The others around the table laughed.
“I would have suspected Garneau as well, but it couldn’t have been him,” Worley said, taking a sip of his beer.
“How do you know it couldn’t have been him?” Doc Urban asked.
“Because on the night the Drexler barn was burned, he was at the Brown Dirt Cowboy. He spent the night with Amy Kirsley. They had breakfast together at Delmonico’s the next morning. Everyone who was in Delmonico’s that morning has said he was there, and that he seemed surprised when they told him about the fire.
“Besides which, that carriage of his, you know the green and yellow one with that fancy design on the doors? Well sir, it sat out in front of the livery all night long. I was deputy that night, and I seen it there.”
Smoke set down his beer glass. “Does he spend many nights at the Brown Dirt?”
Worley shook his head. “We asked Emmett Brown, and he said that was the only night Garneau had ever spent there. Brown owns the place, so he ought to know.”
“Did you say the girl with him was Amy Kirsley?” Louis asked.
“Yes. Why?”
“Amy used to work here, but she started doing a little business on the side, if you get my meaning. I don’t let the girls who work here do that, so she left and went down to work for Emmett at the Brown Dirt. Wait a minute, Olivia said something about Amy just this morning.”
Louis looked around the room until he saw Olivia standing at a table with a bunch of cowboys, smiling and joking with them.
“Olivia?” Louis called, summoning her over.
The girl excused herself and came over to Louis’ table.
“Olivia, didn’t you say you saw Amy Kirsley in Goldstein’s Mercantile the other morning?”
“Yes, I did, why.”
“What was it you said about her?”
“Oh. I said she was buying one of those expensive new hats the mercantile got in. And I was just wondering where she got the money.”
“Thank you,” Louis said. When Olivia left, he looked at the others. “Maybe Garneau paid her to say that he was with her?”
“Except Emmett Brown also says the Frenchman was there all night,” Worley said.
“That’s convenient for Garneau, isn’t it?” Doc Urban asked.
“Yes,” Smoke said. “You might say it is almost too convenient. Convenient as if he purposely stayed the night just to establish an alibi.”
“Well, what is the sheriff going to do about it?” Worley asked. “Next to you, Smoke, the Frenchman is now the largest rancher in the entire county. I can’t see the sheriff arresting him on suspicion.”
“No,” Smoke said. “But we can keep an eye on him. I’m sure he didn’t burn the barn himself, but I wouldn’t put it past him to have hired someone to do it.”
“Smoke, how much do you know about this man he has working for him? Deekus Templeton. Had you ever heard of him before he came here?” Worley asked.
Smoke shook his head. “No, I can’t say as I have.”
“Well, I’ve been hearing things about him. You know how people talk, and as much as I get around town, putting in a cabinet here, or a new window there, I hear things an ordinary sheriff or deputy might not hear. There’s no proof, mind you, and as far as I know he was never arrested, or even suspected of it, but there are stories that he once rode with the James gang.”
“The James gang? You mean Jesse James, back in Missouri?” Doc Urban asked.
“That’s what I’ve heard,” Worley said. “But, like I said, there’s no proof of it. Just rumors.”
“That’s interesting,” Smoke said.
“Yes, and what makes it more interesting is that whenever one of the small ranchers is approached and made an offer, it’s Templeton who has been doing it. And they all say the same thing about him.”
“What’s that?” Louis asked.
“They say he scares the bejesus out of them.”
“Has he ever threatened them in any way?” Smoke asked.
“No, Sheriff Carson asked that very same question. They all say Templeton hasn’t done anything to actually threaten them, but there’s just something about him that scares them nevertheless.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Drexler Farm
“Mary, you can’t be serious.”
“I’ve never been more serious in my life. I want to go back to Pennsylvania. Please, Herman, let’s go home.”
“What do you mean, let’s go home? I thought this was our home. Mary, we’ve worked hard to make this farm go. And we are just about there. You know this. We were talking about it just last week.”
“And last week Jimmy was still alive,” Mary said.
“I think Jimmy would want us to stay here.”
“Why? So you can be killed the way he was?”
“Jimmy’s death was an accident, Mary, you know that. He wanted to save his horse, and he ran into that barn.”
“Do you think I don’t know that the barn didn’t catch on fire by accident? Someone set that fire. Someone who wants to force us to leave.”
“Maybe.”
“No maybe about it, Herman. I know that you and the other men found a kerosene can.”
“All right. I won’t lie to you.”
“Don’t you see, Herman? If they tried once, they’ll try again. And it might be you they kill.”
“Mary, I can’t just run out on the others like that. When we had that meeting over at Puddle’s place, I gave my word I would stick it out.”
“Please, Herman, take me home.”
“All right. But, what are we going to do with all our stuff?”
“We’ll take it with us,” Mary said. “We’ll load it up, take it into town, and ship it back home.”
Herman nodded. “All right, Mary. If that’s what you want.”
The Drexlers had just finished loading their wagon when Chris Logan dropped by. “What are you doing? Where are you going?”
Herman helped Mary up onto the seat, then climbed up beside her and picked up the reins. “Back to Pennsylvania, Chris. We’re pulling out.”
