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I was pushing it, but I wanted to see the range back of Ronnie’s Ranch. We saddled up three days later and took off for the hills. There was a ridge extending across the front of the rough land and it would be hell trying to trail cattle in from the Pickwell ranch. After we were beyond that, the ridges turned and traveled in a different direction, making it easier going.

We found springs and seeps. Every once in awhile we would come on a small creek in the bottom of a draw. The grass still showed a green in some places. This was unusual this late in the year. Cattle would certainly fat up on this feed. We occasionally ran onto trails where wild animals traveled. Once in awhile we saw unshod horse tracks, indicating there were Indians around.

Before we arrived where Joe said would be a good site for a ranch house, we smelled smoke from a cook fire. We broke into the opening and saw some hide covered tipi built near a fairly large pool in a creek that was rippling down from a substantial ridge. I counted a couple of older girls with a squaw that was instructing them. There were three young boys playing and were trying to throw each other to the ground.

When we were spotted, everything ceased and two more squaws appeared from two of the tipi. Joe was leading me by a half-horse length. Two of the squaws screamed and dove for each tipi. Before we stopped our mounts, they were back outside, both with strings of bright colored beads around their necks. Both also had a red blanket over their shoulders.

Neither were clean. I figured Joe had given them the pretties they were sporting. At least he treated them both alike. They gobbled something and one of the two teenage girls ran to her mother’s side and looked at Joe. The other squaw spoke sharply and one of the boys broke loose and ran to his mother.

The other squaws stepped back when Joe dismounted and he walked to the two squaws. Circling one in each arm he leaned down and they rubbed his face with their noses. He looked up at me still mounted. “I taught them to do that. They look to do that when we first meet after I have been gone for a time.”

I looked to the woods off to one side of the huts and I could see five mounted ponies coming. “Indians, Joe.”

“Yeah, I expected them. They seem to know most everything that is going on up here.” The Indians came into camp and nodded to Joe and stared at me. Joe gobbled at them. Suddenly they broke into smiles. “Chance, break out that bottle. We have need of a pick-me up.”

I rolled off my horse and opened my saddle bag, removing a bottle from it. Braves, squaws, and kids all lined up. The oldest Indian took a swig. I was surprised for it couldn’t have taken more than a taste. The bottle lasted through all the Indians. The little ones made a face, but they knew the taste anyway.

I was puzzled for Joe had ordered me to get a half dozen bottles. “Those we have left are for the braves when we leave. They will get pissy-assed drunk and won’t be worth anything for a few days. The squaws will keep out of sight until the drunk wears off. The Indians will always hope you are going to bring more whisky, but you don’t have to. They will peg you as a friend unless you do them wrong in some way.

“You want to talk to them about your plans now? It would be a good time.”

“Sure.” I got around in front and started talking. Joe was translating for me. I explained that I was thinking of filling the hills with cattle. I promised the Indians I would furnish them all the beef they could eat and they could have the hides from both their animals and as well as those from the ranch that were butchered by me and my hands.

The cattle would provide meat and hides that were displacing the wild animals being driven from their natural habitat. The hides could be bartered at the store for goods they needed. The Indians understood this better than hard money.

The Indians didn’t always understand the work ethics of the white man, but the younger ones might just learn from watching the cow hands at work. Joe had suggested this, which to me said that Joe wasn’t living in the past always.

Joe spoke up and said we were going through the hills identifying where small bunches of cattle could find graze. The Indians thought that a great idea and offered to guide us into some of the remote areas. It was still mid-morning, but Joe said we should tarry a little while.

I provided coffee. Joe disappeared into a tipi to see to one of his squaws. He soon came out and took the younger one into her tipi. It didn’t take long and both women looked satisfied when all were again sitting by the cook fire.

As we saddled up, Joe said, “Both squaws have a brave to live with, but neither are the jealous type. They share me with their women feeling they are the winner for I provide them with what they call riches. Most usually something pretty. The jealousy comes more from the other squaws knowing two of them are favored more than they are. You want to hook up with one or two?”

