base. His wife had just died, leaving him with a sixteen-year-old daughter and mounting debts. In a move that some called bold, but most called foolish, Dorchester sold everything he owned and came to America to start a cattle ranch.
Now, his ranch, Northumbria, was one of the largest in the territory, and his twenty thousand head of cattle had made him rich beyond his wildest dreams.
“Good morning, Father.”
Looking up from his paper, Dorchester smiled at his daughter. Pamela was twenty-one, tall and willowy, with blue eyes and dark hair. She moved with the easy grace of someone unaware of her own beauty.
“Good morning, my dear.”
“Did you sleep on it?” she asked as she took her seat. “Just toast and tea,” she said to Wilson, who stepped up to the table.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Did I sleep on what?”
“Come on, Father, you mustn’t tease,” Pamela said. “We talked about it last night, and you said would sleep on it.”
“Oh. You must be talking about your trip to Chicago.”
“Yes. May I go? It’s only three days by train. I’ll stay no more than a week, then I’ll come right back home, I promise. I’ll be gone for two weeks at the most. Please, Father, may I go?”
“I’ve thought about it,” Dorchester said with a stern expression on his face.
“And?” The expression on Pamela’s face was one of concern that he was about to say no.
Suddenly, a big smile spread across her father’s face. “You may go,” he said.
“Oh, Father! Thank you, thank you!” Pamela said. She jumped up from her chair and hurried around the long table to kiss him in appreciation.
Poke Wheeler and Gilley Morris stood in the parlor. Neither had ever been in a house this elegant before now. In fact, it had been some time since either of them had been in a house of any kind.
“Lookie here,” Poke said, running his hand over the back of one of the chairs. “You ever seen leather this soft? What kind of cow you reckon this here leather comes from?”
“I don’t know,” Gilley said. “Maybe they’s special cows that’s got skin like that.”
“Ain’t none that I ever seen,” Poke said. “And I’ve saw lots of cows.”
“Maybe it’s from the kind of cows they got in India or China or somethin’.”
Poke looked at Gilley. “That don’t make no sense. Cows is cows.”
“Not if they are over in China or India, or some such place,” Gilley replied. “The people is different over there. I mean, look at the Chinamen with their eyes and all. Why, I reckon the cows could be different too, and maybe one of the things is, they got real soft skin.”
“I’m goin’ to sit down and see jus’ how soft this is,” Poke said.
Poke had just settled in the chair when the owner of the house came into the room.
“Don’t sit anywhere, don’t touch anything.”
Poke jumped up quickly.
“Do you know what to do? Do you know where to go and what time to be there?”
Poke nodded. “Yeah, we know. Why are you helpin’ us?”
“I have my reasons.”
“And you don’t want none of the money?”
“No. I don’t want any of your money.”
“Listen,” Poke said. “Seein’ as you don’t want none of the money or nothin’, then you must have another reason for helpin’ us. That bein’ the case, you reckon you could see your way clear to lend us just a little money till the job is done? I mean, maybe just enough for us to get us a good supper, and a couple of drinks before we go.”
“I’ll give you five dollars apiece now. But if you get drunk and fail to do your job…well, let’s just say that I will be very disappointed.”
“You don’t be worryin’ none about us. We’ll do our job, all right.”
“I’ll be counting on that. Now, please leave my house. You are smelling up the place.”
“Come on, Gilley,” Poke said. “Let’s go get us some supper.”
Chapter 3
AFTER LEAVING COLORADO, HAWKE RODE UP INTO the Wyoming Territory. He was following the Green River north, not sure where it would take him and not particularly caring. The river snaked out across the gently undulating sagebrush-covered prairie before him, shining gold in the setting sun, sometimes white where it broke over rocks, other times shimmering a deep blue-green in the swirling eddies and trapped pools.
The mountains on the far northern horizon were purple and mysterious, but a closer range of wild and ragged mountains to the east of him were dotted with aspen, pine, cottonwood, and willow. There were bare spots of rock and dirt in between the trees on the mountains, then sometimes gray and sometimes red, but always distant and foreboding.
Late in the afternoon a rabbit hopped up in front of Hawke and bounded down the trail ahead of him. Hawke stopped his horse, pulled his rifle from the saddle scabbard, looped his leg around the pommel, raised the rifle to his shoulder and, resting his elbow on a knee, squeezed the trigger. He saw a puff of fur and a spray of blood fly up. The rabbit made head-first somersault, then lay perfectly still.
Stopping for the day, Hawke made camp under a growth of cottonwoods. He skinned and cleaned the rabbit, skewered it on a green willow branch and suspended it between two forked limbs over the fire. When it was golden brown, he seasoned it with his dwindling supply of salt and began eating, pulling the meat away with his teeth even when it was almost too hot to hold.
After his supper, Hawke stirred the fire, then lay down alongside it, using his saddle as a pillow. He stared into the coals, watching the red sparks ride a heated column of air high up into the night sky. There, the still- glowing red and orange sparks joined the jewel-like scattering of stars.
He had a full belly, a good fire, a good horse, and a nearby supply of water. He was content.
Dorchester accompanied his daughter to the depot in Green River, riding in a coach and four. The coach was filled with luggage, ranging from the small valise and train case she would carry on with her, to several large suitcases and trunks that were checked through and would make the trip in the baggage car.
“Now, you are sure you have enough luggage?” her father teased. “I wouldn’t want you to get to Chicago and suddenly find that you didn’t have a dress, a hat, a pair of shoes, or the armoire from your bedroom.”
“Father, you know all of this isn’t for me,” she told him. “I’m taking some gifts to Carol. She will be the first of our relatives I’ve seen since we left England.”
Dorchester chuckled. “She’s your relative, my dear, not mine. She is your mother’s niece.”
“Nevertheless, she is the only relative I have, and I intend to enjoy my visit with her.”
Dorchester leaned over and kissed his daughter on the forehead. “Of course you do, and you should. I was just teasing you a little. I want you to have a wonderful time. Give your cousin my regards.”
“It’s not too late for you to come with me.”
Dorchester shook his head. “I had better stay with the ranch. But I do want you to send me a telegram as soon as you arrive in Chicago. I want to make certain you got there safely.”
Pamela laughed. “Really, Father, do you think the train is going to be attacked by Indians? Don’t worry about me. I should be worrying about you. If I’m not there to see that you eat properly, you are quite likely to forget.”
“Chicago is very large, you know, not like the small towns we have here. You must watch yourself while you are there.”
“Father, I will be all right.”
“Board!” the conductor called.
“Oh, I must get aboard now,” Pamela said. She kissed her father, then hurried to the train and stepped up
