by J. R. WRIGHT
“I’m sorry, Tom.”
“Don’t be. Things happen, you know.” Luke had a sudden desire for this line of conversation to change. “We’ll go to the hotel. I’ll introduce you to White Bird. Then we’ll grab something to eat. There’s a great place right across the street.”
“White Bird? You married an Indian woman?” Kenny wasn’t going to let that pass, especially after all the times Luke had scolded him for mingling with the young maidens that hung around Fort Kearny, from time to time.
“I did, but not just any Indian woman. This one’s special.”
“How so?” Kenny laughed.
“You’ll see,” Luke smiled back at him and whipped up the horses, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake. Willie Wilder tried to talk Luke into letting Little Man George, the half breed porter, drive the carriage to the depot. But Luke saw no sense in taking the young man away from his regular duties on his account, when he was plenty capable of doing the driving himself. However, it did look strange seeing a buckskin clad driver atop the fancy carriage transporting a suited passenger, when the opposite was a more common sight.
White Bird was in the lobby when Luke and Kenny came through the door. She’d seen them coming up the street from the rooms upstairs, and came right down to meet this friend of Tom’s, he had told her so much about on the trip down from the ranch.
When White Bird rushed up to them dressed in her beaded buckskin dress with matching moccasins, Kenny Hardy couldn’t help but let his jaw drop. She was startlingly beautiful.
“Is this…?” he cast his eyes to Luke.
“White Bird, this is my friend, Kenny, I’ve been telling you about.”
“Kenny,” she said with a huge smile that set off her dimples. She then held her hand out, back side up, as the English women at the Cattleman’s Club had taught her, expecting him to kiss it.
Kenny, however, had a different notion and took it for a good shake. “You’re lovely,” he couldn’t help but say, then glanced to Luke for any sign of disapproval for what he’d just said. “So young!”
“Enough of that,” Luke finally said. “Kenny, why don’t you drop the bag in your room? Then meet up with us across the street. I’m starved.” He handed over the key to a room on the second floor.
“Will do, boss.” Kenny glanced at the number stamped on the key and headed for the stairs.
“Tom!” Luke shouted to his back, took White Bird’s arm, and steered her through the door and out onto the street.
“Man come to hotel,” White Bird said just as Luke was about to rush her across ahead of a coming wagon.
“Who?” Luke turned to her.
White Bird shrugged her shoulders. “Willie say leave message.”
With that information, Luke took White Bird back into the hotel and went searching for Willie Wilder. He found him in the office behind the check-in counter, busy at making entries into the hotel ledger.
“Do I have a message, Wilder?”
“It’s in your box, sir.” Willie looking up over the eyeglasses propped low on his nose.
The hastily scribbled message on hotel stationary was from Truman Rainford, asking Luke to come to the Cattleman’s Club at his earliest convenience. The carriage was still in front of the hotel and Luke headed for it. It wouldn’t be right for him to bring White Bird, seeing as how women were only allowed in on special occasions. Spotting Kenny coming down the stairs, he took White Bird by the arm and went to him.
“Kenny…” Was all he got out, before changing his mind. He had wanted to speak with Kenny over the noon meal about something fresh on his mind. And by God he was going to do it now, as planned. Truman Rainford and those other Englishmen could just wait until it was convenient for him, as the message said. And that would just have to happen in an hour or two, after he spoke with Kenny, and after his wife was properly fed, as she deserved to be. Running at the beck and call of these noblemen wasn’t an example he wanted to set right off the start.
“Let’s go eat!” Luke shoved the message into his pocket and headed for the door. When they all three were safely on the boardwalk in front of the restaurant, Luke turned to take in the hotel. What he saw was a rather boxy looking, two story, red brick building with a grand columned entrance.
“Look at that hotel, Kenny, and tell me how we can expand it. We have an extra fifty feet to grow at each side.”
“You own that hotel?” Kenny gathered a look of surprise on his face.
