Chapter Sixteen
Turley saw the pinto approaching, and as it got closer he saw that the rider didn’t appear to be any older than thirteen or fourteen years old.
“What do you need, boy?” Turley asked.
“I have a telegram for Mr. Houser,” the boy replied.
“All right, give it to me, I’ll give it to him.”
“No, sir, I can’t do that. Mr. Proffer, he said I can’t give it to nobody but Mr. Houser his ownself.”
“I work for Mr. Houser,” Turley said, aggravated by the boy’s response.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t do it. I can only give it to Mr. Houser.”
“Wait here,” Turley said.
The boy dismounted and stood by his horse as Turley went into the ranch office.
“There’s a boy out front with a telegram that he says he can only give to you,” Turley said.
“A telegram? I can’t imagine who would be sending me a telegram.” Curious, Houser stepped out to see the boy.
“Are you Mr. Houser?” the boy asked.
“I am.”
The boy handed Houser a yellow envelope, and Houser gave the boy a quarter.
“Thank you, sir!” the boy said enthusiastically.
“What does it say?” Turley asked.
“Mr. Turley, there is a reason that the boy insisted upon putting the telegram in my hands, and my hands only,” Houser replied. “The reason is privacy.”
“What?”
“It means that it is none of your business what the telegram says. It was sent to me, personally.”
“Yes, sir, sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I was just curious, is all.”
“I’m sure you have heard the expression curiosity killed a cat,” Houser said.
“What? Now how the hell can bein’ curious kill a cat?”
“Never mind,” Houser said with a shake of his head.
Returning to his office, Houser opened the envelope and read the telegram.
I AM IN CHEYENNE WITH FIVE FRIENDS STOP WE ARE LOOKING FOR A JOB STOP CAN YOU MEET ME HERE STOP SHAMROCK
At first, Houser slammed the telegram down on his desk in disgust. How dare Sid Shamrock contact him? Shamrock had taken a solemn oath never to contact him again. How did he even know where he was? Then he remembered the letter he had gotten from Rosemary Woods.
Well, he can just stay up there and rot.
No, wait, Shamrock obviously knew where he was, and if he had five men with him, then he could cause trouble.
Even as the agitation was building about the contents of the telegram, another thought began to take hold. And the more he thought about it, the stronger the thought became.
“Yes,” he said aloud as a big smile spread across his face. Six men looking for a job? Houser knew exactly what job they could do. In fact, he could almost say that the arrival of Sid Shamrock could work out very well for him.
Stepping back outside, he saw Turley talking to a couple of his riders.
“Turley,” he called.
Turley sent the two riders off on whatever task he had assigned them, then responded to Houser’s call.
“Yes, sir?”
“I’m going to be gone for a few days. Keep things going here.”
“Yes, sir. Uh, what about Knox ’n them other two?”
“Never mind about them. I’ll tell them I’m gone, and I’m quite sure they will be able to take care of themselves.”
“Yes, sir,” Turley replied.
* * *
“You want to rent an entire stagecoach?” the manager of the Chugwater branch of the Southern Wyoming Stagecoach Company said, in reply to Houser’s request.
“I do indeed. I have six men that I need to pick up in Cheyenne.”
“Couldn’t they just take the train?”
“I suppose they could, but I would like to set my own time schedule. Tell me, Mr. Walker, why are you so reticent to do business with me?”
“Why am I what?”
“Why are you trying to talk me out of renting a stagecoach? Do you not want my business?”
“Oh no, sir, no, sir, nothin’ like that,” Walker said. “I very much want your business.”
“Then you will make a coach available to me?”
“Yes, sir, I would be glad to. If you will come back at one o’clock this afternoon, I will have a coach and driver ready for you.”
As Brad Houser waited for the coach to be made ready for him, he stepped into the Valley Restaurant to have his lunch. There, he saw a pretty woman with blond hair and blue eyes, who was eating alone. He recognized her as the owner of the dress emporium. He had also heard that she was Duff MacCallister’s lady friend.
“Miss Parker,” he said, stepping up to her table. “Would you mind, terribly, if I joined you for lunch?” Houser smiled. “I would be happy to pay for the privilege of dining with you, by buying your lunch.”
Meagan smiled up at him. “Of course you may join me, but it isn’t necessary that you pay for my lunch.”
A waiter came to see him as soon as he sat down.
“I’m taking a coach at one o’clock,” he said. “So I’ll take whatever is the fastest and easiest for you to serve.”
“That would be our stew,” the waiter replied.
“Very good.”
“I didn’t know we had a scheduled stagecoach that departed at one,” Meagan said.
“This isn’t a public coach; it is one that I have chartered for my private use.”
“My, I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone who chartered a stagecoach for their own use.”
“It is one of the perquisites of being a wealthy man, my dear,” Houser said. “As is dining with a beautiful young woman,” he added with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“I assure you, Mr. Houser, your money had nothing to do with my accepting your offer to join me.”
“Of course not. Please forgive me for turning what I meant to be a compliment into a crass statement.”
“You are forgiven.”
The waiter delivered the stew.
“I am particularly pleased that you did agree to let me join you, though. As I am sure you know, I am still relatively new in town, and affairs with running the ranch have not provided me with the opportunity to visit town very often, or even visit my neighbors. That has not allowed me to make many friends. To be honest with you, I wasn’t sure you would even know my name.”
