Chapter Nine—Selling Out

     I had left River Bend the first part of December. After I captured the three bank robbers, I thought about going back there, but I didn't; I couldn’t go back to Rogersville because of Julie. I couldn’t go to Whitewater because I feared rejection by Robin; that was six months ago, she’s long forgotten me by now. Frankly, I thought I was losing my mind. People lose loved ones all the time and stay in the same place. Why can’t I go back to Rogersville? Or River Bend? Or even Whitewater?
     I consoled myself with the thought that I had been hit very hard the last year and thus was an emotional wreck. I didn’t know if that would wash psychologically or not. Or if I was just being weak. All I knew was I didn’t want to go back to Rogersville because of the memories. And I was scared to go to Whitewater for fear that there might be even more pain. I’d had enough of that. I’d thought I could never, never hurt as bad as I did when Julie died.  I think I missed Kelly more than I admitted to myself, but I also thought that was probably because my heart had never completely healed from Julie and had taken another blow with Robin. I really felt that, if I went to Whitewater and found Robin married or not wanting me, I’d probably blow my brains out. And suicidal I was not.
     But how long can a man live in wretched agony?
     Am I making excuses? I didn’t know. I just knew how I felt and I would have given anything to change it.
     I even considered going to Denver to see if I could find Julie Ratliff. But what would I do in Denver? And what if SHE had found somebody else? I even laughed at myself on that one. Conners, you’re so skittish you’re scared of your own shadow. I needed to find something to do and find it in a hurry.
     You see, I could have gone back to Rogersville now. And even gotten my ranch back. The letter that Sergeant McCoy had brought me was a full pardon from the territorial governor. Colonel Benjamin Ratliff had asked the governor to give me one based on the help I had given in the Indian attack, and when the governor had looked more closely into the situation, he found out that, given all the circumstances, I had pretty well been railroaded into becoming an outlaw. He pardoned me and demanded that Martin Brant, Wilson’s son, give me back my 160 acres, and also return to their rightful owners any other land the Brants had taken from farmers and ranchers in that valley, and pay for damages caused. I could go home, get my ranch back, and insist that Martin Brant rebuild my house and barn and replenish my stock. I could pick up right where I had left off.
     Except with a grave of my wife on my land. Could I live with that? I didn’t know. But I thought that I ought to be man enough to at least go down there and find out. If I couldn’t handle it, I’d sell my land and move on somewhere else.
     So to Rogersville I headed. And I bypassed Whitewater on the way.
     But not easily. About noon, I stopped at that same hill where Robin and I had departed that first day—second, if you count the night before—and wistfully looked down at the town. It was cold, snowing lightly. I could go down there…It was Christmas Day. That would be a wonderful present for me. I closed my eyes and turned Ol’ Paint away.
     “I can’t do it yet, boy, I just can’t do it yet,” I told him.
     I was in Rogersville by the end of the year. And by the 10th of January, Martin Brant, operating under a court order, had agreed to give me back my 160 acres, build me a ranch house with a barn, fill it full of hay, and give me 50 horses and 100 cows, plus a few chicken and a couple of pigs.
     I went out to Julie’s grave. I stood there, looking down at it, trying hard not to cry. I didn’t. But it was hard, very hard, so very hard that I had to turn away in less than five minutes.
     I tried to think of something else, and when I wanted to try to get Julie out of my mind, I turned my thoughts to…Robin. As I rode away from Julie’s grave, I remembered that stage robbery…taking her with me…her sarcastic, but lovely, sense of humor…her beautiful smile…She was just…different. Different…different…I loved my Julie more than I could ever say…I adored Julie Ratliff, though I don’t know if I really loved her…Kelly…yes, I had come to adore Kelly in the few months I had known her….But…
     And I shook my head and even laughed a bit. The one who helps me forget Julie the most is the one I spent maybe 24 hours with.
     Conners, you HAVE lost your mind…

     I went over that last part kinda fast, so let me back up a bit. I made it into Rogersville on Friday, December 28 and found Ol’ Paint a stall at the town stable. He needed the rest after hauling me the several hundred miles from River Bend.
