“And?”
“He said there was a man down there who had a hidden silver mine. Man name of Yocum. Yocum, I think was German. Spelled his name different at one time.”
“So, did you go down there?” Lonnie asked.
“Sure did. I had that Yocum silver dollar in my pocket, and I wanted to find that secret mine of Yocum’s. Or one near it.”
“Did you find it?”
“Nope. Never did. Nobody else did either. I think old Yocum died and never told nobody about his silver mine. There were men diggin’ all over the place and none of them found no silver.”
“So, what did you do?”
“I took up with a man who raised horses, man named Fred Pfister. He taught me the wranglin’ business. Then I went out west and run into Reese, who hired me on.”
“Do you still have that whatchamacallit silver dollar?” Lonnie asked.
“Sure do. Wouldn’t part with it. It might be worth a pile of money someday.”
Jeremy slid a hand into his pants pocket and pulled out a silver dollar. He handed it to Lonnie.
Lonnie turned the coin over and over in his hand. He read the legend. It was, he saw, a Yocum silver dollar. The name was plainly stamped onto the ninety-nine percent silver dollar.
“Boy, you got somethin’ here, all right. It looks odd to see that name on a silver dollar.” Lonnie handed the coin back to Jeremy.
“Yeah, I know.”
“So, where do you think that old Yocum silver mine might be?” Lonnie asked.
“Beats me,” Jeremy said. “Me and a bunch more looked all over for it. Never could find it.”
“Will you ever go back there to look for it?”
“I doubt it. Yocum was mighty careful. And secretive. He never let on where that mine might be. But he stamped out a bunch of coins to prove he’d found silver in the ground. We, none of us, ever knew where. Even Artie Ayers went down there to look for that silver mine. Last I heard he was still lookin’.”
Lonnie laughed.
“Sounds like a wild-goose chase,” he said.
“Well, we were a lot of gooses all right,” Jeremy said.
He slid the coin back in his pocket.
Jeremy and Lonnie drifted along with the slow, lumbering herd. They traversed broken ground and passed buttes that rose like ancient monuments or fortresslike structures made of stone. The cattle navigated the rugged terrain as if they had traveled there before.
They entered an open plain.
Just then, slightly to their left, a large jackrabbit bolted from cover.
A bull in the herd reacted. It broke from the herd and chased after the jackrabbit.
“Uh-oh,” Lonnie said.
The jackrabbit bounded away and streaked across the plain in a zigzag.
Other cattle broke from the herd and began to stream after the bull.
“You stay here and hold any more cows from breaking away,” Lonnie told Jeremy.
“What are you gon’ to do?” Jeremy asked.
“I got to get that bull turned back into the herd. You hold ’em until I get ’er done.”
“Sure thing,” Jeremy said.
He watched as Lonnie put his horse into a gallop and went after the runaway bull.
Lonnie gained ground on the bull, which was also beginning to zigzag. The jackrabbit leaped out of sight and stopped behind a clump of sagebrush. It froze there for safety and concealment.
The bull became confused and swung its head back and forth as it sought to see the jackrabbit that had startled it.
“Ho, bull,” Lonnie yelled.
The bull swung its head to eye the oncoming horseman.
It stood rigid for a moment or two, then changed direction and began to run away from Lonnie.
“Ho, boy,” Lonnie called, and overtook the bull. His horse, responding to its reined commands, turned back on the bull.
The bull turned away from the horse.
Lonnie pressed his horse to chop off the bull’s flight.
For a moment, the two animals squared off like two human pugilists. The bull turned right and the horse parried its rush by cutting it off. Then the bull turned to the left and, without any urging from Lonnie, the horse switched its direction and cut off the bull once again.
“Git, boy,” Lonnie yelled at the bull.
He took off his hat and waved it in front of the bull’s snout.
The bull tossed its head and turned a full hundred and eighty degrees.
It ran toward the herd. The other cattle turned as if on wires and followed after.