“No, I guess not. I’ll stay with my own kind. If I didn’t it might cause some friction some time down the road.”

“You’re saying Rita wouldn’t approve.” Joe cackled and I knew he wasn’t looking for me to answer his comment. Our guide was a young male, not of brave age yet, and a squaw who was his mother. Joe’s two squaws soon caught up with us and Joe smiled knowing they weren’t going to let another squaw be shown favor by him. The five braves all stayed in camp and would soon be staggering drunk.

The Squaw with the youngster was named Halona and was pleasant as her name’s meaning. She was a bit lighter than the brave. She did the cooking for the three days we were out. Joe wasn’t of much help and was always with the two squaws he claimed while I finished looking the range over. We found many draws where we could relocate cattle. Joe and I didn’t return to the Indian camp. We split off and headed for the Owen ranch, leaving the squaws to find their own way home.

I had seen Indians in and around the home ranch in Texas while I was growing up. These I had spent three days with were much different. Maybe it was because they hadn’t been so exposed to the white man as much. They went about doing camp duties with efficiency and competency and laughed and joked amongst themselves.

Joe was a part of this, and sometimes I saw all looking at me and I was aware I was being discussed. I knew I would never find out what was being said. They were friendly and comfortable being around me and I knew words would be shared that I was okay.

Joe and I pulled into the Owen ranch just before noon. Rita came out and we were invited in. I looked about and I could see a small plot of land not far from the house on a low rise that was the cemetery. There were some new crosses visible that hadn’t faded in the weather yet. I met Rita’s mother Naomi. She was a pleasant faced woman and after she and Rita put the meal on, she sat at the opposite end of the table from John Owen.

John mentioned the raid on the Pickwell ranch and apologized again. He didn’t display any animosity toward me. There was sadness in his eyes though. Over coffee, he said he was seriously considering giving up cattle ranching. He hadn’t grown up ranching. His money had come down from his father who had been in mining so he felt somewhat out of his element. He had tried to hire competent help, but hadn’t been successful every time.

I spoke up. “Sir, I just came through your cattle herd. It is in terrible shape. If you give up now you won’t get anything for them. It looks as if you have good range, but all the feed is gone. Some rains will be coming in another month. Joe and I have just been up into the hills and there is scattered feed there. Good feed can be found right now. May I make a suggestion?”

“Of course. I would welcome anything to get me out of my dilemma.”

“First, I would roundup and push all the cattle that aren’t under your brand off your ranch. You are feeding someone else’s cattle when you don’t have enough feed for your own. There aren’t too many, but some. Now I am planning to claim all of the range that is north and west of your ranch and the Pickwell range. The thing is I don’t have any cattle. I would like to propose a partnership.”

“You mean you get half my cattle for nothing?”

“I didn’t say that. Say I buy half your herd for what it is worth right now. You’re going to have to get rid of most ofthem anyway. If you don’t you are going to lose all of them.”

“You got any money?”

“Some. Enough to buy half of your herd at three dollars a head right on the ground. The partnership would come in with you hiring me as your manager. My job will be to bring your range back to where it will fatten cattle. I wouldn’t advise trying to make a drive this year even if you have steers old enough for market. Because they are so poor they aren’t going to bring a quarter of what they will after the spring roundup.”

“You’re going to fatten cattle through the winter? It can’t be done.”

“No they won’t fatten. There is time enough before going into the winter for them to improve their condition. They will be alive come spring and will fatten up early and be worth a lot at spring roundup. If I get half the cattle off this range, yours will get back into good shape faster than you would think.

“Would you take a ride up into the hills with me? I’m setting up a hill ranch and I’ll have grass that is sun cured now and plenty of it. You can already see the shoots under that that are ready to burst forth just as soon as the rains come. Water is plentiful as well. The tough part is going to be putting a rope on the cattle when we round them up for sale. They will be wild. I ran into this down in the Texas brush country, but it can be done.”

“How in hell will you find them?”

“I’ve hired some Indians to keep track of them.”

