Journey into Violence (27 page)

C
HAPTER
F
IFTY-SIX

Winter was cracking down hard when Kate and her family moved into their fine new house. Taken from the cabin, the front door with its polished brass fittings was flanked by two Corinthian columns. The front of the house had four windows on the first floor and two bay windows at ground floor level, all glazed thanks to the depredations of Coot Lawson and his gang of rogues. It was a clapboard, white-painted dwelling built in high Victorian style and she considered it a good beginning, replaced only when she built her future mansion in the Greek style with eight columns out front . . . and the same door.

Hank Lowery was buried in the ranch cemetery on the ridge, and Kate placed a gravestone above his grave. Frank wanted the words of “The Longdale Massacre” under Lowery's name, but she would not hear of it, chiding him for wishing to speak ill of the honorable dead.

The ashes of the wagon train dead were placed in timber boxes each marked with a brass plate on the lid that that read N
IRVANA.
The plates, decorated with angels, were fashioned by Marco Salas, and all agreed that he'd done a magnificent job. Kate had a rock cairn built above the grave.

Marco, Jazmin, and their children moved into Kate's vacated cabin and seemed happy enough, but Jazmin was not well mentally. She still cooked, and did it well, but needed all the care, attention, and understanding that Marco and Kate could give her. The men of the KK Ranch tiptoed around her as though they believed that all the male species shared the blame for what had happened to her.

Captain Barrie Delaney and his rogues decided that life ashore was not for them and they left to return to the
Octopus
. As he explained, “Texas is just a tad too lively for poor sailormen, Kate me darlin'. We long for the quiet solitude of the sea and the cry of gulls instead of the roar of six-shooters.”

She hugged the old captain and then said with a tear in her eye, “You're a pirate rascal, Barrie Delaney, but I'll miss you. Please don't return to your old ways. I don't want to hear that you died at the end of a rope.”

He grinned. “Well, Kate, here's the good news. I believe that old Queen Vic bears me no personal animosity and I am free to set a course for West Africa, where her majesty's Royal Navy is paying a gold sovereign for every blackamoor freed from a slave ship. The
Octopus
is a fine, fast craft, and her cannon can make short work of any slaver we encounter. Why, a man can become rich, his pockets full of British gold, in no time.”

“Then good luck to you, Captain Delaney. I'll say a prayer for you every night of my life.”

The old pirate said, “Of course, my offer of marriage still goes, sweet Kate. We can sail the main together.”

She smiled and let him down gently. “I'm wed to the KK, Barrie, but your offer is indeed gracious. Now be off with you before I change my mind.”

* * *

A week before Christmas while a frosting of snow lay on the range and breaths smoked in the cold air, a carriage and pair drew up outside the house with a top-hatted, red-nosed driver at the reins. The ends of his woolen muffler almost trailing to the ground, the man climbed down from the seat and opened the door. A portly man in a fur-collared astrakhan coat stepped down, walked to the house, and introduced himself to Moses, who was acting as a butler in a splendid tailcoat with silver buttons. He bowed the gentleman inside.

Kate met the man in the hallway as Moses announced in a deep tone, “Mr. Barnabas Vanstone Lynn of the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Railroad.”

The man bowed. “At your service, madam.”

“I'm Kate Kerrigan, owner of the KK ranch. What can I do for you, Mr. Lynn?”

“I have made a somewhat arduous journey to speak to you on a matter of the utmost importance, dear lady, to wit: the continuing prosperity of the Kerrigan Ranch.”

“Are you selling something, Mr. Lynn?” Kate said, frowning.

“Selling something? Yes, I am. I'm selling the future, Mrs. Kerrigan. Your future.”

“Then you'd better come into the parlor. Did you use a crystal ball to peer into my future, Mr. Lynn?”

“No, ma'am. I used only my good business sense.”

Moses relieved Lynn of his coat, cane, and hat, and the man sat by the fire and accepted Kate's offer of brandy.

“I've just moved into my house and I apologize for the sparse furnishings,” she said, handing him a glass.

“Your ravishing beauty is furnishing enough for any parlor, dear lady. To say it dazzles the eye is indeed an understatement.”

Kate smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Lynn. You are very gallant.”

Lynn produced a silver cigar case from the inside pocket of his broadcloth coat. “May I beg your indulgence, ma'am?”

“Please do. I enjoy the fragrance of a good cigar.” She waited until the railroad man lit his cigar. “Shall we discuss your business now? Oh dear, I'd quite forgotten your coach driver, Mr. Lynn. I can't leave him waiting outside in the cold.”

“Do you have a kitchen, ma'am?”

“Of course.”

“Then never fear, Jonathan Thorne will find his way to it. He has a nose for such things,” Lynn said. “And now to business, and no, I don't have a crystal ball. You are no doubt aware, Mrs. Kerrigan, that several railroads, including the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe, and the Union Pacific have recently laid tracks deep into West Texas.”

“Yes, I have heard that.” She found his gleaming head more interesting than his talk of railroads. He was completely bald and his scalp looked as though it had been shined with furniture polish.

“Now let me ask you this. Are you wedded to the Chisholm Trail? In other words do your cow”—he put in a verbal space—“boys enjoy a two- to three-month cattle drive through some of the most hostile country in the nation?”

“I've found it both tiring and dangerous.” Where was this talk leading?

Lynn was shocked. “You, a lady, went up the trail to Kansas?”

