Ralph Compton The Cheyenne Trail

by Ralph Compton

  They walked in and Jeff Brunswick looked up at them.

  “I’m Leo Chippendale,” Chip said, “and I own the Flying U. I discovered oil on it.”

  Chip reached into his inside jacket pocket and produced a sheaf of papers, including a plot map of the Flying U.

  He laid them in from of Brunswick. Jeff’s eyes widened when he saw the plot map.

  “I’m Jeff Brunswick,” he said. He stood up and extended his hand to Chip.

  Chip shook it. “This is my foreman, Archibald Lassiter,” he said. Archie shook Brunswick’s hand.

  “Gentlemen. Have a seat while I look over what you have brought. Make yourselves comfortable.”

  Archie and Chip sat down as Jeff looked over all the papers Chip had brought.

  “So you own the Flying U Ranch, Mr. Chippendale,” Jeff said.

  “Call me Chip. And, yes, I am the legal owner of the Flying U.”

  “Well, a man named Ned Hamilton has laid claim to it.”

  “He’s been trying to buy, or steal, my ranch from me.” Chip’s gaze was steely and not lost on Brunswick.

  “I see. He was just here and I told him unless he produced a deed to the property, my company would not enter into an oil lease agreement with him.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Chip said. “I have a note due at the bank next month. If we can make a deal, I can pay up the note and I own the ranch free and clear.”

  “I see. Well, that’s possible. I think there’s a great deal of oil on your property.”

  “Are you willing to pay something on the lease up front?”

  “We don’t generally do that. But in this case, I’m authorized to put a substantial down payment on future earnings. If we drill and find oil, you will receive monthly royalties based on the number of barrels we extract from the well.”

  “I like that idea,” Chip said. “When can we expect such a down payment?”

  “Well, I have to do a title search on the land. Shouldn’t take long. Then I’ll have a talk with your banker, Frank Alsworthy. Shouldn’t take long.”

  “I have a cow herd coming down from North Dakota. Should be here soon. I have to pay upon receipt of the cattle.”

  “It looks like you’re in something of a bind, Chip.”

  “I would say so. A lot of balls to juggle.”

  Jeff chuckled at the juggler reference. “In the meantime, your papers look okay to me. I’ll get out to see you right soon.”

  “I’m surprised you haven’t come out already,” Chip said.

  “I was going on what Hamilton told me. I saw the oil and that was enough for the time being.”

  Chip’s face contorted in displeasure, and then his mouth bent in a frown. “Well, you just saw a small corner of my ranch. I own five thousand acres.”

  “I see that, Chip.”

  “I’ll expect you to come out in a few days, then.”

  “Yes. I’ll see you soon,” Jeff said.

  Chip and Archie stood up. The men shook hands once again.

  “I think we might have trouble with Hamilton,” Chip said.

  “He’s pretty mad, all right,” Jeff said.

  “We’ll deal with it,” Chip said. Archie nodded.

  “Good luck,” Jeff said.

  Archie and Chip walked out of the office and stood in front of the hitch rail for a few moments.

  “Well, it looks like you might save your ranch, Chip.”

  “I hope so. It all depends on timing, though. And I haven’t got much time left.”

  “Still jugglin’ them balls, eh?”

  “Only more balls are bein’ tossed in and I’m runnin’ out of hands.”

  Chip felt as if he had a lariat around his chest.

  And it was being drawn tighter and tighter.

  Chapter 53

  The Silver Slipper was a large saloon. It was frequented by drifters and owl-hooters, mostly, and when Hamilton entered, he adjusted his eyes to the change of light and headed for the long bar where several men were seated.

  He knew who he would find there. And sure enough, the men he wanted to see and talk to were at a back table. They were playing cards as he knew they would be. One of them looked up, saw him, and waved him over.

  “Afternoon, Ned,” one of the bartenders said to him, a man he knew only as Sully.