     “Well, bless my ol’ wicked soul, if it ain’t Rob Conners,” Tug Dyson, the old goat at the stable said to me. “You got lots a’ guts comin’ back here. I don’ reckon the sheriff’s forgotten ye none, so he’s liable to toss yore carcass into the hoosegow.”
     I smiled at him. “Tug, you mean you people haven’t elected another sheriff yet? Dixon is about as worthless as a whore at a eunuch convention.”
     He chuckled. “I knowed that jest like you do, but the Brants’s’still got the money. You shore put a crimp in their style, though, I tell ye. Martin ain’t half the snake his ol’ man was.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “What brings you back, son? Sere’sly, Dixon will ‘rrest you as soon as he sees you.”
     “No, he won’t.” I pulled the governor’s letter out of my pocket and handed it to Tug. “Can you read?”
     “You bet I can, boy. Better’n you, I bet.” He read the letter, then let out a cackle and slapped his knee. “Well, congratulations, boy. This’ll sure rustle up some ‘citement round here, that’s fer sure. I’d love to see Dixon’s eyes, or better yet, Martin Brant’s when he reads this. His eyeballs’ll pop outta his noggin, fer shore. Watch ‘im, though, he’s still got a sidewinder ‘r two on his payroll. You gonna git your land back?”
     I took the letter back from him. “I might. Or at least sell it. Not sure I can hang around here, Tug. Memories of Julie are still awful strong.”
     “Yeah, kin unnerstan’ that. Still miss my Annie ‘n it’s been past fifteen years now. Well, good luck to ye. I’ll take care of Ol’ Paint fer ye, don’t fret yoreself none about him.”
     “Thanks, Tug.”
     I headed towards the hotel to get a room, and then I intended to go straight to the courthouse and show the sheriff this pardon letter I had received. Then I’d show it to Judge Connelly, who was a fair man, and I was hoping he’d slap an order on Brant to give me my land back. The letter said he was supposed to, and I was sure Connelly would support me. Or at least I hoped he would.
     I got a few looks as I walked to the hotel. People knew me. But nobody stopped me or said anything. The clerk at the hotel was new in town, but when I signed the roster “Robert Conners,” he frowned.
     “You the Conners wanted by the law around here?”
     “That’s me,” I said.
     “Hear you did the town a favor then got railroaded for it.”
     “Something like that.”
     “Sheriff won’t like seeing you here.”
     “I’ve got a surprise for that…for that nice man who does such a wonderful job upholding the law in this town.”
     The clerk grunted a laugh. “Good luck. Room 6, up the stairs to your right.”
     I put my gear in the room and headed straight for the courthouse. This time I did get a couple of people stop me.
     “Rob! What are you doing back in town? Don’t you know you’re still wanted around here?”
     “Yeah, but I got a pardon from the governor, so everything is ok.”
     “Hmph. You never should have needed one in the first place. You gonna confront Martin Brant?”
     I smiled. “I won’t have to. I’m going to let the law do it for me.”
     “Dixon ain’t gonna help you.”
     “He won’t have any choice, unless he wants to be in contempt of court.”
     I walked into the sheriff’s office. Sheriff Wayne Dixon was sitting at his desk, doing some paperwork. When he saw me, a surprised look came over his face. “Rob Conners!” He jumped up and went for his gun. “You’re under arrest,” he said.
     “Take a leap, Dixon,” I said to him, and handed him the pardon letter.
     He read it and his face clouded up. “Your bankrollers aren’t going to like it, are they?” I said, with a harsh laugh. “You’re going to have to enforce the law for a change.”
     He growled and shoved the letter back at me. “I’ll do what I have to.”
     “I’m sure you will. Just stay off my back.” I left his office and went to see Judge Connelly. He was shocked to see me as well but didn’t appear to be angry or upset about it.
     “Hello, Rob,” he said. He was an older, distinguished looking gentlemen, with white hair, rough complexion, but clean shaven. “Kinda surprised to see you here, but I reckon you probably have a good reason.” I’d always liked Connelly, he seemed to be a good man, but he would do his job and uphold the law.
     “I think so, Judge.” I handed him the letter.
     “What you got here?” he asked, then started reading it with a thoughtful expression on his face. As he got farther on, he began to smile. When he finished, he set it down with a huge grin on his face. “Hot doggie, Conners, I’ve been wanting to bring those Brants down about ten pegs for years, but never could do it. This is perfect.”
