Chapter 9: Engaging the Enemy

Sometimes I think I’d give anything for a normal life. You know. One where I grew up, married my high school sweetheart, lived on the ranch inherited from my father, and raised half a dozen kids who gave me grandkids before I was too old to recognize them. At the same time, I would never trade my life with Laramie, the love I experienced with Kat, my cousin’s passion and commitment, or the unbelievable young woman who consented to be my bride.

You know, when I got home I found out more about her stalker on campus. That sweet woman had taken a flower to Caitlin’s grave for me. She’d done that because she knew how much it meant to me to remember that sixteen-year-old whore who died in 1890. It might have been my baby she was aborting. Well, Kyle’s. We were given to understand that she was already pregnant the first time I rode along. But she was a sweet girl who genuinely cared for Kyle, and I believe he had deep feelings for her. To think that Ashley had put herself in danger to make my remembrance to Caitlin for me! How can you ever love someone enough when she shows that kind of compassion?

I can honestly say I gave my heart to Ashley. And I’m glad we got married when we did.

Wedded

Everything happened the last weekend of September. Saturday after we got home from Salem, I took Ashley into town and we chose a simple wedding set. As soon as the clerk handed me the box, I got down on my knee.

“Ashley Kay Brewer, I love you. You are the woman I want to spend my life with. Will you marry me?”

“Cole!” She grinned and cried at the same time. “Yes. Oh God, yes!” I slipped the engagement ring on her finger. There was a bit of applause from the jewelers. When we left the store, Ashley led me down the street to another store. She pointed out another simple wedding set and I bought that one, too. The jeweler could clearly see the ring on Ashley’s hand, so he was a little confused but he didn’t refuse the sale. We rushed home to show Mary Beth.

“It’s so pretty!” Mary Beth said hugging Ashley. I wrapped my arms around them and Ashley told her how I’d got down on my knee in the store to propose. Mary Beth was happy for us, but there was a sparkle of tears in her eyes. She and I couldn’t marry. She loved Ashley and wanted us to be happy. But there was still just a little sadness around the edges.

When we got ready for bed that night, Ashley took care to undress Mary Beth herself. The girls were always loving with each other, though both were clear that they preferred what was between my legs to what was between either of theirs. So, I think Mary Beth was a bit surprised at how lovingly Ashley removed her boots, her shirt, her bra, her jeans, and her panties. Mary Beth kept glancing at me, but I sat back in the side chair as I slowly undressed and watched my two princesses.

When Mary Beth and Ashley were both undressed, Ashley sat Mary Beth on the edge of the bed and knelt in front of her. Mary Beth looked a little worried as Ashley had never made a move that was so suggestive. But it wasn’t what Mary Beth might have thought.

“Mary Beth, we live in Wyoming. I came here from Colorado and I’m proud to call this my home now. I have met and loved not just one, but two wonderful people. But Wyoming law says you can’t marry your first cousin. And even though it was the first place in the country to give women the right to vote, it won’t let them marry each other. But Cole and I both love you. I know that we each love each other differently, but it’s love just the same. You all taught me that. Mary Beth, even though neither of us can marry you, will you stay with us forever and love us till death do us part?” With that, Ashley slipped the second engagement ring off her finger and placed it on Mary Beth’s. I joined Ashley on my knees in front of Mary Beth, took the hand from Ashley and kissed each finger. I turned it over and kissed her palm. Mary Beth was crying and nodding her head and sniffling. When Ashley moved up to the bed to hold her and kiss her, MB’s legs sort of parted in front of me and being who I am, I sort of worked my way up there until I found that honeyed slit where my tongue had something to do.

Ashley’s parents showed up on Wednesday before the wedding. I’d met them before, both at Christmas last year and again when they came out with Ashley’s horse last spring. The first thing her dad did was call the two of us aside.

“Now we’ve been expecting the two of you to get married ever since we came out here last spring, but what’s the hurry? Ashley, are you pregnant?” We laughed then got serious again.

“No Daddy, I’m not pregnant, but I will be as soon as I get out of school and convince this guy to do the job. There’s a lot happening out here and we are in the middle of it. We need each other and we need to be together for this.”