  “Sully,” he said, and strode to the far table. Sunlight streamed through the painted windows and the slats in the batwing doors. Light splashed on the floor of the large room and shimmered on the nearby tables.

  “Howdy, Ned,” one of the men at the poker table said as Hamilton walked up. “Pull yourself up a chair.”

  “Sit in, if you want, Ned,” said another. “Chips are two bits a piece, same as the ante.”

  “No, thanks, Charlie. “I’m here on business.”

  “Haw,” said the first man, one Reed Lawson, “what is it this time, stealin’ horses?”

  “Cattle ranch,” Ned said.

  The third man, Stu Larch, jiggled an empty chair, pushed it away from the table.

  “We’re flat on our last few pesos,” Larch said. “So I hope you got somethin’ that jingles our cash registers.”

  “Could be big,” Ned said. “Bigger’n anything so far.”

  The men all stopped playing, cards in hand, and gave Hamilton their full attention.

  “What you got, Ned?” Charlie asked. “A gold mine?”

  “Somethin’ just as good as a gold mine. Oil. Black gold.”

  Larch whistled a long, flat flute of surprise.

  “Oil?” Reed said. “What we got to do? Drill for it?”

  Ned sat down, scooted his chair in close.

  “Put away your cards,” he said. “We don’t have to dig or drill. Oil’s just there for the takin’.”

  “Funniest way to get oil I ever heard of,” Reed said, a smirk on his face.

  “Yeah, Ned, you’d better lay it all out for us.”

  “But we’re shore interested,” Charlie said. He put down his cards. Facedown. So did the other men.

  “All we have to do is kill a bunch of sodbusters,” Hamilton said.

  “How many?” asked Larch.

  “A couple. Man and his woman.”

  “I ain’t killin’ no woman,” Larch said. “I draw the line.”

  “I’ll kill the woman,” Ned said. “I just want to make sure one of us kills the man.”

  “Anybody we know?” Charlie asked.

  “Chippendale. Flying U Ranch.”

  “Oh, that one. He ain’t no sodbuster. Raises cattle, don’t he?”

  “He’s got some cattle. They’re doin’ poorly in this heat. I want his ranch, and that’s the only way I’m goin’ to get it. Rub him out.”

  “Haw,” Larch exclaimed. “Dry-gulch him, I say.”

  “Back-shoot him,” Charlie said.

  Reed nodded in agreement.

  “I don’t care how it’s done,” Ned said. “Just so it gets done.”

  “When?” Charlie asked.

  “Tomorrow, next day. Sooner, the better,” Hamilton said.

  “Day or night?” Larch asked.

  “Day, I reckon. Hell, you got to see the man before you can put him down.”

  “That makes sense,” Reed said.

  “I’ll take care of the woman. I don’t want no heirs when this is over.”

  “Survivors, you mean,” Charlie said. He had a wicked smile on his face.

  A waiter drifted by. There was a bottle of whiskey on the table, but only three glasses. And each one was half-full.

  “Sir, may I serve you?” the waiter asked Ned.

  “I’ll drink what they got. Just hand me a glass.”

  The waiter took a glass from his tray and set it in front of Ned.

&nb
sp; “Bottle’s paid for,” the waiter said. “Is that all?”

  “Yeah, that’ll do,” Ned said. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome,” the waiter said, and drifted away across the floor.

  Charlie picked up the whiskey bottle and poured three fingers’ worth of liquid into Ned’s glass. Ned raised the glass in a toast.

  “Here’s to our success,” he said.

  The others lifted their glasses and drank.

  “Hear, hear!” Reed said. The others grunted in approval.

  “We’ll go out to that ranch early in the morning,” Ned said. “Just before dawn. Day after tomorrow. This gives you boys a day to rest up and practice.”

  The men laughed at the last reference.

  “We don’t need no practice,” Reed said. “We all know how to dry-gulch a sodbuster.”

  The others laughed, even Ned.

  “You’re a good bunch,” he said.