“I surely did, Mr. Lynn. After all, it was my herd, was it not?”

“Mrs. Kerrigan, you are indeed a remarkable woman, brave as well as beautiful. Now I have another question to ask. Is it true you recently acquired the ranch of one”—he took a small notebook out of a pocket, flipped it open, and read briefly—“Ezra Raven?”

Kate was surprised, but she answered evenly, “Yes, I did. Mr. Raven is deceased and I took over his range.”

“And that makes the KK Ranch the largest in this part of Texas, does it not?”

“Yes. I now run cattle on one and a quarter million acres. But there are bigger ranches elsewhere in Texas if your railroad is interested in buying. I'm afraid the KK is not for sale.”

Lynn smiled. “I'm selling, not buying, Mrs. Kerrigan, remember?”

“Then it is of the greatest moment that you state your business in its entirety.” She drew her eyebrows together, a warning sign that she was growing impatient.

Lynn took the hint. “In short, then here is the case. I put it to you that since yours is the largest ranch in this part of Texas, the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe is willing to lay a branch line that would terminate at a depot on your northern range. In return, we require that you sell us sufficient land for the right-of-way and for the cattle pens and other service buildings pertaining thereto. Of course, these structures will be located only in and around the rail terminal.”

Pouring Lynn another brandy gave Kate time to think. She understood the advantages of the branch line but wanted the railroad man to spell them out. “What do I have to gain, Mr. Lynn?” She fluttered her eyelashes, playing the innocent.

But Barnabas Lynn was not fooled, and he smiled, enjoying the young woman's ruse. The railroad man raised his hand in what was almost a benediction. “Here are the facts, ma'am, succinctly told and with the utmost sincerity. One—you will never need to make a trail drive to Kansas ever again. Your cattle will be loaded into boxcars and carried directly to the Chicago stockyards. Two—other ranchers will drive their herds to the KK for shipment and you can charge a toll for access. Three, and here is more good news—the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe will discount the fee it charges for your cattle shipments by twenty percent.” Lynn beamed. “There is bounty for you.”

Kate nodded. “Since your rails will cross my range and the depot will be on my property, the discount will be thirty-three-and-a-third percent . . . one third of the usual charge.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Mrs. Kerrigan.” He looked like someone had just hung a black wreath on his door.

“Yes, I do, don't I?”

“And you don't seem at all impressed by the fact that the railroads will forever end the trail drives to Dodge City and other places,” Lynn said.

“I've long anticipated such a development, Mr. Lynn. The times are changing and I will change with them,” Kate said. “Running beef off my cattle during their two months on the trail never seemed to me like a winning proposition. Besides, on a personal note, I have no love for Dodge City, nor, I fear, for any other Kansas cow town.”

Lynn leaned back in his chair, his brandy glass parked just under his nose. He seemed deep in thought.

“Well? Is it a deal, Mr. Lynn?”

“The railroad will make you a rich woman, Mrs. Kerrigan. You will find that shipping by rail is fairly expensive, but that cost is offset by the fact that it is a considerably more efficient way to move cattle. Your herds will arrive at market heavier and healthier and that means more money per head in the pocket of the rancher. I will provide you with the facts and figures with the contract at a later date.” Making a weak attempt at a joke, “You'll soon be able to buy all the furniture you want, Mrs. Kerrigan.”

“Do we have an agreement, Mr. Lynn?”

“Yes. The AT&SF will waive one-third of our normal shipping fee in return for rail access as far as the piney woods.”

Kate and Lynn talked for a while about cattle pens, train availability, and how much damage there would be to her northern range. Later, satisfied with his answers, she led him into the hallway. Moses rousted the coachman from the warm kitchen, where he'd been sampling Jazmin's bacon and biscuits.

Lynn's parting words before he climbed into his coach were, “Weather permitting, we will start to lay track right away, Mrs. Kerrigan. I confidently expect that you and the other ranchers will be able to ship cattle after the coming spring roundup.”

After Lynn drove away, Frank Cobb stepped beside Kate. “What was that about? He was here for an hour at least.”

Kate drew her shawl closer around her shoulders and shivered. “Come inside and I'll tell you all about it.”

* * *

Kate had poured a brandy for Frank, but he held the drink in his hand without tasting it. Only when she stopped talking did he down the brandy in one gulp.

“If what you're telling me comes true, this is the end of an age, Kate. Soon the cattle drives will pass into history along with Jesse Chisholm and Charlie Goodnight and the rest of them. It was a way of life, a good way, and I'll be sorry to see it go.”

“It will come to pass, Frank. It's the beginning of a new era of growth and expansion, and the KK will grow right along with it.”

“You're building an empire, Kate. I'm not much of a one for empire building. Sometimes a man grows so big and so rich so fast he loses sight of the things in life that really matter.”

Kate shook her head. “I'm not building an empire, Frank. I'm laying the foundation of a dynasty and I want you to be a part of it. In due time, my sons will take over the running of the KK, and I'll need you at their side. You're my rock, Frank, and I want you to be a rock for Trace and Quinn.” She smiled. “And for little Peter Letting, Esquire.”

“I'll be here as long as you need me, Kate.” That was all Frank needed to say.

“Thank you,” Kate said.

And to a man like Frank Cobb, that was all she needed to say.

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New York Times
and
USA Today
Bestselling Authors
W
ILLIAM
W. J
OHNSTONE
with J. A. Johnstone

 

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