen out to California to visit her sister. Tried to get Lucy to go with her, but she refused to go. You know what a hardhead she can be, don’t you, boy?”
“Yes, sir. I do. I reckon that’s why she and Peaches get along so well. They’re so much alike.”
“I don’t know where Lucy has gone off to. She and your sister are probably together, gettin’ into trouble. Victor’s probably laid up somewheres drunk. He isn’t worth killin’.”
“Do we hire more gunhands, Grant?”
“No. I thought when Scott Dice got here we’d finally be rid of Frank Morgan. That didn’t work out worth a damn.”
“Town buried him the other day.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“Grant, I know you and Daddy are worth a lot of money—I finally got to open the books—but all these gunslicks on the payroll is expensive. And there ain’t no work gettin’ done.”
“You ain’t tellin’ me nothin’ I don’t already know, boy.”
“Our foreman just quit yesterday.”
“So did mine,” the older man admitted. “Said he was pulling out and wouldn’t be back.”
“Grant?”
“Yes, boy?”
“I’m scared. We could lose everything we got if this ... mess don’t turn around in our favor.”
“No, boy,” the older rancher corrected the young man. “We won’t lose everything. But we will lose a lot of land and access to some water and have to cut back the size of our herds.”
Mark met the eyes of Grant Perkins. “I don’t intend for that to ever happen, Grant. I’m not gonna let it happen.”
“Don’t do nothin’ stupid, boy.”
“We can’t just sit here and allow it all to disappear, Grant. Pa wouldn’t have allowed that, and since he’s . . . well, out of it, then I guess it’s all up to me, right?”
“It’s up to us, boy.”
“Well . . . what do we do?”
Grant sighed and stood up. He reached for his gun belt, hanging from a peg on the wall. “Let’s take a ride out to the river and think about this situation. We’ll come up with something.”
“We better,” Mark said, a grim note behind his words.
* * *
“I’ve been appointed Mayor of Valley View,” Joe Wallace said. “And I have full authority to name a marshal.”
“Don’t look at me,” Frank said, setting down his coffee cup.
The men were in the Sunburst Café. With them at the table were John Platt and the blacksmith, Earl Martin. Those two men, so far, made up the entire town council. They’d been appointed after a meeting the day before of all the farmers in the area.
“You’ve toted a badge before,” John said. “And I happen to know that you were once appointed to be a federal marshal. Right?”
“I can see where this is going,” Frank grumbled.
“And I got this here message from Sheriff Breedlaw.” Joe pulled out a piece of paper. “Come in on the stage yesterday. You been named a deputy sheriff.” He held up the paper for Frank to see. “Says so right here.”
Frank took the paper and read it carefully. Sheriff Breedlaw had indeed named him a county deputy sheriff. He grunted. Breedlaw had set him up, for a fact. And probably Joe and John Platt were in on it as well. “You boys sure must have given this a lot of thought,” Frank said, looking first at Joe, then at John with a scowl on his face.
The men looked at each other and smiled, John saying happily, “You might say that. But not only can you enforce the law here in town, you can work out in the county too.”
“How wonderful,” Frank replied.
The men grinned at him like cats in a canary cage.
Sheriff Breedlaw sent this over too,” John added, taking a badge out of his pocket and laying it on the table and pushing it toward Frank. ”Pin it on, Frank.”
“Somebody has to swear me in.”
“Consider yourself sworn in,” Joe said, adding, “Marshal and Deputy Sheriff Morgan.”
Frank sighed and picked up the badge. John signaled toward the kitchen, and Charlie Jordan and his wife, Becky, came marching out, Charlie carrying a large cake. He set it down on the table. “Congratulations, Marshal Morgan,” the café owner said.
Frank pinned on the badge. “I reckon I’d better see about getting a jail built.”
“On one of those ten lots you bought?” Joe asked with a smile.
Frank picked up the cake knife and grinned. “Why not? It’ll probably be the only jail in the territory where the marshal owns it.”
“I’ll get the saucers,” Becky said.
After everyone had a hunk of cake and another cup of coffee, it was time for the lunch crowd to come in, and Frank and the mayor and town council left. Frank stood on the boardwalk for a moment, waiting for the foreman to show up. He had definite ideas about a jail . . . since he was paying for it.
* * *
The small town of Valley View and the area around it grew by 150 people in a month’s time.
“It’s gonna be a regular city,” John Platt said.
The liveryman and Frank were sitting on a bench and talking outside the stable on a warm summer’s morning. The sounds of hammering and sawing filled the air, mixed with the sounds of huge wagons bringing in construction materials and store fixtures and smaller wagons bringing in families to operate the businesses and farm the land.