     “Will you give me a court order demanding the Brants give me back my land?”
     “You better believe I will, and everybody else’s land they stole. Not only will they give you your land back, but they’ll rebuild your house and barn and restock your ranch for you.”
     “Can you make them do that?”
     “Governor’s a personal friend of mine. I’ll wire him and make sure he knows what’s going on.”
     “Brant will hire a lawyer to try to get an injunction.”
     “I’ll slap an injunction on their injunction. I’ll make it so expensive for them to go to court that it would be cheaper for them to settle out of court and rebuild your place.”
     I smiled. “Thanks, Judge. I always did think you were a good man.”
     “And I was always glad you planted Wilson Brant, too. Off the record, that is,” he chuckled. “I hated you had to do it, but I’m glad you left the area. If the matter had gone to court, I’m afraid the verdict would have come back guilty and I would have had to hang you…”
     Well, to cut to the quick, Connelly issued the court order that very day and had Dixon deliver it to Brant immediately. Since it was a holiday weekend, nothing could be done until the following Wednesday, January 2. Sure enough, Brant hired a lawyer to get an injunction against the court order, but of course, Judge Connelly rejected it.
     “This man,” he said, referring to me, “legally bought and paid for 160 acres of land. By right of ownership and pardon, that land is still his. Martin Brant has been feeding his cattle on Conners’ grass for the past several months, in effect, stealing grass that isn’t his. And Brant has also been doing it on land owned by other settlers, without a proper permit. I hereby declare that, because Martin Brant has been illegally using the Conners’ grass, he immediately withdraw all stock from that land, and in payment for the grass taken, rebuild the Conners house, barn, and fence, and provide all the stock, with interest, that was lost to Mr. Conners in the tragedy that befell him 14 months ago. It is hereby so ordered by this court.” He banged his gavel.
     Brant’s lawyer jumped up. “Judge Connelly, you can’t do that.”
     “Just did it, Mr. Winters. One more word out of you and I’ll hold you in contempt of court. And if the court might give you some advice, start representing honest people instead of dishonest ones. This court is adjourned.” And he arose and left the room.
     The courtroom had been packed, though there was no trial, just Judge Connelly’s pronouncement, which was a little longer than related above. After the session, everyone came up to me, congratulating me. Nobody went over to Martin Brant, who walked out of the courtroom. But he was waiting for me outside.
     “This isn’t over, Conners,” he said.
     “No, it’s not, Brant, not until you obey the court order. I’ll have an architect send you plans for the house and barn I want, and I’ll also provide you an inventory of the stock your father destroyed so that you can replace it. With some numbers added to account for the natural growth that would have taken place. And I’m going to put up ‘No Trespassing’ signs all along my fence and if I ever see one Brant thug on my property again, I’ll be the last person who ever sees him. You got that, buster?”
     “That sounds like a threat, Conners.”
     I walked over to him. I was taller than he so I looked down at him. “Brant, please, please show up on my property some day soon.”
     It was quite clear he didn’t want to. He turned and walked away. I never saw him again.
     But work on the new ranch house and barn began the following week and all the livestock I demanded had arrived by the end of the month.

     I had let it be known that I might not want to stay in the area. Even with my thoughts of Robin, the feelings for Julie were still very powerful, especially when I was on the ranch. But I wasn’t sure yet. I’d entertain offers for my property and if I received one I liked, then I might just take it.
     But could I leave Julie for good? But could I stay and see her grave every day? Good grief, what a dilemma…
     I met a man towards the end of January who was interested in “perhaps purchasing a ranch in the area.”
     I shook his hand. “Rob Conners.”
     “Adam Stouffer.”
     I took him out to the ranch. We talked on the way. He told me about himself and I related my story to him.
     “Great Caesar’s ghost,” he said. “And they let Brant get away with all that?”
     “The law can be bought, as I’m sure you know.”
     “Yes,” he replied. “Yes, that’s true. Do you think Brant will give any more trouble?”
