Vic Brodie laughed. “Gladstone Pitkin? A gent with a handle like that oughta be gut-shot or strung up, just on general principles.”
“One problem, as I see it,” said Rusty. “We need to sell a herd of cows, not hire on as an outfit.”
“If this Pitkin aims to have a ranch,” Gavin said, “won’t he need cows?”
“My thoughts, exactly,” said Kelly. “It won’t hurt to track down this hombre and see if he’s interested in buying a ready-made herd. I aim to look him up tomorrow, myself. If the money’s right, I’ll hire on as part of his outfit.”
“If he doesn’t already have one,” Woody said. “This paper’s three days old.”
“Not yet,” said Kelly. “I’ve been listenin’ to talk, learnin’ as much as I could before I talk to Pitkin himself. Nobody’s takin’ him seriously, but I hear he’s got a letter of credit from a St. Louis bank, that he could likely afford all of New Mexico Territory if he wants it. Besides that, he’s got a pair of daughters you wouldn’t believe. They’re all settled into the fanciest hotel in town.”
“I reckon it won’t hurt if we talk to him,” Woody said. “Gavin and me can ride in with you, if you don’t mind. If he’s interested in the herd, he can ride out here and we’ll all talk to him. Maybe he’ll take the mules and extra horses too.”
“Where’s your chuck wagon?” Kelly asked.
“We couldn’t afford one,” said Gavin. “We managed to get four mules, but we lost two of the jug-heads in a stampede, and never did find ’em.”
“There’s plenty of grub and coffee for breakfast in the mornin’,” Kelly said. “That is, if you gents don’t mind me stayin’ the night.”
“Glad to have you,” said Woody, “and we’re beholden for the grub and coffee. A gent don’t realize how down-and-out he is, till he’s out of coffee.”
“I’d like to leave old Sam here,” Kelly said, as he saddled his horse for the ride into town. “If I hire on with Pitkin, I’m hopin’ he’ll invest in a chuck wagon and a cook. A man can’t eat decent off a pack mule, especially if he’s eatin’ his own cookin’.”
The Texans laughed, appreciating the magnitude of Kelly’s statement.
“Leave Sam with our mules,” said Rusty. “Maybe they won’t be a bad influence.”
“Let’s ride, then,” Woody said. “The rest of you just set tight. If we get beyond the talkin’ stage, and Pitkin seems interested in the herd, Gavin and me won’t make any deals. We’ll invite him out to see the longhorns, and all of you can have your say.”
The hotel was everything Kelly had said it was, and more. Kelly inquired at the desk, and was told the Pitkin party had rooms on the first floor. Kelly knocked on the door, and even he wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted them. Pitkin looked to be fifty, and his hair was silver. His robe—which was silver trimmed in blue—swept the floor. But the three men looked past Pitkin to the bountifully set table where the trio had been having breakfast. The two girls had blue eyes and blonde hair, and as for their age, they didn’t look more than a year apart.
“Yes?” said Pitkin. “My daughters and I are having breakfast.”
“We’re here about your notice in the newspaper,” Kelly said. “We’ll wait in the lobby until you’re finished.”
“You shall not,” said Pitkin. “There’s room at the table, and there’s plenty of coffee. Or tea, if you prefer.”
Woody and Gavin followed Kelly into the room, and the three of them tipped their hats to the women seated at the table.
“I am Gladstone Pitkin,” their host said. “My daughters are Nell and Naomi.”
“Mr. Pitkin and ladies,” said Kelly, “it’s our privilege. I am Nip Kelly, and these are my friends, Gavin McCord and Woodrow Miles.”
There was room at the table for eight, with a chair at each end, and three more along each side. Without being asked, Nell and Naomi moved to opposite ends of the long table, allowing Kelly, Woodrow, and Gavin to sit facing Pitkin. Nell and Naomi promptly forgot their food and stared in rapt attention at the three visitors. Even Nip Kelly was nervous, but he wasted no time.
“Mr. Pitkin, I am interested in the possibility of hiring on as part of your outfit.”
Pitkin nodded. “And you gentlemen?” His eyes were on Woodrow and Gavin.