“Just bought it. Now I want to make it bigger.”
“Gee, Tom, you’re just full of surprises. When did you decide to do this?”
“When I discovered you were good for something other than punching cows.” He laughed and led the way into the classy eatery.
“I’m your man!” Kenny responded and took one more look at the hotel before going inside.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Luke didn’t arrive at the Cattleman’s Club until late afternoon. He had spent more time with Kenny than expected, going through the existing structure, Kenny pointing out how it could be improved as they went. He suggested a dumbwaiter be installed in the back, so such things as laundry and mop buckets wouldn’t need to be hauled up and down the stairs in clear sight of guests. He also suggested piping be installed for the dumping of chamber pots directly into an underground septic, to be constructed in the back. He even had suggestions on improving the livery across the alley in back. All in all Luke was pleased with what he heard before going off to meet with the Englishmen.
When Luke was announced by the doorman, it was readily evident the Englishmen across the room were pleased to see him arrive. They even lifted out of their comfortable chairs to go greet him.
“Jolly good to see you, sir.” Thomas Kent got to him first and the others chimed in with hand-shakes and back slaps.
Although Luke was pleased with the reception, he couldn’t help but wonder if they were setting him up for something. He was pretty sure they hadn’t invited him there because of his irresistible charm. Then, when Truman Rainford laid a hand on his shoulder and guided him to a table, Luke knew something serious was about to be proposed.
After some idle chat about the weather, and drinks had been served, they came out with it.
“Mister Hill, we want to buy the Tea Cup?”
That caused Luke, who was in mid-swallow on a drink of whiskey, to momentarily choke and then begin coughing violently. This provoked all present to exhibit concerned looks. All except Truman, who was feverishly pounding on Luke’s back. Then when Luke got his breath back, he began to laugh.
“Gentlemen, that has to be the most preposterous thing I’ve ever heard.” Luke stood to his feet. “I didn’t spend fourteen years building that place just to sell it. No, gentlemen! There’s not enough money in the world to get me to do that. Hell, one of my wives, along with our baby daughter, is buried there. No, sirs, I’ll be on that place till the day I die, and my son and grandchildren till they die. At least that’s my plan. And even if the government doesn’t see fit to grant me the land, I’ll find a way to buy it. You gentlemen have a good day.” Luke then abruptly turned and headed for the door.
“Now, hold on, chap!” Truman hurried after him. “That didn’t come out the way it was supposed to. Really all we want are your cows.”
“My cows!” Luke paused and glanced back at the others.
“Just come on back to the table, Tom. Hell, we’re all friends. Let us throw out a few ideas. Chat a bit. What do you have to lose?”
Reluctantly, Luke went back to smiles from those that remained at the table and reseated himself. “Sorry gentlemen, I guess that caught me the wrong way. Frankly, I liked it better when we were talking about the weather.” He laughed and the others joined in.
“Here’s the deal,” Truman started. “We think we can be where you are, with your upgrading program, in about eight years. Does that sound about right, Tom?”
“Roughly that, I reckon, when I reached there with my first herd of cow
s.”
“So the way we figure it, eight years without making much of a profit is too long. By that time our investors will be screaming bloody murder,” Kent tossed in. “So what we’re hoping for is you’ll sell us some of your cows. That way we can start showing some profit right off, while building our herds.”
“The way I see it you won’t show a profit for at least three years. The Longhorn cows you have coming won’t drop calves until the spring of next year. Then it will take another two years or more on grass before the half that are steers are ready for market. Providing you keep all the heifers for later breeding. It’s a long process, gentlemen. But as far as selling you any of my herd cows this year, that’s out of the question. They’re dropping calves as we speak. No way can they be moved now. However, maybe I can help you in another way.” Luke paused to calculate numbers.
“How’s that?” Truman, who was looking glum before, perked up.
