Chapter Eleven
“It’s time to start confiscating all the free range and buying the more choice land that we want,” Collins said. “I expect there will be a lot of people who aren’t going to be very happy about what’s going on, and that’s where you and our railroad police come in.”
“Takin’ in all this land like this, how is it that it ain’t stealin’?” Bo Hawken asked.
“Hell, it is stealing,” Collins replied with a little laugh. “However, this stealing is legal. Poindexter explained it all to me.”
“Damn, who was smart enough to come up with somethin’ like this?” Streeter asked.
“Who have we got on watch?” Collins asked.
“Hawken ’n Butrum.”
“Bring Butrum back in. One is all we need,” Collins said.
“All right.”
“Boys,” Collins said with a wide smile. “Let’s start making some money!”
* * *
Two days later, Roy Streeter, Jalen Nichols, and Clete Dixon were driving about fifty head of cattle toward the main part of Pitchfork Ranch when they were stopped by a cowboy known only as Dirt.
“Looks to me like them’s Pitchfork cows,” Dirt said.
“Yeah.” Streeter pointed to the brand. “That’s what we figured when we seen this brand that looks like a pitchfork.”
“All right. So now you know, just where is it that you boys think you’re a-goin’ with ’em?” Dirt asked.
“We’re gettin’ ’em off C ’n FL land,” Streeter said.
“C ’n FL land? What are you talkin’ about? Where is this C ’n FL land?”
“This here is C ’n FL land,” Streeter said with a wide sweep of his arm. “We’re on C ’n FL land right now. So are you. ’N so are these cows, which is why we’re pushin’ ’em back.”
“The hell you say.” Dirt pointed to the north, the direction from which the cattle were coming. “That land there belongs to the Pitchfork, all the way to Lone Tree Crick. You ain’t got no claim to it, ’n you ain’t got right to be moving Pitchfork cows around, neither.”
“This here ain’t actual Pitchfork land. It belongs to the government,” Streeter said, again taking in the area with a wide sweep of his arm. “Right now Pitchfork is usin’ it as free range, but it’s pretty soon goin’ to belong to us by government grant. And when that happens, we don’t want none o’ Pitchfork’s cows on it.”
“Why the hell would the government be a-givin’ you the land?”
“Because we’re building a railroad,” Streeter said.
“Yeah, I heard that you’re buildin’ a railroad, ever’one knows that, but that don’t give you no right to just come in ’n start takin’ the land ’n runnin’ off the cattle.”
Streeter’s smile was without humor. “Yeah, it does.”
“We’ll just see about that,” Dirt said. Turning his horse, he galloped back to the main house where he found Dale Allen, owner of the Pitchfork, watching one of the other hands working on the pump.
“Damn, Dirt, what’s got you in such a frenzy?” Dale asked.
“It’s the North Range, Mr. Allen,” Dirt said. “They’s some men from the railroad that’s come ’n drove off all the cows we got up there. They say the North Range don’t belong to you no more. They say the government has took it ’n give it to the railroad.”
* * *
Over the next several days, more “right-of-way” land was acquired, not only from the ranchers in the immediate vicinity of Chugwater, but along the entire route from Cheyenne to Fort Laramie. So far Sky Meadow had not been affected.
“’Tis thinking I am there is nae way I’ll be for avoiding this,” Duff told Biff as the two of them shared Biff’s personal table in Fiddler’s Green.
“I don’t know, Duff,” Biff said. “When all this started everyone was all excited about it. But Dale Allen of the Pitchfork, then David Lewis of Trail Back, and Webb Dakota of Mountain Shadow . . . all three of ’em have seen a lot of their land taken.”
“Aye, but to be fair, Biff, ’tis not their land that’s been taken so far. ’Tis only the free range, ’n since all the free range belongs to the government, we’ve been sort of borrowing it in the first place.”
At that moment Charley Blanton came into Fiddler’s Green then stepped back to the table where Duff and Biff were visiting. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. Do you mind if I join you?” Charley was carrying a roll of paper which was obviously too long to be a proof sheet for the newspaper.
“Please do.” Biff held up his hand. “Kay, a glass of wine for Mr. Blanton.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Johnson,” the pretty young hostess replied.
“You bein’ the newspaper editor ’n on top o’ things, ’tis sure I am that you know the land being taken from Allen, Lewis, and Dakota,” Duff said, making it a statement, rather than a question.
“Yes, I know. Believe me, I know,” Charles replied.
“What’s that you’re carrying?” Biff asked.
“Something I want to show you,” Charley said as he accepted the wine Kay brought to the table. “First, I want to know what you two think about all the land grabbing that’s been going on.”
“’Tis becoming a bit disturbin’,” Duff said. “But to be fair, we were warned about it before they started.”
“Yes, well it’s considerably more than a bit disturbing, I would say,” Charley replied. “I don’t know what it means, or if it means anything at all, but Dempster told me that over fifty thousand dollars has been deposited in the bank to the Poindexter account.”
