"You men have moved into a town site staked and claimed by Cap Rountree and myself. You took it on yourselves to occupy building sites we had laid out. You taken our timber. Last night you found out a little of what trouble can be. Now I've come down here to arbitrate this matter, and I'm going to do it right here in my saddle.
"When Cap and me moved in here, we had an election. He became mayor and I became town marshal by popular acclamation. It was popular with both of us.
"As Cap is laid up, I'm acting mayor as well as marshal. I am also the town council and the vigilante committee, and any time during these proceedings that anybody wants to challenge my authority, he can have at it. We're going to have a town here. I think it's to be a rich town; but rich or poor, it's going to be law-abiding. Any who aren't ready to go for that had better saddle up, because until get some constituted authority (I wasn't real sure what "constituted" meant but it sounded mighty good), I am going to run it with a six-gun,"
"Whoever has occupied that building will move out, starting now. That is to be the general store, ; and Joe Rugger has a lease on it."
The fat man spoke up. "I'm in that building, and had it built."
"Who paid for the lumber?
He hesitated, then blustered. "That's no matter.
found it here and we--" "It belongs to Cap and me. We valued it at one thousand dollars. Pay for it here and now, or get out of the building. As for the work involved, you can charge that up to poor judgment on your part, and know better next time."
"You can't get away with that!"
"You've got ten minutes to start moving. After that I throw things out--you included."
Ignoring him, I looked the others over. They were a bunch of toughs for the most part, although here and there were some men that looked likely.
"We're going to need a saloon--a straight one. And we're going to need a hotel and an eating house. If any of you want to have a try at it, you'll get cooperation from us."
The fat man was the leader, I could see that, but he was red-faced and mad, not sure of how much backing he would get. Several had pulled out already. Kitch and his partner were dead. Ab Warren was here to tell them how that happened.
Suddenly a burly, unshaved man stepped out of the crowd. "I cooked for a railroad construction crew one time. I'd like to handle that eating house."
"All right, you trim that beard and wash your shirt, and you've got thirty days to prove you can cook grub fit to eat. If you can't, you get somebody who can."
A slim young fellow who looked pale around the gills, like he hadn't been west long, spoke up. "I'm a hotel man, and I can also run a saloon. I can run it honest."
"All right." With my left hand I took a paper from my shirt front. "Here's the plan Cap and me laid out. You two study that and choose your sites. When you get your plans made, you draw straws to see who builds first; the other helps, and turn about."
It was time to settle things with that fat man. Somebody was speaking low to him and I heard the fat man called Murchison.
"Murchison," I said, "you have about three minutes to get started. And this time I don't mean cleaning out that building. I mean down the road."
"Now, look here--"
My horse walked right up to him. "You came in here to ride rough-shod over what you thought was a helpless old man. You showed no respect for the rights of others or the rights of property. You'd be no help to a town. Get on your horse and start traveling."
Pushing my horse forward another step, I backed Murchison up. The appaloosa stepped right up on the stoop after him.
"I'll be back," Murchison said angrily. "The Bigelows are in Silverton."
"We'll hold a place for you," I said, "right along-side of Kitch."
Ab Warren stayed. Murchison rode from town that morning and about fifteen men rode with him.
There was a Texas Ranger one time who said that there's no stopping a man who knows he's in the right and keeps a-coming. Well, I've often been wrong, but this time I was right and they had to pay mind to me or bury me, and mine is a breed that dies hard.
In the days that followed, other folks began to drift in. The second week a rider came, and then two wagons. Claims were taken up along the creek and one man drove in about thirty head of sheep which he started feeding along the moutainside. Joe Rugger got his store going, Allison his hotel, which he started in the big gambling tent that had been abandoned. Briggs ran a good eating house. Nothing fancy, but simple food, mighty well-cooked. Aside from beef and beans, he served up bear meat, venison, and elk.
We saw nothing of the Bigelows, but we heard aplenty. Tom and Ira were the two we heard most about. They were suspected of holding up a stage near Silverton. Tom had killed a man in Denver City, and had been in a shooting in Leadville. Ira was a gambler, dividing his time between Silverton and some other boom camps.
They had made their brags about me. They would take care of me when they found time. I'd as soon they never found it.
Twice I made trips into the mountains and came back down with gold . . . two muleloads the last time.
Esteban Mendoza and Tina came over and built a cabin in town, near the foot of the mountain, and Esteban had two freight wagons working along the Silverton road.
Ange Kerry moved away from our camp and got a little place in town where she lived, and she worked with Joe Rugger in the store, which combined with the post office and Wells Fargo express. She had never been the same toward me since I killed Kitch and his partner.
She was prettier than ever, and mighty popular around town. Nearly everybody sort of protected her. Joe Rugger brought his wife out and they built a home on the back end of the store.
Cap took a long time mending, and he hadn't much energy when he was able to walk, so it was up to me to do what was done.
Of an evening I read what newspapers I could find, and kept hammering away at Blackstone.
Time to time somebody would drift into camp, stay a while, and drift out again, leaving books behind. I read whatever there was. But mostly I worked.
I built us a three-room log house high on the bench, with my old trail up the mountain right behind it, and the spring close by. I built a strong stable and corral against the coming winter, and I oat(?) a few tons of hay in the meadow.
There was snow on some of the peaks now where I hadn't seen it before. A time or two, early in the morning, there was frost in the bottom, and once ice slicked over a bucket of left-out water.
The old barricades I let lie, and I kept the brush trimmed off the mesa. Grass was growing high out there, and there was good grazing for our stock.
When I went to town now there were few whom I knew. Joe Rugger was acting mayor, Allison and Briggs were loyal men. Murchison had come back and started a small gambling house. There were about two hundred people in town, and she was running like a top.
The aspen began to turn yellow . . . seemed like I'd been here years, though it was only a few months.
There was little trouble. Two men killed each Other over a poker game in Murchison's joint, and there was a cutting down on the creek, some private affair over a woman.
One night Cap came in and sat down. "You stay at the books," he said, "and you'll ruin your eyes."
"I've got to learn, Cap."
"You take after those brothers of yours. As soon as they learned to read there was no holding them."
"They've done well."
"Yes, they have. Married, too."
I didn't answer right away, but finally I said, "Well, it takes two."
"You seen Ange lately?"
"You know I haven't."
"That's a mighty fine girl. She won't be around always. I hear that Ira Bigelow is paying her mind."
"Bigelow? Is he in town?"
"Rode in a few days ago while you were in the mountains. Only stayed a few hours, but he managed to meet Ange, and he talked it up to her. He's a handsome man."