“They’ll steal you blind.”

I looked at Joe to speak. “Nope, they won’t, because they are my family and I’m speaking for them. People think Indians are ignorant. Ignorant in the ways of the white man maybe, but think, they have been looking and finding food to keep alive for centuries. They are still here after all of that time. Chance has already been into their camp to meet them. He has already put a payment down for what he is proposing.”

“And that would be?”

“They get beef enough to feed them and they get all the hides we use on his new ranch and yours as long as he is your manager. They feel rich just thinking about all the hides they can barter things for at the store.”

“How many of them are there?” I looked to Joe again for the answer.

“There are sixteen, seventeen counting me. Two of the squaws belong to me. Three of the kids do too. Maybe more, I don’t know. There are five Braves. Two are braves for the squaws that I associate with. The rest are related to my dead squaw I used for my wife for several years.”

Rita interjected, “Chance, you were with Joe. Did you help increase the number of papooses?”

“No, Rita, I will stick with my own kind. I was three days camping with an Indian woman. She wasn’t as attractive as you, but I found her very competent in keeping camp because that was the way she lived and what she knew. In a white man’s world with training, I’m sure she would be a good wife to any white man.”

Rita didn’t say more. John Owen got back to the business at hand. “Let me understand what you are saying? You want half my herd at three dollars a head. Some of those cattle are worth a lot more than just for beef. Admitted the calves are worth no more than fifty cents. Are those included in the count?”

“They would be included if they are six months old and most would be of that age this time of year. The crop for the whole year would be lost if they weren’t counted. Look, if we didn’t split the herd and ran them under your brand, it would save a lot of time. When they are ready for market, we can divide what they bring. We’ll do a range tally using your cowhands and maybe Rita. I’ll trust you and I’ll expect you to trust me.”

“That’s real fair. How much do want to manage the ranch? I’m wondering if you would have the time if you are building up a ranch of your own.

“I can show you how I can when we ride up into the hills.”

Owen was mulling over what I was saying. Then he asked, “Why don’t you buy this ranch from me then?”

“I would, but to be honest, I don’t have that much money. I need a few dollars to hire hands and to buy a few horses. I guess I am only interested in the cattle and hopefully the manager’s position.”

“You got anyone to speak for you? What I am saying is that manager that you killed wasn’t what he said he was.”

“I have Ron Pickwell. He was a lieutenant under me for three years. If you go through Cheyenne, I believe a Colonel Dawson lives there. His home is not far from the UP depot. I don’t know the address.”

“My home was in Denver, but I know Cheyenne pretty well. I’ll find him. I may even know him by sight. There aren’t that many people living there. In the meantime I’ll ride up country and see what you have in mind for grazing cattle.”

“I’ll be here at daylight tomorrow.”

“That’s good.”

I caught a glance that Rita threw my way as I stood to leave. I wondered if my mention of money had anything to do with it. She followed Joe and me out to our horses. When I was mounted, she came close to ask a question. “Chance, you’re not going to take advantage of Mr. Owen are you?”

“No, I am trying to build a home for myself. I’ll treat him fair and he will be the better for it, I promise. Besides, we’re going to be neighbors.”

“Somehow I believe you. May I ride with you when you ride out tomorrow morning?”

“I’d love to have you with us.” I received a smile and she turned back to the ranch house. I turned once and she was still standing there.

Joe and I pulled into the Pickwell ranch. Ron came out. “What do you think, Chance?”

“There is feed up there. I stopped at the Owen ranch and made him and offer for half of his herd. I also asked for the ranch manager’s position seeing as he doesn’t have one. He is considering both.”

“Captain, where are you getting money from to buy cattle?”

“I’ll dig it up if and when I need it. Joe and I need a drink. You got anything handy?”

“Sure, come on in and relax and tell me about it.”

We sat down. Mary handed Ron the baby to go after the bottle of whiskey. Joe looked at Ron and then at me. “Ron, give Chance the baby to hold. He needs the practice. It won’t be too long before he’ll be having one of his own.”