“I’m sorry about your dad, Cole. I thought he was a fine man. That’s not what’s driving you to this, is it?”

“No sir. I admit that Dad’s passing has made me aware of exactly how vulnerable we all are and how fragile life is. And I don’t want to waste a minute of it. But I want Ashley here by my side as my partner in running this ranch. I promise I’ll support her in school and we’ll both finish, though we might not be able to do it as quickly as we’d have liked. This is a critical time and an important decision for us.”

“Support her? I know you must have inherited the ranch, but are you able to make that commitment?”

“Yes. I think you’ll find I have adequate resources to do whatever is necessary, including pay for the rest of her education, if you’d like.”

“That’s not necessary and I wouldn’t ask it of you. I’m a father. I just want what’s best for my daughter.”

“Mr. Brewer, on that account, your goals and my goals are in perfect sync!”

“It’s Chet, Cole. You’re going to be a fine son-in-law. Welcome to the family.”

That wasn’t the end of it, of course. Mary Beth and Ashley had all three moms tied up with wedding plans and multiple trips into town for last minute needs. I needed to make sure Chet Brewer knew exactly what was happening and I needed Angus with me.

“Dad and I used to come out here occasionally to have a cigar,” I said as I led Chet and Angus to the ruined stone chimney that I recognized now as the remains of the log cabin Kyle built for Laramie. “Care to join me?” I asked offering them one of Dad’s best. They accepted and we took a few minutes to cut them and light up. Well, Angus bit his off like Dad had. They’d both agreed they needed to stop smoking when Dad was told his lungs couldn’t take it anymore.

“It’s nice to get out here away from all those women for a while,” Chet laughed. Angus nodded and I grunted.

“You okay, Cole?” Angus asked.

“I’m nervous as a bronc rider,” I said.

“Oh, she’s not gonna be that hard on you,” Chet laughed. “And if she is, I don’t want to know about it.”

“It’s uh ... It’s not that, Chet. It’s you all I’m nervous about.”

“I thought we covered that.”

“There’s a few pieces you don’t know about yet and to be fair, you need to know this.” I told him what was happening in the county with the prices of beef and the condition of the local ranchers.

“How are you going to survive that?” he asked.

“First, we’re going to buy all the hay you can ship up here,” I laughed. “I have the resources to outlast the downturn. But we’re going to be targeted by the bad guys and I don’t want Ashley in a position where she isn’t protected. We suspect that Dad’s accident wasn’t just an accident.”

“Maybe I should take her back to Colorado with me. Are you putting my daughter in danger?”

“We’re all in danger, Chet,” Angus broke in. “I agree with Cole that this is one of the best ways to keep her out of danger. We’ve got a good-sized clan here.”

“Actually, that’s something else I need to tell you, sir.” I don’t know why I got all formal with him again, but his threat to take Ashley back to Colorado really got to me. “Ashley is already one-third owner of the Alexander Bell Cattle Company. That partnership, which includes Mary Beth and me, owns both the Alexander ranch and the Bell ranch, and all the nearly 4,000 head of cattle here.”

“Whoa! Angus? You don’t own your ranch?”

“I sold to Mary Beth and Cole last winter when they bailed us out. He’s telling you the truth, Chet. He has the resources to last and we’ll all be here to help.”

“Let’s see. You and Mary Beth formed a partnership and bought the ranch. Then you made Ashley a one-third owner in it as well?” Chet asked. “How does Mary Beth feel about giving up a third of her family homestead to my daughter?”

“That’s another bit of what I need to tell you, Chet.” I took a deep breath. “Mary Beth lives with Ashley and me. We have a three-way partnership that is more than just a business relationship. I hope you’ll be able to accept Mary Beth along with me, just as Angus accepted both Ashley and me.”

Chet stood up. He turned toward me and started to speak but turned toward Angus and started again. Then he walked away. He didn’t go far—just to the other side of the stone chimney. Then he turned back and flopped himself down on his log seat. He let out a big sigh.

“Celia already knows about this, doesn’t she?” he said, referring to his wife.

“I was forbidden to discuss it with you before Ashley had talked to her.”

