Chapter 18

Author Hastings

When the ladies had settled down, we discussed the supper that we were going to provide our guests that evening. We decided on a pork roast from a pig we had purchased from one of the locals, roast potatoes, string beans, and carrots. For desert we would have the apple cobbler that I had promised. All the food, except the fresh apples, could be explained as being purchased from farmers we met on our trip. We would explain the apples as the last unspoiled ones from a barrel we had purchased in Tucson. This meal, along with the after supper good cigars and whisky that I had programmed into the replicator, would keep the local army mellow and friendly. I had a feeling that this might be important down the road.

As the ladies worked on the meal, I had the men help me set up the two small tables we had about nine feet apart. We then took a couple of boards from on of the freight wagons and placed them on the tables to give us a long table top. The few chairs we had were joined by boxes and barrels to provide seating. With the addition of a tarp overhead to provide shade, we were as ready as possible. And shortly before five, our guests arrived.

“Gentlemen welcome,” I said in greeting. “Let me introduce you to everyone.” With that I introduced them to each member of my party with handshakes all around.

“We’re happy to meet all of you,” said Captain Pierce. Turning to Tara he added, “The three of us are grateful for your kind invitation to dine with you.”

“You’re very welcome Captain and I hope that when we are settled into a home we will have the opportunity to repeat the occasion in a more civilized situation,” Tara responded.

“The presence of you and these other ladies will make this the most pleasant meal we have had in many a month,” the Captain replied.

As they were talking, Ana and Mia placed the food on the table. As everyone found seats we proceeded to dig in to the abundant food. Our guests were very appreciative of the fresh vegetables. I guess it was a big improvement over beef, beans, and hardtack.

After the last of the cobbler was disposed of, the ladies started to clean up and Rory, Diego, and I settled down with the officers to enjoy cigars and whisky. I know that by modern standards this was sexist, but we were in the 1860s and this was the way things were done. As I had prearranged with them, Cal and Tye had taken the sergeant and a bottle down to a shady spot near the river to compare war stories and tell lies. As they walked away I was reminded of something I once read describing the difference between a fairy tale and a war story. A fairy tale begins with, “Once upon a time”; a war story begins with, “No shit, this really happened.”

As we sat and relaxed, I said to the Captain, “Captain Pierce, in addition to the pleasure of your company, I had another reason for inviting you to supper. I wanted to tell you of our plans and get your input on the best way to proceed. You have more information and a better feel for the local situation, so any advice you can give me would be greatly appreciated.” I then informed him of my plans for a big ranching and farming spread along the Verdi River.

“Well I have good news and bad news for you about your plans,” he said. “The bad news is the fact that the best land for your plans is already taken. The Castro’s have over 20,000 acres on both sides of the river, it’s from an old Spanish land grant from about 150 years ago, and the federal courts have upheld their claim. North of them, Snidely Whiplash has a spread of over 7,000 acres. He’s also putting a lot of pressure on the Castro’s to sell out dirt cheap.”

“Whiplash is one vile piece of work,” he continued, “I’ve been told that, working with some corrupt officers in the quartermaster corps; he made a real killing during the war, selling the army bad salted beef, hardtack with sawdust in it, and uniforms and boots that fell apart on the first march. There was a big investigation after the war and a few of the big shots went to jail, but most of the problems got covered up. The rumor is that some influential congressmen’s relatives were involved, so the matter was dropped after a few sacrificial lambs were convicted. The story I was told was that Whiplash took off with his loot when the investigation started, and as a result got lost in the shuffle.”

“Wow, that just shoots my plans all to hell,” I said. “I’m going to have to think of something else. What a letdown.”

“Hold on now, just hold on,” he responded “you haven’t heard the good news. The Castro’s want to sell, but not for the ridiculous price Whiplash is trying to pressure them into accepting. He’s offering them $3,000 for a 20,000 acre spread.”

“That’s ridiculous, how does he hope to pull that off?” I asked.

With a grimace and a shake of his head, he said, “The Castro’s have been having a run of bad luck, if you can call it that. They’ve lost a lot of cattle in the last year, and several of their vaqueros have been shot, none killed so far but it’s only a matter of time. About the only thing he hasn’t tried is to tie Maria Castro to some railroad tracks to get them to sell out. They want to sell and use the money to move to, and improve, a large family rancho in California that their two sons are running for them, but they want a fair price. Everyone knows that Whiplash is behind it all, but nothing can be proven. Adding to that, the army can’t get involved in a civilian matter, and the federal marshal for Arizona, Matt Dillon, is way down in Tucson, and he has only a few deputies to cover the entire territory. So, with no evidence, there is little he can do about the situation.”