“Hire them.
“Yes, sir!” Turley replied, the smile returning.
* * *
Houser was there less than a month when he received a letter from Rosemary Woods, the woman he had left back in Sulphur Springs. He was both angry and shocked to receive the letter. How did she know where he was? He had told nobody where he was going.
Dear Brad,
I hope this letter finds you in good health. When I didn’t hear from you as you promised, I began to worry that something may have happened to you, so I checked with the railroad and found out that you had gone to Chugwater, Wyoming.
What a funny name is Chugwater. I hope that you have found a job there and are saving your money. I am sure that you will send for me as soon as you can.
After I found out where you went, I met a man named Shamrock who said you was his lawyer and he was looking for you. I told him where you was.
Waiting anxiously to hear from you, I remain,
Your
Rosemary
Angrily, Brad tore up the letter. The last thing he needed now was any connection with his past in Sulphur Springs, especially if it was a former saloon girl. And he certainly wasn’t happy to hear that she had told Thomas, or Shamrock, as he was now calling himself. He wouldn’t answer the letter.
Gradually, Brad Houser began to put his mark on the Valley of the Chug. The owner of Twin Peaks Ranch was a vain man who eschewed the jeans and cotton shirts of most ranchers so that he could dress in accordance to what he considered his “station.”
From Ben Turley and the hired hands he demanded servile respect. He very rarely made a personal inspection of the cattle in the field, and when he did do so, he inspected his domain, not from the hurricane deck of a horse, but from the leather padded seat of a surrey.
This morning he was in his ranch office, which was a small, white building that was halfway between what the riders called the “Big House” and the bunkhouse. Houser was going over his books when Ben Turley knocked on the door.
“Yes, Mr. Turley, come in,” Houser called out to him.
“Mr. Houser, we can’t move them cows onto the Pine Flats like you wanted.”
“And may I ask why not?”
“We can’t do it on account of Kenny Prosser’s cows is already there.”
“I thought you told me that Mr. Prescott always used the Pine Flats for grazing.”
“Yes, sir, we’ve done it all the time since I been workin’ here, only the Pine Flats ain’t none of our land. It’s open range, ’n that means that it belongs to whoever is the first person to put their cows on the grass.”
“Not so much as one acre of Twin Peaks is ‘our’ land, Mr. Turley. It is all ‘my’ land,” Houser said.
“Yes, sir, that’s what I meant. Onliest thing is, like I told you, we couldn’t put the cows onto the Pine Flats, seein’ as Prosser’s cows is already there, so what I done is, I put ’em out in the Sweet Grass Pasture.”
“Didn’t you tell me that the Sweet Grass Pasture has been overgrazed?”
“It ain’t entirely over et, but it damn near is.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t Prosser used to ride for Twin Peaks?”
“Yes, sir, he done for a little while, but whenever Mr. Prescott let ever’ body go, well, what Prosser did is, he commenced to homesteadin’ some land, bought hisself some cows, ’n started his own ranch.”
“Bought cows, or stole them?” Houser asked.
“Well, sir, Mr. Prescott, he give ’im twenty head, ’n Kenny, he bought another thirty head from Mr. Prescott, ’n twenty more head from Mr. Lewis over at Trail Back. After that he rounded up some mavericks, around ten or fifteen of ’em, I reckon. So now he’s runnin’ somewhat shy of a hundred head.”
“And now he is grazing on my land.”
“No, sir, it’s like I said, he’s on the Pine Flats, ’n that ain’t nobody’s land.”
“It is grazing that Twin Peaks has always used, you said. And don’t you think Prosser knows that?” Houser asked angrily.
“Yes, sir, I reckon so. ’N ’cause he also knowed it was good grazin’ ’n open range is why I figure he put his cows there.”
“Mr. Turley, I want you to go back out to the Pine Flats and make a thorough perusal of all of Mr. Prosser’s cattle.”
“I beg your pardon, boss? What is it you want me to do to his cattle?” Turley asked, the expression on his face reflecting his confusion at the word perusal.
“Take a close look at them,” Houser explained. “Make a very thorough examination. I want you to make certain that none of Prosser’s cows are wearing the Twin Peaks brand.”
“Well, sir, there’s liable to be fifty of ’em that is, on account of like I said.”
“Do you not think it strange, Mr. Turley, that Prescott would give some cattle to a common cowboy, but he gave none to you, when you were the foreman?”
“No, sir, it ain’t all that strange. He offered me some cows if I wanted to go into ranchin’ my ownself, but he told me if I would stay and help ’im look after the ranch till he died, he’d give me money that would be equal to what the cows was worth.”
“I see. And so now you are asking me for that money?”
“No, sir, Mr. Houser. Mr. Prescott, he done give me that money. And Miz Prescott, she give me some more money to stay on till the ranch got sold to the next owner, which wasn’t very long ’cause you was here within a week.”
“Do you know this man who is running his cattle on the Pine Flats?”
“Yes, sir, I know Kenny pretty good, ’n I don’t think he’d take any Twin Peaks cows. Most especial since he used to work here, ’n even though he don’t work here no more, well,