“But you can’t just up and leave, Herman. I thought we were all going to stick together.”
“We tried that.”
“Look, I just came by to tell you that we’re goin’ to build a new barn for you. We’ve already talked about it. And we’re goin’ to replace your horses and your milk cow, too.”
“What about my boy?” Drexler asked. “Can you bring him back?”
Logan looked down. “I’m sorry about Jimmy, Herman. We’re all sorry about Jimmy.”
“I appreciate the offer of building the barn back and replacing my horses and cow. But Mary and I have made up our minds. We’re goin’ back to Pennsylvania.
“I hate to hear that, Herman. You’ve been a very good neighbor and important to all of us. Look, consider this. If we all stick together, just as we discussed at the meeting, we’ll get through this. If we stick together, Garneau can’t win.”
“Yeah.” Drexler snapped the reins against the back of the team. “Yes, he can.” The team strained forward to pull the load.
Neither Drexler nor his wife said a thing during the forty-five minute drive into town. Then Mary spoke. “Before we go to the land office, can we stop at the cemetery? I want to tell Jimmy good-bye.”
“All right.”
Drexler stopped the wagon and they walked out to Jimmy’s gravesite, the mound of fresh dirt still visible.
“I hate leaving before we even have a headstone for him,” Drexler said.
“We don’t need a headstone. We’ll keep him in our hearts,” Mary said.
The two stood there for a long moment, Drexler’s arm around her as he pulled her close to him.
“Well, let’s go see how much we can get for our farm,” Drexler said, as they started back toward the wagon.
In the pastor’s study at back of his church, Reverend Owen stood at the window watching Herman and Mary Drexler. He saw them walk u
p to the gravesite, stand there for a moment, then go back to the wagon. He had already heard they were leaving and said a prayer for them. “Lord, bring them peace in this time of their great sorrow.”
“Three hundred dollars?” Drexler said, shocked at what he heard. “That’s the offer?”
“That’s the offer,” Perkins said.
“But I don’t understand. His first offer was for one thousand dollars.”
“You should have taken the offer when it was first made,” Perkins said. “Then you were in a position of control. You had land that he wanted. Now you are in a position of weakness. You need to sell your land, and you want someone to buy it.”
“But three hundred dollars will barely pay our way back if we ship furniture,” Drexler complained.
“Take it, Herman, please,” Mary said. “I want to get out of here.”
Drexler sighed. “All right, I’ll take it. I don’t want to, but I’ll take it.”
Smiling, Perkins counted out the money, then presented the deed for Drexler to sign over the property to Lucien Garneau.
From the land office, they drove to the depot, bought tickets, and made arrangements for the furniture to be shipped.
“What are you going to do with the horses?” Wilson asked.
“They aren’t mine,” Drexler said. “My horses were killed in the fire. I rented these from the livery.”
“Well, you won’t have time to turn ’em back in. If you want, you can just leave them here. I’ll take care of them for you.”
“Thanks. Oh, and you don’t even have to unhook ’em from the wagon. I traded Zeke the wagon for the use of the team.”
The sound of a whistle came from the west.
“That’s your train,” Wilson said. “It’s right on time.”
Long Trek
“Three hundred dollars, Colonel,” Templeton said. “That’s all it cost you. We got Drexler. The others will come around.”
“How are you going to do that? You can’t burn everyone’s barn,” Garneau said.
“We don’t have to burn everyone’s barn. We don’t have to burn any more barns. But we may have to show a little strength. And I know just where to start.”
“Where?”
“With Humboldt Puddle. From everything I’ve been able to learn, he’s their leader. If we can convince him to leave, right on the heels of Drexler leaving, the rest of them will fold like a house of cards. Daniels, Babcock, and now Drexler. I’m tellin’ you, getting Puddle’s land will do it for us.”
“All right,” Garneau said. “Do whatever you have to do to get Puddle to sell out to us.”
Carro de Bancada Ranch
Humboldt Puddle had his wagon up on a stand, and the wheel removed. He was packing the wheel hub with grease when he saw a rider coming toward him. Wiping his hands as clean as he could, he reached into the bed of the wagon and turned the rifle so the barrel was pointing toward the approaching rider.
It wasn’t that he was an unfriendly man. Under normal conditions, he would welcome a stranger, offer them water, maybe even invite them to take a meal with him. Since his wife had died of the fever, he actually enjoyed company every now and then. But these weren’t normal conditions. Garneau was increasing the pressure on everyone to sell their land. Drexlers had sold and left right after they buried their son.
“That’s far enough, mister,” Puddle said when the man came within thirty feet of him. That wasn’t a distance he had chosen arbitrarily. He knew from that distance he couldn’t miss, even if he had to fire from the hip.
“Well now, that’s not very friendly, is it, Mr. Puddle?”
“I’m not exactly in the mood to be friendly. What do you want?”
“My name is Templeton, Mr. Puddle. Deekus Templeton. I would like to talk to you. You are an important man in these parts, one all the other ranchers here in the valley look up to.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
Templeton smiled. “No, you wouldn’t say that because you are a modest man.”