“I am a businesswoman, Mr. Houser. And part of being successful in business is in being able to keep up with what is happening. I know that you bought Twin Peaks Ranch from Cliff Prescott’s widow. And I know that you aren’t married.”
Houser smiled. “No, I am not married, and I’m flattered that you went to the trouble to find out.”
Meagan laughed. “Oh, heavens, Mr. Houser, there is no need for you to be flattered. As I told you, I am a businesswoman, and my business is a dress shop. My inquiries into your marital status had to do with whether or not you might have a wife who could become a customer.”
“Yes, of course, I can understand that. And who knows, it may be that somewhere in this beautiful valley I may find someone.”
“That is a possibility, of course, and when you do, please don’t hesitate to introduce us so that I can make her one of my customers.”
“Oh, to be sure, I will definitely introduce you. In the meantime, perhaps you and I could see each other again, maybe for dinner and such other entertainment as may be available in this town?”
“Mr. Houser, I appreciate the invitation, but I am keeping company with Duff MacCallister.”
“That would be the Scotsman?”
“Aye,” Meagan replied automatically. Then, with a smile she said, “Yes. Do you know him?”
“We have had occasion to meet, yes,” Houser said. “He has in his employ a common Chinaman with a rather remarkable ability to injure others in a street brawl.”
“You would be talking about Wang, and believe me, there is nothing at all common about Wang,” Meagan replied.
“Yes, I believe Wang is his name,” Houser replied. “And I agree with you, there is nothing common about him. He was more than the measure of two of my men. I had to apologize to Mr. MacCallister on behalf of my men for causing the disturbance in the first place.”
“Your men couldn’t apologize for themselves?”
“I’m sure they could, but I am responsible for them, and therefore I have a certain obligation for their actions.”
“That’s quite honorable of you,” Meagan said.
“Thank you.”
For the rest of the meal the conversation across the table was incidental, with no further reference to Duff MacCallister. Finally Houser took out a gold pocket watch and examined it then closed it and turned his attention back to Meagan.
“Well, my coach should be ready now,” he said. “Thank you for allowing me to share your table. It made lunchtime much more pleasant than it would have been had I dined alone.”
“I have enjoyed the conversation,” Meagan said.
After Houser left, Meagan smiled at the affectation of his examining his gold watch when there was a big clock on the wall, which was within the view of all in the café.
“Oh, there is no charge for your meal, Meagan,” Katie said when Meagan went to pay her check a short while later. “Mr. Houser paid for it.”
“Thank you,” Meagan said.
* * *
“Hello, Mary Ellen,” Meagan said when she returned to the dress shop. There was a young man with her.
“This is Ben,” Mary Ellen said, smiling at the young man.
“Turley, ma’am. Ben Turley,” the man said.
“Yes, I know you. You’re the foreman out at Twin Peaks, I believe.”
“Yes, ma’am, I foremanned for Mr. Prescott ’n now I’m workin’ for Mr. Houser. Fact is, I brung ’im into town this morning.”
“Yes, I had lunch with Mr. Houser. And speaking of lunch, Mary Ellen, you can go to lunch now.”
“Thank you, I’ll be back soon. Ben is taking me to the Chugwater Café,” the pretty, young, dark-haired girl said with a happy smile.
Meagan thought about her brief visit with Houser. She had told him there was no need to pay for her lunch, and she wished he hadn’t done so. He was clearly trying to ingratiate himself, and she wasn’t interested. He was, she admitted to herself, a rather handsome man, and there was a sophistication about him that could be intriguing.
But there was something else about him, something she could feel, but couldn’t see. If she had to describe it, she would say that he was like a piece of fine crystal that would be beautiful, if not for a slight flaw in its manufacture. In the case of crystal, the flaw can be seen. It was difficult to see the flaw in Brad Houser, but Meagan knew, instinctively, that it was there.
* * *
When Houser returned to the stagecoach depot he saw a coach standing out front with a six-horse team already attached. The driver was sitting on the high seat, dozing, as he waited for word to go.
“Is that my coach parked out front?” he asked as he stepped inside.
“Oh, it is indeed, sir, and you are in luck, as we had one of our finest drivers available.”
“What do I owe you?” Houser asked.
“Suppose you settle when you return? That way I will know how long you have kept the coach, and it will give me a better idea as how to assess the amount.”
“Very good,” Houser said, turning around and walking back to the coach. Walker followed him outside.
“Sylvanus, here is your passenger,” Walker called.
“Will you be ridin’ up here with me, or down in the box, sir?” the driver called down to Houser.
“I will be in the coach,” Houser replied.
“Well, sir, to be honest, the ride is a little softer up here, but you can do whatever you want.”
“Driver,” Houser replied, “we can save time and wasted conversation just by assuming that I can always do anything I want. At least with respect to this trip.”
“Yes, sir,” Sylvanus replied. “Just climb in and make yourself comfortable.”
As the coach left Chugwater and started up toward Cheyenne, Houser thought back to his lunch with Meagan Parker. She was a beautiful woman, owned a successful business, and he already knew that she was quite well liked and respected by the people of Chugwater, and all over the valley.
She would make a great wife for him, but not in any kind of amorous way. He had no illusions of love or romance. He just believed that a marriage with someone like Meagan Parker, someone who was very smart and successful in her own right, would be like a good and effective business merger.
He smiled. And it didn’t hurt that Duff MacCallister considered his relationship with her solid. Taking his woman away from him would be a great personal victory.