Lonnie stayed on the bull’s rump. He yelled and slapped his hat across the bull’s rump. The animal picked up speed as it angled back toward the main herd.
Jeremy watched in admiration as Lonnie’s horse matched every move of the bull. The horse turned one way, then the other, right on the bull’s tail. It chased the bull back into the herd several yards in front of Jeremy.
Lonnie hauled in on the reins to let the other cattle pass him and join the bull on the side of the herd.
Jeremy watched in fascination and admiration as all of the strayed cows blended in with the herd. They followed the trail as if nothing unusual had happened.
Lonnie slowed his horse and waited for Jeremy to catch up to him.
“That was some horsemanship,” Jeremy said.
“Thanks. Horse is a cutter. It’s trained to chase cows and cut them off when he sees them run off like that.”
“Amazing,” Jeremy said. “I didn’t know a horse could do that. And so expertly.”
“This horse don’t stand for no orneriness from cattle,” Lonnie said. “It can herd cattle better’n any man.”
“I see that,” Jeremy said.
“Let’s hope the cattle stay in line the rest of the day,” Lonnie said.
“Well, it don’t look easy over this rough ground,” Jeremy said. “It’s full of little washes and gullies.”
“And buttes and mesas,” Lonnie said. “But we should have smoother ground ahead. Somewheres.”
Jeremy laughed.
“This has got to be hard on the cattle,” he said. “And I see little hills ahead, off in the distance.”
“And very little grass to tempt the cows to stop and graze.”
“Will they do that if they see a lot of grass?” Jeremy asked.
“Some of them will want to, but the point man will keep that lead cow to the trail. The herd will follow.”
“Blindly,” Jeremy said.
Lonnie chuckled as he jogged and rocked in the saddle, his gaze ever steady on the cattle. “Oh, them cows want to stay in the herd. That’s where they feel safe. They don’t have to think as long as the whole bunch of them is movin’ on ahead of them.”
“I’m beginning to see how this all works,” Jeremy said.
“Well, you’ll learn more as we head down the trail.”
“Is there a trail? I don’t see none,” Jeremy said.
“If not, the cattle will make one,” Lonnie said. “We’re following a compass to Cheyenne. Reese knows what he’s doin’.”
“Yeah. He’s pretty smart.”
“Smarter’n any of us,” Lonnie said. “You can bet your Yocum dollar on that.”
Jeremy laughed and patted his pocket.
“I’m beginning to think that Yocum dollar is my lucky piece,” he said.
“Keep thinkin’ it,” Lonnie said. “And it might turn out to be your lucky dollar.”
The two rode on, and the herd flowed across the broken land.
The sun was beginning to set above the mountains in the hazy distance when the herd began to stop and bunch up.
“Well,” Lonnie said, “here’s where we bed ’em down for the night. Probably at some water hole we can’t see ahead of us.”
“How does anyone know when to stop?”
“It’ll be dark right soon. Suppertime. I just hope Checkers has us a good meal. I’m plumb tuckered out.”
“Me too,” Jeremy said.
The herd stopped completely and the cattle began to nibble on the few tufts of grass.
The clouds in the west shimmered gold on their edges and turned pink, then blue, then a deep purple.
The sun sank over the snowy peaks of the Rocky Mountains, and a kind of solemnity seemed to settle over the land.
The kind of peace that comes to the end of a day during a long cattle drive.
And all seemed well in the herders’ world.
Chapter 46
Leo Chippendale was worried.
His tanks were low and drying up. The fall seemed unusually warm with blazing heat. But the grass was dying and he wondered when he would have to put out alfalfa hay for his small herd.
He was in the barn, feeding and watering his horses, when his wife, Carlene, called to him from the house.
“They’re coming, Chip.”
“Oh, all right, Carlene. I’ll be right there.”
“Hurry. You ought to wash up before they get here.”
He poured oats and corn into a small trough in one of the stalls. His horse neighed and began to nibble at the fodder.
