Katie: Book One: The Cattleman's Daughters Read online

  Katie

  Book One: The Cattleman’s Daughters

  By Danni Roan

  Dedicated to

  My two oldest friends, Missy and Ronda, who understood what it meant to ride the trails and still be a lady

  Contents

  Prologue:

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  Prologue:

  Kansas City, Kansas June, 1880

  Will Robertson was down at the heels and down on his luck. He’d finished his turn at driving a big herd up from Texas just to have the foreman cheat the hands out of half their pay. He was fed up, angry and tired of working his tail off for another man. There had to be something better. He looked out across the bustling dusty streets of Kansas City and sighed. At least he had a few dollars, his horse and rig he thought, looking at the red freckled pony at the hitching rail before him. But how was that going to help him now? Cow hands were a dime a dozen on the streets of this town. He’d be hanged before he went back to Texas with the crew he’d come up with. He had to face it there was nothing for him; he didn’t want to sign on for another trail drive and he wasn’t cut out for city life. He’d just have to see if he could find work and soon, or he’d be plumb broke. He looked at his faded jeans then dusted them off as best he could with his tattered hat and headed to the mercantile across the street. Maybe someone had posted a job there.

  On the other side of the street a large sign hanging above the false fronted square building read James’ General Mercantile. Perhaps the owner would know of a place he could get a meal cheap and maybe find a job. A tiny bell tinkled above the door announcing his arrival as he stepped into the store. The smell of leather, burlap and spices assailed his senses as he stood a moment letting his eyes adjust to the dimmer light of the interior. At first it didn’t appear that anyone was minding the store and he took the time to scan the shelves and display tables filling the space. Barrels, crates and burlap sacks lined the front wall under a bright display window. Small square tables were stacked with denim trousers, a variety of shirts and even boots. A display of small and larger farm implements, brightly colored tins, jars and bottles filled shelves on the other two walls. Suddenly a slim middle aged woman popped up from behind the tall counter near the rear of the establishment. She must have been reaching for something on the bottom of the floor to ceiling height shelves arrayed along the back wall.

  “Well, hello there.” She said cheerfully. “What can I get for ya?” Her bright smile was contagious and he couldn’t help but smile back as he crossed the well-stocked room in a few strides.

  “Mornin’ ma’am, I’m wonderin’ if you know of a cheap place to get some grub, and maybe if there’s any work around.”

  “Come a little closer.” She called waving her hand at him impatiently “So I can get a look at ya.”

  He stepped up to the long wooden counter and for just a moment he felt like a prize bull at auction as her sharp blue eyes assessed him.

  “Cowpuncher, are ya?” she asked, almost to herself as she studied him.

  “Yes ma’am.” He replied quietly twisting his tattered Stetson in his hands.

  “Jeramiah.” She then bellowed over her shoulder making Will jump. “Don’t you worry son, my husband will know just what to do with you.”

  “What are you hollerin’ about now woman?” A man’s voice boomed as heavy foot falls crashed down a set of stairs at the back of the building.

  “We got a fella needin’ work.” She yelled back with a twinkle in her eye.

  “Oh, we do, do we?” The voice replied inquisitively just as a tall square man stepped out of the doorway behind her and grinned. For a moment Will Robinson considered bolting as the man looked at him with a predatory gleam in his eyes. “Well, young man. What kinda work are you looking for?” the older man asked with a smile.

  “Ranch work of course, sir.” Will replied feeling like he couldn’t quite get his bearings even if he had both feet firmly planted on the plank floor.

  “That’s grand, just grand.” The big man boomed and chuckling, threw and arm around Will's shoulders. “Now why don’t you come on upstairs and we’ll have a cup of coffee, you can tell me all about yourself. I think I know just the job for you.”

  Wyoming Territory July, 1888

  Joshua James stepped out on to the front porch of the ranch house a big grin splitting his grizzled face. With one hand he tucked an envelope into his breast pocket, then patted it before placing his wide brimmed hat on his head of snowy white hair. For a long moment he gazed around him at the home he’d built. The large barn, the workshop, even the bunk house and chicken coop. He breathed deeply of the early morning air, then patted the letter again. It had been a long time since he’d heard from his brother, Jeremiah. He’d almost thought he might never get the answer he’d been waiting for, but now… He smiled again.

  “Morning boss.” A hand said as he walked Joshua’s horse to him.

  “It sure is.” The old man replied and taking the reins, swung up on his buckskin gelding and started whistling as he turned toward the open prairie. Stopping his horse for the third time on the short ride he pulled his brother’s letter from his breast pocket and read it once more.

  Dear Joshua, June 12, 1880

  I believe I’ve found just what you have been looking for. It should be arriving in about a months’ time, hopefully still in good shape. Mabelle helped with the picking and assures me that the packaging is just right; made to order. We had quite a time procuring such an item for you. The mercantile is busier than ever but not all items are of the same standard and the choosing had to be done with care.

