Empire Page 3

  Bear took a cup of coffee and sat on the porch rail. Looking off to the west he was deep in thought and then seemed to make up his mind about something. ‘You say you’re needin’ cattle huh? There’s a hangin’ valley some fifty odd miles west of here with some two hunnert ’n fifty head for the takin’. Least wise they were there ’bout ten year ago.’

  ‘How did they get there?’ asked Ben.

  ‘Well,’ said Bear, with a twinkle in his eye, ‘me and my brother found us a bunch of un-branded strays and we sort of drifted ’em off in that direction before anybody else could put an iron to ’em or hang us. I knowed me a trail up the side of a mesa to that hangin’ valley I spoke of and we sort of pushed them cows on up there. They been there ever since, far as I know. The grass and water was good so there’d be no reason to leave unless someone pushed ’em out.’

  ‘What’s your price? And what about your brother’s share?’

  ‘Well, Tommy got hisself foolishly killed down in Sonora, nigh on eight years ago. Now me, I’m gettin’ on in years and I been sorta lookin’ for a likely place to spend the rest of my days.’ He pointed off to a small, grassy knoll about a mile to the north. ‘I’ll ride with you to fetch ’em cows if you’ll allow me to build me a cabin over yonder. After that, I’ll pay my keep by workin’ around your ranch. You’ll find that I’m right handy.’

  He raised his eyes to them. ‘I’m weary of livin’ alone. I’ll trade you ’em cows for another cup of coffee and a place to live out my days.’

  ‘Ben,’ said Mattie later that night, ‘let’s go to the Crossing and stock up on supplies and then you and Bear go gather those cattle while I tend the cabin and stock.’

  ‘First things first,’ said Ben as he smiled, ‘let’s go to the Crossing and look up that preacher. We’ll be needing some strong sons if we hope to make a go of this ranch.’

  Mattie blushed, and then retorted with a smile. ‘And I’ll be needing a daughter or two to help feed all you men!’

  Ben looked down at her and took her small hands in his. ‘We’ll have us a good family and a good life, Mattie. It’s written in the book.’

  The people of Cook’s Crossing had spent most of their time building a town and settling in, so the wedding of Ben and Mattie provided the needed excuse for a well-earned shindig.

  Ben pulled his black, broadcloth suit out of his pack, and had it brushed and cleaned by the woman who ran the laundry. One of the women discovered that Mattie had no wedding dress, and took her home.

  ‘I made this before we came west, dear.’ She gazed away for a moment and tears welled in her eyes. ‘It was to have been my daughter Annie’s wedding dress, but she died on the trail.’ She looked back at Mattie and smiled wistfully. ‘She would have wanted someone like you to have it. She was a lovely girl, with a loving heart. You remind me of her.’

  The woman’s name was Mrs O’Hara, and Mattie cried with her over her loss. The dress fit perfectly, and when Mrs O’Hara saw Mattie in the gown, tears filled her eyes and they cried again.

  The small church was packed. Weddings and funerals were major events, so everybody came from miles around. Women wore their Sunday best, while most of the men wore their best work clothes, with hair slicked back above their ruddy, sunburned faces. Small boys chased one another while small girls turned up their noses and pretended to ignore them.

  Ben had faced harsh winters, street gangs, and raging rivers, but wearing a suit and standing up in front of all those people scared him some. Bear, his best man, was openly terrified. But when the pianist began playing the Bridal Chorus, Ben turned to see Mattie coming down the aisle in her wedding dress, and all else faded into the background. She was stunningly beautiful, and a quiet gasp murmured through the crowd.

  She was escorted by Mr O’Hara, since she was wearing the dress meant for his daughter, and because her own father would have approved of him. When the preacher asked who was giving Mattie’s hand to Ben in marriage, George O’Hara smiled down at her gently and quietly murmured, ‘I do.’

  Josephine O’Hara, Annie’s thirteen-year-old younger sister, was delighted at Mattie’s invitation to be Maid of Honor, and proudly stood beside her as Preacher Hanson began to recite the age-old rite of uniting man and wife in holy matrimony. The older ladies cried, and the younger ones looked on in envy. The marriage-aged, single males were wide-eyed, and silently promising themselves to stay far away from eligible young ladies, at least for as long as they could hold out.

