Chapter 7

The morning of the most important day in Wilkins’s history dawned just as a thousand others had. Bright, Clear, and dry. Those that arose early to take advantage of the cooler temperatures had already begun their daily chores. Usually, these folks would catch up on their sleep during the Mexican custom of siesta. An early afternoon, 2 or 3-hour nap, preferably in the coolest place available.

However, some jobs required constant supervision. The telegraph was one of them, or was supposed to. The Western Union Company had recently hired young Stanley Justin. He was assigned to the new station at Wilkins, Nevada, of the New Mexico Territories as the junior telegrapher.

Wilkins wasn’t more than a wide spot in the road and not a very wide road at that. Stanley was a newcomer to the area. Being the newcomer to the area had been a bit bothersome, but Stanley liked where he was. Being the only telegrapher, even the junior telegrapher, meant that he was a big fish in a small pond. And, therefore, an important person in Wilkins. A fact that some of the unattached young ladies found interesting. Being employed and receiving a regular paycheck helped. But sometimes the job got to be a bit too much. Trying to explain to people the company rules about when he could work got to be downright tiresome.

Unfortunately, there were no other telegraphers available. No senior telegrapher. No master telegrapher. Not even a messenger, the bottom end of the Western Union employment scale. Just Stanley. Stanley had been assured that senior telegraphers and a station master would soon be sent, as soon as they could be found. Until then, however, Stanley needed to do the best he could.

Further complicating the situation was Western Union rules as to who could work, what hours. It had been determined that the only position or hours that a junior telegrapher could work would be the so-called first shift. These ran from midnight to eight AM. The company also had no provisions for, and had strict penalties, concerning overtime.

There was an exception to the rule. As there always is. That being that IF a junior telegrapher, on duty, received a message that ran over the time limit of that telegrapher’s shift, The Junior Telegrapher could finish the message without penalty.

Stanley eventually was able to come up with a solution acceptable to the townsfolks. He built a message board where you could leave your outgoing messages. The ones that couldn’t wait for the Wells Fargo Stage. And the money needed for those messages. Then Stanley would get them on the wires as soon as his shift started.

The problem was that incoming messages couldn’t be guaranteed. If they came in while Stanley was off duty, there wouldn’t be anyone available to write them down. This was the situation that happened this day.

It was on this momentous day that Stanley received THE MESSAGE. Quite simply, it informed Joshua Anderson (Col. Ret. US ARMY) that the Territorial Governor had approved his purchases of the following land sections. That those purchases have been recorded in the official records for the Territory, and was Signed by the Nevada Territorial Governor.

What followed was a long string of letters and numbers.

Stanley didn’t know it, but what it came down to was that Joshua Anderson (Col. Ret. US ARMY) now owned, lock stock and barrel over 16000 acres of the territory. This included the Ruis Hacienda. The eight sections surrounding that. And the 16 sections surrounding that.

The time that it took for the message to come through put Stanley into overtime. Which, according to the strict rules of the company he was able to take. BUT at the end of the message, he was required to put out the “All Stations” Notice that he was shutting down. It was immediately after doing this that the keys went crazy, Demanding attention. Stanley was diligent in following the company’s rules and didn’t respond to those demands. However, it had been his past habit to listen and interpret messages to hone his telegraphy skills. Because of the apparent urgency and speed of these messages, Stanley started writing them down. He was shocked to see that these messages were directed to Obie Jackson. Messages advising him of the Anderson land purchases. Messages demanding explanations of who Joshua Anderson was.

There was also a message for Mr. Anderson. It was short and very cryptic. All it said was ten days. And was signed XO. Stanley debated including it with the original message.

Stanley sat and thought about what he was reading from the wires. It confused him. He knew that Mr. Anderson He had asked everybody to call him Joshua, But Stanley still called him Mr. Anderson. Was trying to buy the old Ruis place. The rumor was that it was haunted, which would be neat. It would mean more people moving into the area. But so much land. Stanley wasn’t quite sure what a section was, but he knew that 24 of them was a lot of land.

Stanley also knew that Mr. Anderson was waiting for a message from Tucson, this message. He hadn’t been difficult about it. In fact, when He asked about it, he was always polite and inquired to Stanley’s family and friends. Teasing him about the local girls and the obvious flirting he was subjected to. Usually Stanley would seal messages in an envelope and post them on his message board. But he KNEW that this was an important message and decided to take it to Mr. Anderson. And because He was always pleasant, Stanley would include the other message also.

After closing the office, Stanley walked over to the Majestic Hotel. He knew that Mr. Anderson had a room there. And while he wasn’t always there, He would probably be in the Saloon next door. Checking the Saloon first, Stanley was happy to see Him seated at the rear of the room, talking to the two fancy ladies that worked in the saloon.

