Chapter 1

Early Summer 1899

The settlement of Muddy Creek had long been destroyed, but that didn’t stop Ian from traveling there to inspect his newly acquired property.  It was part of the parcel he’d recently purchased. The Union Pacific purchased it on speculation that the railroad would go through. When a more forgiving and favorable terrain was acquired, this land was considered good for very little and, thus, sold to Ian for a very appealing price.  It may not have looked like it was worth much to the railroad, but to Ian Murry it had the makings of a good and solid sheep domain to add to his already established cattle ranch.

The remains of the burned and abandoned settlement were positioned on the far west of his newly acquired thousand acres.  More mountainous and hilly than his five-thousand-acre cattle ranch, it was the reason he intended to raise sheep on it.  For a cattle rancher to pair his stock with sheep was unheard of in these parts and sure to cause a stir.  He just hoped that stir wouldn’t be initiated by fear and ignorance from his neighbors.  He’d worked hard over the years to build himself up to the level of comfort and prosperity that he now enjoyed.  After almost a decade of dealing with outlaws, rogue miners, and battles between the local warring Indian tribes, things had finally settled down. He wanted to keep it that way.

His ranch hand, Jackson Campbell, rode toward him while pointing to a house that looked to be still intact.  “It looks like ya might be able to turn this one into the sheep herder’s cabin, boss.  Its got a little singe to it, but, for the most part, it avoided the destruction most of them suffered.”

Ian looked at the house in reference.  Its weathered exterior sported slightly charred patches that were often left on the exterior of buildings that were near the heart of a neighborhood fire, but the roof looked good and the walls were straight.  From what he could tell, the building was large enough to have at least two rooms, possibly three. Traces of his Irish brogue sounded in his voice when he asked, “Have you been inside?” 

Jackson hopped off his horse and took the reins to carefully lead it down the debris ridden street. “I was just gonna do that.  This place had the makings of a fine mountain town.  We could’ve used one of them in these parts.  There’s a building that looks like they even had a trading post.”

“It’s a damn shame what that Jones gang did to these parts.  It’s good they’re all hanged,” Ian said as he hopped off his horse and mimicked Jackson.  He kicked at some pieces of wood and the remnants of a clay pot.   

“This will all have to be cleaned up.  I can’t risk the sheep coming down and mulling around through it.”

“Are you sure you want to raise sheep, boss?  I heard that old man Simpson is bitchin’ up a storm about it.  You won’t win any popularity prizes from the other ranchers.”

“Other than logging, there’s not much else I can do with this piece of property.  It’s too mountainous for cattle.  Besides, wool is a good commodity to be involved in.  Simpson and the like will just have to get over it.   Once they see the convenience of having wool for their women so handy, they’ll come around.”

“A good bowl of mutton stew once in awhile might be a nice change for them as well,” Jackson said with a grin.

“Aye, that it might.”

“Do you think you might reopen the trading post?”

Ian scratched his weathered chin.  “I’ll have to think on that.  I’m not sure I want to encourage travelers to traipse across my property.  It’s a recipe for trouble most of the time.”

Jackson scowled.  The thought of a trading post closer than the town they traveled twenty miles to once a month was mighty appealing, but he could understand his boss’ reservations about putting one on his property.  Other than the convenience for the ranch hands, the fact that it would be on the far edge of his ranch was the only good point he could emphasize with good conscience.  “That’s probably true, but at least they wouldn’t be going through the heart of the ranch.  Even the sheep should see few travelers.  If I’m not mistaken, the trail is to the west of here a few miles.”

“There’s a town with everything you need not twenty miles from the ranch to the south,” Ian mused.  “Why would travelers bypass a town to come here to a little trading post?”

“They probably wouldn’t, but what about the miners and the loggers to the west and the north of here?  There’s nothing for an easy fifty to one-hundred miles either way.   That’s a long way to travel for a bit of flour and coffee.”

Ian listened carefully to his ranch hand’s suggestion as he continued to cautiously lead his horse down the precarious dirt road.  Having wool available locally for women to spin into yarn to make their homespun goods would attract a lot of attention even without a trading post.  Although Fort Benton was twenty miles from the ranch house, travelers from the west had to skirt around his property, which added an extra ten to fifteen miles onto their trip.  Loggers and miners would surely appreciate being able to acquire their staple needs at a trading post while saving the miles.  This newly acquired piece of property that the Northern Pacific considered so worthless could prove to be quite valuable after all.

When they finally reached the small house, the two men tied their mounts to the roughhewn hitching post in front of what looked to have been a trading post next to it and carefully stepped onto the porch.  It was dark inside but, after a few shutters were thrown open, they could see well enough. 

They entered a room with a fireplace that was large enough to heat the building as well as serve as a cooking location.  This fact was emphasized by the cauldron full of rotted and dried up porridge that was still on its hook.  The place was modestly furnished with a solid square table and four chairs near the fireplace. A kitchen cabinet with old flour still in its bin sported a wooden work surface that looked to have been well cared for.  There were even a few cast iron fry pans, a water kettle, and some dishware that could still prove serviceable.  

