“That is most astute of you, young man,” Frewen said.
“That’s what Mr. Jensen told me, and I haven’t forgotten it,” Winnie said.
“Nor should you,” Frewen said. “I am afraid there will always be a struggle of good versus evil. And we must always strive to be on the side of good.”
“Enough talk about killing,” Clara said. “Let’s do find a more pleasant subject of discussion, shall we? Winnie, what about you? Now that you have been here for a few days, what do you think of America?”
“Oh, I find it a most delightful place,” Winnie said. “Sometimes it is like being at sea, one can look all the way to the edge of the world. If Papa were American and Mama British, instead of the other way around, why, I might live here and be a cowboy.”
“Not necessarily so,” Clara said. “Moreton is British and I am American, yet here we are and here we live.”
“You want to be a cowboy, do you?” Teasdale asked.
“Yes, sir. I’ve read about cowboys. They are knights of the range.”
Teasdale chuckled. “You might not think that after a spring roundup when they have gone for a month or more without a bath, or even a change of clothes. Dirtier creatures you have never seen.”
“I don’t feel that way,” Frewen said. “I have found the men who work for me to be honorable, loyal, even noble men. Some of them have died defending the ranch. What more could you ask of any man?”
“More than likely they weren’t defending the ranch as much as they were defending themselves,” Teasdale said. “The cowboys who were killed on the island, those who were killed at the Taney Creek line shack, and the young man who was just killed, Burt Rawlings, were all fighting for their own lives.”
“Lives that had been put in peril because they were employed by me. I have nothing but admiration for them,” Frewen said.
“You know, Moreton, that could be your problem,” Teasdale said.
“What are you talking about?”
“You are too easy on your cowboys. You seem to be suffering higher losses to the rustlers than anyone else. How do you know that your cowboys aren’t the ones who are stealing from you?”
“Because as I mentioned earlier, seven of them have already died defending the ranch. No, we all know who the culprit is here. It is Sam Logan and his band of cutthroats.”
“Well, I can’t deny that,” Teasdale said. “It certainly seems as if the Yellow Kerchief Gang is having their way with the rest of us. The wonder is that the law has made no effort to stop them, or to bring them to justice.”
“The law? Hurrumph!” Frewen said, making a scoffing sound deep in his throat. “There is no law in Johnson County except for whatever law we can provide for ourselves. That is why I hired Matt Jensen, and that is why I assumed the role of judge in the recent court case. Only if we show these brigands that we mean business will we ever have peace here.”
“Well, there is no need for me to reiterate my disagreement with you, so I’ll just let it go at that,” Teasdale said.
Teasdale looked over at young Winston Churchill, who had been following the conversation with concentrated attention.
“I’ll just bet this young man would go after Sam Logan and the Yellow Kerchief Gang all by himself, if you would let him,” Teasdale said.
“Sir, I would like to think that I am not without courage, but neither am I without good sense,” Winnie replied. “I have no wish to encounter these outlaws.”
“A wise decision,” Teasdale said. “But tell me, what does a young man like you do out here, so far away from your own home and friends?”
“I like it here,” Winnie said. “But I would like it even more if I had a horse.”
“A horse?” Jennie said. “Heavens, Winnie, what would you do with a horse?”
“Why, I would ride him, Mama. I would ride him all over Uncle Moreton’s ranch.”
“And what would you do, as you rode all over the ranch?” Frewen asked.
“That is easy. I would punch cattle,” Winnie insisted.
“Punch cattle?” Jennie said.
“Yes, don’t you remember, Mama? Mr. Jensen told us that is what cowboys do.”
“Yes, I do remember. But Winnie, I’m sure your father has a higher and more noble future planned for you than to punch cattle,” Jennie said. “Besides, I would not like to see you on a horse,” Jennie said.
“Why not?” Winnie asked.
“Because, dear, you have never even been on the back of a horse, and I’m afraid you might fall off.”
The others laughed and Winnie, with cheeks burning in embarrassment, looked down at the floor.
“May I be excused now, Mama?” he asked.
“Certainly, dear.”
“What a well-mannered boy,” Lily said. “You must be very proud of him.”
“I am,” Jennie said.
“But you don’t have much confidence in him,” Teasdale said.
“Oh, but I do—within reason. And since he has never ridden a horse before, I do not think it unreasonable for me to be concerned should he suddenly decide to do so.”
“You might have been a bit too harsh on him,” Lily suggested.
Jennie looked toward Lily as if to convey her resentment over Lily commenting about her relationship with her son, but she checked any retort, then ameliorated her expression with a smile.
“Perhaps I was,” she agreed. “But Winnie is such a headstrong boy and almost totally without fear. I feel that I must provide the cautionary restraint that he lacks.”
“So, Miss Langtry, you will be leaving tomorrow?” Teasdale asked.
“Yes, I am going to San Francisco.”
“I would think that you would stay in New York, where there are enough people to make the theater profitable.”
“My tour through the West has been profitable in more ways than money,” Lily said. “And New York has become so cumbersome for me now. If I go for a stroll in the park and stop for a moment to admire the flowers, people run after me in droves. If I venture out for a little shopping it is particularly hazardous, for the instant I enter an establishment to make a purchase, news spreads that I am there. A crowd then gathers by the front door so as to make a normal exit impossible and the proprietor is forced to escort me out the back door.”
“Such is the price of fame,” Frewen said. “But tell me, Lily, would you give it up and become a seamstress or a store clerk?”
“Never in a million years!” Lily replied, and everyone laughed. “I suppose, now that I think about it, there is as much pleasure as there is discomfort in fame.”
Moreton and Clara Frewen took Lily Langtry to the stage depot the next morning to see her off. Clara waited in the carriage as Frewen walked from the carriage to the stage office with Lily. Their driver took Lily’s suitcase to the waiting coach and stood watching as it was loaded into the boot.
“Really, Moreton, if you expect anyone to visit you, you must see to it that a railroad is built closer to Sussex than Medicine Bow. That is such a beastly trip by coach,” Lily said.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Frewen replied.
Lily looked back at the carriage and, with a big smile, waved at Clara. “Of course, Clara might have something to say about that. I’m not sure she enjoys my visits all that much.” She spoke through her smile, hardly moving her lips.
“You are a beautiful woman, Lily. And all women are threatened by beautiful women.”
“Nonsense. Clara and Jennie are both for more beautiful than I.”
“Consider this. I was surrounded by beautiful women this past week. Other men should be so lucky,” Frewen said.
“Miss Langtry,” Ed, the driver, said. “We’ll be getting underway soon as you get aboard.”
“I’ll be right there,” Lily said. Lily extended her hand and Frewen took it, shook it briefly, then with a nod toward the driver, returned to the carriage.
“I enjoyed her visit more than I thought I would,” Clara said.
“I’m glad,” Frewen replied. “I know that she thinks the world of you.”
“Hiyaaaah!” Ed shouted, popping his whip over the head of the six-horse team. The horses started forward and with yet a second pop of his whip, Ed started the team into a rapid trot.