“We have a herd of thirty-five hundred Texas longhorn cows,” said Woody. “If it is your intention to raise cattle in New Mexico, our herd is for sale.”
“That is my intention,” Pitkin replied, “and I shall be glad to consider your herd. But I must see them, of course, before I make a decision.”
“They’re ten miles south of here,” said Woodrow. “They’re ready when you are.”
“Allow me a few minutes to get dressed,” Pitkin replied. “I’ll get a horse from the livery and go with you.”
“Get a buckboard, father,” said Naomi. “I want to go with you.”
“And so do I,” Nell said. “I’ve never seen a herd of Texas longhorns.”
“Very well,” said Pitkin, “I shall get a buckboard, but I do not intend to wait while the two of you dawdle. We shall be leaving in a quarter of an hour.”
Their breakfast forgotten, the girls left the table immediately, going into the next room. They wore only thin dressing gowns, and the trio of visitors watched their departure in admiration.
Pitkin sighed. “Since their mother’s death, I have done as well by them as I could, but I fear my best has been less than adequate. As you might expect, they are accustomed to having their own way. Now, gentlemen, if you will excuse me…”
He departed by another door, closing it behind him.
“He offered us coffee,” said Gavin McCord. “I aim to take him up on that.”
There were five extra place settings, and Gavin took a porcelain cup and poured himself some coffee from a large porcelain pot. His companions quickly followed his example.
“With Nell and Naomi taggin’ along,” Nip Kelly said, “I don’t understand why Pitkin don’t already have more hands than he needs.”
“He looks like a brass-plated dude that don’t know one end of a cow from the other,” said Gavin.
“A gent with his kind of dinero don’t have to know cows,” Woody said. “He can hire cow nurses for thirty and found, all day long.”
“Maybe not,” said Kelly. “In this new territory, I hear there’s more sheep than cattle, so there may not be as many cowboys as you think. Could be that’s why he’s hoping to hire riders here.”
“Sheep?” Gavin said. “My God, I don’t like to think of bein’ in the same territory with the wooly varmints.”
Kelly laughed. “You’d better get used to it. I hear the government’s making some real deals on land in these undeveloped territories, and they’re looking for men like Pitkin, who can afford to do what he seems to have in mind.”
At that point, Pitkin returned. He wore a derby hat, a white shirt with flowing black string tie, and a gray tweed suit. Instead of boots, he wore gaiters of soft black leather. To his apparent surprise, Nell and Naomi entered the room. Their golden hair had been left loose and they were dressed in simple paisley frocks. Nell’s was pale blue, Naomi’s buttercup yellow. They waited in the hotel lobby with Gavin McCord, Woodrow Miles, and Nip Kelly, while Pitkin went to the livery across the street for a buckboard. When he returned, and the girls were aboard, Gavin, Woody, and Kelly rode out. Pitkin followed, and when they neared the grazing herd, Gavin and Woody rode on ahead. They sought to warn their three companions of the presence of Nell and Naomi, lest one or more of the three be caught in some embarrassing position. When the Pitkins arrived, Nip Kelly leading, the five cowboys stood with hats in their hands. Woodrow performed the introductions, and without delay, the Pitkins headed for the herd of grazing longhorns.
“Is he buyin’?” Rusty Pryor asked anxiously.
“He’s agreed to look at them,” said Woody, “but he also aims to have a cattle ranch in New Mexico. I’d say he may be interested.”
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“Whether he buys or not,” Ash Pryor said, “I’d like to get to know them Pitkin girls a mite better.”
“He’s hirin’ hands to go to New Mexico Territory,” said Nip Kelly, “and I think I’m his only one, so far. If he hires me, that is.”
“If they ain’t interested in the herd,” Vic Brodie said, “they’re takin’ a hell of a long time admirin’ them ugly critters.”
“Here they come,” said Woodrow. “I reckon we’re about to get the verdict, whatever it is.”
“Magnificent beasts,” Pitkin said. “How many bulls?”
“A dozen, all not more than two years old,” said Woodrow.
“How much are you asking for them?” Pitkin asked.
“We’d settle for twenty-five dollars a head, bulls included,” said Woodrow.
“In New York or Chicago,” Pitkin said, “the fair market price is thirty-five dollars.”
