The next two days were quiet. Bart talked with several business owners about a job, but nothing was to be had. He talked with Captain Willard over coffee at Jenny’s Place, but he had no suggestions either, beyond saying that ranchers were always looking for men to stay in their outlying range huts during the winter, to keep water holes open and nursemaid any livestock with problems. He advised Bart against this work because it was dangerous and extremely lonely to be holed up in a shack, miles from anyone.
Bart left the captain and walked to the livery stable. He smiled when he found the old man dozing in his chair again. It seemed as though he was glued to the tilted chair.
“I’m not asleep, young man, just resting my eyes. By the way, my name’s Eli…Eli Williams. I know who you are.”“There’s gossip going around about me,” Bart said, “but most of it is made-up tales. I did have an encounter with some Indians, but I was treated well. They called me Scarface, which seems to have caught on, but my real name is Bart Carter.”
“Saw you talking to the captain. If I was you, I’d keep a close association with him. He’s an important man in these parts. I suppose half the folks around here came west in his train. He brought our territorial governor out several years back, and as I understand it, they’ve remained the best of friends.”
“Mr. Williams, I need some advice and thought you might be able to help.”
“I’d be glad to help if I can, but first off, let’s forget the Mister. Call me Eli. How can I be of help?”
“How does a person around here go about buying a ranch? I mean, how much money does it take and are there any for sale?”
“There might be a few small places for sale, but it would take a lot of money to swing a deal like that. I hear land prices are up around fifteen to twenty dollars an acre.”
“How many acres does a small ranch have, Mr. Williams? I mean Eli.”
“The small landowners around here have spreads of about four to five thousand acres. The largest ranch in the area has over a hundred thousand acres and is owned by Henry James.”
Bart couldn’t believe what he had heard. “That means even a small ranch would cost over forty thousand dollars and that’s on the low side,” he said with a startled expression.
“That’s right, but if I was you, I’d go talk with Jug. He’s the most knowledgeable man in the area when it comes to ranches and what they’re worth. Of course, you’ve got to find him sober.”
“You must be joking? Jug may have been up on land prices in years’ past, but he doesn’t seem like someone who’s kept up with the times.”
“Don’t be fooled, Bart. There’s none better. Just find him sober.” Bart was turning to leave when Eli called to him. “Heard what you did for Jug and Stu a few days back. It was right neighborly of you, got the whole town talking.” Bart nodded and continued his pursuit of Jug.
Jug was sitting in front of the saloon. At first, Bart thought he might be sober enough to discuss ranching and ask Jug several questions. However, it soon became apparent he wasn’t coherent enough to discuss business, so Bart left after a few minutes of small talk.
After supper that evening, Bart was feeling lonely and somewhat depressed. He wanted someone to talk with, so he asked Liz to go for a walk with him by the creek. The sun was in its last hour, and the low angle of its light reflected off the snowy mountains and floating clouds, illuminating every color in the rainbow—it was a beautiful sight. The stream took a sharp bend, causing the water to flow faster with a lively gurgling sound. Bart saw a log the right height and asked Liz if she wanted to sit. Minutes went by before he asked, “Liz, what lies ahead for you? What are your plans?”
Only the creek’s bubbling song could be heard for the next minute or two. Then with a soft, sincere voice, she said, “I’ll probably go off to school and further my education. Mama thinks schooling is extremely important and deep down, I think so too. After that, I’ll teach school—hopefully, around here.” After further hesitation, she continued. “Someday I want to marry and have a family. What about you, Bart? What are your plans?”
“I don’t know, Liz. I think I’d like to become a rancher, raising cattle and horses. I know it sounds like the dream your Pa outlined the other night, but ranching in this beautiful country would make for a good life, a good environment to raise a family. I doubt if I’ll ever accumulate enough money to afford a ranch, but maybe I’ll strike gold.” They both laughed.
Sitting in silence, they listened to the stream and watched the sky change colors as the sun went behind the last mountain. Bart reached for Liz’s hand, and she obliged. A short while later, they strolled back to camp, taking their time.