“Yeah. I figured it was just wedding stuff or money that she was talking about when she made me promise not to get mad when I talked to you today. I never imagined this.” We sat there in silence a few minutes, puffing on our cigars. Angus pulled out a hip flask and handed it to Chet who took a pull and handed it on absently to me. I took a little slug of Wyoming Whiskey and handed it back to Angus. “You remember when I said that if she was that hard on you I didn’t want to know about it?” he asked me. I nodded. “Well this is something else I don’t want to know any more about. You’ll all three be welcome in our home and we will never say a thing about it, but I really don’t want to know any more. Okay?” I nodded again. Angus handed him the flask again and we passed the rest of the hour discussing our strategies for surviving the cattle depression.

And then it was Saturday and I stood with Uncle Angus beside me in the living room and watched Mary Beth come in from the dining room and take her place as maid of honor. The family was all standing because we didn’t try to put chairs in any order, but when Ashley came through those doors there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. Her dress was knee-length linen with a single row of buttons on the left that went from her collar to her tiny waist along a center placket with ruffled edges. It was topped by a western yoke. The skirt was full and, with the number of petticoats she had under it, it looked like she was ready to go dancing. Especially when my eyes got down to those high-heeled boots.

But I could only spare a moment to look at her pretty legs. Her face was glowing. Her blonde hair hung in ringlets beneath the brim of her white Stetson. Those sparkling eyes, just took my breath away. I hardly noticed her father walking with her until he placed her hand in mine.

“Take good care of her, son,” he said. “You’re not the only one who loves her.”

I looked into those beautiful eyes for the whole ten minutes it took the preacher to bless our rings and have us repeat our vows. When he said I could kiss the bride, I sure did, right there in front of God and everybody. I sure wished Dad was there to be with us. And I thought, why not? I bet the whole family is here. See what I got, Dad? Theresa, I did it. I married her. Laramie, doesn’t she remind you of Kat? They were all there and they were all happy.

Early Sunday morning, Ashley’s brother took us to the airport. He had to catch a flight home so we were on the first leg from Laramie to Denver together. It was going to take almost as long to get from Laramie to Salem by flying as it did driving. But Ashley and I were on our honeymoon, so we booked a couple nights in a fancy hotel in Portland and then Phil had a car pick us up for our business meetings in Salem. We went back to Portland the next day and enjoyed three more nights of loving before we faced the flights home. It was sweet.

Meantime, Mary Beth got to experience firsthand what all the ranchers in the county did that Sunday afternoon. A man knocked on her door after they got home from church and Sunday dinner that Mary Beth took her parents, my mom, and the Brewers to. It was timing on her part to be sure we’d made it to Portland. Angus answered the door.

“Mr. Alexander, I represent a company interested in purchasing your cattle at premium prices. May I speak with you?”

“Never hurts to listen,” he said, letting the man into the living room. “Mary Beth, you need to come listen to this.”

“Actually, Mr. Alexander, in order to proceed with our discussion, I must speak to you under a signed confidentiality agreement. You should really not have family members present.”

“Well, in that case, I’ll be leaving.”

“Wait, sir.”

“No, you don’t understand. I consigned all my cattle and ownership of the ranch to my daughter’s new partnership, Alexander Bell Cattle Company. She owns this ranch and the Bell ranch next door. Technically, she is the person you need to have sign your paper and I’ll leave unless she wants me to stick around.”

“Oh. Ms. Alexander? I’m Howard Case. You have partners in this business venture?”

“Yes, but they are on their honeymoon. If you have a proposition to make, I’m the one you need to talk to. I’ll ask my father to also sign your confidentiality agreement if he will stay here.”

“And are you authorized to make agreements on the part of the partnership?”

“I am, Mr. Case. Let us take a look at this agreement.” Angus sat with his daughter and looked over the confidentiality agreement.

“This provides some pretty stiff penalties for breaking this agreement,” he said.

“That is why we are trying to keep the number of people exposed to this conversation to a minimum. This is a very sensitive matter.” Angus and Mary Beth signed the agreement, MB on behalf of the partnership so she could discuss it with her partners.

