Tilden nodded his handsome head. “Send some of the crew into town, start stakin’ out lots. Folks gonna be foggin’ in here pretty quick.”
“What are you gonna call the town, boss?”
“I knew me a Mex gal years back, down along the Animas. Her last name was Fontana. I always did like that name. We’ll call ’er Fontana.”
Tilden Franklin sat alone in his office, making plans. Grand plans, for Tilden never thought small. A big bear of a man, Tilden stood well over six feet and weighed a good two hundred and forty pounds, little of it fat. He was forty years old and in the peak of health.
He had come into this part of Colorado when he was twenty-five years old. He had carved his empire out of the wilderness. He had fought Indians and outlaws and the elements…and won.
And he thought of himself as king.
He had fifty hands on his spread, many of them hired as much for their ability with a gun as with a rope. And he paid his men well, both in greenbacks and in a comfortable style of living. His men rode for the brand, doing anything that Tilden asked of them, or they got out. It was that simple.
His brand was the Circle TF.
Tilden rose from his chair and paced the study of his fine home—the finest in all the area. When that Matt What’s-His-Name had ridden into this part of the country—back three or four years ago—Tilden had taken an immediate dislike to the young man.
And he didn’t believe Matt
Still, Tilden had always had the ability to bully and intimidate other men. He had always bulled and bullied his way through any situation. Men respected and feared him.
All but that damned Matt.
Tilden remembered the first day he’d come face to face with Matt. The young man had looked at him through the coldest eyes Tilden had ever seen—a rattler’s. And even though the young man had not been wearing a short gun, there had been no backup in him. None at all. He had looked right at Tilden, nodded his head, and walked on.
Tilden Franklin had had the uncomfortable and unaccustomed sensation that he had just been graded and found wanting. That, and the feeling that he had just been summarily dismissed.
By a goddamned saddle-bum, of all people!
No, Tilden corrected himself, not a saddle-bum. Matt might be many things, but he was no saddle-bum. He had to have access to money, for he had bought that whole damned valley free and clear. Bought most of it, filed on the rest of it.
And that woman of his, Sally. Just thinking of her caused Tilden to breathe short. He knew from the first day he’d seen her that he had to have her. One way or the other—and she was never far from his thoughts.
She was far and above any other woman in the area. She was a woman fit to be a king’s queen. And since Tilden thought of himself as a king, it was only natural he possess a woman with queen-like qualities.
And possess her he would. It was just a matter of time.
Whether she liked it, or not. He feelings were not important.
Three hours after leaving his cabin, Smoke rode up to the Colby spread. He halloed the house from the gate and Colby stepped out, giving him a friendly wave to come on in.
Colby’s spread was a combination cattle ranch and farm, something purists in the cattle business frowned on. Colby and his family were just more of them “goddamned nesters” as far as the bigger spreads in the area were concerned. Colby had moved into the area a couple of years before Smoke and Sally, with his wife Belle, and their three kids, a girl and two boys. From Missouri, Colby was a hardworking man in his early forties. A veteran of the War Between the States, he was no stranger to guns, but was not a gunhand.
“Matt,” he greeted the rider. His eyes narrowed at the sight of the twin Colts belted around Smoke’s waist and tied down. “First time I ever seen you wearin’ a pistol, much less two of them.”
“Times change, Colby. You heard the gold news?”
“Last week. People already movin’ in. You wanna come in and talk?”
“Let’s do it out here. You ever seen a boom town, Colby?”
“Can’t say as I have, Matt.” The man was having a difficult time keeping his eyes off the twin Colts. “Why do you ask?”
“There’s gold running through this area. Not much of it—a lot of it is iron and copper pyrites—but there’s enough gold to bring out the worst in men.”
“I ain’t no miner, Matt. What’s them pyrites you said?”
“Fool’s gold. But that isn’t the point, Colby. When Tilden Franklin learns of the gold—if he doesn’t already know—he’ll move against us.”
“You can’t know that for sure, Matt. ’Sides, this is our land. We filed on it right with the Government. He can’t just come in and run us off.”
The younger man looked at Colby through hard, wise eyes. “You want to risk your family’s lives on that statement, Colby?”
“Who are you, Matt?” Colby asked, evading the question.
“A man who wants to be left alone. A man who has been over the mountain and across the river. And I won’t be pushed off my land.”
“That don’t tell me what I asked, Matt. You really know how to use them guns?”
“What do you think?”