Bart was up early the next morning. He gathered firewood and moved the hobbled livestock to a fresh patch of grass. That is, he moved them all except Maude. She was allowed to graze on her own and was now a couple hundred yards up the creek. Bart whistled, and she came ambling toward him, stopping occasionally to eat more grass. After a good rubdown, he scratched her forehead and returned to the wagon. Mrs. Douglas had a hearty breakfast ready when he arrived. After eating, he washed his plate and utensils and started for town. About halfway there, he saw Jug walking toward him at a fairly rapid pace.
“I need to talk with you, Bart. It’s about those questions you were asking me yesterday afternoon. You thought I was too drunk to understand what you were asking, but I wasn’t. I’d been drinking a lot and was drunk but not so drunk I didn’t know what you wanted.”
“Forget it, Jug. It was a crazy thought I had, don’t let it bother you.”
“Well, it got me to thinking, and I believe I’ve come up with a good idea.”
“Jug, forget it, I don’t have the money it takes to buy a ranch.”
“Hear me out, Bart. Listen to my plan. I think it’ll work.” They found a log by the stream and Jug asked, “Have you got five hundred dollars, Bart? If you do, I think we can swing a deal.”
“Between me and the Douglases, we can raise that much,” Bart said with a puzzled look. “Tell me your plan.”
“Three years back, a young couple by the name of Vincent came out from Ohio with two children. Shortly after their arrival, they let it be known they intended to purchase a ranch and had money to pay for it. Within a week, a seller came forward with four thousand acres that was in their price range. It was vacant land with no living accommodations or other facilities for operating a ranch. Folks around here were afraid to settle and live on the land because of Indian activity in the area. You see, the property runs along the base of the mountains, and that’s a common travel route for Indians. The Vincents were warned of its dangerous location and that it would be subject to Indian attacks. They could have waited for other property to become available, but they bought the ranch anyway.”
“Do they live on it now?” Bart asked.
“No. They built a homestead a couple years ago. A house, a barn with a corral and some other outbuildings. Then they brought in two hundred mamma cows, fifteen white face bulls, and several broodmares. Things went fine for the first six months, but then the Indians struck and killed both of their children.”
“That’s terrible,” Bart said. “How did it happen?”
“The Vincents left the kids sleeping in the house one morning while they went to the barn to do chores. By the time Mrs. Vincent smelled smoke, the house was engulfed in flames. The Indians had slipped in and torched it, probably thinking the entire family was in the house sleeping. She tried to go in after the children, but Mr. Vincent held her back, knowing the fire had already taken them.”
“How do you know it was Indians who started the fire?”
“There were unshod hoofprints in the yard, according to Mr. Vincent.”
“So what’s this got to do with me?” Bart asked.
“After losing their children, the Vincents moved to town and rented a house by the church. Mr. Vincent now works for the blacksmith at low wages. His wife has never been able to forgive herself for coming west and subjecting her children to the dangers here.”
“I bet she blames herself for leaving the children in the house unattended,” interrupted Bart.
“I suppose that’s true. Anyway, she’s in a deep depression and is determined to go back East. Actually, they both have been saying for over a year they’re going to sell their ranch and return to Ohio.”
“Why haven’t they left, Jug? Why haven’t they sold their land?”
“There’s been no buyer, Bart. Ranchers around here have been holding on to their money the last couple of years, due to low beef prices, but the main reason there’s been no interest, no one wants to take a chance on that ranch. People are afraid of the Indians, and I can’t say I blame them.”
“So you think the Vincents want to leave bad enough they’ll take five hundred dollars for their ranch and with my Indian connections, we wouldn’t be bothered, we’d be safe living there?”
“You’ve got it,” Jug said with a big smile.
“I knew it would be like Pa said, ‘there’s always a way.’”
“What’s that, Bart? What did you say?”
“Never mind, Jug, let’s go find Mr. Douglas.”