Mary came in and heard this. “Yeah, Ron, give Chance the baby. Rita has been over here every day questioning Ron about your past. I think she will take care of your future.” Everyone burst out laughing. I didn’t mind at all. When Joe and I reached the bunkhouse he queried me. “You really got money?”

“I guess. That bother you?”

“Nope, not really. You just don’t act like you got money.”

“True. Just remember a lot of people act like money and they don’t have any. I’ve done that sometimes because it was necessary. It’s like playing poker. Sometimes you bluff and sometimes you got the cards.” That ended our conversation and I turned over and went to sleep.

I was up early for it was an hour to the Owen ranch. Coffee was ready when Joe and I arrived. My eyes were for Rita. She had on a newfangled outfit called a divided skirt.I had heard about them, but never had see one on a woman before. I didn’t realize what it was until we mounted up. She blushed when I looked at her, knowing I was puzzled.

We four riders took right off for the hill country. We had a pass to go through. Rita made the comment that cattle rarely went into the pass, for it was steep and without vegetation. From then on the traveling was much easier. It was like coming into a whole new world. We shortly came up on a seep with just a bare trickle of water. The land around it was lush and green.

John made the comment wondering why his previous manager had neglected checking out the hill country. Rita answered this partly, “Portman was fearful of Indians. He knew there was some up here in the hills and figured he would be attacked and scalped.” Joe snickered over this.

She continued, “Besides it would take away from his carousing in town. Mother was going to talk to you about how he was leading Junior astray. She knew it wasn’t her place to speak, but things were getting so bad at the ranch she thought you should be informed. She was hoping you would have come sooner than you did this time. It has been almost six months since your last visit.

Rita was chiding John, letting him know much of what had taken place recently was his fault. John didn’t say anything at all. It was more than a mile further into the hills before he said, “I think I will move up to the ranch from Denver. I have to leave to go to Denver next week to find out when Nancy is coming up from Saint Louis where she has been living with my sister. She’ll be staying at least until Thanksgiving. It will make a lot more work for Naomi, but Nancy is all of the family I have left.

Joe headed us to the Indian camp and the open land around it. The tipi were sorry looking places compared to the ranch houses we were living in. We arrived at noon. There was a large iron kettle over the cook fire. It had a savory stew bubbling in it. Again Joe’s two squaws put on what they considered finery and came up chattering to him. He pointed at his saddle bags ordering them to unload. They ran and got a flour sack from one side. From the other side there was another sack and you could tell this had some canned goods in it.

Our horses drank at the spring and we rode around the rough field and up into some of the draws that led off from it. There was possible feed for cattle everywhere. We returned to the encampment and got our eating utensils out. We lined up at the kettle and the squaw who had traveled with Joe and me before ladled stew into our dish. Another passed us a piece of hot bread that came out of the oven from where it was positioned near the cook fire. The bread was made with the flour Joe had brought with him.

It was flavored with some kind of plant the Indians used. When we finished the stew, a jar of jam, again from Joe’s saddle bags, went onto more bread. He must have included some soda, for the bread was risen. All-in-all it was a satisfying meal. As we were getting ready to leave, I motioned to the squaw who had been with us previously to empty my saddlebags of canned peaches and tomatoes. This would be a welcomed change of diet for the Indians.

She gobbled something to me. I knew it was a question, but had no idea what she said. “She asked you if Rita was your Squaw?”

I faced her and said, “Someday, I hope.” Joe told her this. This was all taking place as Rita was mounting up. The squaw handed me a small polished stone and said something to Joe.

He explained, “That is a good luck charm. You are supposed to give it to the one you favor.” I examined it. It was dark green and had blue veins running through it. I wondered if it came from this area or if it had come up from Mexico in some long ago trade among the tribes.

We took another route back to the ranch and could see several many more places where there was feed for cattle. We were back before dark. It had been a long day and I still had an hour to ride, so we didn’t linger. Rita came and stood by my stirrup. “There is a dance next Saturday, remember? I have you down for two dances.”

