Saddle Dust

Chapter 4

"Frederick, where did you get such fine animals?"
Carl is speaking to Frederick as they stand looking at a pasture of cattle fat from grazing in the lush grasses waffling in the cooling breeze.
"Oh, just from a fine aquaintence— friend of mine, really."
The two men chuckle, and Frederick brings a fat cigar to his lips.
Carl gifted Frederick the expanded land for the cattle when Frederick was just starting out in the ranching business. The tiny cluster of cattle that Carl had also given to Frederick had grown to a massive herd that nearly dominated the Chicago market. All of these things seemingly given of 'free will' were, of course, part of a business agreement.
Every two years, Carl and his wife Wilber (Wilber being second cousin to Frederick), make the long journey first by carriage, then by train, then by long-distance stage coach from their estate in the Northern quarter of New York to the ranch house that used to be Wilber's grandfather's small farmland. Marty and Beverly also make the trip down to visit with the family.
The trip is part social call, part business meeting. The journey gives Carl the chance to check on his gift cattle. To make sure that the herd is healthy and ready to make the long trek to the trains in Dodge City.
"I've got my gang of wranglers and scouts camping out in the far field for your inspection as well, if that's something you wanted to check up on. They're fine fellows, true veterans of the trail. I'm most proud of my point riders though. They're hawk-eyed and shrewd critics of the wilderness. I'm sure you would agree with me. I can call them up to the house if you would like to check their knowledge though?"
"Oh, no no. That won't be necessary!"
Carl waves off Frederick's offer with a dainty brush of his thin hand.
"You have been in this ranching business for quite some time now, and have done quite a fine job choosing your cattle hands. I quite trust your choices."
Carl turns his gaze to the cattle. His eyes are hazel and squinted with crow's feet.
"In fact, you've done quite a fine job with these cattle too. I don't believe I've seen such fat longhorns this far west— and before they're on trail! I am quite certain that we will be able to reach another deal that will benefit us both, no?"
Carl takes a moment to draw in his own fat cigar, slowly letting the oily blue haze climb up into the sky. Frederick takes this as his opportunity to bring up his new business request.
"Yes, of course. I am quite looking forward to sitting down with you and the Waterton fellow later tonight to discuss our arrangement.
As for the cattle, it's really all thanks to Victor (insert last name here when known) and Philip Wheatley. You remember those boys, of course. They're the two way out in the pasture at the north post. They've been with us for the longest, and I've never known two men to be so enlisted to their duties that they would stay faithful to one family for so long. Never seen anyone handle the trails better either. I really don't know what I'd do without them."
Carl smiles and takes a cigar out of his mouth. Chuckling out a stream of fog as he does so.
"Yes! I remember those two. They're the ones who brought back that daughter of yours, right? Lily? Was that the one? It was Philip and Victor and...one other man, right? You said they were working for the girl's folks up in Alaska before they had their unfortunate accident."
Frederick feels the back of his neck begin to burn with an old familiar sting at the mention of his adopted daughter.
His spine prickles with sadness while his stomach churns in some blended combination of joy, bitter sweetness, and bloodthirsty rage. Frederick can't explain where this last emotion comes from, and so chooses to tuck it away into a corner of his mind for later examination.
He replies in a flat tone still business-like and friendly, but tinged with emotion.
"Yes, Victor and Philip brought her back along with another cattle hand who used to work for us, Michael. My wife and I feel quite blessed to have gotten the chance to raise a daughter like Lily. She's...she...ah...well...Lily—"
Carl cuts in with a silencing gesture of his hand. He speaks curtly, and rapidly.
"Frederick, I apologize for bringing up your...daughter. There's no need to explain further. It sort of, well, people remember faces."
Carl looks Frederick fully in the face, and tosses the end of his cigar into the grass.
"You see a face on a ranch or— or a farm, for instance. And around town. Getting supplies from the general store with her father and brothers. Picking wildflowers by the horse pens in the summertime. Getting rides into town on the backs of Victor and Philip's horses. She was a favorite, you know. Different, and a little strange, but a favorite none the less of the town and folks who knew her."
Frederick nods and makes to interrupt, but Carl turns back towards the cattle and continues on with his explanation.
"When a little girl goes missing, particularly one as well loved as Lily was, well, you start to remember that face just a little clearer. Every little child you see reminds you of that girl. And when you hear that the search is given up and she hasn't been returned to the arms of her loving family, you still see her face in other children's expressions.
When Lily went missing it was no different. People looked, saw, and realized that the little girl in the pink dress and white bonnet walking across the street was not, in fact, the missing child but one they had only mistaken to be her. But..."
Carl raises his thick black eyebrows along with a thin finger held in quavering anticipation, and looks back at Frederick. He taps his finger against the air.
"But...when you see her face in the newspaper, sure! It's been a few years, but when you see it in the newspaper, that is something you cannot mistake. That face is the one that you will see for the rest of your days. Quite literally, in fact.
When that little girl, now a grown woman, starts to appear next to those bastards Sundance Kid and...and Butch Cassidy, that is when you realize that you were not mistaken just that one time you saw Lily's face appear in the expression of the white-bonneted girl or other innocent child, but that you were mistaken every time you saw the real Lily walk into town on the hand of her loving father.
You start to see the expression of the Sundance Kid in the newspaper prints of Lily's face. You see other outlaw's crime-hardened faces in Lily's own, deceitful one. You start to see the faces of our country's common criminals in her eyes and nose and smirk and you realize that that is the real Lily. That no other one ever existed. And that, my dear fellow, is the truth."
Carl begins to speak as a professor to his pupil.
"I'm going to give you a little piece of advice, now, if I may hazard it. The papers and most all of their readers believe that the Sundance Kid is actually Lily's blood father. That he had her with one of the...the hotel ladies in the Midwest somewhere. I mean, really. The story does fold up quite nicely.
If I were you, I would choose to take that version of the story to heart. I would take it, and run to the moon with it. Who knows? There's a fairly good chance that she really is the daughter of that filthy degenerate."
Carl leans nonchalantly against the side of the fence post once more.
"I believe it, and so does the rest of the country."
He finishes with a nod of his head, then continues on in a pitying, mournful tone only a true politician can master. He is appropriately somber and grave.
"I cannot imagine going through what you have gone through, Frederick. And I once again beg pardon for stirring up these uncomfortable and tragic memories. I hope that we will still be able to work out a new land contract? For the new cattle I will assuredly be sending you next fall, no?"
Frederick breaks his serious and stone-like composure at once to jovially shake the outstretched hand Carl is offering.
"I cannot thank you enough. I assure you that the next drive's cattle will be the finest ever to cross the states."
Frederick is nearly trembling with delight.