Mr. Douglas and Liz were drinking coffee when the men arrived.
“Where’s Mrs. Douglas?” Bart asked. “Jug has a plan that may interest all of you.”
“She’s over to Mrs. Kaiser’s,” Liz said. “I’ll go get her.”
“How’s Mr. Kaiser?” Douglas asked when his wife returned with Liz.
“I don’t think he has more than a couple days left. It’s Mrs. Kaiser who needs our help. She’s strong, but I can’t imagine what she’s going through. It would be terrible to lose your husband after a trip like this.”
Everyone collected their thoughts and filled their cups before Mr. Douglas said, “Jug has a plan that may interest us. Bart says it sounds good to him.” For the next thirty minutes Jug outlined the plan he had recited to Bart earlier, but in greater detail. Mr. Douglas asked a few questions, but Jug answered them satisfactorily.
With an excited voice, Liz chimed in. “What do you think, Papa? Isn’t it a great plan? When do we get started?” Mrs. Douglas looked around, gauging the reactions, and then asked, “What do you think, Herb?”
Mr. Douglas fiddled with his cup, giving the matter some serious thought before answering. “I appreciate you coming to us with this plan, Jug, but there are a few problems that concern me. First, we don’t have five hundred dollars to spare.”
Bart hurriedly butted in, “You can use my money, Mr. Douglas. I’d be pleased.”
“I thought you might say that, Bart, and I thank you for the offer, but in addition to the money, I’ll need help rebuilding the house and getting the place back in condition. We don’t have the money to pay wages, and unless you’re willing to stay on with us for at least two years, Bart, I can’t consider the purchase.” All eyes went to Bart as he lowered his head, contemplating the proposition Mr. Douglas presented.
Liz jumped up. “Two years is not long, Bart,” she said with a great deal of enthusiasm. “It’ll be over in no time.”
Bart studied on the matter for several minutes and then nodded to Mr. Douglas and said, “I’ll stay, Mr. Douglas if that’s what you want. I’d be honored to help you out.”
“Thank you, Bart.” But while the others had begun celebrating, Mr. Douglas was giving the matter further thought. His face became sober, and he wore a tight-lipped expression. Shaking his head, he said rather firmly, “I can’t go through with it. I’m sorry, but I won’t expose my family to the potential danger. How can we know for sure the Indians won’t attack us? I can’t take the risk.”
The camp was subdued for several minutes before Mrs. Douglas said to her husband, “Herb, I respect your decision and will abide by whatever you say, but we have been taking risk after risk for the last six months. We knew we were taking a risk when we decided to settle in the West. We certainly knew the travel here from Carolina could cost us our lives, and more than once, I thought it had, but we made it through against all odds. I believe risk is a way of life in the West and I think we’re capable of becoming true Westerners. Can’t we at least go see the ranch?”
Everyone’s eyes were again on Douglas. He turned his back on them all and walked to the camp’s edge, looking at the far-off mountains. Hesitating there for a few minutes, he returned and asked, “How far is it to the Vincent Ranch, Jug? How far to their homestead?” Faces smiled, and eyes lit up.
“About twelve miles, Mr. Douglas. It takes a good three hours to get there.”
“We’ll leave in the morning at first light,” he said with a slight smile.
“Thank you, dear. We only have to look,” Mrs. Douglas said, as her face changed to a smile.
The next morning, when the Douglases woke, Jug and Stu had the fire built and coffee made. Shortly after, Liz and Bart dressed and joined the others for coffee at the fire. Mrs. Douglas passed out salt pork breakfast sandwiches she and Liz had made the night before. They also had prepared the day’s lunch basket, which was in the wagon.
The eastern sky was coming awake when they left the camp. They rode in partial darkness, but the sun’s rays had already reached the high-up, snow-covered mountains, reflecting a view of their destination. Bart rode Maude, and the others rode in the wagon. Liz and her parents were in the driver’s seat, and Stu and Jug sat under the canvas. There was a chill in the air and coats were drawn up tight, but the rising sun would soon warm things up.