  When the ceremony ended, the preacher smiled and said, ‘You may kiss the bride.’

  Ben bent and brushed her lips lightly, but Mattie would have none of it. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly, and the crowd laughed. ‘I’ve waited a long time to kiss my man and you’ll not short me now that the time has come,’ she whispered. At Ben’s startled look, she laughed for the first time since he had met her, and it was a beautiful laugh. Ben suddenly realized he had met his match and more. Mattie Tower was proving to be quite a woman.

  There were three fiddle players and two square-dance callers and Mattie turned out to be a dancer. One by one, the men showed up for their dance with the bride, so it was late in the evening before they were able to steal away to the room provided to them by Preacher Hanson and his wife.

  Ben shut the door and put his arms around Mattie, kissing her with meaning, releasing the pent-up emotions that had been building ever since that long-ago day he’d found her on the prairie, alone and frightened. It was early in the morning before sleep finally won over.

  While Mattie shopped for supplies the next day, Ben had a drink at the Trail’s End saloon where he listened to idle gossip about wagon trains, cattle prices in Kansas, and talk of a nearby railroad coming through. He wondered why the railroad would pass near the town when a much better route was available some fifty miles to the north.

  After his drink, he wandered around town, stopping to talk to the various merchants and the sawmill operator. For a while, he watched the construction of a ferry, large and strong enough to transport two wagons at a time across the river, maybe even in flood stage. Cook’s Crossing was thriving.

  He was nearing the Trail’s End when he heard a shout and a smash from inside the saloon. A red-headed hard-case he had noted earlier in the day, crashed through the bat-wing doors with a gun in his hand and his back to Ben. On a hunch, Ben tripped him, and he went sprawling into the dusty street, gun flying. Instantly Ben had him in a hammerlock and marched him back into the saloon.

  ‘He pulled a gun and stole the cash from the till,’ shouted the excited saloonkeeper. ‘Then he pistol-whipped a man who tried to stop him.’

  ‘Who’s the law around here?’ asked Ben.

  ‘There ain’t no law and there ain’t no jail. We ain’t got around to it yet.’

  ‘Well, I can’t hang on to him forever. What do you want to do with him?’

  ‘We built us an ice house for next year,’ said the saloonkeeper, ‘but it’s still empty so I guess we can keep him in there until the U.S. marshal shows up next month.’

  ‘That ain’t no way to treat a man,’ protested the hard-case. ‘There ain’t even a window for a man to look out!’

  ‘I reckon you should have considered that before you robbed the saloon,’ said Ben, ‘let’s go.’

  The redhead bared yellow teeth and glared at Ben ‘I’ll kill you for this. Nobody puts a hand on me and lives.’

  ‘Well, I’m still breathing.’

  Later, as Ben and Mattie prepared to return to the ranch, the saloonkeeper drove up in a buckboard.

  ‘My name’s Jacob Talley and this here is sort of a wedding present,’ he said gruffly, ‘and it’s my way of thanking you for getting my money back. I don’t have no use for this here buckboard anymore and it just ain’t fitting for your wife to have to ride astride wherever she goes. So, take it on home with you and just return my team next time you’re in town.’

  He spun on his heel abruptly, and strode rapidly away
from an astonished Ben and Mattie.

  ‘I can’t let him do that, Mattie. I have to return this.’

  ‘You’ll do no such thing. He felt like this was the right thing to do and you’ll not take that pleasure away from him. Now let’s go home.’

  Ben stared at his new wife with a dawning understanding of who she was. Then he shrugged his shoulders. ‘All right, Mrs Tower. Let’s go home.’

  Ben and Mattie sat on the porch with Bear, taking their morning coffee and watching the rising sun.

  ‘I made a deal with Ollie Sampson, the sawmill owner,’ said Ben. ‘I’m to deliver logs to his mill in exchange for sawn boards and timber, and later on, cash money.’

  ‘But that’s fifteen miles or so, Ben,’ replied Mattie. ‘What will we use to deliver timber?’

