another one of those dressin' gowns she wore all the time. "This is good land, and I am sure someone would wish to buy it."
"Water controls the land, ma'am. You've a good spring here and Cherry Creek runnin' through. My guess is you'd be lucky to get ten dollars an acre for it.
"Eighteen eighty-one has started off slow around here, ma'am, and there's so much free land that cattle or sheep men just don't have to buy. Folks who have money to spend will be buying lots in town now the railroad is comin' in. There's talk the railroad will build its own town an' leave Animas City high and dry. But don't take that for gospel. I just listen when folks talk."
"Do they talk about this place? About me?"
"No, ma'am, not that I heard. Folks are pretty busy with their own affairs. Naturally, your bein' new folks I expect there's some curiosity. And that Pinkerton man, he's been askin' questions."
Her skin seemed to tighten and for a moment there she looked almost angry. First time I'd seen anything but pleasantness on her face.
"You brought back a few things," she said, "and I thank you. I am afraid there is too little here." She looked over at me suddenly. "You spoke of cattle. Have you any idea how many could be sold?"
"It's mostly young stuff, ma'am, just what you need to start a ranchin' operation. With what I've seen, an' I haven't been over but a piece of country, you've got the makin's of a fine little ranch here. Why, in four or five years -"
"Four or five years?" she exclaimed. "But that's impossible! I can't spend that much time here. Why -!" She shook her head. "Mr. Passin', you'll simply have to help us. We know nothing about ranching, and when we came here . . . well, we didn't expect this. All we can do is sell the cattle and the ranch, whatever there is, and go back east.
"I'm afraid I'm not cut out for this, Mr. Passin'. I've been accustomed to people, to lights, music, crowds. I thought when we came here it would be a place to rest, to recuperate. All I can see ahead of us here is a lot of hard work."
"That's true, ma'am. It's a good place but it will need work. There's nothing about this country that's easy, there's aplenty here but it has to be worked for.
Nobody hands it to you on a platter."
"But isn't there gold out here? Mightn't there be gold on this property?"
"I doubt it, ma'am. There's gold in the La Platas, and there's silver, as the old Spanishmen who named the mountains knew, but it takes a sight of work to get at it. This land you've got . . . well, up there on the hill I saw an outcropping of coal. May not amount to much, and folks over in Pioche told me there was a lot of coal in this country, but nobody is buyin' coal from out here. Maybe after the railroad is in . . . but there's plenty of it easier to mine and closer to the railroad.
"You'll have to make it with cattle, ma'am. Or sheep."
"Find a buyer for me. I will sell the cattle and the ranch. We will sell out and go east."
"Like I say, ma'am, that will take some doin'. There's still land around for the takin', I expect, although I've made no inquiries and cash money is almighty scarce."
She seemed some put out. She got up and walked to the window, but all you could see from there was the black ridge against the sky and some stars that looked like lights not far off, bright as they were in the night sky.
"There's beauty here, ma'am. It's a great country. Over yonder on the east side of this place there's a fine stand of aspen. They'll turn gold in the autumn, ma'am, and the oak will turn red, some of it. Ma'am, just wait until you see it. You'll never want to leave."
Well, she just looked at me. "I shall want to leave, young man, and I shall do so. Find me a buyer." She turned her eyes to me with a quizzical look. "Unless you'd like to buy it yourself. You said you'd saved a little."
Well, I blushed. At least I turned kind of red. I could feel it. "Ma'am, my little stake wouldn't count to a hill of beans. I'm a workin' man, ma'am,