a level plateau with a sweeping view of the land below. Here and there, narrow box canyons cut into the hills, perfect for capturing and holding the wild horses he planned to break. When Joe had spotted the tracks of unshod horses on the plain nearby, he had known that this was the place he wanted.
The parcel’s location, an easy ride from the Hollister ranch, made it an even better choice. Joe could work on building a home and leave Amelia at the ranch until it was finished. As a married man, he could claim 160 acres for himself and another 160 acres for his wife—a total of 320 acres. Under the Timber Culture Act of 1873, it might be possible to get even more land if he contracted to keep forty acres of it planted in trees for the next ten years.
He hadn’t told Loren or Amelia about his plans. They would no doubt argue for keeping him on the ranch and for keeping any land he claimed in the family. That was why he wanted to file the claim first. Only then would he give them the news and brace himself for the storm that was bound to follow.
With dreams and ideas churning in his head, he followed the wagon road across the grassland to Miles City to file for his land. The Homestead Act of 1862 had been passed by Congress to encourage the settlement of the West. Settlers could get title to a parcel of land by filing a claim, then living on the property and making improvements for five years. An alternative plan, called commuting, gave title after six months and payment of $1.25 an acre. Joe had hoped to use the commuting option, but it might make more sense to invest all the money he earned in improvements—such as a sawmill powered by the creek, along with a wagon and a team of draft horses for hauling lumber.
By the time he reached Miles City, the sun had risen well above the horizon. The bustling cow town had begun as a small trading post. Over the years, it had grown to fill the needs of the cattlemen and landowners. At this hour, shops and saloons, restaurants and legal offices were all doing a brisk trade. There was even a newspaper office and a fine hotel next to the bank.
Joe tied up his horse, went straight to the bank, and waited in line for the land office clerk. When his turn came, he produced his marriage certificate and paid the filing fee for each of the parcels and registered his claims. The clerk suggested that he put an announcement in the newspaper as well, so that neighboring ranchers would know the land was taken.
He strode out of the bank feeling a little taller than when he’d gone in. He was no longer a simple cowboy. He was a man with his own land.
The visit to the newspaper office took only a few minutes. After that, Joe’s business in Miles City was finished. He was about to mount up and head out of town when he realized he was ravenously hungry. He’d skipped breakfast to get an early start this morning; and in the excitement of filing on his land, eating had been the last thing on his mind. But now his hunger had reawakened. He remembered the fine food in the restaurant at the McQueen House, where he and Amelia had spent their brief honeymoon. Why not celebrate his new status with a good meal?
The breakfast crowd had cleared, and it was early for lunch, so there were plenty of empty tables. The headwaiter showed Joe to a sunny corner, where he ordered steak and eggs with potatoes, toast, and coffee.
He was sipping his coffee and waiting for his meal when he heard a deep voice at his shoulder.
“May I join you, Joe Dollarhide?”
Startled, Joe glanced up. Standing next to him, with a coffee cup in his hand, was Benteen Calder.
“Sure. Have a seat.” Joe was surprised, but he willed himself not to show it. He’d known that sooner or later he would run into his old boss. The timing was as good as any. He could only wish he’d been better prepared. He’d spent years thinking of the things he would say to Calder when they met. But now they had fled his mind.
Calder pulled out the chair on the opposite side of the table and sat down. He had aged some—the creases deeper around