Frank pointed to several mounted men passing through the town. “That’s the third bunch of gunslicks I’ve seen leaving over the past few days.”
“You reckon the war is over?” John asked.
“No.” Frank’s reply was flat. “The Diamond and the GP haven’t given up. Not by a long shot. They’ve got too much to lose to throw in the towel. The fire isn’t out yet. It’s just smoldering.”
; “What do you think they’re gonna do?”
“I don’t have any idea, John. But we’ve seen about ten or twelve gunhands pull out. That still leaves thirty or forty men on the payrolls, drawing fighting wages.”
“The pretenders are leaving, the hard cases staying,” the liveryman said softly.
“Yes.”
John pointed to a line of heavily loaded wagons rolling through town. “More wire for the Diamond and GP. They’re stringin’ miles of the damned stuff.”
“Barbed wire is the boundary line of the future,” Frank said. “Never thought I’d see it happen, but there it is.”
“Hell, Frank, they can’t wire out the flow of water. That’s impossible,” John argued.
“No. But they can dam it up.”
John slowly turned his head to stare at Frank. “The river makes a split some north of your place, both branches narrowing down, then comes together again south of town.”
“I know.”
“If they built a dam just after the split, they could divert water onto both ranges.”
“That’s right. And the homesteaders would be left high and dry—literally—during the dry months, when they need the water.”
“You reckon? . . .”
“I think so, John.”
“Well, you’re the law, stop them.”
“Nobody’s done anything yet. Besides, that would take a court order and that might have to come from a federal judge. I don’t know anything about the finer points of law.” Frank stood up.
“Where are you goin’?”
“To take a ride. I’m going to snoop some.”
“Let me know what you find.”
“Will do,” Frank replied, saddling Stormy. He swung into the saddle and headed north, toward the river’s fork. An hour and a half later, his suspicions were confirmed. The Diamond and GP hands were building an earthen dam, reinforced with logs.
“And so far as I know, there isn’t a thing I can do about it . . . at least for the present.” He turned Stormy’s head for the ride back to town. “But I can sure write some letters to find out what I can do.”
Twenty-one
Frank wrote letters to officials of the territory—including the governor—as well as to his own attorneys, in California and Colorado. But he knew that it would be weeks before he heard from anybody.
“The territorial governor is a rancher,” John Platt told him. “You better not count on any help from him.”
“I’m not,” Frank replied. “But if somebody with the power to do something doesn’t act quickly, this war could flare up again. And you know as well as I do who’s going to start it and how.”
“Paul Adams,” John said without hesitation. “He’ll blow the dam.”
“That’s right, and then the GP and the Diamond will start digging canals to divert the flow. A dam might be illegal, but canals aren’t.”
“Wonder why Grant didn’t think of that in the first place.”
“Too much work and time involved in something that complicated. He’d have to bring mules and earth-scrapers in, and people with enough sense to use them.”
“You seen this done?”
“Yes. There’s a lot of work in doing it. And when it’s done, it’s permanent.”
“I hope he don’t think of it.”
“You and me, John.”
Frank walked over to the newly constructed shell of the marshal’s office, standing for a moment outside the building. Stone was being hauled in to build the cell area. When completed, the jail would be as secure as man could make it.
Frank looked up and down the main street. Valley View was fast becoming a real town. Some of the new stores were already open and doing a brisk business. The church/school was completed and painted. Men were working from can to can’t stringing wire for the telegraph. A telegrapher had been hired.
“Amazing how a little village can spring into a real town practically overnight,” Frank muttered.
“It just takes the will of the people,” Doc Archer said, walking up to Frank. “All working together.”
“I reckon so, Doc.”
“Are you going to stay on here and make Valley View your permanent home, Frank? After the trouble is settled, I mean.”
Frank smiled. “Doubtful, Doc. I’ll drift on in a few months.”
“And do what, Frank?”
Frank lifted his big hands in a gesture of “who knows?” “Just drift, Doc, like I been doin’ for longer than I care to think about.”
“And play Robin Hood somewhere else?”
Frank laughed at that. “You’re giving me too much credit, Doc. You said it yourself: It’s the people who made this town. It was started months before I arrived.”
“Perhaps, Frank. But you were the catalyst.”
Frank did not reply to that. He wasn’t sure what catalyst meant. “Are you going to stick around, Doc?”
“Probably. I like the country and I like the people.”
“You won’t get rich practicing here.”
“I never looked to get rich, Frank.”
“You been paid in chickens and eggs yet?” Frank asked with a smile.