     I thought on that. “I really don’t think so, Mr. Stouffer, but, of course, I can’t say for sure. They still have the largest ranch in the area and Martin Brant probably thinks he stole it all fair and square. But the judge came down pretty hard on him a few weeks ago. Frankly, I’ll be a little surprised if Brant ever tries anything again. Martin Brant doesn’t have the salt his old man had and I think he’s a little intimidated by Judge Connelly. And I also think there will be a new sheriff in town by the end of the year, one not bought with Brant money. The town isn’t going to stand for that any more.”
     The ranch house and barn weren’t near complete yet; in fact, with the weather, it might be late spring before they were. But I showed Adam the plans and he was impressed. He gave me a wry grin. “Not sure I need a house quite that big, but maybe I’ll get married some day and have a wife and kids to put into one.”
     “How old are you, Mr. Stouffer?”
     “28.”
     “Oh, you’ve got plenty of time.”
     “I reckon.”
     We rode around the place. It didn’t take too long because it was only 160 acres. But he saw the grass—dead in winter, of course—and the cattle. “Good water, too,” he said.
     “Yeah. Best small ranch in the area, if I do say so myself.”
     “Do you mind if I ask how much you paid for the land?”
     “$10,000 about five years ago.”
     “With nothing on it?”
     “As virgin as a baby.”
     He nodded. “You’ve made some good improvements. Well, you had, and I’m glad to hear they are being replaced.” Then he looked at me. “How much you want for it?”
     I thought on it a moment. “Frankly, Mr. Stouffer, I’m not quite sure I want to sell, but I’m taking offers. What would you give for it?—if you wanted it.”
     “I’m not sure I want it yet, but it’s the best piece I’ve seen so far, and I’ve looked around some. I want to check around Whitewater as well.”
     “Nice area up there.”
     “Yes. Pretty. I’m almost tempted to make you an offer right now, for fear you might sell it out from under me. But I’ll tell you this much. I’d give you at least 50,000 for it, if you’d take that. I can’t promise you I’m going to buy it, but if you don’t get another offer that high and want to hang on to it…”
     “Oh, I’ll keep you in mind. To be honest with you, Mr. Stouffer, $50,000 is about twice what this place is worth. I guess $30,000 would be a fair figure, given the house, barn, and stock. Like I told you, I’m not real sure yet I want to sell, but if I do, I’d probably ask 30 for it.” I shrugged. “Nobody else has come to see the ranch, but then, I’ve only been back less than a month. I’m in no hurry. I would like to see how the house and barn turn out.”
     “Well, you say it’s only worth 30, but what it’s really worth is what somebody is willing to pay for it. If you do put it on the market, I have no doubt somebody would snatch it up at that price in a hurry. Can I ask you to do one thing for me?”
     “What’s that?”
     “If you opt to sell, and somebody offers you $30,000 for it, before you accept it, would you contact me and give me a chance to make a counter-offer? I may find something I like better, but to be honest with you, I doubt it. This is the size I want, not too big so it’s manageable by myself, it’s got good grass, it’s already stocked, got a house and barn, it’s in an area I want to live in…how can you beat that? I’d give you 50,000 for it easy and think I was getting a bargain.”
     I chuckled. “Well, then my price just doubled.”
     He grinned. “Couldn’t blame you.”
     “No,” I said, “not going to do that, but I will contact you before I sell it. You going to be up in Whitewater?”
     “Yeah. That will be the place to reach me.”
     “Great.” We shook hands and parted.
     When he had said he was staying up in Whitewater, I had thought of Robin, of course. But I didn’t ask him about her, and he had no reason to mention her.
     He was right and I was wrong. About the value of the land, that is. I was staggered, around the first of February, to get an offer of $50,000 for it. I had made a promise to Adam Stouffer though, so I contacted him. About the middle of month, I received a wire from him offering me $60,000 for my land. The other buyer didn’t want to top that. I was still just a tad hesitant about selling the land. I didn’t sleep that night at all, but the next morning I wired him back accepting his offer. I’ll never forget Julie, of course I won’t. But I can’t just stay here because her ashes are buried in the earth. Got to put at least part of her behind me and move on. The pain of seeing her grave every day would be too great. Maybe out of sight, out of mind…
     Maybe.

     But what to do with myself? Go buy a piece of Gail Sanders’ land? No, don’t want to go back there...Go to Whitewater and see if Robin is still there? I sighed. It’s been eight months…would she even remember me? She said she’d never forget me, but I can’t believe I made as big an impression on her as she made on me.