“What do you want to talk about?”
“I work for Colonel Garneau, Mr. Puddle.”
“The Frenchman,” Puddle said, making it almost a swear word.
“He is from France, that’s true. But now he is an American.”
“He’ll never be an American.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, Mr. Puddle.” Templeton started to dismount.
“I don’t believe I asked you to get down, Mr. Templeton,” Puddle said.
“Well, that’s not very neighborly of you.”
“Neither is burning a man’s barn. Especially when his boy gets killed trying to save the horses.”
“Are you accusing me of that, Mr. Puddle? Because that was just a real tragedy, his boy getting killed like that. And I don’t appreciate being blamed for it.”
“Who said I was blamin’ anyone?” Puddle replied. “All I did was say that wasn’t a very neighborly thing to do. What do you want, Templeton?”
“As you may know, Colonel Garneau is trying to expand his land holdings, and he has made offers to buy many of the smaller ranches in the area. At a generous price, I might add. I’m sure you have heard by now that he bought the Drexler place.”
“Yeah, I heard. I also heard what he paid for the place. And if you call that a generous price, then you and I have totally different ideas as to what is generous.”
“Well, of course, if Drexler had sold his place to Colonel Garneau when the offer was first made, I think ever’one would have called it generous. But he waited too long. He waited until he had no choice but to sell the place. As it was, he was real happy to sell, even though he didn’t make as much as he would have, if he had listened to reason when the offer was first made. I mean what with losin’ his boy like he done, well, he was just real glad to get enough money to leave here and start over again.”
“How could he possibly be happy with getting about one fourth what it was actually worth?” Puddle asked.
“Yes, well, that was a case of Drexler wanting to get on with his life, you understand.” Templeton smiled a mirthless smile. “It created what you might call a buyers’ market.”
“What are you doin’ here, Templeton?”
“Colonel Garneau wants to buy your place.”
“It ain’t for sale.”
“He is prepared to give you forty thousand dollars for it.”
“Forty thousand? That’s considerably more than the place is worth. Why would he be willing to pay so much?”
“Because Colonel Garneau is a very generous man.”
“I can’t see him being that generous.”
“Well, let’s put it this way. The colonel feels that if you sell out, you being sort of a leader and all, well, the other smaller landowners will also sell out.”
“So, I’m to be the Judas goat. Is that it?”
Templeton laughed. “Yes, you might put it that way. How old are you, Mr. Puddle?”
“What does my age have to do with anything?”
“You look to be a man at least in your fifties. Is that right?”
“I’m fifty-eight years old.”
“A man your age . . . workin’ on a ranch can’t be that easy for you. But if you was to take the forty thousand dollars Colonel Garneau is willin’ to give you, why, you could go to some place like Denver and live just real comfortable for the rest of your life. What do you say?”
“I say I’m not interested, and I’ll thank you to get off my place.”
The smile left Templeton’s face, and he stared hard at the rancher. “Puddle, you are going to leave this land, and how you do it is up to you. You can do it easy, with money in your pocket, or you can wind up leaving it like Drexler did, with barely enough money to get to someplace else.”
Puddle had never left his position behind the wagon and had not exposed the fact that he was armed. He lifted the rifle, holding it cradled across his folded left arm. “Get off my land.”
“You’re not p
lannin’ on shootin’ me, are you?” Templeton asked. “Because let me tell you, that’s an awesome thing, shootin’ a man. Most men don’t have the stomach for it.”
“Is that a fact?” Puddle replied calmly.
“Yes, sir, that is a fact. Chances are if I was to make a move toward my gun now, you’d hesitate just a second before you pulled the trigger. I mean, thinkin’ about killin’ ’n all.” Templeton smiled. “And that second is all I’d need.”
Puddle pulled the hammer back on his rifle, then matched Templeton’s smile. “Try me,” he invited calmly. “I was with BerDan’s Sharpshooters at Gettysburg. I killed fourteen men in one afternoon, Mr. Templeton.”
Templeton said nothing, but the smile on his face faded.
“Now, like I said, Templeton. Get off my place.”
Templeton stared at him for a moment longer, then turned and galloped away.
Puddle watched until he was sure the man wouldn’t be coming back, then he put the rifle down and returned to the task of packing the wheel hub with grease.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Long Trek
“He turned down an offer of forty thousand dollars?” Garneau said in response to Templeton’s report. “Why, that’s”—he did the math in his head—“two hundred thousand francs.” He still could not comprehend the value of American money without first converting it into francs.
“He’s a stubborn man,” Templeton said.
“I thought you said you could convince him to sell.”
“Yes, well, I thought if we could get Puddle to sell, most likely the others would come around. But maybe we are going about this backwards. Maybe if all his neighbors sell, and he is left absolutely alone, he’ll have a change of heart.”
“Didn’t you say that as long as Puddle hangs on, the others will?”
“Babcock is gone, Daniels and Drexler both sold out. I’m certain we’ll find someone else we can convince to sell to us. I’ll do a little more probing.”
In the bunkhouse, the Long Trek cowboys were playing a game of draw poker for matchsticks.
Strike of the Mountain Man Page 8