  He drank more of his whiskey and felt its warmth in his belly. Now, it seemed, he was on the verge of getting rid of Chippendale and tapping in to the oil on his property.

  A property that would soon be his.

  And his alone.

  Chapter 54

  Jeff Brunswick went out to the Flying U prepared and excited. He hid his excitement as he dismounted in front of the Chippendale house fairly early the next morning.

  Chip was not there when he knocked on the door and it was opened to him. He carried a small leather briefcase tucked under his left arm. It bulged with its paper contents.

  Instead, Carlene greeted him.

  “Hello, ma’am. I’m Jeff Brunswick. Is Mr. Chippendale in?”

  “No,” she said. “We didn’t expect you to come out so soon. He’s tending to our cattle. But I can bring him pretty quick. Won’t you come in and have a seat in our front room?”

  “Why, thank you, ma’am.”

  She ushered Brunswick in and sat him on the divan.

  “Excuse me,” she said. “I’ll ring for Chip.”

  She walked outside and picked up a small iron rod. There was a triangle hanging from a post with an iron extension on it. She clanged the triangle with the rod. It set off a jangling sound that carried to the nearby pastures. She rang a prearranged signal and knew that Chip, or one of the hands, would hear it.

  Then she went back inside.

  “Mr. Brunswick, Chip will be here shortly. May I get you something? Coffee? A glass of water?”

  “No, I’m fine, Mrs. Chippendale.”

  His hat was off and he looked as if he had taken a bath that very morning. He was clean-shaven and wore a light summer seersucker suit.

  “Carlene,” she said. “Call me Carlene.”

  “Yes’m. You have a nice house. I really like your fireplace.”

  “Why, thank you, Mr. Brunswick.”

  “Jeff.”

  She was about to engage Brunswick in small talk and pleasantries when they both heard hoofbeats outside.

  “That’ll be Chip,” she said. She sat on a chair, her chair, in front of the small desk. A Currier & Ives print of a New York street and carriages hung on the wall behind her.

  The door opened a few minutes later and Chip walked in. His face and clothes bore a patina of dust and his face was reddened from the sun.

  “Mr. Brunswick,” Chip said as he strode to the divan, “I didn’t expect you to come out so soon.”

  “Sit down, Mr. Chippendale,” Brunswick said. “We have much to discuss.”

  Chip sat down in an easy chair opposite the divan.

  “Call me Chip,” he said.

  “And you can call me Jeff.”

  They both smiled at each other.

  Carlene smiled too and folded her hands in her lap.

  Jeff pulled the briefcase from his side and set it between his legs and the small table between him and Chip. He opened his briefcase but did not remove any papers.

  “Chip, I inspected the slough again yesterday where you have oil bubbling up out of the ground. I also went over your plot map and papers. I find that you do indeed own the property known as the Flying U, and, while you have a small mortgage against it, you are the owner of the property where there may be oil.”

  “I told you that,” Chip said.

  Jeff smiled again. “I know. But we have to check these things. You understand. Especially since Ned Hamilton claimed to own the land where I found oil.”

  “He wanted to buy my ranch, but I wasn’t selling,” Chip said.

  “I know. I also checked at the bank where they hold your mortgage. A Mr. Frank Alsworthy.”

  “And?”

  “And he verified that you are the sole owner of the Flying U and that particular piece of property where there might be substantial oil. He does hold your mortgage, but it’s not past due until late next month.”

  “I know. He’s threatening to foreclose on me, but I’m hoping to come up with enough money to pay him off.”

  “I may be able to help you in that regard,” Jeff said. “Do you have a figure in mind for a possible down payment?”

  “Yes, I do,” Chip said.

  “I hope you know that this is highly unusual. But I’m very confident that my company can extract a great amount of oil from drilling on your property. My resources are limited in this regard, though.”

  “I don’t know much about oil,” Chip said. “I know you’ll get about four bits a barrel in today’s market. Or less. Seems like it would take a lot of oil for me to earn any royalties.”

  “That depends on how much you want as a down payment on the lease.”