Now it wasn’t that Stanley was abstinent. Either with spirts or women. He didn’t have a lot of experience with either. As he approached the group, he could feel the blood rushing to his face. “I’ve got a message for you, Mr. Anderson. I think it’s the one you’ve been waiting for from Tucson. “ He handed the first yellow form and the second to Joshua. “There’s another message here. But I kind of cheated with this one. I wasn’t supposed to take it.”

The younger lady spoke up, “OOO Maybelle, you were wrong, he will break the rules. I think I should take you upstairs, sonny. See what other rules you’ll break.”

Joshua spoke up, “Julieann, Behave yourself. Mr. Justin is a nice young man. He just needs a bit of salt on his tail. Give him time, and I’ll bet he spins your wheels before he’s done.”

“Joshua, I don’t know who’s the sweeter of you two. Both Maybelle and I have offered you free rides, which you have turned down. Politely I’ll grant you. But watch your step big man, we might trip you yet.” Turning back to Stanley, “Sweetie, For you, the first one’s free. But you got to go upstairs with me first.”

Maybelle spoke up, “Whoa, hang on there bitch. We go by seniority around here. He wrinkles the sheets with me first.” Turning to Stanley, “How bout it Honey Child? You, Me? I’ll make the sunrise with a youngster like you?”

While all of this had been going on, Joshua was reading his messages. At the end, he had a big smile. “Stanley, this was great news. Thank you.” Digging into his pocket, he came out with a $50.00 gold piece. “Here ya go, boy. Now get out of here before that turns into an old man’s blush. Ladies, Stanley is off-limits for 48 hours.” He called out in a loud voice, “Bart, Get Stanley ONE and only ONE beer.”

“Son, this one’s on me. But I don’t want you spending that tip in here. I don’t care if you put it in the bank, or a sock in your mattress, but hang onto it. Wait a month. THEN if you want, bring it back, buy Maybelle a beer and yourself a ride, with my thanks.”

“OK, Mr. Anderson, If you say so.” Stanley then flew across the saloon to the beer waiting for him at the bar.

Maybelle looked at Joshua, “You can be a real stinker at times.”

“I know, darling. But if you water that young sapling the right way, He’ll be a mighty oak before you know it.”

“Ain’t it the truth, Ain’t it the truth.”

The day before the big day, Joshua started getting ready. With the same sense of impatience of a child anticipating Christmas, He took the time to get his best clothes cleaned and brushed. For himself, He spent $2.00 for a sit-down, hot water bath. Followed by a haircut and shave.

That night he avoided Bart’s saloon and the usual poker game. He ordered a light dinner be sent to his room, but ate little of it.

Before sunrise the next day, He rose and began preparing. With all the care and attention to detail of a matador, Joshua dressed for the day. As he stood in front of the mirror, looking at his reflection, he thought of the people, men, women, and children that had failed to complete this journey. The men fallen in combat, the women, caught up in the terrors of war that they couldn’t change or control. The children’s lives unfulfilled, cut tragically short.

And he thought of the lives that he, personally, was responsible for. The men he had ordered into hopeless battle. The scavenge orders given. Knowing that while he and his men ate the proceeds, women and children would starve.

The war was over. The last shots fired in anger had long ago faded. All Joshua had left was shame and a passion to right wrongs made by himself and others.

It was the days, weeks, and months following the war. Seeing the continuing brutality made by opportunistic civilians and an uncaring government, against those worst affected by the war, that Joshua Anderson formed a plan. A plan not to absolve his own guilt over what had been done. Something like that would be impossible. Only God had that power. But a plan to bring comfort to those damaged most by the national tragedy.

Their ranks included both blue and butternut. Private, Sergeant, and Officer. The entrance requirements were few but membership selective. Those having heard the wheet of a bullet in combat, or, as the poet said, having seen the elephant, were welcome.

These were men that had walked through the horrors of war. All had suffered, All were wounded. Some carried their wounds for all to see, Scars, and missing limbs. Some carried their wounds quietly and without fanfare. Some functioned, some needed help. All were brothers in the Regiment.

Also included were the families of these men. And the families of the fallen. But membership was not limited to veterans or families. Included were unfortunates displaced by not only the ravages of war but the ravages of immoral and evil people. Who thought nothing of taking from those unable to defend themselves. These also were accepted and given protection.

Collectively they called themselves “The Regiment.” Their philosophy, He called “Cavalry.”

So, an organization was formed, and Colonel Joshua Anderson was named its leader. Membership was not limited. Man, woman, or child were welcome. The only requirement was a loyalty to the Regiment above all other things.

It had been decided by the command and approved by the membership that the best way to accomplish the Regiment’s mission was to find a place, large enough, remote enough, that the various requirements could be accomplished with a minimum of outside interference. Scouts had been sent out to find locations that would fit these requirements.

The search included large and small communities throughout North America. Canada and Central America were also included. It was suggested that South America and the Pacific Islands also be looked at. But that idea was held in reserve until it was determined that the current search was fruitless.