“Very well,” said Mr. Case. “I represent Gold Watch Cattle Company. We are a new company that was created by a prestigious think tank in Chicago. You might recognize this name. Our investors include some of the wealthiest men in America. Our focus has been on international trade and the effect of one country dumping products on the international market in an effort to destroy the other’s economy—essentially, economic warfare. You can imagine that this could be pretty serious.”

“And that led you to create a Cattle Company?” Mary Beth asked.

“In a way. We’ve often seen the cycle as it plays out, but studying and observing are only beneficial if they lead to action. In this instance, we have decided to take action.”

“Against what?”

“We believe a foreign influence is flooding the Albany County market with cheap beef. This seems to be a contained effort and is unlikely to affect the commodities market in general, but could have devastating effects on the economy of this county. You may have noticed both a drop in beef prices and a scarcity of winter food.”

“Who hasn’t noticed that? We’ll probably cut our losses and sell out if the price doesn’t pick up by mid-October.” Angus flinched. This was news to him, but he knew that Cole had the resources to start over if necessary.

“We don’t want you to do that. How many head are we talking about?”

“We have 2,537 tagged for market plus our heifers and calves for next year.”

“We would like to place a guaranteed option on your marketable beef of $2.00 per pound on the hoof. One-third payable in January, one-third in February, and one-third in March. By March, your young stock should be ready for summer pastures and you’ll be able to buy more stock for the next season.”

“We were getting $2.05 in August.”

“Yes, but the market price in this county is now $1.80 and falling. We believe $2.00 is a fair offer.”

“But if the market picks up in January, then we’d be out our profit.” Mary Beth was making Case work for his sale. She tried to keep her smirk hidden.

“You will notice this clause,” he said. “The guaranteed option is at $2.00 per pound or market price, whichever is higher. You have no downside.”

“This sounds too good to be true. Do you work for Joe Teini.”

“Ma’am, we believe Joe Teini is being used as the funnel for cheap beef in this county. He has offered 5,000 head a week at a nickel below market since the end of August. And he still seems to have the same 50,000 head on his ranch. He is the enemy. That is why it is so critical that this offer and these terms do not get out. Our intent is to cripple this foreign influencer on the open market so that they cannot sustain their losses and withdraw.”

“Well, there’s just one little problem. Your offer is for live cows and all ours will be dead by first snowfall. We can’t get feed or hay.”

“Since we would effectively own all your cattle, we wouldn’t want that to happen. We will ship in feed monthly to supply your needs.”

“This is expensive. There’s no local feed and it costs a dime a pound more to ship from Omaha. Why are you guys doing this?”

“Ms. Alexander, there are some men who have grown very wealthy in this world through other people’s labor. Their wealth is legitimate, but it is really more than they and their heirs combined could ever spend. So, they give to research, health, science, and any other way they can find to better humanity through their good fortune. The think tank has identified this as a way to support an economy in a new and untried way. Let me assure you that we will also have inspectors visit with every delivery of feed to ensure that you are complying with the terms of the agreement and that our cattle are healthy and accounted for.”

“Sounds like you have everything thought of. Would you excuse me while I phone my partners? They should have arrived at their hotel by now and I might catch them before they are indisposed.”

Of course, Ashley and I were waiting for her call. Mary Beth told us all about the presentation and that any rancher in the county would be a fool to pass it up. I agreed. I was looking forward to seeing the numbers on Wednesday when we got to Phil’s office. We kept Mary Beth on the phone and Mr. Case stewing for half an hour. Most of that time, Ashley and I spent teasing MB about what we were doing to each other and would do to her when we got home. Mary Beth was flushed when she returned to Mr. Case.

“My partners have authorized me to sign the agreement,” Mary Beth said. “You understand that this covers all the cattle from both the former Alexander Ranch and the former Bell Ranch next door, correct?” He nodded. “Then it looks like we need to get some papers signed and the inventory done.”

I wasn’t sure exactly how he’d done it, but Phil had placed 183 agents in Albany County at once. They came from different directions in different makes and models of cars, none of which were linked to the company. They made simultaneous presentations to all the ranchers in the county but two. One was Joe Teini and one was in the hospital. Two ranchers were getting ready to cut their losses and retire by selling their ranches to Joe. They accepted a cash offer of exactly twice what Joe had made and on Monday the deeds were transferred at the County Recorder’s office. One stubborn old guy said he’d never taken charity from anyone and he was determined to fight this on his own and Joe Teini and Gold Watch Cattle Company could both be damned. He agreed, however, that he would keep the terms of the confidentiality agreement.