“Well, as it is, I’m crowding the range I have available, and something has to go by fall. What I was planning to do was cull out a few thousand of my older cows, come round up in the fall, and send them off to the Indians. But that was only because I have near eight thousand first calf heifers due to begin calving in July. We breed those later because they require some overseeing. Sometimes a few of them need a helping hand in birthing.”
“That sounds like a lot of work,” Kent said.
“Not really,” Luke returned. “A handful of wranglers could handle it. They don’t all birth a once. That’s usually stretched out over a month or so. What I’m trying to say, gentlemen, is this could be a way for you to get a jump on your operation and drop calves this year. That way, when all is said and done, you end up with eight thousand good young crossbred cows that would have taken you eight years to get otherwise.”
“You make it sound so sweet, Tom,” Rainford said skeptically. “But what are you asking for those eight thousand first calfers?”
“If those heifers would’ve been born males I’d be selling them as steers to the Indian Bureau for seventy-five bucks a head. Add five dollars to that, to cover the calves in their bellies, and I will sell you the lot of them for eighty dollars a piece.”
With that, a good deal of chatter went around the table, and pencils went to paper.
Thomas Kent was the first to speak. “Christ, Tom, I don’t know how we can go wrong with a deal like that! That’s not a whole lot more than we’re paying for the Longhorns. And as you so skillfully pointed out, we’ll need to wait a year to get calves from them.”
“I’m in,” Truman Rainford said.
“Well take them,” Hicks agreed.
“There’s only one problem,” Luke said. “I don’t have the extra drovers to drive them here. It’s calving time. I need every available man at the Tea Cup for that right now.”
Another man at the table that had yet to be heard from spoke up now. “Mister Hill, my name is Oliver Wiggens. I represent five investors. Compared to the others here at this table, I represent a modest group. Frankly, I don’t know what to think about this thing. Ranching is new to me. To be honest I don’t know beans about any of it. As it is my people can’t afford to wait long for a return on their money. Things are bad in England too. And certainly my investors can’t afford any losses. Frankly, I’m scared.”
“You have a right to be scared, Mister Wiggens; it’s a tough business. Raising cattle in Wyoming is a full time job. Not only do herds need to be constantly watched over to guard against Indians and wolf pack attacks, hay needs to be put up as an edge against the fierce winters. So if you’re uncertain about any of that, I suggest you stay out of it completely. Get into something you know. I believe there’s plenty of opportunity here that doesn’t involve the raising of cattle.”
“Like what?” Wiggens asked.
“You tell me. Wyoming is just getting started. What’s going to happen when all those homesteaders come rolling in? Look how Cheyenne has grown since the railroad came here two years ago. This was just prairie back then, now we have five thousand people.”
“Are you in or out, Wiggens?” Hicks asked with a perturbed look about him.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“Well, you better make up your mind real soon, because we’re moving ahead on this deal with or without you,” Truman Rainford said. “And as far as drovers are concerned, there are plenty of those looking for work right here in Cheyenne. We’ll come and get the heifers, Tom, and the bulls too, in say two weeks?”
“Fine,” Luke agreed and shook the hands of all those around the table, except Wiggens, who still hadn’t made up his mind. “I trust you’ll put the money on deposit at my bank, same as agreed with the bulls?”
“You have my word on it, Tom,” Rainford said. “Now I have to ask another favor. What Wiggens said about not knowing much about the ranching business, well that picture kind of fits us all. What we need is somebody like yourself that knows what he’s doing to head up our operations. Do you have anybody that fits that bill, we can hire?”
“I have several that would fit the bill, one in particular. But you’ll have to pay him well.”
“How much?”
“I pay my men ten percent of the profit, straight across the board, divided equally among them, except for my foreman, and he gets a double share.”
“And what does that amount too?”
“Last year, each man got about two thousand dollars. My foreman got double that.”
“Isn’t that a lot of money, Tom?”
“It is,” Luke agreed. “But the way I look at it, it’s better to have your hands working with you, rather than for you. They do a whole better knowing they have a stake in the bottom line.”
