He sensed Kitty coming up to stand beside him.
“Did you get all business taken care of?” Matt asked.
“Yes, I guess so,” Kitty replied. There was a note of concern to the tone of her voice.
“What is it, Kitty?” Matt asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Matt, this deal has got to go through,” she said. “I’ve already borrowed as much money as I can borrow, and I am putting every penny I have left into it. If something goes wrong, I’ll be ruined.”
Matt chuckled. “Why, Katherine, considering your background, there are already people who would call you a ruined woman,” he said. “So how bad could that be?”
For just a second Kitty was startled by Matt’s response, then she saw the humor of it, and she laughed out loud.
“You’re right,” she said. “In for a penny, in for a pound.”
“All you have to do is get your horses to Chicago, and you’ll have enough money to pay off all your debts, with enough left over to carry forward. Am I right?”
“Yes,” she said. “All I have to do is get my horses to Chicago.”
“Then you don’t have a problem,” Matt said. “I promise you, Kitty, we will get your horses to Chicago.”
Kitty took Matt’s arm in her hands, then leaned into him. “Thank you, Matt. You don’t know how important that reassurance is to me.”
“I have an idea of something we might do when we get to Chicago,” Matt said.
“What is that?”
“When we get to Chicago, how would you like it if we were to go sailing on Lake Michigan?”
“What?” Kitty laughed, then she hit Matt on the arm. “You were listening, weren’t you?”
Chapter Twenty-four
Back at Coventry on the Snake, even as Kitty and Matt were making arrangements for the stock cars, Tyrone Canfield had Prew and the other riders rounding up the saddle horses that were to be shipped out. Kitty had asked that they gather them into one holding field so it would be easy to move them when the time came.
“We’ll put them in the north field. Castle Creek runs through that, so they will have plenty of water,” Tyrone said.
“How long we goin’ to keep ’em there?” Prew asked.
“As long as it takes. Which is until we move them down to the rail head,” Tyrone answered.
“The reason I ask is, there’s good grass in that field, but when you consider there’s goin’ to be five hunnert horses there.”
“I think there will be enough grass to last them three or four days, anyway,” Tyrone said. “And if we have to, we’ll bring in some hay just to stretch it out.”
“Yeah, I hadn’t thought of that,” Prew said. He chuckled. “I reckon that’s why you’re the foreman.”
“You got that right, sonny, and don’t you forget it,” Tyrone said. “All right boys, let’s go round up some horses.”
Tyrone, Prew, Jake, Crack, and four other spent the morning rounding up the horses. The cavalry had purchased Arabian horses, selecting that particular breed because they were known for their courage, intelligence, disposition, and endurance. It fit the army requirements perfectly, that they could run at a gallop, or trot for miles without stopping. Also, because the army had promised a bonus if all the horses would be the same color, Kitty had given specific instructions to round up only chestnuts.
It took from early morning until midafternoon before all the selected horses were cut from the herd, then moved into the smaller field where they would be held until they were shipped.
“You fellas don’t know it yet, but you’re all joinin’ the army,” Prew said to the horses, laughing as they were moved into the field. “Yes, sir, no more wanderin’ around free as the breeze. From now on you’ll have to get up early in the mornin’, work all day and listen to bugles and the such.”
“Hey, the cavalry ain’t a bad life for horses,” Jake said. “Hell, I was in the cavalry. The horses has it better than the privates. I mucked out their stalls, fed them, rubbed them down. Didn’t no horse ever do that for me.”
The others laughed as the last of the horses were put into the field.
“Did you get a count, Crack?” Tyrone asked.
“Yeah,” Crack answered. “I counted five hundred and twenty-three.”
“That’s good,” Tyrone said. “All right, boys, let’s get this fence up and stretched across the opening, here.”
For the next hour, the men worked at constructing a fence that stretched some fifty yards across the south end of the field, thus closing off the field to keep the horses put.
When Kitty and Matt returned from their trip into town they rode out to the field where the horses had been gathered, arriving just as the last part of the fence was finished, completing the enclosure. Seeing his boss, Tyrone rode over to her.
“How do they look?” Tyrone asked.
“They are beautiful,” Kitty said. “And it looks like they all match.”
“I tell you the truth, Mrs. Wellington, they are near ’bout all as alike as peas in a pod,” Tyrone said. “But you are right. They are a good looking bunch of horses. I bet you hate to sell them off.”
Kitty laughed and held up her hand. “Well, let’s not go that far with it,” she said. “I don’t have any choice. I have to sell them off.”
“Yes, ma’am, I know,” Tyrone said. “But don’t it make you feel good to know that you got ’em right here, ready to go?”
“It makes me feel very good,” Kitty replied. “You and the others did a really good job. And when you get back up to the house, I’ve got something that will show my appreciation.”
“Now, Mrs. Wellington, you don’t have to do nothin’ to show your appreciation,” Tyrone said. “You are real easy to work for, and the boys and me are glad to be here. And roundin’ up these horses? Well, that was our job, that’s all.”
“Then let’s just say we’ll be celebrating the fact that the horses will be sold soon, and there will be enough money to keep you and all the others working here.”
“Yes’m, well, keepin’ a job, now, that is somethin’ worth celebratin’.”
Even before the riders returned to the compound they could smell the rich, enticing aroma of cooking meat. Then, when they rode up the bunkhouse they saw, on the lawn between the bunkhouse and the big house, a huge haunch of beef on a spit, glistening a deep brown as the cook turned it slowly over an open fire.
“Yahoo!” Crack yelled, taking his hat off and beating it against his trouser leg. That action raised so much dust that some of the riders nearest him had to cough.
“Tell you what, boys,” Tyrone said. “I think maybe before we set down to this meal, we ought to get cleaned up.”
“Hell, I always wash up before I eat,” Crack said. “That’s somethin’ my mama taught me a long time ago.”
“I don’t mean just wash your face and hands,” Tyrone said. “I mean take a bath and put on clean clothes. This here is an occasion, and we need to act like gentlemen.”
“Tyrone is right,” Prew said. “We need to take us a real bath.”
“Hell, I took me a bath no more than two weeks ago,” one of the riders said.
“You’re goin’ to take another one today,” Tyrone said. “That is, if you want to eat with the rest of us.”
“All right, all right, I’ll take me another’n. Hell, it wouldn’t surprise me none if you didn’t start sayin’ we had to take a bath ever’ other week, or so.”
Tubs were hauled out, filled with water, and the men, in turn, began washing away the dirt. As Matt and Kitty sat together on the back porch of the big house, they couldn’t see the ranch hands because the tubs were blocked by the bunkhouse, but they could hear the loud laughter and teasing as the men took their baths.
“Damn, Jake, look at that! You were so dirty you done turned that water into mud!” somebody shouted, and the taunt was met with more laughter.