The next hour was agony for Will. He spoke his lines at the town-council meeting with practiced ease. He listened to Gideon Kendrick’s speech, nodding in all the right places, clapping at the correct time. All the while his thoughts were focused on Tomasina. He’d always known she’d leave Cowboy Creek. He’d assumed the date was off in the distant future.
He wasn’t an idiot. James Johnson was a fellow drover. The cowboys were moving on. If James was putting together a new crew, Tomasina was an obvious choice. There was no doubt in his mind about James’s motivation for seeking out Tomasina. The boy was ready to move on, and he needed her help.
His gaze kept drifting in her direction. She’d joined the meeting and taken a seat in the back, her mood inscrutable. Imagining her leaving with James Johnson wrung his insides into a knot.
When Remmy Hagermann elbowed him in the side, Will stood and cleared his throat. “We’ve given you all the information to the best of our knowledge. In conclusion, while any investment has risks, I believe an investment with the Union Pacific railroad is in the best interest of Cowboy Creek merchants and business leaders. Mr. Kendricks will be staying at the Cattleman Hotel for the duration. He’s available to answer any questions you might have.” He paused for a moment, looking out at the crowd, then went on. “I will be collecting your funds personally. Can I see a show of hands for those considering an investment?”
Every hand in the room raised.
Will nodded. “Excellent. There’s one more item on the agenda. As you all know, we’ve had some difficulty with the drovers in town.”
A collective groan erupted from the audience.
“There’s been a motion put forward to sponsor another rodeo and sharpshooting contest.”
The meeting descended into chaos. People both for and against the measure raised their voices. Amos Godwin sat in his chair, his arms crossed, shaking his head. Mr. Irving and Mr. Hagermann argued over him. Clusters of men formed, with people shouting and gesturing.
A familiar, ear-splitting whistle silenced the room. All heads turned toward Tomasina.
She smiled. “Gentlemen. The drovers are vital to the success of this town. Correct?”
The men mumbled their agreement.
“The drovers bring cattle. They also bring business. Money. They pass through every town from here to Texas and spread gossip along the way. Would you rather they praised or criticized Cowboy Creek? And don’t forget, eventually, those drovers will settle down and buy land. Wouldn’t it be beneficial if they settled in this fine town?”
Mr. Livingston guffawed. “Not if they come to drink and carouse.”
“I don’t believe they will,” she said matter-of-factly. “You want them to feel a part of your community. If they feel as though they are a part of something, they’ll change their ways.”
“Can you guarantee that?” Remmy demanded.
“No. I can’t.”
More grumblings followed her words.
“I can, however, guarantee that this town and your businesses will suffer if they decide to spend their money elsewhere.”
No one disputed her words. An uncomfortable silence filled the room.
“Help invest them in your community,” she said. “And they will care for that community.”
Mr. Livingston snorted. “They don’t buy anything from my store. Cowboys don’t need furniture.”
“They don’t buy any of the furniture you currently sell. But what if you sold something they needed? One of the fellows I know has a collapsible chair. The hinges fold in half. The chair fits on the chuck wagon. You could make a whole business out of building those chairs.”
“That’s all fine and good for Mr. Livingston.” Remmy stood and leaned his hands on the back of his chair. “How do the rest of us go about interesting them in our stores?”
“Mr. Hagermann is an excellent example of forward thinking. When the town founders sent for brides, what did you do, Mr. Hagermann?”
The owner of the mercantile puffed up. “I stocked the things women like to buy in my stores.”
The men laughed.
“Remmy sells stockings,” Timothy Watson hollered. “How does that help with a bunch of drovers?”
Remmy scowled. “You wouldn’t be laughing if you saw my books. My business has increased. I’ll be expanding before long.”
His words quieted the crowd.
Tomasina beamed. “Follow Mr. Hagermann’s example. Stock things the drovers buy. Run specials. Sales. You know what they purchase, the items they prefer. Place signs in your store windows advertising these items.” She spread her hands as though unfurling a banner. “Have a special on tinned peaches.”
Mr. Booker of Booker & Son rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s not a bad idea.”
Tomasina moved toward the front of the room. “Take advantage of your specialties. The items that make your business unique. Consider the Cowboy Café. Everyone loves Nels’s chicken-salad sandwiches.”
“Don’t drag me into this.” The older man crossed his arms over his chest. “I already have cowboys eating in my restaurant.”
“Then cater to the cowboys who don’t eat in your restaurant. Sell the sandwiches in a bag, with a pickle, wrapped in wax paper. Call it the Drover’s Special. That’s only the beginning. Why stop with the drovers? Down South, a clever group of ladies who call themselves waiter-carriers bring meals right to the trains. The ladies line up on the tracks and folks plan their route just for a taste of those meals. Nels could fix sack lunches for the folks on the train who don’t have time for a sit-down meal.”
Rubbing his chin, Nels nodded. “Might work. Course, I’d have to hire more help.”
