“Yes, I have.”
“Kathleen is my right hand,” Garrison said. “I couldn’t do any of this without her.”
“By any of this, you mean build a railroad?”
“Come back here, take a look at this map, and let me show you what I plan to do,” Garrison said.
Falcon followed Garrison to the back of the room where there were several maps laid out on a table. Most of the maps were simple line maps that Falcon could read and understand. But a lot of the maps were filled with lines and numbers denoting such things as grade and slant, and with other markings intelligible only to the construction engineers.
“I intend to start by building the railroad to La Junta,” Garrison said, pointing it out on the map. “But we have a branch of the Las Animas River to cross here, a gulley here, and another here. Also, the elevation from here to La Junta increases by seven hundred and fifty-three feet. Fortunately, that is one long, continuous grade. But it is something we must take into consideration.”
“Have you started yet?”
“We haven’t laid any track yet, but as you can see, we do have most of the surveying done.” Garrison pointed to another part of the map. “I’ll be going to La Junta first. That will open up rail service right away.”
“It’s smart going to La Junta first,” Falcon said. “That should win the support of everyone in town, by connecting them with the rest of the country.”
“It also enables me to use rail shipments to bring in all of my needed supplies,” Garrison pointed out. “And, yes, you would think that all the people of the town would support that.”
“But your letter said not everyone is supporting you,” Falcon said.
“You’ve got that right,” Garrison said. He stroked his chin. “There is a rancher by the name of Clinton. Ike Clinton. He opposes the entire operation, and he’s talked some of the other ranchers into backing him.”
“I don’t understand,” Falcon said. “What do the ranchers have to lose by having a railroad built? I would think they would among your biggest supporters.”
“You would think so, wouldn’t you?” Garrison said. “But that would be underestimating the evilness of Ike Clinton. And, of course, he has three sons who are just as bad as he is.”
“Billy isn’t,” Kathleen said.
Falcon looked up at the young woman in surprise.
“Just because young Billy seems to have more manners than the other two, doesn’t mean he is any different than his two older brothers.”
“No, I agree with your daughter. Billy is different,” Falcon said, his comment surprising Garrison.
“He is different? How do you know? Do you know the Clintons?”
“I met the three boys on the train,” Falcon said. “Ray, Cletus, and Billy. I assume these are the ones you are talking about.”
“Yes,” Garrison said.
“From my brief time on the train with them, I would say that Billy is actually quite a nice young man. It is unfortunate that he is saddled with two worthless brothers.”
“And an even more worthless father,” Garrison said. “To make matters worse, the Clintons have Sheriff Belmond on their side.”
“Yes, I heard Belmond was elected sheriff of Bent County. I must confess that surprised me a bit. The only way I would have ever thought Mark Belmond would wind up in a sheriff’s office is if he were behind bars. That is, if I’m thinking of the right man.”
Garrison nodded. “You are thinking of the right man, all right,” he said. “Mark Belmond is as crooked as they come. When the three freight wagons were attacked, Belmond did nothing, even though it happened in the county, in his jurisdiction. The truth is, I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew who did it.”
“Why is Belmond in cahoots with Clinton?”
“Clinton financed Belmond’s campaign for sheriff. Financed him, campaigned for him, coerced people to vote for him. You might say he practically appointed Belmond sheriff.”
“What about the town marshal?”
“Titus Calhoun is a good man. In fact, he ran against Belmond for sheriff, and would have been elected if the election had been honest. But as it is, Calhoun is very limited in what he can do. First of all, the town doesn’t have a big enough budget to pay for a deputy, so Titus’s brothers, Travis and Troy, volunteer when deputies are needed. Also, our biggest problems come from the cowboys who don’t live in town, so Titus is helpless to do anything once they leave the city limits.”
“I know Titus Calhoun, and he is a good man,” Falcon said. “I’m beginning to get the picture,” Falcon said.
“I hoped that you would. Falcon, I’m going to make a lot of money from this railroad, that’s true enough. But I also think it would be very good for this part of the state. I’m determined to see this thing through, but I’ll be honest with you—I don’t think I can see it through by myself.”
“I’ll do what I can to help,” Falcon said.
A broad smile spread across Wade Garrison’s face. “I knew you would,” he said. “Say, where are you staying? You could stay with us. Kathleen wouldn’t mind moving to a cot in the kitchen.”
“No, no, that’s not necessary,” Falcon replied quickly. “I would not want to put Kathleen out. I’ve already taken a room at the hotel.”
“All right, if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure,” Falcon said.
“I have another wagonload of building material coming in a few days,” Garrison said. “I’ve hired Thompson Wagon Freight to meet the train and bring the material back. If you don’t mind, I would like you to ride with the wagons to meet the train, and then come back with them to see that the supplies get here safely.”
“I’ll be glad to do it,” Falcon said. “But now, if you don’t need me for anything else, I think I’ll take a look around town and maybe meet a few folks.”
“Yes, yes, good idea,” Garrison said. “Oh, and maybe at the outset, you shouldn’t tell anyone that you are here at my behest. You might learn more if people don’t perceive an affiliation between us.”
“My thought as well,” Falcon replied. He tipped his hat toward Kathleen. “Miss Garrison,” he said.
“Mr. MacCallister,” Kathleen replied with a subtle dip of her head.
Even from the front of the CNM&T Railroad office, Falcon could see the sign displayed on the false front of the building. Painted in large red letters, outlined in black, was the name of the saloon, Golden Nugget, as well as the names of the two owners; Corey and Prentiss Hampton. It was a short walk from the railroad office to the saloon, and in less than a minute, Falcon was stepping up onto the porch to go inside.
Falcon had come to the saloon, not only to enjoy a cool beer, but also to visit with the Hampton brothers. Though it was not generally known around town, Falcon was the one who had loaned the Hampton brothers the money they’d needed to open their saloon. He’d done that because he had known the Hampton brothers for many years. They had been childhood friends, growing up near MacCallister, and like Falcon and some of his brothers, Prentiss and Corey had fought on opposite sides in the war. Also, as with Falcon and his brothers, that had been put behind them so that the familial bonds were as strong as they ever were.
“I only ask two things of you,” Falcon said when he backed their operation. “Keep all the card games honest, and don’t water your whiskey. Because if you treat your customers fairly, I have no doubt but that you will do a good business.”
The Hamptons had kept their promise to him and the Golden Nugget had prospered.
From the moment Falcon stepped inside, he felt some relief from the heat. Borrowing a trick developed by the Indians, the Hampton brothers kept gourds of water hanging throughout their establishment. The evaporation of the water resulted in a saloon that was noticeably cooler than the outside temperature.
It was dark enough inside that Falcon had to stand for a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the lack of light. The Hampton brothers were particularly proud of the bar, which had been shipped by rail and freight wagon all the way from New York.