  ‘We won’t. We’ll just mark and float the logs down our river to where it joins the larger river to Cook’s Crossing and then downstream to the mill. I made a deal with the ferry operator to snag what the mill misses and hold them for Sampson. I’ve already selected enough timber to satisfy the contract for the next two years. We’ll cut them, snake them to the stream, and let them float clear to the mill. I’ve scouted the stream, and other than a couple of spots where we’ll have to clean out some roots and old flood jams, we should only have an occasional snag to deal with.’

  Bear turned out to be a good hand with both a double-bitted axe and a two-man saw. Together, he and Ben made good the contract for an entire year’s supply of saw logs for the mill in less than three months. Twice they had to clear jams at a particularly sharp curve in the river, and once where it widened and became fairly shallow. After two months, Bear rode into Cook’s Crossing to check on the delivery and found a mounting pile of logs and a happy mill owner. The ferry operator had built a second ferry with his cut of the timber and brought in a steam-powered donkey engine to operate the cables. While Bear watched, a log floated in and the operator retrieved it. He checked the markings and discovered that it had taken just over four days to float to the mill.

  With the log contract satisfied, Ben made ready to begin stocking the ranch. ‘We’d best go and gather those stray cattle Bear spoke of, before winter,’ he told Mattie. ‘Do you want to go to the Crossing and stay with the O’Hara family until we get back?’

  ‘No, I’ll stay here. If I need anything, I have a team and the buckboard. When will we get our lumber for the house and barns?’

  ‘It’ll be next spring. Those logs are green and will need to season out before they’re milled. Ollie Sampson will deliver them come May and we’ll start raising the house and barns soon after.’

  ‘That’ll work out just about right.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Because by then you’ll be a father.’

  He stared at her, slack-jawed. ‘Are you sure?’

  Mattie shook her head in disgust. ‘Of course I’m sure! A woman knows these things.’

  ‘Boy or girl?’

  ‘Yes. Now go wash up for supper.’

  CHAPTER 3

  Mattie’s revelation that she was with child changed everything, so over her protests, Ben arranged for the O’Hara family to check on her periodically. Then Josephine spoke up and volunteered to stay with Mattie until Ben returned, an offer that Mattie quickly accepted. She was, after all, just a few years older than Josephine and they had quickly become close friends.

  Mattie had carefully packed away her wedding dress after the ceremony and later, given it back to the O’Hara family. When Mrs O’Hara protested, Mattie silenced her with a hug.

  ‘This dress was meant for Annie O’Hara, and then loaned to me out of great kindness, and I wore it with pride. Now I return it to the O’Hara family so that it can be worn by Josephine when some lucky boy wins her heart. It’s the way it was meant to be.’

  The air was cold and brisk under a cloudless sky on the morning of departure. Ben and Bear made final preparations and saddled up. Each man had a string of three horses, two pack horses and a second riding horse. Bear carried a Sharps .50 buffalo rifle, and two side arms, one under his belt and another in his pocket. He also carried a short-barreled shotgun in his bedroll. Ben carried his Winchester in a saddle boot and two revolvers, one on his side and one hidden in his waistband.

  Ben had put out a call for extra hands to help on the drive, but it was branding season and all available men were working. He had also approached an older man who had worked the trails as a cook, and still owned a chuck wagon.

  ‘You’re welcome to borrow my wagon, gents, but these old bones have been jostled enough following the dust on cattle drives. It’s a young man’s game.’

  His eyes twinkled.

  ‘I found me a widder-woman what owns a small restaurant and was looking for a good cook. Reckon I’ll just stay here and see how that shapes out. But like I said, you kin borrow the wagon.’

  Ben nodded to Bear, and walked with Mattie to the site where he planned to build the big house and barns. It was on a flat bench that sloped slightly away to the south and was high enough to see the entire valley. Recent rains had spurred growth, and the area was resplendent with wild flowers.

  ‘Keep your eyes open and pay attention to the horses, Mattie. They’ll usually spot things first and let you know. That pup is also getting to the point where he’ll start to let you know when someone’s around, so pay attention to him too.’