“Yes, sir,” said Woodrow, “we realize that, but we were unable to get them to New York or Chicago. We’re willing to make allowances.”
“So am I,” Pitkin replied. “I will take them all, at thirty dollars a head, but there is one condition.”
“And that condition?”
“That all of you sign on as my outfit. That you drive the herd down the Santa Fe Trail, to my range in New Mexico Territory, and help me establish my ranch,” said Pitkin.
“My God,” Vic Brodie said, “that could take years.”
“It could,” said Pitkin, “but I am prepared to make it worth your while. I will pay each of you fifty and found per month. I will draw up a contract with you for a period of five years. At the end of that period, I will sell you seed stock for ranches of your own, if that’s your desire. There are hundreds of acres of government land adjoining my holdings.”
“God Almighty,” said Rusty Pryor.
The rest of them were struck dumb by the proposal, each doing some rapid mental calculations. The sale of the herd would bring more than a hundred thousand dollars, while unheard-of wages over five years would account for another three thousand dollars per man.
“I’ll throw in with you,” Woodrow said.
The others agreed, almost in a single voice.
1
“Splendid, gentlemen,” Pitkin said. “Mr. Kelly, consider yourself hired.”
Nell and Naomi clapped their hands.
“What would you have us do first, Mr. Pitkin?” Woodrow inquired.
“Kindly refrain from referring to me as Mister Pitkin,” said the Englishman. You may call me Gladstone or Pitkin.”
“With all due respect to England,” Woodrow said, “I’d rather just call you Pit, and you can call me Woody.”
“So be it,” said Pitkin. “How many more men do you feel that I need?”
“Five of us brought the herd from Texas,” Gavin McCord said. “The herd’s already trail-wise, and with Nip, there’s six of us. Unless you know somethin’ we don’t, the six of us should be enough.”
“Provided,” said Kelly, “you aim to hire a cook. You’ll need a chuck wagon, too.”
“Perhaps I’ll be more fortunate in the hiring of a cook than I have been in the hiring of a crew,” Pitkin said. “Will some of you men inquire as to the availability and the cost of a chuck wagon?”
“A new chuck wagon won’t cost more than a hundred dollars,” said Woody, “and any wagon yard in town should have at least one. Since you’ve hired us as an outfit, I’m goin’ to suggest something. Why don’t you let us find the chuck wagon and scout the town for a cook? Any range cook worth his salt will be able to go to a general store and load the chuck wagon with all the grub and supplies you’ll need.”
“Splendid, Woody,” Pitkin exclaimed. “What else have I overlooked?”
“Pit,” said Vic, “your ladies ought to go to the general store and outfit themselves as cowboys. In men’s duds, like us.”
“In trousers?” Pitkin said. “In England that would be unheard of.”
“You’re a long way from England,” said Rusty Pryor.
“Father,” Naomi said, “they’re right, and they’re gentlemen enough not to have made a point of the obvious. Nell and me in skirts would make spectacles of ourselves each time we mount or dismount. The men couldn’t keep their eyes on the herd for watching us.”
Nell and Naomi weren’t embarrassed in the slightest, and the men all laughed.
“Very well,” said Pitkin. “I wasn’t thinking of you riding astride.”
“Oh, Father,” Nell said in mock horror, “I’d walk from here to Santa Fe before I’d so much as consider a horrid sidesaddle.”
Again the men all laughed, and this time Pitkin joined them.
“When I return to town,” said Pitkin, “I’ll make arrangements to purchase the herd. I will require a bill of sale, of course.”
“It’s customary to make a count of the herd,” Woody said.
“I am trusting you to ride for me, to see to my affairs,” said Pitkin. “Therefore, I will trust you for an honest count.”
“That’s generous of you,” Gavin said. “We’re Texans, and we’ll ride for the brand.”
“I should return to town,” said Pitkin, “and begin terminating my business here.”
“Some of us will go with you,” Woody said. “We may be a while findin’ a cook.”
“Why don’t you and Gavin find a chuck wagon and beat the bushes for a cook?” said Ash Pryor.
“Yeah,” Rusty said, “and get him and the chuck wagon here in time for supper.”
Pitkin and his daughters started for town, with Gavin and Woody riding behind the buckboard.
