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“Old Joe Dollarhide’s gone now,” Webb said. “His second wife is gone too. Their son Blake is in charge now. He runs the whole show—cattle, horses, lumber, and land. Blake’s twice as greedy as his father was. But that’s not the worst of it. When the homesteaders moved in, plowing up the good grass to plant wheat, Blake Dollarhide welcomed them with open arms. As long as they bought his lumber, he didn’t give a damn about the rest of us ranchers. He even married one of the honyockers—got her in a family way first if you want to count the months.”
That would be the Andersons’ daughter, Logan surmised. But he decided not to mention the family yet. “And that’s why you don’t like him?”
“That’s just the start. I haven’t told you what happened last summer.” Webb took an open cigarette pack from his shirt pocket and held it out to Logan. When Logan shook his head, he took one for himself and lit it, smoking as he talked.
“It was a dry year. One of the driest ever in these parts. The pastures dried up. Even our wells were in danger. We had barely enough water to fill our cattle tanks. We had to sell off some of our stock early so we could have enough water for the rest. Blake Dollarhide did the same.
“If you look to the east, you’ll see a canyon cut through the foothills. The creek that runs out of it is fed by snow runoff from the mountains. The upper part is steep. It’s mostly rapids. But where the slope levels out, the creek forks. One branch flows north, all the way to the Triple C. Another branch, the bigger one, goes south, toward the Dollarhide pastures.”
Logan had begun to understand where the story was going. “By midsummer, we were getting desperate,” Webb continued. “The Dollarhides were getting the better part of the water, but our herd was three or four times the size of theirs. We needed more water to keep our cows alive. So I did the only thing I could.
“The place where the creek forks is on government land. I took some of the boys up there one night and threw enough big rocks in the water to make a dam, diverting most of the water to the north fork and the Triple C. There was enough water trickling through the rocks for the Dollarhides. But that wasn’t enough to suit them. They wanted it all.
“Two nights later Blake Dollarhide and some of his cowboys showed up with dynamite. I’d figured they might try something, so I’d posted a couple of my boys, with guns, just to keep watch on the dam. To make a long story short, there was gunplay. My men were outnumbered, and both of them got shot.
“As soon as the shooting stopped, the Dollarhide bunch dynamited the dam and blasted it to kingdom come. Then they rode off and left my wounded men lying there. By the time we found them the next morning, Jake was dead. Eddie was almost gone, too, but we patched him up and he lived. That’s how we knew what had gone down.”
“So what happened after that?” Logan asked. “Was there more fighting?”
“There would’ve been. And you can bet there’d have been more blood spilled. Water is more precious than gold in this country. But the next day the weather turned. We got enough rain to cause floods. After it stopped, the government sent a crew to repair the creek. They put up a fence and a sign threatening a big fine for tampering with the water flow. There’s been no more trouble since, but I don’t do business with the Dollarhides. And neither should you. Either you’re a Calder, or you aren’t.”
As they rode, a jackrabbit bounded from under a clump of sagebrush and darted into the long grass. Right behind it, swift and determined, was a coyote. Stopping his horse, Logan watched the chase—the zigzagging flight of the rabbit, the relentless coyote, gaining ground until, with a pounce and a snap of jaws, the chase was over. The coyote trotted off through the grass with the rabbit in its mouth. Logan had almost lost sight of it when a pistol shot rang out. The coyote dropped, twitched, and lay still.
Webb replaced the gun in his holster. “Varmints,” he growled. “You’ve never seen what a pack of them can do to a calf or an injured cow. I kill every damn one of them I see, and so should you.”
Logan sensed a hidden message in what he’d seen and heard. This land was no place for gentleness or mercy. Everything was a fight for survival—even among men.
“Let’s go have a look at the house.” Logan nudged his mount to a trot. It was becoming clear that if he bought this land, he’d be forced to take sides in a dispute that was none of his making. Since he’d put no money down, it might be smart to pull up stakes and look elsewhere.
But this was beautiful country. The singing grass, the mountain peaks, and endless sky were already calling to his heart. He wanted to become part of this place, to build his dream and make a life here. A life of peace—if that was possible.
But what if peace wasn’t possible?
The one-story frame house was originally from the Tee Pee Ranch days. It was a far cry from the stately mansion on the Triple C, but it looked solidly built. Apart from the need of a good cleaning, some minor repairs, and a plumbing upgrade, it would do.
The barn was in disrepair, with gaps where the boards had blown away or been stolen. He would tear it down, use what he could salvage for the sheds, and build a new stable with roomy box stalls and storage for hay and tack. The corrals and chutes were missing rails, but they could be replaced. He’d need a bunkhouse, too, unless he could get by with hiring cowboys who lived in town.
The two men had dismounted to inspect the house. Now they walked the yard, checking the well and what remained of the outbuildings.
“So what do you think?” Webb finished his second cigarette and stubbed out the butt with his boot.
“I’ll have to sleep on it,” Logan said. “A man would be looking at a mountain of work to get the place in shape.”
“Here’s what I’m thinking,” Webb said. “If it’s horses you want to raise, you won’t have the place ready with a stable and pens, and maybe some good quality grass planted, for months. By then, it’ll be fall. The winters are brutal here, and hay’s damned expensive. You won’t want to bring in your colts till next spring. But if you can get one pasture fenced off, I’ll sell you some branded yearlings. You could fatten them up and ship them with my herd in the fall. That would make some money off your land while you’re building. How does that strike you?”
“Whoa there!” Logan shook his head. “You’re talking like the deal’s already in place. I said I’d sleep on it.”
Webb chuckled. “You don’t need to sleep on it. Land is like a woman. The minute you set eyes on her, you know whether you want her or not. And you want this place. I can tell.”
“I said I’d sleep on it. Maybe I’ll look around and see what else is available, too.”
“Go ahead. But you won’t find anything this good. When I heard you were looking for land, I called in a favor, put down a small deposit, and asked the bank to hold this parcel for thirty days. The time’s almost up. If word gets out that it’s available, somebody will buy it. Blake Dollarhide would probably be first in line.”
Logan was beginning to see a pattern. “So why haven’t you bought it yourself?” he asked.
“Good question. But a ranch the size of the Triple C costs a lot of money to run. We’re rich in real estate and cattle, but not in cash. Otherwise, I’d buy this parcel in a minute. Choice location, manageable size, good soil, and water. Come on out back. There’s something you’ve got to see.”
The splash of flowing water reached Logan’s ears as he followed Webb around the house. Striding through high grass and weeds, he found the creek bordered with willows and flowing high with spring runoff.
