“That’s true,” another agreed. “She’s made me an offer for my land.” He paused for a moment before he went on. “And I have to tell you boys, seein’ as how I ain’t got water no more, I think I’m goin’ to take her up on it.”
“What did she offer you, Tony?” Dorchester asked.
“She offered me to buy my stock at half the market price, give me a dollar an acre for my land.”
“A dollar an acre?” Dorchester scoffed. “Why, Tony, your land’s worth forty times that and you know it!”
“It’s worth that with water,” Tony agreed. “But without water, that dirt ain’t doin’ nothin’ but holdin’ the world together. If it weren’t for the fact that she’s letting me water my stock on her land, my cows would all be dyin’.”
“You mean Bailey McPherson is letting your stock water on her range?” someone asked.
“Yeah,” Tony answered. Then he added, “But she’s takin’ every third cow for payment.”
“Every third cow? My God, that’s what she’s askin’?” one of the owners exclaimed. He shook his head. “And here I was, thinking about going to her, hat in hand, to see if I could work out a deal. But every third cow?”
“Tell me, Mr. Vincent, you do agree that keeping two-thirds of your herd is better than letting all of your cows die of thirst, don’t you?” a woman asked.
Dorchester and his guests looked toward the door of the parlor. Bailey McPherson was standing there, smiling triumphantly at the group of landowners.
“What are you taking the cattle for?” Dorchester asked. “I thought you were in the railroad business, not the cattle business.”
“My dear Mr. Dorchester,” Bailey said. “The entire purpose of the Railroad Land Grant Act is to provide a means of income to enable entrepreneurs to have the means to build the railroad. The cattle will help me do that. And of course, the railroad will benefit us all. Think how much easier it will be now to get your cattle to the railhead back in Green River, for shipment to the stockyards in Kansas City and Chicago.”
As always, Dancer was with Bailey, and he looked around assembled men and women in the room until he spotted Hawke. Then, without taking his eyes off Hawke, Dancer walked over to a nearby table where a tray of cookies and several cups sat.
“Would you care for tea or coffee, sir?” Wilson offered, stepping toward the table.
Dancer paid no attention to him. Instead, he continued to stare at Hawke as he reached for a cup.
“Of course, sir, help yourself,” Wilson said weakly as he stepped back away from the table.
Dancer poured himself a cup of coffee, then moved back to stand beside Bailey, all the while staring pointedly at Hawke.
“What do you mean when you say the railroad will help us with our cattle?” Tony Vincent asked. “By the time you are through here, none of us will have any cattle, or land, left.”
Hawke walked over to the service table, all the while returning Dancer’s stare. Wilson took one step toward the table but saw that, as before, his services were neither required nor wanted. He stepped back.
Hawke poured himself a cup of coffee, then returned to his seat, never breaking eye contact with Dancer.
“We needn’t be enemies,” Bailey said. “I’m sure we can work something out. We could have already been discussing it, if I had been invited to the meeting. After all, this is a landowner’s meeting, isn’t it? Wouldn’t the neighborly thing have been to invite me?” She looked pointedly at Dorchester.
“Of course you are welcome here, Miss McPherson,” Dorchester said graciously. “It’s just that since you aren’t facing the same sort of problems the rest of us are, I thought you wouldn’t be interested.”
“Nonsense,” Bailey replied. “If my good friends and neighbors are hurt, then so am I. I want us to find some way to resolve this, if we can.”
“Do you have any suggestions, Miss McPherson?” one of the other ranchers asked.
“Yeah,” another put in. “Can you tell us how to get our water back?”
“I think we might be able to come to some solution whereby I will open a sluice gate to allow a measured amount of water through. For a fee, of course.”
“A fee? You intend to make us pay for the water that by rights is ours anyway?” someone asked angrily.
Bailey shook her head. “Oh, but it isn’t yours anyway,” she said. “The government was very specific about making certain that I had control of the water. All the water. Why, it is absolutely necessary for the operation of steam locomotives. But surely you already knew that.”
“But still, to make us pay for water?” the rancher said. “No. I won’t do that. I’ll see my cattle die of thirst before I pay you one cent for water.”
“Same here,” another said. “I won’t pay for one drop of water.”
“Oh, gentlemen, I do wish you would change your minds,” Bailey said. “I think you will find my rates quite reasonable.”
When nobody answered, Bailey smiled again, then nodded.
“Yes,” she said. “Well, I can see how this might come as a shock to you at first. But I’ll give you gentlemen more time to discuss this. I’m sure that, as you think it over, you will realize that I am offering you a way out. The only way out,” she added pointedly. “Perhaps it was best that I not attend this meeting after all. Do carry on,” she said as she started toward the door.
Dancer set his cup down and left with her, backing out of the room so as not to break eye contact with Hawke.
Shortly after the last of Dorchester’s guests left, a lone rider approached. Hawke could see someone was coming, but it was too dark to make out who.
Thinking it might be one of the landowners who forgot something, he called back into the house, “Mr. Dorchester, there’s a rider coming.”
Dorchester came out onto the porch while Hawke stepped into the shadows and drew his gun, just in case.
“Mr. Dorchester?” a voice called from the dark. “It’s me, Rob Dealey.”
“It’s all right,” Dorchester said, waving to Hawke that he could holster his gun. “It’s my foreman. Or rather, the man who used to be my foreman.” Then, to Rob, he called out, “Come on up, Mr. Dealey.”
Rob rode all the way up to the house, dismounted, and tied his horse at the hitching post.
“I didn’t expect to see you again,” Dorchester said.
“No, sir, I don’t reckon you did. And I didn’t figure on comin’ back, only I found out somethin’ I figured you ought to know.”
“Oh? And what’s that?”
“There ain’t no gold up there in the Sweetwaters.”
Dorchester laughed. “Heavens, man, you didn’t have to tell me that. Eddie and Win have already come back with the report that they didn’t find any gold.”
“Yes, sir,” Rob said. “Only it’s more’n that. They didn’t find no gold, I didn’t find no gold, and there ain’t nobody goin’ to find no gold, ’cause there ain’t no gold there.”
“I can see how it might be frustrating if—”
“No sir!” Rob said again, more forcefully this time. “I ain’t makin’ myself clear. There ain’t no gold there and there never was. Luke Rawlings and Percy Sheridan just put some color around to make it look like there was gold up there.”
“Now, why in the blazes would they do something like that?” Dorchester asked. Then, as soon as he asked the question, he knew the answer.
“Bloody hell!” he said. “I see it all now. This has been a ruse to justify the railroad! There is no gold, and if you want to know what I think…there is no railroad and there never will be a railroad. This was just a way to get land.”
“And water,” Hawke said.
“Yes, and water. I can’t believe I let myself be taken in like this. Now, half my land is gone and my cows are dying of thirst.”
“I don’t know what to do about the land,” Hawke said, “but I can guarantee you that, after tonight, your cows won’t be thirsty again.”
“Why? What do you plan to do?”
“You’re better off not knowing,” Hawke said.
