“I know you do, but you’ll have something better. I’ll build you something.”
“Well, thank you, Will. That’s very kind of you.”
“Not really,” he said, and grinned. “I just don’t want to stay cooped up in a bunkhouse with three women.”
She laughed prettily. “You know what house I always liked?”
“Which one?”
“The Kitner place.”
Will nodded, picturing the property that ran behind his family farm and Maggie’s, separated from their land by Curry Creek. He hadn’t seen Kitner’s spread since before the war but remembered the house well enough. It was small but tidy, nestled at the edge of Kitner’s lushly sprawling acreage.
“He’s got a nice little place over there,” Will said.
“Correction. He did have a nice little place. He abandoned it.”
“Why?”
“You remember he used to run cattle?”
“Yeah, other than Mr. Forester, Mr. Kitner had one of the biggest herds around.”
“Until the Confederacy confiscated most of his cattle.”
Will winced at the thought. Kitner built up a big herd before the war. Just to have it all taken away. And for as many Texans who’d had their cattle confiscated, it seemed like some of that beef would have made it to Will and other sons of Texas during the war. But it hadn’t.
“Then Mr. Kitner built up his herd again,” Maggie said, “only to have his cattle confiscated by the bluebellies.”
“That’d be enough to break a man.”
“It was. Mr. Kitner just picked up and left. Said he was through with Texas and through with cattle. Said he was going to head west and try his luck in the mines.”
“Hard work.”
“No harder than building up two herds and having them stolen out from under you.”
“Good point. So who bought the place?”
“Nobody yet, not that I’ve heard. It’s just one more abandoned property as far as I know.”
“Well, how come you’ve been staying here, then? Why didn’t you move into the Kitner house?”
“At first, I was over at your place. Then, I don’t know… it wouldn’t have seemed right.”
“Did Kitner say he was coming back?”
She shook her head. “Quite the opposite. Mr. Kitner was clear on that point. He said he wouldn’t come back to Texas for all the money in the world. Said a team of Missouri mules couldn’t drag him back.”
“So why not sell the property?”
“Who would buy it? Nobody has any money. He probably fell behind on taxes like everybody and just wanted to be shut of the place.”
“That’s a shame. But I still say you ladies should’ve moved in. Lot nicer accommodations than your bunkhouse, no offense.”
“None taken. Believe me, I’d love to move in there. It’s my favorite house I’ve ever seen. But someone beat us to it.”
“Who?”