     Go someplace and start over, Conners….

     Adam Stouffer had wired me about wanting to purchase my land on the 16th and I had wired him back the next day with an acceptance. He rode down immediately and arrived on the 21st. It took a couple of days to get all the paperwork done, transferring the title of my land to Adam, getting the money from his bank in Philadelphia, tying up all the loose ends. We rode out again one day to see the property. It was cold and overcast and there were a few snow flurries, but it had been a fairly mild winter, for the most part. The house and barn were being built, but it would still be several weeks before they were finished.
     “Where are you going to stay until they get everything built?” I asked Adam.
     “I think I can get a boarding room in town for a few weeks. Or I may head up to Whitewater or Agua Calienta. I’ve got some friends in both places. And Adam thought, I wouldn’t mind seeing Robin again…she’s quite a gal. Can’t marry her, though, I’ve got my land here and she’s got her business up there. Tough break. “What are you planning on doing?”
     “I really don’t know. This area has been my home my entire life. I may drift awhile, see the country, find a place I like, buy me another small place like this. That’s probably what I’ll end up doing.” I might go back to River Bend after all... I frowned...I had been mixed up for months and I still was.....Make up your mind and do something, Conners...
     Adam was speaking. “You could hang around here. I hear you’re pretty good with a gun. The people here would probably elect you sheriff.”
     “Yuck,” is all I said, and he laughed.
     “I could use a foreman who knows the land,” he said, and I laughed.
     “You know anything about ranching?” I asked him.
     “Not a rootin’ tootin’ thing,” he replied, and I couldn’t help but laugh again.
     “How do you figure on operating this place then?”
     “Well, to be quite honest with you, I was figuring on hiring a helper until I learned the ropes myself. I was being a little facetious when I said I didn’t know anything. I grew up in Agua Caliente, and that’s a ranching area, too, but my folks weren’t ranchers. Still, some of it rubs off on you. You sure you don’t want a job for awhile?”
     “I’m sure. Thanks.”
     We sat on a hill overlooking the building of the house and barn. “Lovely piece of land, Rob.”
     I thought back over the years. To when Julie and I first bought the land. Sitting right here on a horse next to her, watching our house and barn being built, loving each other, planning together, the whole world in my hands, nothing else a man could ever want. As tears came to my eyes, I knew right then I’d made the right choice in selling out to Adam Stouffer. There’s no way I could ever live on that piece of property again. Wonderful, wonderful memories shattered by a heart-wrenching agony. I had to go somewhere else.
     “You’ll enjoy it, Adam. I hope it ends happier for you than it did for me.”
     On March 1, the bank counted me out 60,000 of Adam Stouffer’s dollars. Adam kept asking me to stay around just a couple of weeks and give him a few tips on ranching, so I acquiesced. He knew enough about horses to get by and build upon, but he knew next to nothing about cows. Since I didn’t especially have anything to do, I agreed and showed him the basics of cowpunching.
     “If one of ‘em gets sick, call the vet. If one of ‘em is about to calve, call the vet. Provided she doesn’t go ahead and drop the little feller on her own. Which she will, but get the vet out anyway. Your land will be fenced once all the building is finished, so you won’t have to worry about them straying onto somebody else’s property. But do keep an eye on your fence and make repairs when necessary. If you see somebody rustling your cattle, shoot ‘em. All the other ranchers around here will give you a medal.” He laughed.
     “Should I plant some hay?”
     “I did. About 10 acres. That probably won’t give you all you need in winter, but it might. And if it doesn’t, the feed store will have what you need…”
     I helped Adam for a few days, but on March 10, a man named Doug Watson approached him about a foreman’s job. I knew Watson. “Hire him, Adam, he’s a good man, you won’t find a better one.”
     “Thanks, Rob. I’ll do that.”
     So he did. And I was out of a job. I didn’t want to stay in the area anyway. So I took all my money out of the Rogersville bank. All $60,000. Stuffed it in my saddlebags and what I couldn’t put in there, I wrapped in a money belt around my waist. And I dared anybody to try to take it away from me.
     I left town. I had no idea where I was going. But then, the last time I left Rogersville, I didn’t know where I was going, either.