“I haven’t forgotten. May I escort you?”

“No, not as my escort, but it would be nice if you and the Pickwell’s came and all of us rode together. If you feel lucky you might even bid off the box lunch I’m bringing.”

“How will I find out which one to bid on?”

“You might ask someone who knows.” I got a cute smile and a twinkling eye as she turned away. I was thinking this would be Mary Pickwell who would know.

John Owen had words for me as well. “Chance, I’m going to hire you on a temporary basis. I want to save my herd and I want to save the ranch. I’ll be gone for a week and I’ll be back to decide what to do. If you’ll take the temporary job, would you plan what is best in building yourself a ranch and at the same time how I can save mine?

“Any cattle at least six months old as of the first of October, I will sell for three dollars a head. Any calves younger than that I will throw in free if you buy the mother.”

“How big is your herd?”

“I don’t know. I had to hire Portman when my original manager moved on. I took him at his word. And I didn’t check him out. There wasn’t a roundup last year because he claimed it wasn’t necessary. I just didn’t know anything about cattle ranching and that is why I’m in such a mess with a starving herd of cattle. I think you are beginning to realize that I am no cattleman.”

“Maybe, but you can learn. Why did you take up ranching in the first place?”

“I had money to invest from some mines I sold. Some of my friends were making fortunes in cattle. When the railroad gets here, markets can be reached on both coasts. I set out to hire men who knew how to raise cattle. I lost my last foreman when he went back east. The cattle industry has expanded so fast with the advent of the railroad, it has used up all those men who have experience in cattle ranching. Unfortunately, I didn’t choose hands who knew anything.

“They may have been tough, but I was taken in and I know that now. This comes down to me asking if you have the experience I need. Be assured I will be checking before I hire you full time.”

“I would hope that you do check. I believe you will find I am qualified. I still hold title to a third share of the home ranch in Texas. The only reason I am not there now is because when the carpetbaggers started coming in, I didn’t get along that well with them. I fought for the south. They won so they feel the spoils should go to the victor.

“My brother married into a family that came to Texas bringing their belongings in carpetbags. He holds some of the same views that they do, but we would never fight against each other. I left so he wouldn’t have to choose between me and his wife’s family.”

“Chance, that seems sensible. Another thing that needs attention and I will clear it up when I get back. I’ve sent a report to the sheriff awhile ago about the raid on the Pickwell ranch. I’m sure he will believe me, but he may see you to get your side of what happened. I’ll talk to him personally when I return.” He nodded that we were finished and Joe and I headed for the Pickwell ranch.

It was dark when we put up our mounts. Mary had potatoes from her garden and had freshened some ham for our supper. Joe and I dug in, both of us talking about the day and telling them that I was working temporarily for John Owen.

I needed another rancher to side me. “Ron, how about helping us out a little bit? You, me, and Joe can go along and push back the Owen cows where they have drifted onto your spread. There is no need for you to feed his. You need all the feed you have for your own cattle. After that I’m going to criss-cross the Owen ranch and count the cows with different brands. If there are a lot of them, I’ll get what Owen has left of his crew and push them onto the neighboring range.

“After that, I’m going to push the cows under John’s brand with this year’s calves up into the hills. The steers we will leave here. They can roam and hunt for grass here better than the brood cows. I’m going to concentrate on what we can sell next year more than this year. If the cows with calves are up in the hills, the steers will have feed for season here on the home ranch with the other animals gone. They will all be under the same brand so all we are doing is widening their range. Try to keep a range count if you can. I’ll settle up when John returns.

“Joe, see if you can get in touch with your Indians. When we get the cattle into the hills, you can ask them if they would drive them wherever there is some graze. I’ll send along a good sized steer for payment so they will know I don’t speak out of the side of my mouth. We’ll pick out another soon so they can make jerky and pemmican out of it.”

“Christ, they never had it so good. You’re spoiling them.”

“Come on Joe, you and I know they all have been eating somebody’s beef. This way we make it legal.”