By eight o’clock Sunday evening, the only agents left in the county were the two closing on property the next day. Gold Watch Cattle Company effectively owned over 120,000 head of cattle. Now if we could just keep it quiet until Joe Teini gave up.

That wasn’t to be. Suddenly no one would talk to Joe about buying out their ranches and no one was putting cattle on the market except Joe. By November, the price of beef in Albany County was down to just over $1.50 a pound and our observers noticed that Joe’s herd was finally beginning to dwindle. Joe didn’t like that.

On November fifth, Harmon Hayes’ house and barn were burned and seven hundred head of cattle were killed. Harmon and his wife died in the fire.

It was the beginning of the second Wyoming Range War.

Gold Watch Cattle Company hired armed guards for every ranch in the County, including ours. Since we had two homesteads, we had double the guards. What nobody knew was that we also had a small army camped in the foothills. The next attack, though, wasn’t on a ranch. Thanksgiving weekend, three hay trucks were firebombed as they crossed the county line in three separate locations. As it happened, a deputy’s car was approaching each of the locations at the same time and flagged all the drivers over and got them out of their trucks before the tanks exploded. There was no doubt in our minds that Joe was using the Sheriff’s office as enforcers. They ticketed the drivers for unlicensed transport of flammable goods.

We responded by putting a tail on every County Mounty. Two deputies resigned and left the county. The county prosecutor opened an investigation into the increased number of ‘accidents’ that were occurring and complaints about the Sheriff’s Office responsiveness. It looked like a stand-off because neither side could openly declare itself. I was going through money—or Gold Watch Trust was—at the alarming rate of close to a million dollars a week. Phil assured me that we could afford it and Phile talked to me to tell me that’s what he collected the money to do. We just tried to keep a low profile while we kept ranchers from going belly-up.

Christmas Eve. Silent night, holy night. I’d just come in from the barn handing out bonuses and wishing all the hands a Merry Christmas before they took off for the day. I was changing clothes for dinner when a rifle bullet tore through my bedroom window. It looked like Joe had figured out that I was the enemy and was firing a warning shot.

I stared out the broken bedroom window—daring the son of a bitch to shoot again. Instead, a shadow flicked across the opening and I heard the call I always waited for but never expected.

Traveling: Spirits of the Land

I was disoriented, not finding myself with Laramie. The room seemed to be empty. I stretched my senses and realized I was in what would eventually become my office. There was the stone fireplace, though the absence of a fire let me know it was summer. Laramie’s bed was still in the room, but there was a desk there, too. I sensed the presence of something pulling at me—something that was always a part of Kyle. On a hat tree in the corner hung my guns. They called to me as much as if they were a part of my soul.

I was happy to be near them and to find they had been kept clean and ready in my leathers. I could feel the fresh ammunition in them, though something told me they hadn’t been fired recently. I hadn’t even known that Laramie kept the guns. I assumed they’d been buried with Kyle’s body. There was something soothing about having them here where they could protect her.

Protection. That was why I was here. I had to protect my family. But I had no body. What good would my guns do me?

I heard gunfire at a distance. Doors were slamming and there were footsteps in the house. People were shouting, inside and out. The door to Laramie’s room flew open, but it wasn’t Laramie who entered. It was an old man, breathing so hard that I thought he’d collapse on the spot. He looked wildly around the room until his eyes lit on my Smith and Wessons.

“I know you’re still here, Kyle,” he said as he approached the hat-tree. “I know you watch over them—us—all. I’m not as much a man as you were, but I love Kat. And I’ll die to save her and Artie and Bonnie. And Laramie and Kaylene, too. We’re all family and I’ll fight for them now.” My awareness put it together. This was Arthur Alexander, the man who gave his name to my maternal line and to Mary Beth. He had to be near seventy. He broke down wheezing and coughing as he reached for my gun belts. “You got to help me, Kyle,” he continued. “I don’t know how to do this. Help me save them.” As soon as he touched my guns I flowed up into him and wrapped myself around his old body.