“Well, I would think that’s a good thing. It means that the ranchers are going to be compensated for the land that’s been taken.”
Charley shook his head. “Yes, but the money has been deposited, and some of it withdrawn, which is somewhat strange because no land has actually been taken by eminent domain yet and no work has started, so where is the money going?”
“Aye, I can see why that might be a puzzle.”
“Biff, you asked what this paper is. I’m going to show you, and you’ll see that this is even more puzzling than the withdrawal of the money.” Charley unrolled the document he was carrying, which proved to be a map, and spread it out on the table. “The Land Grant Act of 1864 provides railroad developers with alternating sections on either side of the tracks as well as all the minerals underneath all that land.
“Now this is the most logical route from Cheyenne to Fort Laramie.” Charley traced out the route with his finger as he spoke. “Through Walbach, across Lodge Pole Creek, through the Goodwin Ranch, through the Davis Ranch, across Bear Creek, through Sky Meadow, across Horse Creek, through Chugwater, then across Box Elder and Cherry Creeks to Uva, then alongside the Laramie River to the Platte River and Fort Laramie. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Aye,’tis clearly the best route,” Duff said. “It’s the shortest, and it doesn’t have to cross any mountain ranges.”
“I’m glad you agree. But now look at the land grants they have confiscated so far. Two thousand acres that was being used as free-range graze for Pitchfork, a thousand acres from Mountain Shadow, and three thousand acres of free rangeland being used by Trail Back. And, you said no mountain range? Here are two thousand acres from the Snowy Range, and another two thousand from way up here in the Laramie Mountain Range. Now, let me show you how the tracks would have to go in order to follow these land acquisitions.”
With his finger, Charley traced out several zigzags on the map, in some cases several miles away from the most logical route.
“What the hell?” Biff said. “That makes no sense at all.”
“Maybe it does,” Charley said. “Take a look at these acquisitions I told you about, and see if anything stands out for you.”
Biff put his finger on the southern tip of the Laramie Mountains. “Isn’t there a working silver mine here?”
“Good observation, Biff. Indeed there was a working silver mine there, but it turns out the claim wasn’t properly filed, and now it belongs to the C and FL Railroad. And here, here, and here are some of the best grazing lands in all of Wyoming, plus, of course, a very good and continuous source of water. But, as you can see, none of these sections are along the most logical route.”
“That’s very interesting,” Duff said.
“Yes, I thought you might find it so,” Charley replied.
“I wonder what it means,” Biff said.
“I’m beginning to think it means some chicanery with the way this railroad is doing business.” Charley rolled the paper back up. “And I intend to find out just what it is.”
Corporate office of P R and M
“Norman, another fifty thousand dollars?” Pete asked.
“That’s what Jake is requesting,” Jamison replied.
“I don’t know about this,” Preston said. “We’ve already invested more money than I had planned, and now he wants another fifty thousand dollars? Maybe I should take a trip out there just to see what is going on.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t do that, sir,” Jamison said.
“Why not? We’re bleeding money here. It can’t just go on unchecked.”
“Mr. Poindexter, you have sent Jake out there to get some experience. You say yourself that, someday, he will be running the company. If you go out there to check up on what he’s doing, you will totally destroy his confidence.”
“I don’t know,” Preston said.
“Think about it, sir. We can keep an eye on it from here. Soon, I think, we can start selling off the land that we have already acquired from the government. And once the railroad is built and in operation, why, you’ll recover this money in no time.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Preston chuckled. “But that boy has to learn that the secret to running a successful business is that you take in more money than you spend.”
Jamison chuckled as well. “I think the time will come, and soon, when Jake realizes that so far all the money has gone out, and none has come in. That will be a lesson that he’ll learn, painfully perhaps, but he will learn it.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right. He’s your son, isn’t he? That means he has come from good stock.”
“I guess I’m not really that worried about it,” Pete said. “You’re still young enough so that when the time does come for Jake to take over the company, you’ll be around to advise him. I’ll be counting on you, Norman.”
“I won’t let you down, sir. I’ll do everything I can to keep him on the right track.”
“Norman, hiring you is one of the most intelligent things I have ever done since I started the company.”
“I much appreciate the compliment, sir.”
“How much track have we laid, so far?”
“According to the latest report, we have acquired the connection rights from the Union Pacific and have laid enough track to get us ten and one quarter miles north of Cheyenne,” Norman said.
“Ten and one quarter miles,” Pete said with a smile. “By damn, maybe Jake is going to work out all right. Ten and a quarter miles. I like it, not only that we have advanced that far, but also because his reports have all been so detailed.”
“Indeed, sir,” Norman agreed.
“I think we could drink a glass of wine in toast, don’t you?” Pete asked.
“Oh, I think it would be perfectly fitting to do so,” Jamison agreed with a willing smile.