  We are all well here in Kansas. Have you had any word from brother Jonas? I’m sure he is working equally hard at providing you with what you need. Do be patient brother as times are hard everywhere. Mabelle sends her love to you and the family.

  Your Loving Brother,

  Jeremiah.

  Joshua tucked the letter back in his breast pocket once more, with a smile and a chuckle, then started whistling again.

  Chapter 1

  “Wyoming territory.” Will mumbled to himself. He must be plumb loco to ride all the way to Wyoming territory for the possibility of a job. “I’ve got to be crazy.” He grumbled again. His horse twitched its ears then stepped into a trot. Will let his mount set its own pace and watched the trail in front of him.

  It had been a strange time in Kansas and in some ways he was sure glad to be out in the open again. His hosts, Mr. and Mrs. James, had been kind beyond belief. Inviting him to stay in their small store room, and telling him of work in Wyoming. Apparently Mr. James’ brother was in need of a new foreman and had sent a letter to his brother in Kansas to keep an eye out for a likely young man who could be trusted and was a top hand.

  At first Will had a hard time believing it, but Mr. James and his wife Mabelle had treated him so well he felt he owed them something, even if the whole time he was there he’d been peppered with more questions than he’d ever had to deal with in his life. Sometimes he’d felt that if they could have they would have turned him inside out just to see what he was made of. On the other hand in the week he’d stayed with them they’d insisted on providing him with a completely new outfit, explaining that since Wyoming had more cows and sheep than people it would be hard for him to find new gear out there. They’d gone as far as insisting he take a new
pair of boots and that he could pay them back by filling the position his brother had when he arrived. If he proved himself a hard worker and could make his brother’s life easier, that was payment enough.

  So here he was, traipsing along the Oregon Trail, west of Casper toward another job, on someone else’s range. He was twenty-eight years old and had little more than the clothes he stood up in; his old cow pony, Whisper and the rig he sat on. Will had been working for other men since he was just sixteen and part of him longed for something more; ached for it. Over the years he’d been treated well, and he’d been worked to the bone alternately. Some men he’d worked for had been honorable; good men, while others were either too greedy or too stupid to realize how they cheated the men who got the work done each day.

  “Well, I reckon whatever happens, I have no one to blame but myself.” He grumbled. “I should have learned by now not to be so trusting of folks. But I swear this is it!”

  He straightened in the saddle for emphasis and his wiry red roan horse stepped up the pace. “This will be my last job workin’ for another man. After this I’ll just get my pay and go find a bit of land for myself.” And with that said he pushed his hat tighter on his head, kicked his horse into a canter and hoped for the best.

  The ranch came into view slowly as the roan gelding stretched his legs in the late morning sun. Will gradually pulled back on the reins, easing his mount to a trot and then a walk as he approached what could only be the, Broken J ranch. From Kansas City he’d taken the train to Cheyenne and then rode into Casper from there as he’d been told to by Mr. James. The fledgling city was just getting going with a new rail head spurring its growth and was a bustle of cow country fare. From Casper he followed the directions given him by the livery man in the little town.

  He’d been traveling this trail for nearly four days now and was sure pleased to finally see buildings in the distance. Setting his horse back to a quick jog he studied the land around him as he rode. Wide open prairie surrounded him stretching out from the trail on all sides; grass lands rolling as far as the eye could see. In the far distance a blue haze indicated where the mountains were but everything else was prime cattle territory.

  Slowing his horse to a walk, the closer he got to the ranch, he noticed the care that had been put into the fence line that surrounded the spread. It was the first thing to interrupt unbroken prairie for at least a hundred miles. A sturdy wood rail fence stretched for nearly a quarter of a mile both east and west, encompassing the ranch yard and buildings completely. Right in the middle of the fence two tall poles topped with a sign that read ‘the Broken J’, the J itself, almost split in two by a jagged arrow, marked the entrance to the property. Will let his mount amble through the high arch as he tried to take it all in. On his left a tall windmill turned lazily in the morning breeze, pumping water into a cistern at the far corner of a corral while several horses milled about nibbling hay in the barren stock yard.

  A large barn, weathered gray, and two stories tall rose to his right. Its straight lines and steep pitched roof showing fine workmanship and care. Next to the barn he spotted a smithy, smoke puffing from its chimney, as the ring of iron on iron punctuated the air. Off in the distance on the other side of the trail that passed between the barn and main house and extended all the way through to another arched entry, was a long dark building which must be a bunk house. He even spotted an old sod shack tucked in the far corner, as well as a smoke house and chicken coop.

  But what truly drew his eye was the large two story ranch house of wood and stone on his left. It had a long, low porch that seemed to wrap around the entire structure and its steel-gray wood blended with the stone foundation and facade. A tall river rock chimney reached from the first floor to the second and took up half of the north face of the house, while the top of another seemed to rise on the south. At the front of the building, above the low porch roof four glass paned windows framed by heavy oak shutters gazed across the barn yard, while under the shadow depths of the porch a thick door complete with a screen door in the center of the house was skirted by two more windows. The whole structure was topped with a galvanized roof over both the porch and main house. It was a fine looking place and not at all what he had expected of Wyoming. Maybe this trip would be worth it after all.