This was different than any time I’d been back. I couldn’t read his thoughts because I wasn’t inside his mind. I wasn’t dreaming him because I could feel every aching pain in his old body. What I understood was that our wives and children were in danger and Arthur Alexander was asking for my help to save them. That was a call stronger than that of Redtail. I just took control. I could hear him sigh as I moved his hands and fastened the buckles. I cracked his old arthritic knuckles ignoring his winces of pain. I released the safety straps, straightened the old man’s back and walked out of the room.

“Artie!” I commanded as I walked to the front of the house. “Take the women to the back room and stay low. Put out the lights. Here.” I handed him the shotgun that hung above the mantle. “Anything comes through that door, kill it.”

“Arthur?” Kat said as Artie responded to my command and began hustling the women to the back of the house.

“Kat, never forget I love you and our children. Never forget.” I wasn’t sure if that was me or Arthur speaking. I gave her a quick kiss and a gentle shove toward the back of the house. Kat’s daughter Bonnie and my Kaylene followed. Laramie paused and looked me in the eye.

“Be careful, Kyle,” she whispered. “We all love you.” She always knew. I nodded and opened the front door.

Six riders were circling their horses and parading around in front of the house firing guns into the air. It took a minute before they realized I was standing on the porch.

“Look heah!” one shouted. “Arthur’s come out to give us numbers. Who gets first choice, Arthur? I already decided I’m gonna fuck the Indian girl. She owns this spread and I figure that’ll make it mine.”

“Grant,” Arthur’s voice croaked. I took over.

“Grant Slocum! You get you and your boys off my property and stay away from my women.”

“Don’t you talk big now, Arthur? You don’t understand the way things are. You’re an old man. Hell, I tell you what. When you die, I’ll take your little wife along with the others. And I figure now you’re likely to die tonight.”

“I’ve warned you, Grant. Go now or die.” There must have been something about the way I was talking or the way I stood that let the horseman know I was serious. He hesitated a minute then holstered his gun and turned his horse so his gun hand faced me.

“I give you a fair chance. You coulda died an ol’ man, Arthur,” he said. “Well, hell, I guess you are an old man so dying won’t be that tough.”

His hand went for his gun. His shot rang out an echo of my own and his bullet raised dust in the ground at his horse’s feet as his chest blossomed in blood. He fell back from his saddle. I saw other guns turning to bear and my left hand took two as the right dropped two more. In a heartbeat, five riders fell from their saddles and one stood stock still with his hands raised in the air.

“Don’t shoot me, Arthur. I didn’t want to come. You know how Grant threatens people. Don’t kill me in cold blood, Arthur. I’ll go and never come back.”

“Bill Towson,” Arthur said softly.

“Bill!” I hollered. “You ride hell-bent for leather back where you came from. This ground is forever protected. Even if I am dead and buried, I will be here to protect my women and my land. Ride out of here. Warn everyone you see. The spirits of this land do not rest. And we are deadly when we hunt.”

Bill turned his horse and spurred him to a gallop away from the house leaving the carnage behind him. I heard the door bang open as Kat’s voice screamed, “Arthur.” There was nothing I could do to keep the old man from collapsing on the porch in her arms. I supported him as well as I could and spoke to him alone.

“You are a brave man, grandfather.”

“You know as well as I that my blood does not run in your veins,” he said to me. I knew his lips were moving, but I thought no one else could hear.

“The spirit that runs in our descendants is stronger than the blood. I am proud to call you my ancestor and my friend.”

“Show me the way, Kyle.” I saw his spirit pulling away from his body. “Goodbye, Kat. I have always loved you and our children. Raise them well.” Then he was standing before me as a young man. A young woman came to meet him—his first wife, I understood.

“You did well, Arthur. Don’t worry, we’ll meet them again.” She held out her hand to him.

“Rose. You still remember me.”

“How could I ever forget?”

They turned and walked away, but I heard him clearly as he said, “We’ll be waiting when you come.”

“Art? Art! He’s gone,” Kat wailed.

“Pa?” Artie wasn’t looking at his dead father. His eyes were searching around him. I reached out with my mind and hugged him.