He stepped outside and looked down the lane. He saw a sulky approaching with two men in it. Both wore dark suits and one of them had on a derby hat, while the other sported a stiff new Stetson such as Chip himself wore. His was not in such a pristine condition, however.
“Bankers,” he muttered to himself. “Wolves.”
He walked into the house and Carlene, a petite woman with dazzling green eyes and naturally curly hair the color of copper, grabbed his hand and led him to the kitchen, where she had a porcelain bowl of warm water on the counter. She dabbed a washcloth into the water and wiped his face. Then she dried it with another towel.
“Your hands are clean enough,” she said, “but you’ve got dirt under your nails.”
“That’s ranch dirt, darlin’, and is come by honestly.”
“Oh, you,” she said, with a twinkle in her eye.
“I’ve made coffee,” she said, “and set out a box of cigars for Mr. Alsworthy and whoever’s with him.”
“That’s probably Ned Hamilton ridin’ in the sulky with Alsworthy. I know what he wants.”
“Oh, Chip, don’t be so harsh. They’re just tryin’ to help you through hard times.”
“Little do you know, Carlene,” he said as he turned away from the sink and his wife’s ministrations.
Chip was not tall, but he had a symmetry to him with his square, broad shoulders, chiseled, cleanly shaven face, brown eyes, and lean, strong, muscular arms, freckled hands, and a tinge of gray threading his short sideburns.
“What’s Ned Hamilton doing with Mr. Alsworthy?” she asked.
“You know why he’s here,” Chip said.
“I thought you told him you weren’t interested,” she said.
“I did. In no uncertain terms. The man’s a bulldog. He bites and holds on.”
“Well, you just tell him you’re not selling the Flying U.”
“I’ve told him,” Chip said. “He’s like a shark that smells blood in the water.”
“Well, I hope you tell him you’re not interested, Chip. I don’t like that man. He makes my skin crawl.”
“Mine too,” Chip said.
The banker and his companion pulled up at the hitch rail in front of the log and stone home. They climbed out of the buggy and walked under the lattice arbor and up the walk.
Carlene went to the door and opened it.
“Why, Mr. Alsworthy,” she said, “what brings you this far out to the Flying U?”
“I need to see Mr. Chippendale,” Alsworthy said.
“And, Ned, whatever brings you out here?” There was more than a hint of cattiness in her voice. Her green eyes flashed an emerald fire as she stared at Hamilton.
“Ma’am, I’m here to save your lives, yours and Chip’s.”
“Why, do come in, won’t you? I’m sorry the house is in such a mess. You’re both so unexpected.”
Alsworthy knew that Carlene’s house was spick-and-span.
She stood to one side and the two men walked in. They removed their hats out of politeness.
“Won’t you gentlemen sit down?” she said. “I’ve made fresh coffee and set out sugar and cream.”
She escorted the two visitors into the front room, where they both took a seat on the divan. On the small table, there were three cups and saucers, a sugar bowl and small pitcher of cream, and a steaming pot of freshly brewed coffee in a pewter pot.
She bent over and poured coffee into the three cups as her husband sat down in his easy chair, covered with cowhide.
The three men sipped their coffee as Carlene took a chair in front of a small desk.
At first, no one spoke. Alsworthy cleared his throat after swallowing a mouthful of hot coffee that burned his tongue.
“You got something to say, Alsworthy, go ahead,” Chip said. He blew on his cup and took a sip of his coffee.
“Yes, well, uh, what brings me here, Chippendale, is the matter of your mortgage. As you know, the bank advanced you a sum of money so that you could complete the building of your home and barn, along with some pole corrals and digging a water well.”
“Yes, I know,” Chip said. “Very generous and kind of you and your bank, Alsworthy.”
“I’ve brought Mr. Hamilton with me in order to save you embarrassment and a dead loss.”
“What has Hamilton got to do with my bank loan?” Chip asked.
“Nothing at the moment,” Alsworthy said. “But I’ll let Ned explain his presence at this meeting.”
Ned Hamilton fixed hazel eyes on Chip’s face and began to speak slowly.