“As a matter of fact, I have.” Both men looked up the street at the sound of a yell. “My word,” the doctor said. “Who are those two ladies?”
“That would have to be Peaches Rogers and Lucy Perkins.”
“Peaches?”
“That’s all I ever heard her called.”
“They are both quite, ah, buxom young ladies.”
“I reckon I’d have to agree with you, Doc.”
Peaches and Lucy rode closer, and Doc Archer’s eyes bugged out a bit. “Ah . . . Frank, it appears from all the jiggling, those ladies aren’t wearing any undergarments. At least not from the waist up.”
“Sure looks that way, Doc. Quite a sight to behold, isn’t it?”
“It’s embarrassing!”
The workmen had stopped their hammering and sawing to stand and stare in awe.
“My stars and garters,” one workman exclaimed. “Them bonnie lassies ain’t got nothing on under them shirts.”
Several of the town’s ladies had stepped out of a dress shop to stare at the ranchers’ daughters. One of them clucked her tongue and said, “That is positively disgraceful.”
“It certainly is,” her friend agreed.
“Ah, shut up!” Peaches hollered at the women. “You dried-up old biddy.”
“Well!” the woman said, stamping her foot. “Marshal!” she hollered at Frank. “I insist you do something about those hussies!”
“Hussies!” Lucy yelled. “Who are you callin’ a hussy, you old bag?”
“They haven’t broken any laws, Mrs. Hunsacker,” Frank called.
“There should be a law against them!” Mrs. Hunsacker hollered.
Peaches told the women where to shove their remarks.
The two women’s hands flew to their mouths in shock at the profane—and probably quite uncomfortable—suggestion.
“Whoa!” Frank said.
“My heavens!” Doc Archer said.
“What’s the matter with you two?” Lucy hollered at Frank and the doctor. “You both look like you just ate a green persimmon.”
“Yeah,” Peaches said. “Both of you are all puckered up worser than them two old bags.”
“Now that will do, ladies,” Frank told the two young women, stepping out into the street.
“Or you’ll do what?” Lucy yelled. “Arrest us? On what charge?”
“Disturbing the peace,” Frank said, walking over to the young women. “Perhaps creating a public nuisance.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Peaches hollered.
“You want to try me?” Frank asked softly.
“Is that man bothering you ladies?” Bobby Doolin asked, stepping out of the hotel.
“Shut up, Doolin,” Frank said. “This is none of your affair. Keep your mouth out of it.”
“He sure is bothering us,” Lucy yel
led. “He’s a big damn pain in the butt, that’s what he is.”
“Damn sure is,” Peaches said.
“What don’t you pick on somebody your own size, Morgan?” Doolin asked, walking to the edge of the boardwalk to stand and smile at Frank.
“You’ve decided this is the day you brace me, Doolin?”
“Looks like it.”
“You’re a damn fool.”
Bobby Doolin did not take any outward offense at Frank’s words. He continued to smile and stare at Frank.
Lucy and Peaches walked their horses out of the way and swung down from the saddle. They stepped up on the boardwalk to watch the impending action between the two gunfighters, both of the young ladies jiggling as they walked.
The workmen’s eyes were busy, shifting from Frank and Bobby to Lucy and Peaches. It was a difficult choice for the men to make.
“You settle the marshal’s hash this day, mister,” Lucy said, “and you can have anything you want.”
Bobby cut his eyes just for an instant. “Anything?” he asked.
“You’re lookin’ at it,” Peaches answered.
“Disgusting!” Mrs. Hunsacker squalled.
“Whoors!” her equally large companion said. “That’s all they are. Both of them.”
Peaches made an obscene hand gesture to the women.
“Oh, my word!” Mrs. Hunsacker hollered. “Did you see that, Edna?”
“Do something, Marshal!” Edna yelled. “I demand you do something with those vile women.”
“Yeah, Marshal,” Bobby sneered. “Do something.” Bobby stepped off the boardwalk into the street.
“Any time you’re ready, Doolin.”
“I think I’ll make you sweat a little before I kill you, Drifter.”
Frank smiled at that. “Or give yourself a little more time to work up some courage.”
Doolin lost his smile. “You flatter yourself, Drifter.”
“I don’t think so. I just spoke the truth, that’s all.”
A large crowd had gathered, lining the boardwalks on both sides of the street. Doc Archer and Richard and Lydia Carmondy were among the onlookers. Lydia had her little hanky at the ready.
“I’ll send you to hell, Drifter!” Doolin spat the words at him. “No man calls me a coward and lives.”
“Then stop talking and make your play, Doolin. Before you cause me to fall asleep right here in the street.”
Burning Page 16
