Chapter Thirteen
So far the only land that had been acquired was the free rangeland that had been part of the government land grant. There had been no purchases by right of eminent domain, but that was about to change when four riders representing the C&FL rode up the JP Ranch road leading to the house that belonged to Jonas Perkins. Their knock on the door was answered by Jonas’s wife, Eunice.
“You, you’re Jake Poindexter, aren’t you?” Eunice asked. “I remember you from the reception.”
“Yes, ma’am, I am. Would Mr. Perkins be in, by chance?”
“No, he’s down on the creek bottom. Some beavers are building a dam, and he and one of our hands have gone down there to tear it down.” She smiled. “I hate it that we have to undo all the work the beavers have done. Bless their little hearts, they do work so hard at it. But when they dam up the creek it stops the flow and keeps the water from going on downstream to Mr. Goodman.”
“Yes, I can see how that might be a problem. Thank you, we’ll go down to the creek to see him.”
* * *
Jonas Perkins was standing knee deep in the water and his arms were submerged to the elbows as he was working to take apart the dam. The beaver construction wasn’t that hard to dismantle, because they had found it right away. A couple of beavers were watching him from the creek bank and they were whining their disapproval at him.
Perkins looked over at the protesting beavers. “I’m sorry, fellers, but you’re just going to have to find some other place to build your dam.”
“Mr. Perkins, they’s some riders a-comin’ this way.” Kistner was sixteen, was the youngest of all the cowboys who rode for the JP brand.
“Some of our boys?”
“No, sir, ’n they ain’t none of ’em from Mountain Shadow neither. I don’t have no idea who they are.”
Mountain Shadow was the neighboring ranch.
“I wonder who they are and what they—” Perkins stopped in midsentence as he recognized the four approaching riders. He climbed up out of the creek then stood there with his legs wet from the knees down and with wet forearms and muddy hands. “Never mind. I know who they are. They are from the railroad that’s goin’ to be built.”
“What is it you reckon they want?” Kistner asked.
“I don’t know exactly, but I have a feelin’ this is goin’ to be trouble.” Perkins waited until the riders were right upon him. “What can I do for you, Poindexter?”
“Well, for one thing you can stop tearing down that beaver dam.”
“We have to tear it down.” Perkins chuckled. “I know it might look like a bother to someone who ain’t used to ranchin’, but we have to do this. If we don’t take it down, it’ll stop the flow of the creek.”
“Whether or not it stops the flow of the creek is no longer your problem, Mr. Perkins.”
“What do you mean, it’s no longer my problem?”
“We are taking eight hundred acres of your land, and all of it is adjacent to the creek.”
“Oh, yeah, I’ve heard how you have took land from Allen, Lewis, and a couple others. But this here land you’re a-talkin’ about now ain’t free rangeland. This here is my land, ’n I have the title, free and clear.”
“Yes, this isn’t like our other land acquisitions. The government can’t give this land to us, because, as you said, you own it. That’s why we’ll be buyin’ the land from you.”
“Well, I appreciate your offer to buy, Mr. Poindexter, but I couldn’t hardly sell this land. If I was to sell it, I couldn’t keep on ranchin’, seein’ as this here creek provides most o’ the water that I need for my cows.”
“Mr. Perkins, I believe you might remember the discussion we had at the reception you and your friends were so generous to provide for us. I told you then that we would be acquiring land for the railroad.”
“Yeah, and you done took a lot of it too, so much of the free rangeland that some of us is beginnin’ to worry ’bout whether we’re goin’ to have enough graze for our herds.” Perkins gave sort of a dismissive wave with his hand. “We can understand that you got a right to that land and we’re willin’ to trade some of it off for gettin’ a railroad. But this that you’re talkin’ about now ain’t free rangeland. It’s like I said, this here strip you’re talkin’ about belongs to me, ’n I don’t have no plans on sellin’ it.”
“I’m afraid it doesn’t matter whether you want to sell it or not. We will take it by eminent domain.”
“I don’t know what this eminent domain thing is that you’re talkin’ about, but I’ll tell you again so’s that you understand. I don’t have no intention of sellin’ my land, ’n I ain’t a-goin’ to sell it.”
“And I’ll tell you again, Mr. Perkins, it doesn’t matter whether you want to sell it or not. I have the law on my side, and that means if I want to buy it there is nothing you can do to stop me. And, Mr. Perkins, I want to buy it.”
“Look here, are you tellin’ me that the law says that even iffen I don’t want to sell my land to you, I have to do it?”
“That is exactly what I’m telling you, Mr. Perkins.”
Perkins felt his stomach rise to his throat, and he felt so light-headed that he believed he was about to pass out. He walked over to his horse then put his hand out to the saddle to support himself. As he did that, his hand came very close to the rifle he had in his saddle sheath.