Joe grinned at me. “You think that, do you?” I laughed back at him. I quit talking.

Ron spoke, “I guess I can help. Mary is going over to see Naomi and Rita. She could push a few cows ahead of her. She’s is quite the hand and I made Mary a backboard for the baby to ride on. He loves it. I’ll leave my two riders here. You haven’t met them yet. They are holed up in a line camp to keep the cows from getting over onto the Taylor farm.”

“Good, another hand will be useful.”

We saddled up early and headed for the Owen ranch. There were a few bunches of cattle under the Owen brand on Ron’s ranch. We all understood that this was open range. It was up to Ron to move cows off his range if he didn’t want them there. I thought to myself that the former Owen foreman had gone about taking over Ron’s ranch the wrong way. If he had pushed his cows over here, Ron and Mary working with his small crew would have had a hell of a time moving them off the ground he claimed.

Cows are social animals, liking to be with the same cows they were used to, so we didn’t have to cut the strange cows out. If they had gone through a winter, they would mix, but these hadn’t been here that long. Mary moved in behind one bunch of fifteen and they stayed ahead of her, traveling in the direction she wanted them to. By the time we reached the Owen range, we had thirty-three of a mixed herd pushed before us.

We shagged these cows well inside the Owen ranch so they wouldn’t drift back to the better feed they had just had to leave. Mary headed for the ranch house to park the baby in Naomi’s care. She then came back and worked with us. When she returned, Rita was with her. They rode up to me and asked where they could be of the best use.

“Head up into the pass to the rough range, pushing whatever cattle with the Owen brand nearest the pass. Try to make it cows with calves if you can. Push them far enough into the hills so the Indians can find them. Keep a tally of what you move. This is the stock I’ll be buying and paying John Owen for half of them. I’ll leave two of the Owen punchers to help gather and move them close to you, but I want you two to shove the cattle up into the hills.”

“We can do that. Chance, the Owen punchers are coming behind us soon. There are only four of them. They’ll stand for the brand. Two others quit last night. They didn’t want to work for the man who killed their foreman. Personally, I don’t think they want to work as hard as you are going to make them.”

“Rita, how do they know what I will expect of them?”

“It doesn’t matter. They weren’t used to working very hard. If they had been the ranch wouldn’t be in the condition it is now.” We rode generally first toward the hills. Rita knew I would be splitting off and heading in a different direction soon.

I was just about to turn my horses head when she spoke again, “I have a few things I should tell you. The night after I shot you John Owen arrived. My mother and John were closeted for several hours. She told him just what kind of a hopeless wastrel Junior had been. How he and the foreman spent most of their time in the settlement down the road from the ranch. Junior had been sent up here to become a man, because this was to be his ranch someday.

“You know when Junior’s mother died, Junior sent his father a telegram, saying he had been injured and couldn’t be there for the funeral. That hurt John terribly. Actually, Junior was too drunk to travel. The telegram was my idea. Mother told John the truth when they talked.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you must have wondered why John wasn’t more upset with you when you admitted ordering Junior and the crew fired on and killed. John hadn’t been here for six months. From the reports he was receiving from Junior and the foreman, he thought things were in fine shape.

“John is a fair man, but his first inclination was to gather the crew and retaliate. Looking beyond the apparent appearances because of what mother told him, he felt that the killings at the Pickwell ranch were justified. He was horrified that Mary Pickwell had been injured.

“Sad to say I was part of it. John even yelled at me and the punchers who survived, asking why we went along with the attack. Now he is just trying to make things right. You can thank Mother for telling him the truth.”

“I will. Rita, if you see her before I do, would you ask her to reserve me a dance?”

“That is thoughtful of you, and yes, I will make sure you get a dance with Mom.” I turned my horse and headed to meet up with Ron and the Owen punchers. Mary had been slowly bunching cattle and Rita pushed a few ahead to join them together. Then they both pushed them toward the hills and disappeared into the pass from my sight. I met two punchers and they had cows with calves by the side ahead of them.