  ‘You’ve told me all this many times, Ben. I’ll not forget. You and Bear just go get our cattle, and don’t worry about me. Remember that deer I shot? That was no accident. I can do it time and again.’

  ‘I know, Mattie, but a man worries about such things. Let’s walk back and we’ll be on our way.’

  ‘Ben?’

  He turned to look at her, and saw that it was true what they said about a woman with child; they have a glow about them. He waited.

  ‘Are you going to leave without telling me you love me? A woman wants to hear it, now and then.’

  Ben put his arms around her and held her close.

  ‘I grew up with no one, Mattie, no family at all, so I’m not used to such things. Forgive me if I sometimes neglect to tell you how much I love you.’

  The ride to Bear’s hanging valley took them across high desert and an occasional stream with at least a little grass. Ben saw that the drive would have to allow time for the herd to feed and water when and where it was available. Bear pointed out landmarks and they paused now and then to study their back trail. They weren’t expecting trouble, but cautious men tend to live longer. Once they spotted several Indians who appeared to be moving camp and not looking for trouble.

  Several times they saw deer, and once, a small pack of wolves that appeared to be on the hunt. Antelope dotted the grassy plain areas and eagles hunted overhead. It was a beautiful and immense land. Bear pointed out a far range of mountains, blue with distance.

  ‘That there hangin’ valley is on a mesa just behind ’em ridges, yonder. It’ll take us south of Crested Butte and north of the Powderhorn. It’s some fair rugged country, but there’ll be water and good grass, time to time.’

  On the first night, they camped on a protected ledge and Ben spotted lights far off to the south. ‘That there’s an old ranch belongs to a Mexican feller name of Rodriguez. Me and my brother ate there one time when we was ridin’ the grub line.’ Bear grinned. ‘If’n you ever have a hankerin’ for beef, beans and tortillas that’ll melt in your mouth, we’ll ride on down that way sometime.’

  They were up and in the saddle by daybreak, following a trail Bear knew, when they spotted a party of warriors making their way down a dry wash. They detoured north and picked up another trail, following it for some ten miles before swinging back to Bear’s trail. They rode alert for several miles, but the war party never appeared. Bear cut a chew off a plug and leaned forward in the saddle to ease his tired legs.

  ‘They was young bucks, lookin’ to win ’emselves a name and impress the young squaws. They ain’t as
wily as the older men, but they can kill you just as dead.’ He spat over his shoulder. ‘This here route will take us to that mesa without crossin’ too many ridges and sky-linin’ ourselves, unless you got another idea.’

  ‘I’m following you, Bear. Lead the way.’

  They travelled the trail onto a high, desert plain, with sparse grasses and occasional prickly pear. They were nearly five-thousand feet up, and there was a cool bite to the dry air. A pale sun offered little heat, and when they camped that night under a twisted cedar, it was cold.

  Bear pulled a harmonica out of his pack, played several old, Irish songs, and was surprised when Ben began to sing the words in a fair, tenor voice. At his look, Ben smiled. ‘I grew up in Boston with the Irish, so I know their music and dances. But don’t tell Mattie, or she’ll expect me to dance an Irish jig or two.’

  Bear looked at him through his bushy brows. ‘Well, can you dance them jigs?’ he asked.

  ‘Of course I can. But don’t you dare tell Mattie.’ He scowled a warning at Bear, who suddenly developed a keen interest in the North Star.

  Two days later, they reached the base of a towering mesa and Bear pointed at a notch in the base of it.

  ‘That there’s the trailhead. From there on, it’s a steep climb for about a thousand feet and then we’ll be at the eastern end of the valley. It’s the only way in and out, far as I know.’

  Ben couldn’t see the trail until they were right on top of it and Bear was right about its steepness. After a few hundred feet, they dismounted and led their string of horses up the precipitous, narrow slope. With frequent pauses to catch their breath in the thin, mountain air, they gradually made their way up to the valley entrance. Ben was wondering how many cattle had survived, when they passed through another notch and topped out.

  The long, meandering valley lay before them and from where he sat, he counted at least a hundred head and there were probably many more around the bend of the valley floor. They looked to be in good shape, and there was a lot of young stuff.