“This was the closest place I could get them to come,” Chet explained. “You and that boy of yours need some excitement up here once in a while. My banker says it all checks out, and they do have the money and credit they say they do. So we’ll see if our operation can make money doing it. If we can’t, he can do it himself. But since he contacted me, he must need some help.”
“Where’s Sarge?” Jesus asked.
“Gone to Gallup with the December herd delivery,” Susie replied. “He should be on his way home shortly, though. Sure glad you built me a big house for this shindig of yours.”
He hugged his sister. “So am I.”
They got things all planned out and headed back to the Verde Ranch the next day. There was a cable from Cole waiting on him when he got home. He and Valerie were in San Antonio after taking the train from El Paso, and were planning on taking a mail wagon west from there to get the boy.
The next morning, Raphael had four men ready to take the tent to the Windmill, plus two wagons filled with cots, tables, benches, and cooking gear for a large crowd. Three of the vaqueros wives were planning to go along and do the cooking for the meeting. Chet had to smile when Liz took the trio to Preskitt and bought them clothing to wear—heavy coats, scarfs, and gloves.
She returned that afternoon to tell him and Monica how proud they were. “None of them had enough clothes to wear against the cold. They will now.”
Chet hugged her. “You did the right thing again.”
“She always does the right thing,” Monica agreed.
He saw her hands were empty, though. “No more wires from Cole?” he asked.
“None. He may just need to get back to where there are telegraph offices.”
Chet nodded, but kept his own counsel. He distracted himself by tracing the proposed stage route and trying to recall where they might situate stops. Some might be operating ranches that could handle one. That would be convenient, but they would still need to be outfitted with stage stops, outhouse facilities, and places to stable the horses. The big thing up there was water. That would make a difference, too.
The days seemed to drag endlessly with no further word from Cole. Finally, Jesus came galloping into the yard one afternoon waving a yellow telegraph sheet. The boy’s name was Rock Chet Byrnes—his father’s name—and they were bringing him home. Cady sent her best. Liz was beside herself with joy, and Chet felt a weight lift from his heart.
The day they expected them to arrive, Cole rode in on a tired horse. He had a clear tintype of the boy, and looked weary. Chet thought he’d bust his buttons to be there on time.
“Did Cady tell you why her mother didn’t tell me about him?” Chet asked when he’d managed to pull Cole away from the well-wishers.
“Best thing she said to us about it was ‘My mother wanted that boy and intended to raise him herself.’ She loved him, too, though, boss. It was hard for her to give him up, but she loved you, too,” Cole said, the beginnings of a smile playing on his face. “She told Valerie if her mother had tossed you out back then, she’d planned to run away with you. Valerie told her that she’d have to get in line.”
Chet laughed so hard he couldn’t breathe for a while. “She was a sweet kid.”
“Sweet on you, apparently.” Cole’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Have I missed anything here?”
“Not really,” he replied, still trying to catch his breath. “Got some mail outlining what they need for the stage line. They’ve got some ambitious plans, I’ll tell you that. They look satisfactory about their banking and having money. We just need a deal good enough for us to get involved. Bo should get here today, and we’ll head on up tomorrow. I figure we’ll need a total of twenty stops on the route. Make our headquarters at the base of the San Francisco Peaks and the head of the military road off the rim. That’s close to midway. What do you think?”
“We need a simple plan to build these stops, so that we know every board and nail we need to build them at each site. We’ll need poles for corrals for the horses and a water supply.” It was obvious the boy had been thinking on the problem while he’d been gone.
“Some won’t be easy to have that,” Chet told him.
“There’s water somewhere. We’ll drill some dry holes. And some we may have to haul water to. Horses need water, good hay, and grain to hurry along.” Cole stretched. “That was a long way to go. It’s good to be back.”
“Nice to have you. Get ready to sit in and listen.”
Cole looked shocked. “Do I need to wear a suit?”
“No, no. You don’t need one. But I do want you to make a note when you don’t like anything said. You and I will have to live with what we accept.”
Cole nodded. “I can do that.”
“I’m counting on you.”
They set off the next morning in their caravan to the Windmill three days before the planned meeting. Sarge, now back, and his crew teamed up with Raphael’s outfit to set up the tents. Things shaped up fast after that.
Mid-afternoon, in the warmth of the day, the entourage arrived in three buggies and four outriders. Jesus had ridden out to meet them on the road and lead them to the ranch. When everybody had parked, a portly man in an expensive suit and top hat with glasses on his nose descended from the coach. He turned and stared around at the vast open country, surveying it.
“By damn, it looks like Kansas up here.” He turned and strode across the yard toward them. “You must be Chet Byrnes, Deputy U.S. Marshal and a rancher worth his salt in this windswept wilderness. Your reputation precedes you.”
Chet held out a hand and Hannagen took it. “Nice to meet you, sir. This is my man, Cole Emerson, and my real estate man, Bo Evans. Also, may I introduce my wife, Elizabeth, and my sister, Susie Polanski, who lives here.”