All four riders pulled their pistols then and pointed them at him.
“Step away from that rifle, Perkins!”
“I . . .” Perkins said. He seemed to feel his body rising up through his head, and the next thing he knew Kistner was on the ground beside him, bathing his face with a wet handkerchief.
“What . . . what happened?”
“I don’t know,” Kistner answered. “One minute you was standin’ there talkin’ to Mr. Poindexter ’n the next thing I knowed you just up ’n fell down.”
“Where are they?” Perkins said. “Where is Poindexter ’n the others?”
“I don’t rightly know,” Kistner said. “When you fell down like you done, I come over to see about you. Poindexter ’n the others just rode off like it didn’t make no never mind to ’em whether you was alive or dead.”
Perkins sat up and looked around. “All this,” he said in a strained voice. “They’re a-takin’ all this.”
“You think you can ride all right, Mr. Perkins? ’Cause if you think you can ride all right, I’ll get you back home ’n you can go in the house ’n maybe Mrs. Perkins can look out for you some,” Kistner said anxiously.
“Yes, son, I’m sure I can ride if I can get mounted.”
“I’ll help.”
* * *
From the Chugwater Defender:
IS THE C&FL RAILROAD A FRAUD?
There was universal approval and celebration when it was announced that the Poindexter Railroad and Maritime Corporation would be building a railroad from Cheyenne to Fort Laramie. A railroad would mean much for Chugwater and the citizens of the Chugwater valley, and so great was our appreciation of the coming of a railroad that the bacchanalia seemed appropriate.
But this newspaper would like to point out to all our readers that so far not one rail of track has been laid, not so much as one hundred feet of roadbed has been cleared. In fact the Chinese construction crew that the C&FL brought for the task was left abandoned outside of town, languishing without pay, even without food until Duff MacCallister offered them shelter, food, and employment at Sky Meadow Ranch.
So far not so much as one mile of right-of-way has been surveyed. And it is this, the lack of survey of the route, which has raised a question as to the actual intent and purpose of the railroad.
The relationship between the C&FL and citizens of Chugwater began on a high note, with the reception and gala where we met Jacob Poindexter. There, we listened to his promise of a golden future of mutual growth for the railroad and those whom it would serve. He is the son of the founder of the company, so one would think that we could not be better represented. So, what have Mr. Poindexter and the others been doing? They have been acquiring land.
“Oh,” you might say. “What is so unusual about that? Will they not require land before the building can begin?”
What is so unusual about it, my friends, is the type and locations of the land they have acquired, all without benefit of a route survey.
Here are a few examples. They have confiscated rich and well-watered grazing land from the Goodwin Ranch and the Davis Ranch, as well as from the Pitchfork, Mountain Shadow, and Trail Back ranches. They have also recently made their first grab of land by use of eminent domain. I do not use the term grab loosely, for they have taken, by such maneuver, that part of the JP Ranch that abuts Bear Creek. This creek not only provides the JP with water it needs, it also furnishes water to Mountain Shadow, which is the ranch adjacent to the JP. Mountain Shadow is able to benefit from the creek because Jonas Perkins, being a good neighbor, has always seen to it that the creek is free of any debris that would obstruct its free flow.
Ah, but it doesn’t stop there. Land has also been acquired from the Snowy Mountain Range and the Laramie Mountains, both areas known to be rich in mineral deposits.
Discerning readers will notice, right away, that the locations of these tracts of land are in no way contiguous, but are in fact separated from each other by no small distance. In the case of the Snowy and Laramie Mountain Ranges, the two parcels of land are separated by almost 100 miles.
In order for a railroad to qualify for free land under the provisions of the Land Grant Act of 1864, the railroad must pass over the land thus acquired. The distance from Cheyenne to Fort Laramie by the most direct and obvious route is 110 miles. If the C&FL Railroad actually utilizes the land it has so recently acquired, the same law that enabled them to acquire the land will also dictate that the tracks must be laid across or immediately adjacent to the granted land.
Such an irregular route would add 437 miles to the trip from Cheyenne to Fort Laramie.
It therefore should be obvious that the C&FL has something in mind other than building a railroad for the citizens of Chugwater Valley. To that end, I suggest that the name of the C&FL be changed from the Cheyenne and Fort Laramie Railroad to the Cheaters and Fraud Lies.
There should be an investigation launched, and soon.
“Did you read this?” Jalen Nichols asked, showing the newspaper article to Streeter.
“Yeah,” Streeter said. “I seen it. The boss seen it too.”
“What does he think about it?”
“He thinks we should ask Blanton not to write anymore articles like that.”
“That’s it? We should just ask him not to do anymore and he’ll stop?”
Streeter smiled. “It all depends on how we ask him.”