“If you make more money, you can afford to hire more help. That means Cowboy Creek is creating jobs. The more jobs, the better. Am I right?”
“Jobs bring people,” Will offered. Her ideas were inspired. They were all intelligent men, and yet none of them had considered these opportunities. “Jobs bring families.”
“Waiter-carriers for the railroad are only the beginning.” She paced in front of the group. “Nels can sell his sandwiches between shows at the opera house. Serve them with lemonade.”
Owen Ewing placed a hand to the side of his mouth and leaned toward Remmy. “People are sure gonna get sick of those sandwiches.” He spoke in a whisper loud enough the others could hear.
Remmy laughed.
“Use your imaginations, gentlemen.” Tomasina threw up her arms. “If people tire of one kind of sandwich, then make another. All of these ideas are simple, and many of them can be undertaken with little or no planning or cost. The cowboys living out of their tents need a shower and a shave at least once a week. The barber can run specials. The bath house can run specials.”
“The jail is already running enough specials,” Sheriff Davis called out.
Discordant voices vied for attention once more. Will withheld any words of support. If the men thought he was favoring Tomasina because she was a woman, they’d eat her alive in the meeting. She had to hold her own among the business leaders. Thus far, she’d been magnificent.
Tomasina let their good-natured ribbing continue for another moment before quieting them once more. “Put signs in your windows that welcome the drovers. The saddle shop can run an advertisement on leather repairs and cleaning. We don’t want to run the cowboys out of town—we want them to stay. The longer those fellows stick around, the more money they spend. Every dollar in Cowboy Creek is a dollar in your pocket.”
“What about the rodeo?” Mr. O’Neill called out, his mouth set in a hard line. “We all know what happened last time.”
“I don’t know.” Her voice faltered. “That wasn’t one of my suggestions this time around.”
Will’s heart went out to Tomasina. Mr. O’Neill’s son had been injured that awful day, and clearly she still harbored guilt over the incident. Seeing his opportunity, Will stood.
“We all know the truth about what happened.” He held his hands in a placating gesture. “The Murdoch Gang was responsible for setting that bull loose. If we cancel the show, we let the Murdochs win.”
Shouted denials drowned out his words. Will exchanged a glance with Quincy Davis over the heads of the protesting men. When Tomasina started to speak, he touched her arm, quieting her.
“Let them argue it out,” he said quietly. “The tide is turning.”
His instincts were correct. The business owners had latched on to the plan. They recognized the value of having the drovers spend their pay from the cattle drives in town. The few dissenters were gradually outnumbered by the supporters.
When their voices quieted once more, Will resumed his place at the front of the room. “We can schedule the rodeo and the sharpshooting events in the spring and summer when the drovers are passing through town. I propose that we hold an event every Friday and Saturday during that time. If those cowboys are roping and riding and practicing their shooting, they won’t be drinking.”
“And they won’t be fighting and breaking out the windows at Drover’s Place,” Quincy Davis added.
“Exactly.” Tomasina grinned. “Instead of driving the cowboys away, let’s figure out how to make them belong.”
Remmy patted Tomasina on the back. “You got any ideas about how we can get more settlers in this town?”
“I do, as a matter of fact,” she shot back immediately. “Hire someone who speaks Slovak.”
Remmy’s eyes widened. “That’s not a half-bad idea.”
“People want a taste of the old country. There’s a bakery in Morgan’s Creek that sells kolaches. Settlers come from miles around for those pastries.”
D.B. Burrows, the editor of the Herald, rocked back on his heels and crossed his arms over his chest. “Why should we cater to a bunch of foreigners? If they want the old country, they can go back to where they came from. It’s not our job to change, it’s theirs.”
Mr. Irving scowled. “We were all foreigners at one time. Or did you forget that, Mr. Burrows?”
“I like kolaches,” Remmy added. “A few of those foreign customs are tasty.”
Some of D.B.’s bluster waned. “You can sell your peaches at a discount and bake your foreign pastries. You’re wasting your time. Those cowboys will still drink and carouse and cause trouble.”
His words were drowned out by the men’s excited chatter. When D.B.’s protests were ignored, he replaced his hat and stomped out of the meeting.
Ignoring his exit, the other business owners circled their chairs. Planning committees were formed and ideas exchanged. Tomasina circulated around the room, answering questions and offering additional suggestions.
Will followed her progress, and his chest expanded. He was proud of the business owners of Cowboy Creek. He was proud of Tomasina. Not only had she thought up ideas for keeping the drovers in town, she’d convinced the town council.
Gideon shook Will’s hand. “The Union Pacific made a good choice in placing the railroad depot in Cowboy Creek. Miss Stone is a singular asset to your community. Her ideas are inspired, and she even managed to get a bunch of rowdy men to agree with her.”
“I know.” Will admired the way the light played off her lustrous hair. “She’s one of a kind.”
Gideon followed his gaze. “If I had ten men like her, I’d run the Santa Fe line out of business and rule the railroads.”