“Jug, I thought you said the Vincent ranch was at the foot of the mountains, twelve miles from camp? It can’t be that far…the mountains look like they’re only a couple miles off.”
Jug laughed. “I know it looks that way, Liz, but believe me, the mountains are nearly twelve miles away.” Anticipation about seeing the Vincent place was high, but travel over faintly marked trails made the progress extremely slow. The scenery was breathtakingly beautiful. For some, the far-off mountains covered with snow and trees held the most attraction. But for Mr. Douglas, it was the rolling land they were riding through. Land covered with a thick carpet of grass that could fatten hundreds of cattle.
They topped a small rise and then descended into a valley about two hundred yards wide. At the floor of the ravine, they saw a well-used trail nearly twenty feet wide. “Where does that trail go, Jug?” asked Liz. “Looks like herds of cattle have been driven through there.”
“It’s the main, east-west Indian route going across this part of the country, Liz. This trail is probably the major reason the Vincents were burned out. Indians don’t like white men infringing on their territory.”
“Are we close to the Vincent’s ranch?” asked Mrs. Douglas.
“We’ve been on their land for the last hour; their homestead is beyond the next ridge.”
“You mean it takes more than an hour to cross their ranch?” asked Liz.
“That’s right, and it would take twice as long if we were traveling an east-to-west route.”
They stopped on the valley floor to examine the Indian trail. There were no fresh tracks, but the passageway was covered with the marks of unshod hoof prints not more than three days old. A look of hesitation passed among them, but in spite of some reluctance, they climbed back into the wagon and continued on. The steep hill out of the ravine caused the horses to strain, but in a matter of minutes they topped the hill and were pulled to a halt by Mr. Douglas.
All eyes fell on the Vincent homestead about a half mile farther on toward the mountain. Its setting was simply beautiful. They climbed from the wagon and stood admiring the sight. Herb put an arm around his wife’s shoulder and firmly squeezed her. She, in turn, stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek.
The homestead site was elevated nearly two hundred feet above where they stood. A cliff running north and south rose three hundred feet straight up, bordering the west side of where the ranch house had stood. The cliff itself was part of a mountain ridge that rose another five thousand feet and was covered with pine and spruce trees. A stream from the mountains flowed over and around rocks next to the cliff at a fast, downhill pace. The stream made a hundred-yard curve away from the cleft. It was between these boundaries—the cliff and the stream—the Vincents had built their homestead. The blackened remains of the house were within fifty feet of the cliff. The barn, which was still standing, was built north of the house, closer to the brook. East of the stream the land was flat and covered with trees.
When they arrived at the building site, they stopped for a closer look and were amazed at the precise layout of the homestead. Even the bridge crossing the stream looked professionally constructed. “Vincent sure was handy with tools,” Douglas commented. “He spent a lot of time getting this place in tip-top shape. It’s a shame he had to leave.” Alice nodded in agreement.
After crossing the bridge, folks went in different directions. The men went to the barn and were surprised to find a superb layout of stalls, an equipment room full of tools, and a loft large enough to store the winter’s hay. On the north side of the barn was an attached, open-sided lean-to shed with a forge, horseshoeing supplies, and other large equipment. Even a dredge for clearing stones. Liz and Mrs. Douglas walked past the house site to find mounds of dirt that had once been flower beds. Walking farther, they saw a few young apple trees with several shriveled-up apples hanging from the branches.
Features of the property attracted each onlooker differently, but everyone had the same conclusion. This would be a wonderful place to live if the Indians left them alone.
On the return journey, it was midafternoon when the outline of Flat Peaks came into view. Twenty minutes later, Douglas could see folks stirring around the Kaiser wagon. Mrs. Douglas was in a daydream and not paying attention to the surroundings, so Herb said to her, “Honey, something’s going on at the Kaiser wagon.”
She immediately focused. “Mr. Kaiser must be worse,” she said.
“Or perhaps he’s died,” her husband said, completing her thought.