Free The Bold Frontier by John Jakes Page A

wharf of Saint Louis, the railroad had captured him.
    Sitting before Hamilton in the shadowy car as the older man stared at him, Rome thought about each of the two dreams. The iron horse. He had caught that excitement as a small boy and never lost it. Then came Cathy, when he was older. The two couldn’t live side by side, not then. The smokestack, the churning pistons, the wheels westward, the whistle-scream … the railroad won. He left Warknife and Cathy and went East.
    Now he was here again. One dream had been fulfilled, but the other still left its empty ache within him.
    “Why all the trouble?” he asked at last. “I thought our buyers had the land contracts sewn up a year ago.
    “So did we,” Hamilton exclaimed. “Why, dammit, we were set to lay track all the way to the mountains, picking up the contracts as we went along!”
    “Didn’t our buyers get anything on paper?”
    Hamilton shook his head. “They should have. That was where we slipped.”
    “Everybody slips once in a while,” Rome told him. “We’ve got to correct the slip, that’s all.”
    “Look!” Hamilton exclaimed. Rome realized that the man’s nerves were frayed. “We’ve been trying for the last four days. Somebody’s stirred up the three ranchers—most of the town, in fact—and they’re dead set against the railroad coming through. Or at least that’s the way it stacks up.”
    “Any particular reason?”
    “God knows. A lot of hogwash about too much too quick. I’ve got a pretty good idea who’s behind it. An hombre named Bruce Gashlin. He’s got his main office in Warknife.” Hamilton paused. “Central Kansas Overland Company.”
    “Stages, eh?”
    “Yeah, and we can’t fight ’em, not legally at least. It’s all in folks’ minds, the way it appears to me. Progress is comin’ too fast. The coaches have worked for them well enough for a long time, so why change? A little fast talking here and there, and we’re blocked.”
    “You had any trouble?”
    “Not much. Couple of boys got in an argument at the Emporia and got cut up a little, but that’s all. But I think this Gashlin has it in him to make serious trouble for us if he wants. He has one boy working for him named Yancey who looks like a real killer.”
    Rome picked a cigar out of the inlaid box on the top of the desk. He struck a match to it and inhaled the strong smoke. “I’ve got a pretty good idea of what you want me to do.”
    “Thought you would.”
    “I’d like to know the names of the ranchers with the land we need for the right-of-way.”
    Hamilton pulled out one of the desk drawers, shuffled through a sheaf of papers, and drew one out, laying it on the desk before him. He scanned it a moment. “Harry Drew, Giles McMaster, and Job Thompson.”
    Once again the knife of memory and regret twisted. Job Thompson … Cathy’s father, big and powerful and rock-faced, with his voice like velvet thunder. When the children of the Warknife Congregational Sunday School had thought of God, they thought of Job Thompson’s voice.
    And Cathy … The prospect of seeing her again worried Rome. By now she must be married. Any number of younger ranchers with small spreads near Warknife would have found her a fine wife. And a beautiful one at that.
    Rome eased himself to his feet and looked straight at Hamilton, trying not to show his tangled emotions. “I’ll ride in and see what I can do.”
    “You’re a good talker, a damned good talker. Maybe you can get ’em to change their minds.”
    “I’ll try.”
    Hamilton jabbed a warning finger at him. “Let me tell you something, Mark. I know you’re never anxious to use that gun of yours, but I’ve met this Gashlin, and, believe me, he’s somebody to watch out for. He hates us. And Yancey’s nothing but a paid killer. Gashlin’s got a bunch of them working for him, but this Yancey’s the worst. He hung around Dodge City for a long time, I hear.”
    “I’ll watch out,” Rome promised. With a brief