“Chip, I made you an offer for your five thousand acres, not once, but three times. I thought my offer was generous and I’m willing to stand by the original figure. If you agree right away.”
Chip leaned back in his chair. He put his hands behind his neck and looked at the two men seated across from him.
“I’ve put a lot of work into the Flying U,” Chip said. “Since your first offer, I mean. So your offer is way low. However, I’m not of a mind to sell my ranch. I’ve got too much of me invested.”
Alsworthy cleared his throat of phlegm. He made a steeple of his fingers, and his face took on a serious mien. “Chippendale, the way I see it, you have little choice at this point. Your cattle herd is depleted because of the drought, and the grass has dried up in this unusual spell of heat we’ve had here. Mr. Hamilton has made you a generous offer and should you accept, you would ward off certain foreclosure by my bank.”
“You don’t have to foreclose, Alsworthy,” Chip said. “You could very easily grant me an extension of my loan.”
“On what basis would I do that?” Alsworthy asked.
“I’ve got a fresh herd coming down from North Dakota. A thousand head. They should be here sometime before my loan comes due.”
“We’re prepared to foreclose on the Flying U around the middle of November,” Alsworthy said.
Hamilton took another swallow of his coffee and looked at Chip with a baleful eye.
“Let’s see,” Chip said. “Mid-November. That’s about the time of the beaver moon.”
“Beaver moon?” Alsworthy said. “What do you mean?”
“Mountain man trappers call that last full moon in November a ‘beaver moon.’ That’s when they set their last traps before the rivers freeze over.”
“It’s a suitable image,” Alsworthy said. “That means when that moon is full again, your time has run out to pay off your mortgage.”
“Alsworthy
, I just need a little more time,” Chip said. “When I get that herd in, I’m going to drive them to Kansas where I can make a profit.”
“All that takes time, Chippendale,” Alsworthy said. “Time is money. And the bank is not willing to extend your loan.”
“I’m making you an offer, Chippendale,” Hamilton said. “A buck fifty an acre. More’n you paid when you got this here ranch.”
“The ranch is worth more than when I bought it,” Chip said. “A lot more.”
“You paid a dollar an acre,” Hamilton said. “It’s not worth a whole lot more. I’ll throw in a hundred bucks extra for the house.”
Chip’s anger rose in him like the mercury in a thermometer on a hot day.
“That’s insulting, Hamilton,” Chip said. “We’ve got more’n a hundred bucks in this here home.”
“Well, if the bank forecloses on you, Chippendale, you’ll wind up with nothin’. I’m makin’ you a fair offer. One way or another, I’m going to buy this property.”
“Or steal it,” Chip said.
“Now, now, gentlemen,” Alsworthy cut in, “that’s enough bickering. Let’s keep this conversation on a civilized level.”
He paused and looked at Chippendale with his swollen neck and reddened face.
“Mr. Chippendale,” Alsworthy continued, “you have until that beaver moon to pay off your mortgage. That’s final. And if Mr. Hamilton wants to pick up the mortgage, he gets the Flying U for what amounts to a song.”
“That’s damn mean-spirited of you and your bank, Alsworthy,” Chip said. “All I need is more time and I’ll pay off the mortgage.”
“That’s enough,” Carlene interrupted as she rose to her feet. “You’ve gone over all this and I can see that Mr. Alsworthy is not willing to give us more time. Gentlemen, please leave my house this instant.”
Both Alsworthy and Hamilton rose from their seats. They marched to the door and, once outside, donned their hats and walked to the sulky.
“Good riddance,” Carlene said as she watched the two men leave.
“Honey, I’m sorry,” Chip said to her as she closed the door.
“Nothing to be sorry about,” she said. “The bank just has no heart.”
“I don’t trust Hamilton at all. He’s wanted the Flying U for a long while now. I wouldn’t put it past him to mess up my deal with Balleen on the cattle he’s driving down.”
Ralph Compton The Cheyenne Trail Page 20