“That makes good sense,” Truman agreed. “So you can supply me with someone?”
“Yep. My best man in fact. His name is Andy Hayes.”
“Now, old chap, I bloody appreciate the offer, but why would you part with your best man on my account? Now, I know you’re a better business man than that, Tom. No matter how much I’d like to believe you.”
“Believe me, Truman!” Luke said. “I’ll tell you why. Andy has an itch to marry some gal from Cheyenne here, and she won’t leave the area because of her folks. My ranch is just too far for him to travel to and from on a regular basis. I’ll be losing him in the fall, on that account, anyway. He’s already given my foreman his notice.”
“Well, in that case,” Truman said, “I take back everything I said. Thanks, Tom.” He again put forth a hand to seal the deal.
“You bet,” Luke said and took the hand offered for a firm shake.
“Now, come into the parlor and show me on the map the best way to get to your ranch.”
“Sure,” Luke said and followed Truman up to a large map of Wyoming Territory on the wall. It was readily clear even from a distance that the new territory had been carved from parts of Dakota, Utah, and Idaho territories. From Cheyenne, then, Luke explained the route as his finger ran along various rivers and forks thereof, through two mountain passes, and eventually ended up at a huge valley he had found quite by accident, thirty years ago. “That’s the Tea Cup,” he pointed, almost triumphantly. “There’s only one way in and one way out. It’s a natural fortress for cattle.”
“You were lucky to find it, Tom.”
“Now you can see why I don’t want to part with it.”
“Now I can,” Truman said, putting a finger on an area very similar, closer to Cheyenne. “I have some men building my new ranch headquarters here on Horse Creek. I’ll live there eventually, once I’ve taken up American citizenship.”
Instantly Luke made the connection between this and something the governor had said the night before about Truman Rainford and the others being foreigners, and not qualifying for land grants. Apparently that was going to change, at least for Truman. Now he wondered if that had been the plan all along, and he was kept in the dark about it. Had the new governor pulled the wool over his eyes when he ask for Lu
ke’s endorsement of his plan that would give him the sole power to distribute territorial lands?
He aimed to find out the very next time he spoke with John Allen Campbell. He didn’t appreciate his name and unique situation being used under false pretenses for the personal gain of others. Especially for foreigners, who had no hand in taming this wilderness! Foreigners who had every intention of competing with him in a business he had started fourteen years previous.
But then why should he complain? He had just sold them over a million dollars in cattle at a handsome profit. And he still had his main herd of fifteen thousand cows, another batch of replacement heifers coming up for next year, all the bulls he needed, and enough steers to complete the Indian contract in the fall. Right now he had nothing to complain about. Not considering a million dollars was the furthest thing from his mind when he started that ranch. All he ever hoped for was a comfortable living, and the building of something special that could be passed on to Chaska someday. Sarah may have had bigger things in mind. One of her projections actually had pointed toward a value someday of a million dollars for all their holdings. In fact that was the first he even knew numbers went that high, or that there was a name for it. Now that he actually had a million dollars, he wondered what on earth he would ever do with it. Now it seemed he had something else to worry about.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
When Luke and White Bird went to supper that night, Kenny Hardy did not accompany them. He had spent the remainder of the afternoon about town locating paper and drawing tools. Now he was in his room drafting plans for the hotel additions. He wanted to have them complete and approved before Luke headed back for the Tea Cup in a few days. That way he could start hiring bricklayers and carpenters, and get the massive project underway.
The additions would not be boxy extensions of what was already there. They would be two story wings that reached the far depth of the property, each fifty by one hundred feet. The way Kenny had it planned, it would double the size of the hotel to ninety-six rooms, with twelve of those being two and three room suites. Also on the front side of each addition would be an enormous turret clad in copper that would give the entire structure a European appearance. The Empire was already the finest hotel in Cheyenne, and Luke wanted it to stay that way for years to come.