  “I’ll tell you what I need. What my minimum is for me to get my head above water.”

  “So, tell me,” Jeff said. “I promise not to swoon.”

  “I need sixteen thousand,” Chip said. “That’s five thousand to pay off my note at the Savings & Loan, plus eleven thousand to pay for the cattle I’m expecting any day now.”

  “I didn’t know about that,” Jeff said. “The cattle, I mean. It seems to me that you’re just taking on more responsibility.”

  “I’m buying a herd of about a thousand head. I hope to sell them in Kansas, most of them. I may be able to sell some right quick to the army at Fort Laramie.”

  “I see. Well, sixteen thousand is quite a lot of money.”

  “You asked, Jeff. And I told you.”

  “That you did. All right. Before I came out here, I withdrew cash from my account. Once you sign the papers, I’m prepared to pay what you ask.”

  “The entire sixteen thousand?” Chip said.

  “Yes. And part of it is a signing bonus, so you will not have to pay back the entire amount out of your prospective royalties.”

  “How much?” Chip asked.

  “Two thousand is a signing bonus.”

  “That’s mighty generous,” Chip said.

  Jeff dug into his briefcase and brought out a file folder full of documents. He laid them out on the little table.

  “Do you have a pen, Carlene?” Jeff asked. “Otherwise I have one in my briefcase, along with an inkwell.”

  “Yes, in my desk here,” she said.

  She turned and opened the rolltop desk. There was an ink bottle, corked, and a quill pen. She handed these to Jeff, who set them on the table.

  “Now, you both must sign these papers,” Jeff said. “The lease is for fifty years, with an option clause to renew for another fifty years.”

  “We should live so long,” Chip said.

  “Your heirs, if any, will be able to honor the terms of the lease,” Jeff said.

  He handed some documents to Chip and duplicates to Carlene.

  “Look these over carefully,” Jeff said. “And if you’re satisfied, I will require both your signatures on the designated place at the very end
of the contract. You will keep one copy and I’ll take the other to send off to my company.”

  Carlene and Chip began to read the documents after Jeff penned in the amount of the down payment and signed his own name at the bottom of the three-page document.

  Much of the document was in legalese, but both Carlene and Chip could decipher all the “to wits,” “second parties,” and the option clause.

  “I’m satisfied,” Carlene said, who finished reading her document first. A few seconds later, Chip looked up from his papers.

  “I’m ready to sign,” he said.

  “How soon can we expect the down payment?” Carlene asked.

  “As soon as you sign. I have the money right here in this satchel,” Jeff said.

  Carlene breathed out a sigh of relief.

  Chip gulped in air.

  He and Carlene signed the documents above their names on both documents.

  “You keep one for your records,” Jeff said. “And I’ll keep the other.”

  He blew on the ink to dry it since he had no blotter. Then he put the signed document back in its folder, returned it to his briefcase, and reached in and pulled out a large, bulging envelope.

  He counted out sixteen thousand dollars in one-hundred-dollar bills.

  He handed the bills to Chip. “Count it, Chip, and I’ll dig out a receipt for you to sign.”

  Chip counted the bills, then handed them to Carlene. She counted the money too, her eyes widening as the amount grew larger.

  Jeff produced a receipt and filled it out with the amount he was paying the Chippendales.

  “Both of you must sign my receipt,” he said.

  Carlene came over to the table and signed, then stood aside so Chip could do the same.

  “There,” Jeff said. “We’re set. I imagine we’ll start drilling in that slough in a week or so.”

  “That’ll be fine,” Chip said.

  Carlene held the money in her lap. She wore a satisfied smile on her face.

  Jeff put on his hat and stood up. He picked up his briefcase and closed it, then tucked it under his left arm. He extended a hand to shake Chip’s.

  The two men shook hands.

  “Thank you both,” Jeff said. “I’ll be seeing you.”

  “I’ll ride into town with you,” Chip said. “I want to pay off my mortgage, get that out of the way.”