“Nip,” said Vic, “I reckon we owe you one for puttin’ us in touch with Pitkin. We was purely out of luck, where the herd was concerned.”
“Hell, I was just helpin’ myself,” Kelly replied. “I ain’t sure Pitkin would ever have hired an outfit, the way he was headed. Thanks to you gents, he has a herd, an outfit, and a place for me.”
“Thank God on behalf of all of us,” said Rusty. “Whatever else happens, we’ll all eat regular, and that’s almighty important.”
When they reached town, Pitkin spoke to Gavin and Woody.
“I am advancing you two hundred dollars. Use part of it to purchase the chuck wagon and the remainder for necessary provisions until you can find and hire a cook.”
“We have only three mules, includin’ Nip Kelly’s,” Gavin said.
“Purchase the chuck wagon and find a suitable cook,” said Pitkin. “Once you are satisfied with the cook, I will purchase the necessary teams to draw the chuck wagon. I will then arrange credit for all necessary provisions and supplies at a general store.”
Pitkin turned away, dismissing them, but they were cheered by smiles from Nell and Naomi.
“He don’t waste words, does he?” Gavin said.
“No,” said Woody, “and he took us at our word. Now we got to find us a cook that’s willing to keep us all fed and drive that chuck wagon from here to Santa Fe.”
The eventual cost of the chuck wagon was eighty-five dollars, and they began their search for a cook in the various cafes and restaurants. After making the rounds of better restaurants, their search for a cook having been unsuccessful, they began visiting the hash houses and dives along the river.
“I’m beginnin’ to wonder if it was such a good idea, you and me huntin’ a cook that’s willin’ to work a cattle drive,” Gavin McCord said. “If we find one down here, he’s likely to be so scruffy and rough-around-the-edges, Pitkin won’t have him.”
“Maybe Pitkin needs to learn somethin’ about the frontier,” said Woodrow Miles. “The varmint that’s all gussied-up like Sunday-go-to-meetin’ belongs in town, not on the trail. We got to have an hombre that can boil coffee and make flapjacks in rain or snow, without bellyachin’. A waddy that can use Winchester or Colt, and when there’s a stampede, he can grab a horse and ride like hell wouldn’t have it.”
“Hell, you don’t have to convinc
e me,” Gavin said. “Let’s try that place across the street, the Cattleman’s Bar and Grill.”
It being mid-morning, most eating places were virtually empty, but when Gavin and Woody reached the door of the Cattleman’s Bar and Grill, they could hear angry voices, one of which relied almost entirely on border Spanish.
“Damn it, Gonzales, you call this coffee?”
“Sí,” Gonzales bawled. “Tejano coffee.”
The shouting ceased as Gavin and Woody entered the cafe.
“Sorry, gents,” said the man who was obviously the owner, “but I’m without a cook. Gonzales is just leaving.”
Gonzales stomped out, his teeth clenched beneath his bushy moustache. Woody and Gavin followed, matching the stride of the irate Mexican.
“What’s the trouble, Gonzales?” Woody asked.
Gonzales stopped dead in his tracks. Snatching off his old hat, he swatted it against his thigh. Turning to face them, he spoke.
“T’ree month I cook for Tejano trail drive. Por Dios, now I am tell I no can cook, no can make the coffee.”
“Gonzales,” Woody said, “if you’ve been a trail cook before, how would you like to be a trail cook again?”
“I like,” said Gonzales. “Tejano coffee, Tejano grub.”
“Our outfit’s takin’ a herd of Texas cows to Santa Fe,” Gavin said. “Mr. Pitkin, our boss, needs a cook for the trail who will become part of the outfit, staying to work for the ranch in New Mexico. Will you go with us to Mr. Pitkin’s hotel to talk to him?”
“Sí,” said Gonzales. “He like my coffee, my grub, I go.”
Not believing their good fortune, Gavin and Woody guided Gonzales to the hotel and knocked on Pitkin’s door.
“Pit,” Woody said, when the Englishman opened the door, “we’ve found a man who has been a trail cook. This is Gonzales. Gonzales, this is Mr. Pitkin.”
Gonzales grinned, removed his old hat, and bowed.
The Santa Fe Trail Page 2