A comfortable looking rocking chair beckoned them from the corner. Jackson smiled with satisfaction as he eased himself into it while Ian investigated the two small bedrooms.  They were just large enough to hold the beds that were still made and washstands that had a bowl and pitcher set, used bars of homemade soap, and a linen towel.  Stagnant water that had accumulated a myriad of insects was still in the bowls and pitchers.

Ian was of a height and build that would be considered a little above average.  He guessed the house builder to be a bit smaller than he was, since he filled the doorways of the small rooms when standing in them.  “Did midgets live in this place?  I feel a might claustrophobic.”

“You won’t be staying in here, will you, boss?”

“In the beginning,” Ian said as he stretched his arms out to see if he could stand in the middle of the small room and touch the walls.  He couldn’t.

“I thought you were going to send Mike to run the operation.”

“I want to get it started with Mike, then I’ll leave him to it.”

Jackson’s face creased with concentration as he considered his boss’ intentions.  “What about the ranch?”

“What about it?”

“Who’s going to run it while you’re up here?”

“Who runs it now?” Ian asked with a chuckle.”

“Well, I kind of do,” Jackson said as he scratched his chin.

“You can kind of keep on doing it, I suppose.  Don’t you?”

A broad smile crept onto Jackson’s weathered face.  “I guess I can.”

“I’ll need a few men up here cleaning this place up right away,” Ian said as he looked out of the small window onto the wreckage that was once a flowering home for settlers who had hope for their future.  “I see some human remains amongst the rubble.  Did no one bother to come and give these poor folks a proper burial?”

“I can’t rightly say, boss. It happened before I came to the area.”

Ian sighed.  “I remember hearing about it, but not enough was said to make me understand the impact of what actually happened. I was only a few years owning my ranch.  I didn’t have much mind for the happenings around me.”

“You’ve done a fine job with the ranch, boss.”

“I expect the same with this,” Ian said as he stepped off the porch and kicked at a burnt piece of wood.  The action caused a human skull to be exposed.  “Damn.   What evil bastards would do such a thing, and why?”

“They aren’t even sure it was the Jones gang that did it, since no one survived to tell that tale.  For all we know, it could’ve been the Indians.  Back then, the Crow and Blackfoot were feuding pretty heavy.”

“I had a bit of trouble with the Blackfoot, myself,” Ian admitted.  “It took a few years to convince them that I wanted to live as a peaceful neighbor.”

“Didn’t you buy yur land as a ranch already?”

Ian nodded.  “It was owned by a widow who tried to keep it going after her man died. By the time she gave up and sold it to me, it was in piss poor shape with only a handful of cattle, but it was already known as a ranch.  I had that going for me, at least.  The Blackfoot couldn’t claim I was stealing their land.”

“I can’t imagine the Crow or the Blackfoot murdering these poor folks for this.  I mean, it’s not much in the line of valuable property.  Least wise, not like your ranch.” 

“I imagine there’s good trapping in these mountains.  People see different value in things.  Take the Northern Pacific.  They laughed all the way to the bank after taking my check for property they considered junk. Now, I’ll laugh all the way to the bank at how foolish they were to let it go so cheap.”

Jackson picked up the human skull and inspected it. Scrapings that he assumed were from teeth marred the cap.  “I sure hope you’re right, boss.  Between having to clean up this graveyard before you can bring in the sheep and then dealing with some mighty pissed off cattle ranchers…. I just hope you aren’t making a mistake.”

Ian started back toward his horse.  “Get some men up here within a few days.  I want this place cleaned up within a week.  Two at the latest.  I’m expecting the delivery of my sheep by the end of the month.”  He hopped into the saddle and looked around.  “You’ll need to select a few men to work the sheep. Post a notice in town if need be.  I want four on each watch until we see how bad the wolf situation is in these parts.  If it can be managed with two per shift, then we’ll cut back, but, start with four.”

“Eight men, plus you, ain’t going fit into that little house, boss.”

Ian looked around.  “I see a few houses that look like they can be salvaged.  Carefully inspect them when you’re cleaning up and fix up the best two or three.  Leave the trading post as it is.  I just might decide to resurrect it.  I’ll be sending the cook’s helper here in the beginning. Roy ‘s a finicky old bird who’ll want his own place. It doesn’t need to be big, but it needs a good stove in it.  I doubt we’ll find one here. I’ll have to buy it when I go to town.”

Jackson tossed the skull he’d been holding and wiped the dirt from his hands on his chaps. As he climbed onto the back of his horse, a chill crept down his spine.  He looked around and shuddered.  They were standing in the middle of a settlement turned graveyard.  The bones of the poor murdered souls were scattered everywhere.  From the condition of the skull he’d just held, he assumed their remains were the victims of wild animals foraging for food.  He knew it was nature’s way, but the thought still left him unsettled.