This sudden, almost reckless shift in conversation is a common tactic that politicians such as Carl have used throughout the history of humanity. Captivate, then capture. It is rather jarring to hear when you are not emotionally tied up under the influence of such a politician, but when you are, it seems a shift so subtle that you can hardly feel anything but glowing admiration towards the speaker.

Carl takes the floor again as he releases Frederick's wide, weather-toughened hand.
"Yes, well, I do truly believe that you already do have the finest cattle in this land, otherwise I wouldn't be sponsoring you as generously as I have. But I believe that you can have more of the finest cattle in the land if I can get you the space you ask for, which should be no trouble at all, of course.
I just need to have someone to act as an intermediary. A lawyer of sorts. Just to make sure our little deal is...official. No? Remember, you have your end to hold up as well with the cattle money getting safely into both of our pockets."
Both men are grinning now.
"That's why I brought Mr. Waterton with us, I know you were asking earlier."
Carl pulls back further, seemingly lost in deep contemplation. Frederick takes his cigar out of his mouth and tosses it into the grass before speaking.
"Waterton is just the man for this. I know that I only met him just last night, but he's a fine, reasonable old chap who would be more than happy to help out with our business here. It will make it more convenient for the both of us.
Frederick is still grinning, and he replies in a voice filled with reverence.
"No worries about my opinion on Waterton! He seems a generous and smart fellow, Maxine seems to think so as well. And Maxine's got a good nose for fine, honest folk!"
Frederick knowingly taps the side of his nose.
"I think Waterton acting as intermediary a fine idea, Carl. I cannot possibly thank you enough for all that you have done for my family over the years, and I trust any man that you say should be trusted.
As for Lily, no need to apologize. I do think that you are quite right about her mannerisms, and I wouldn't need much convincing to believe that she really is the daughter of that...that devil of a man."
They stand in silence for a few moments looking out at the cattle before Frederick begins speaking again, startling Carl out of his daze.
"She was here just a few days ago, you know."
Carl's eyebrows shoot up, but he lets Frederick ramble on.
"Yes, she came in off of the road looking like a starved wild animal. I suppose she was something like that, in all truth.
It was nice to see her again after all of these years, and she couldn't have been more polite for the supplies and comfort we gave her. But she ran off after going to visit Philip and Victor. The two never discussed the visit. In fact, I don't think I've seen either of them from closer than half a mile away since before she visited. Been so busy with getting ready for the drive, and all."
Carl readopts a pitying tone after recovering himself slightly.
"Well...that isn't surprising that she ran off without proper goodbyes. That's probably what that Sundance Kid, her father, did after all. Ran off after he got with the poor woman who was left with Lily who she saw immediately was bad blood and sent her off to live with a family homesteading in Alaska. Then he ran off after the train robbery with his little girl, stealing her from a proper, ladylike life. He always ran off after each and every atrocity he committed.
Now that's what...what...Casey Long does now. Runs off after her own father is shot dead in Bolivia. Runs off after you give her a little slice of true humanity in a proper and loving home. She runs, runs, runs. She isn't doing anything but running.
You did a noble, godly thing by taking her in and trying to send her to finishing school. It was a truly saint-like act. You can rest easy knowing that the devil's goats may run rampant now, but the Lord's children will be tasting the sweetness of their saintly deeds later."
"Carl, I...I feel very grateful to call you family. I don't know where we would all be without your generosity of land, cattle, and of words of comfort. I am sure that Waterton is going to be just the fellow for the job, and I look forward to getting started on our business with him."
Carl's eyes glint as he looks conspiratorially at Frederick.
"Well, we still have to work out the minor details of the contract. Such as which trains will be available, and which cuts will be taken."
The two men walk back towards the house, chuckling over mundane topics and throwing dust into the air as Carl's black riding boots and Frederick's cattle boots scuff the grass.