“Glad to meet you all.” Hannagen gave a little bow as he shook hands with each. “Allow me to introduce Gladstone Meyers, my attorney; Rodney Carpenter, my expert on stage lines; and Wade Nelson, my secretary.”
“There’s a meal set up in the tent and drinks if you would like something.”
“I don’t drink,” the tycoon said flatly.
“Nor do I, sir,” Chet replied. “I haven’t drank anything in years. But there is plenty of other drinks to have, inside.”
“Mormon?”
“Oh, no. Methodist/Catholic.”
“That’s a strange mix, Mr. Byrnes.” Hannagen laughed. He looked around again. “Is this a typical Arizona ranch?”
“No, sir. We gather cattle from our buyers and ranches and hold them here to drive them on up to Gallup and deliver them at four places where the Navajo meet to get their food supplies each month.”
“So you have contracts with the federal government?”
He nodded. “And I wait on the script they pay me to be redeemed like any other federal contractor.”
Hannagen considered this. “You came here from Texas.” It was not a question.
“Almost five years ago,” Chet agreed.
“I thought Texas was becoming a prosperous place to live. Why’d you leave?”
“I had an opportunity and Arizona was a good place to come to,” he said carefully. “But you aren’t planning any stage lines in Texas.”
“By damn, you are right. I am not looking at building any stage lines in Texas.” His followers laughed, too.
The occasion was festive. There was music, drink, and good food. Chet and his wife turned in early and let them drink and laugh. But the ranch woke at six a.m., and the party folks looked exhausted at the breakfast table. Hannagen didn’t act too friendly, but on Chet’s part, he didn’t care. The man had come for his help, and no doubt wanted some investment, too.
After breakfast, the butcher paper map was spread out across two hastily built boards under the tent. It looked impressive. Chet, Sarge, and Cole looked it over and pointed out things they recognized. The marked points where they thought they’d need a station were marked out by distance, and had not been examined on fo
ot, at least on the eastern third, according to Sarge. That was the area he knew best.
“Does it work?” Hannagen asked, strolling over.
“Well, it’s a plan and we need to start somewhere,” he replied. “It’ll be a large job to get coordinated and completed.”
“That’s why we are here,” the big man said. “And why we asked you to meet with us. You have a reputation for getting things done. Plus, they tell us you have a good handle on the territory.”
“They may have told you more than I can do. We have a few ranch operations in the territory. We also have a timber-hauling contract in northern Arizona, and I am in charge of a Marshals’ Force on the border to control the bandits.”
“Let’s all gather ’round now that the dishes are off the table. Your help is much needed in such a remote location. My attorney, Mr. Meyers, can open with our offer to you.”
“Can he highlight it? I have attorneys that will analyze it after the meeting.”
Hannagen considered the notion and nodded. “Alright. We have a contract to haul mail across Arizona from Gallup to the Colorado River. It must be completed in nine—really eight months now—or we face the loss of it. So this must be completed by then.”
Chet thought about it for a second. “Unless you’re richer than I think you are, a completed stage line is impossible in that short a time span. I’m a realist, Mr. Hannagen. The acquisition of the needed horses alone will take weeks. An anchor, coaches, construction of the stops, and acquiring responsible employees all will take more time. You can’t just snap your fingers and find water in this land, either. This isn’t Iowa or the Midwest, where there is water at less than forty feet.”
“Alright, do you have a solution?”
“If you have to haul the mail before the way stations are ready, then I suggest you use buckboards to do that with contract people until the line is ready.”
Hannagen nodded. “Are there people out here to do that?”
He shrugged. “They can be found.”
“Obviously, you have studied this situation.” Hannagen looked over at his road man Carpenter. “Will that work?”
“It was never considered, sir.”
“Well, we should take it under advisement.” The tycoon turned back to Chet. “What would you charge us to set that operation up?”
“I would need to have the details. How many runs a week? What are the time constraints on delivery?”
Hannagen turned to his secretary. “We can get them set up for him today?”
“It will be rough, of course,” the young man said. “But yes, sir.”
“I’m sure Mr. Byrnes understands that, but if we ask him to do the job, he has to have the requirements he must meet. He has, by the way, quite a system here to deliver cattle to the Navajos every month, run by Mr. Polanski. They must move six hundred head to four delivery points on given days in both territories on that date. Officials say they have never been over a day off, and that was in deep snow.”
“Sarge does a great job.” The businessman had obviously run some checks on Chet’s operation, as well.
Hannagen asked next who would head such an operation, if they decided to hire him for the job.
“The young man to my left is Cole Emerson. He’s been with me for well over three years. He understands how we do business, he’s worked law enforcement, and he knows how to handle good folks and outlaws alike. He’s fought Apache attacks on our cattle drive operation. Cole can get anything done that needs handled, plus he knows the people that we’ll hire to haul the mail.”
“How much education do you have, sir?” Hannagen asked.
Cole smiled and met his gaze. “I can read and write, if that worries you.”
The big man laughed. “I believe you can. I appreciate your offer to start the delivery, and I hope we can afford your plan, Chet.”
“You’ll have it shortly.”