Will listened to the praise with a touch of melancholy. How many more days did he have with her? He felt time slipping away. He felt Tomasina slipping away.
“What did you think of Pippa?” Will asked abruptly.
“I think the next few weeks in Cowboy Creek are going to be very entertaining.”
At least someone was looking forward to the future. Will recalled sitting in his study all those weeks ago, facing the coming cattle drive with dread and anticipation. He’d had no idea a certain redheaded firebrand would touch his heart.
If his time with Tomasina was limited, then he’d best savor the time he had left.
* * *
The following morning Tomasina donned her drover’s gear and set out for the livery. She needed something to ground her before she met up with James. After saddling and bridling her horse, she made her way to the stockyards. The corral fence had been repaired, and she went through her paces. Soon her muscles ached at the exertion. The pain was welcomed, reminding her of her past. As though her muscles had a memory all their own, she’d soon mastered her skills once more.
Though a dry spring, the day was clear and bright, the temperature ideal. A few of the men recognized her and called greetings. Another drive had brought more cattle, and she trotted through the pastures.
A couple of the cowboys were searching for strays, and she spent the rest of the morning tracking. Impressed with her skills, the drovers thanked her before riding away. It wasn’t much, but their respect buoyed her. She’d always been an excellent tracker.
The sights were familiar, the smells comforting. Even the pungent scent of the cattle was welcome. She rode past the town toward a slight rise in the distance. When she’d reached the top of the small slope, she turned and studied the town.
A train whistle blew in the distance, a plume of smoke heralding another arrival. All her plans were falling into place once more.
She caught sight of James riding toward her.
He reined in beside her. “There’s a ranch in Colorado looking for an experienced crew. They need ten men, and the pay is good.”
“Do they know about me?”
Few ranches welcomed a female hand.
“Nah,” James said. “We’ll work that out later. I’ve got Dutch and Butch signed on already. We’ll have a full crew before the week is out.”
“You never really answered my question before. Why the change of heart?”
“I know I’ve been a jerk lately, Tom. I’m sorry about your pa. Truly, I am. He was a good man. He taught me everything I know, and I owe him.”
“Is that why you want me as part of your crew?” She studied his face. Always blessed with boyish good looks, the lines around his mouth had deepened, lending him an air of maturity he’d lacked before. “Because you owe Pa?”
“Nah. It ain’t that. I’ve been watching you. We’re the same, you and me. We can’t settle down. It ain’t fair, folks trying to change us. You and I accept each other for who we are—a couple of drovers. You don’t expect me to build a fancy house like Will Canfield and settle down, and I don’t expect you to go dressing up and acting like girl.” He glanced out at the horizon, his hands resting on his pommel, then turned back toward her. “We don’t belong in Cowboy Creek, Tom. Let’s go back to what we know. We already found what we’re good at, why fight it?”
The solution was ideal. He’d solved all her problems. She’d start over. She’d build respect. Surely she hadn’t changed so much in a few weeks? She was still the same person she was before her pa died. A couple of dresses didn’t change that, and a few lessons in deportment didn’t change who she was on the inside.
She’d wanted to earn respect. In the meeting yesterday afternoon she’d had the attention of the business owners of Cowboy Creek. Will hadn’t interfered; he hadn’t influenced the men. She’d earned their respect on her own merit.
“When are you and the rest of the fellows leaving?” she asked.
James wheeled his horse around. “Soon.”
Normally the idea of a fresh crew left her chomping at the bit. The familiar jolt of excitement never materialized. “How soon?”
“Day after tomorrow.”
Her eyes widened. “That fast? Can you assemble the crew that quickly?”
“I can. The boys are ready to light out of here. The sheriff is cracking down. There’re rumors of closing up tent city.” He fixed her with a hard stare. Something in her expression must have given away her uncertainty. “Don’t go soft on me now, Tom. Are you staying or going? I can’t wait for an answer.”
“I’m going.”
The tension in his shoulders eased. “Good. We leave at dawn the day after tomorrow.”
This was exactly what she’d been hoping for all these weeks. Another job driving cattle. A crew she could trust. “Are you attending the opening of the opera house tomorrow night? Pippa Neely is putting on quite the show.”
He shook his head. “No time. I’ve got some things to take care of before I leave.”
She watched him gallop around the bend, her heart heavy.
She should have been happy. For the first time since her pa’s death, she had a clear sense of her future.
As for Hannah’s dress shop, there was no reason Tomasina couldn’t gift her the money instead. It wasn’t as though Tomasina’s sewing skills were going to make the difference in the success of the shop. Her role had never extended beyond her investment.
All Hannah needed was enough money to set her on her feet. Cowboy Creek’s newest seamstress would do just fine without Tomasina. Maybe even better.
Her vision blurred. Driving cattle wasn’t so bad, but she wanted a job where she made a real difference in someone’s life. A job she hadn’t found yet.
The thought left her lonelier and more confused than she’d been before.