  Turning his mount toward the house and swinging down he tossed his reins over the hitching post at the bottom of the stairs and prepared to go to the front door. He’d no sooner loosened the girth of his saddle to give his horse a breather, when the screen door opened and a very tall old man stepped out. He was a big man at least six foot three and broad in the shoulders. His hair was stone white and his eyes, in his weathered face, a piercing blue. “You must be the new foreman?” The older man stated gruffly.

  “Yes sir.” Will replied.

  “Well, I’m Mr. James and you sure took your time getting here.” The older man’s words were terse.

  For a moment Will could only gape at him. Was the man serious? He’d gotten here as soon as he could without killing his horse. He thought he’d made good time covering the eight hundred plus miles in under a month.

  “Well nothing to do about that now.” The white haired giant grumbled. “You might just as well get on out on the range. You can see the dust from here so shouldn’t be no problem finding the round up.”

  Will gazed across the prairie in the direction the old man was looking and could clearly make out a dust cloud being kicked up by what must be the cattle. He hesitated just a moment before looking back at the old codger and offering a stunned. “Yes, sir.” To his surprise the old man grinned.

  “Take your horse on over to the barn and Sam will see to him.” And with that he went back into the house, letting the screen door slam behind him.

  Will unwound the reins of his horse, Whisper and turned to the barn, feeling like someone had placed a bur under his saddle. As he entered the cool confines of the spacious stable, the familiar clop, clop of horse’s hooves met his ears. A short, thin man with a completely bald pate grinned at him and handed the reins of a handsome bay to Will while taking his horse from him.

  “Howdy.” The wiry fellow said, with a nod then turning walked away, taking Will’s horse with him.

  Will shook his head, adjusted the stirrups on the new mounts saddle and walking back into the bright sunlight swung aboard. The big bay feeling Will’s weight in the saddle, humped his back to show him that he was feeling fresh, but before he had a chance to really get to bucking, Will slapped spurs to the animals flanks and lined him out at a dead run through the gates of the ranch. He then turned west toward the maelstrom in the distance. If this was the way it was going to be he’d just have to show the lot of them he knew his trade and the sooner the better.

  Joshua James stood at the window of his ranch house and chuckled. He watched the young man lay spurs to that ornery bay and string him straight out to work. The boy had grit.

  “You’re an old devil.” A woman’s voice chided as a dish cloth descended upon his arm with a light smack.

  “Now Bia, there’s no point puttin’ up a fuss. How else am I going to take the measure of that young man if I don’t test him?”

  The old house keeper, looked at him and smiled. “I know Josh, but the poor boy hasn’t got a clue what he’s just stepped into.” She said in heavily accented English.

  “That he don’t.”

  Chapter 2

  Will let the big bay ease down into a fast canter after about a half mile. He wasn’t far from the dust now and was able to make out a green and white painted chuck wagon on the outer edges of the round up. The cattle themselves were blurred shadows of sunlight and dust, emerging one minute just to be engulfed again the next by a cloud of their own making.

  In the distance he could see cowpokes, milling about on horseback getting the herd settled or dodging out after a mossy cow that was thinking of cutting loose. He counted maybe ten hands in different positions, working the herd; then watched as a palomino pony
darted out of the dust, quickly turning a large red steer back into the main herd. His critical eye noted the rider, glued in the saddle and upright the whole time, as the cow horse dodged and danced pushing the animal back where it belonged.

  Will cantered up to the chuck wagon, and hauled the bay to a stop as the big animal shook its head and snorted in protest. Several men hunkered around the small cook fire drinking coffee and eating off of tin plates. As Will approached the group a bear of a man rose up from where he sat turning dark, weathered eyes on him. The man was big, well over six feet and easily three hundred pounds of muscle, but Will could see that age was starting to take its toll. The big man’s back, once straight, bowed a little, his hands were worn and scarred and the hair under his hat was more silver than black.

  “Howdy,” Will called. “I’m Will Robertson, the new foreman.”

  All of the heads at the fire turned to him as one by one the men stood. He noticed that not a one of these men could be under fifty and for a moment felt foolish about his earlier words.

  “I’m Benjamin Smith.” The big man said extending his hand. “I’m the OLD foreman.” He drawled, shaking hands, as everyone around the fire burst into laughter.

  Will looked at them all, a warm blush creeping up his neck, turning his ears pink. Then he noticed that the face of the grizzled old bear who had spoken was smiling and he smiled to.

  “What took ya’ so long getting’ here son?” He asked, a twinkle still in his eye.

  Will just looked at the man, his mouth hanging open like a fool, and the whole group howled with laughter again. A slow smile made its way across Will’s face, as the joke finally sunk in and he couldn’t help but chuckle to.