“Now, you see the map, what do you think of our plan?” The big man sat back in the Morris chair brought from Susie’s house especially for him.
“I would first try to find a landowner with property on the road who wanted to operate a station. It might lengthen or shorten the length of the individual run, but some of these people could easily provide the station, even handling the operation there. Or your company can make a long-term agreement to have one there. Each stop has to be assessed. Even if you decided a stop must be there, the availability of water will decide that on this road,” Chet said.
“I would suggest you have the main maintenance shop at the San Francisco Peaks where the military road forks south to Preskitt,” he continued. “You will need one at Gallup, and one at the end over on the Colorado River, but that would center it on your road.”
“Carpenter, you thought Gallup would be the place for that?”
“I thought we could manage it better from Gallup, yes, sir.”
Chet nodded, then said, “That puts you four hundred miles from the Colorado. Stage coaches have wrecks all the time, and that is a long way to go solve one.”
“Is land available there?” Hannagen asked.
“Bo, tell him what to expect. Bo is my real estate man,” he explained.
“Land in that area costs about twenty-five to fifty dollars an acre. I think investors think that will be the prime spot the railroad will use for its round houses and such.”
“And we would need about how many acres?” Hannagen’s attorney wanted to know.
“Chet and I talked about one hundred sixty acres, with plans to sell it when the rails get there for a huge profit.”
“Chet, do you own land there?”
“I do, and I agree with Bo. You must have a projected lifetime for how long this stage business can exist?”
“Ten to fifteen years is the longest we can hold on to it by our calculations. So our investments need to gain some value when we close them down.”
The man knew his business, at least.
Finally came the question Chet had been waiting for.
“What investment would you like to make in this operation?”
“That will depend on many things,” he replied. “And how much you’re asking for.”
“Well then, what would you charge to acquire these sites?” Hannagen pressed. “You and Bo obviously have more connections here than we have. I like the landowner providing us a station and even operating it. That’s a good angle.”
“There won’t be a lot of them work out, but I think we can find as many as twenty-five percent to do that.”
“That impresses me. We never considered it as possible.” He took a moment to light a large black cigar. “They also say you’re connected to a large lumber mill in the area below the peaks?”
“We haul their logs to the mill. But, yes, I know them and we’ve done business.” He pointed to the map. “They’re the closest supplier to your operation. I think you need to write a plan for your buildings down to the last board and shingle, and then ask for a bid.”
Hannagen nodded. His secretary scribbled down the information.
“In the meantime, I’ll get you the cost of the buckboard delivery operation when I get the schedule that you’ll be required to meet. You will need to remember, though, that the route can be snowbound where nothing moves for a week or more. But they seem to understand those things across the U.S.”
Without his monocle, Hannagen rubbed his eyes. “Holidays and winter weather will hamper any quick movement. I’ll have a price for you and Bo, too. So much for a rancher-built one. A plan for us to build it on his land, and then one where we do it all. Carpenter will have the final say on the location for the company.”
“If we take this job, he or his men will need to be available and swift,” Cole put in.
“Right,” the tycoon agreed. “We can’t afford any holdups. Are you satisfied with twenty stops?”
“Give or take. That should work,” Chet said. “I had three hundred eighty-seven miles, you have four hundred.”
&
nbsp; “Should we leave this map for you?”
“If you have another, yes. We can use it.”
“We have another. I think you’ve cut to the facts. If you have a bill for today, forward it to me.”
“No bill for this meeting, Mr. Hannagen. I feel a plan for you to haul the mail by buckboards is necessary if you must start hauling it in eight months. Then the location of stations will be the second priority. Locating the horses and coaches will take time, as well as construction of those stops, but that can be done over several months as we run the buckboards.”
“Nice of you, but we owe you something. I like the idea of a common design and a material list.”
“It is the only way to get it up, or we’ll have a White House in one place and an outhouse in another.”
Hannagen laughed. “I agree. All your help is much appreciated. This tent setup and the amenities have been very good. You have some great people in your organization, your lovely wife included. Is she Hispanic?”
“Yes. Elizabeth and her brother-in-law have a large hacienda in Mexico.”
“How did you two get together?”
Chet shrugged. “She found me to buy a horse. I bought her instead.”
The man laughed. “You made a good buy.”
“I’m pleased,” he said with a chuckle of his own. “We’ll work hard on a plan after we get the schedule.”
“I am very pleased with that idea. I think it’s saved us. You’ll have that information by wire.”
“That will hurry us along.”
In the cold morning, Chet kissed Susie good-bye and mounted up. He felt ready to go back home and dig in. The Hannagen party had left before them. The crew was getting ready to take down the tent and head for home. He told them to stop and spend the night at the Verde Ranch since it would be later in the day they got on the road.
They were at the Verde River Ranch by afternoon. Cole went on to be with his wife and promised to be at the upper place by noon the next day to continue discussions.
Chet played with Adam while the women talked and made supper. He told the boy he had a brother named Rocky, which didn’t seem to impress the toddler at all. So they rolled the ball, instead, bounced on Dad’s knee for a horse ride, and rocked.
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