The Coopers were a nice Christian couple who lived just a short distance away. They had a large two-story house where they boarded six gentlemen of varying ages. Mrs. Cooperwas in her fifties and talked with loving affection of the six children she’d left behind in Kansas. All were grown and married, but she spoke of them as though they were still tugging on her apron and in need of her guidance. Mr. Cooper had brought her to Cheyenne when he’d heard the Union Pacific was making the end-of-the-tracks town a regional headquarters. He had great aspirations of making a name for himself in real estate. He had taken an inheritance and purchased ten separate lots when they were inexpensive and sold off half of them in just the past month. He intended to keep the others and build houses on them to either sell or rent. Already, he told Charlie, he had made more money than he’d anticipated.
The gentle couple had a list of five rules that were posted by the front door. Charlie adhered to all of them with more than a nod.
God is revered and honored in this house. There will be no taking of His name in vain, nor swearing of any sort.
Church attendance is required every Sunday—unless you are sick in bed.
Drinking of alcoholic beverages is prohibited at all times.
Smoking will be contained to the front porch or yard in warmer months and the smoking room in winter.
No women are allowed on the second floor at any time.
Breaking these rules will be grounds for immediate removal from this house.
For Charlie, the rules weren’t difficult. He didn’t drink. He didn’t smoke. He didn’t swear, nor would he ever dishonorGod by taking His name in vain. Church was a pleasure to him, not a chore, and he would never dishonor a woman by compromising her reputation. They were easy rules to abide by, and it appeared that the other men felt the same way.
In return, Charlie had a pleasantly appointed room with a large single bed, a dresser, and a desk and chair. There was a small open closet where he could hang his clothes, and down the hall was a shared bathroom. Mr. Cooper saw to it that there was water for washing up, and for fifty cents more, he would heat enough water for a bath and dispose of the dirty water afterward.
Mrs. Cooper provided most of the benefits Charlie enjoyed. She cooked amazing meals for breakfast and dinner. The noon meal was something the men were expected to see to themselves, although for an extra fee Mrs. Cooper would provide a lunch there at the house or pack a few things the men could take with them to work. Mrs. Cooper would also wash clothes and provide ironing services for a small charge and cleaned the rooms once a week as part of the boarding fee.
Charlie felt he couldn’t have found a better place. The porch was lined with chairs for evening enjoyment during the warmer weather, and there was a large parlor for reading and discussions in the evening. In the winter, a smaller closed-off parlor was billed as “the smoking room,” and the gentlemen were allowed to smoke there in the evenings between the hours of six and nine. Since it was spring and the long sunlit hours of summer stretched out before them, it would be some time before the smoking room was needed. Even in downpours, Mr. Cooper assured the men they would stay quite dry on the porch, unless, of course, the wind was blowing hard.
The Coopers were good to their guests, offering sage advice, directions to a variety of locations, and evening snacks. Mrs. Cooper said the men were to be treated as family so long as they behaved themselves. And if they didn’t behave, even then they’d be treated like family and forced to make amends or go. Charlie found their honesty and fairness to be just, and their sense of humor and charm a delight.
“Well, Charlie Decker, you look plumb worn out,” Mrs. Cooper said in greeting as he came to the supper table at exactly five thirty.
“I have to admit that I am rather done in.” He smiled and reached out to take the large platter of fried chicken she carried.
“Thank you, Charlie.” She glanced down the table as the other men gathered. Seeing that everyone had arrived on time, as was required, she took her place at the foot of the table. Only after she was seated with help from Mr. Cooper did the other men take their seats.
Charlie was still learning the names of his fellow roomers. There was Stuart Johnson, who worked for the railroad as a comptroller. Bryce Clemmons, who also worked for the Union Pacific. A newly arrived pastor, Wilson Porter, who appeared to be around Charlie’s age. Gary Newman—no, it was Nyman—was employed with a freighting company that hauled goods back and forth to Denver, and the rather stocky man seated beside Charlie had come west to Cheyenne to start a newspaper only to realize there were already five other publishers. Charlie couldn’t remember his name but knew it would come out in the course of conversation.
“Let us say grace,” Mr. Cooper said and bowed his head. “Father, for this food we are about to receive, we thank You and ask Your blessing. Thank You for yet another good dayand for the guidance You offered each of us. In Jesus’s name, amen.”
“Amen,” the men murmured along with Mrs. Cooper.
“Charlie, how was your day?” Mrs. Cooper asked as the food began to be passed around the table.
“It was a good day, Mrs. Cooper. I’m slowly getting used to finding my way around. I think I’m going to like it here.”
She smiled and handed him a basket of homemade rolls. “I’m glad to hear you say that. And your room? Is it to your liking?”
“It is. I slept quite well and have absolutely no complaints.”
“Don’t forget to have your laundry outside the door by nine tonight. Mr. Cooper will be by to pick it up directly after that.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He had already told her he would need her skills for his upkeep. He’d much rather pay her to see to his things than take them elsewhere. There were quite a few Chinese immigrants running laundries on the west side of town, but Charlie had heard that most of them were heading west with the railroad workers.
Charlie passed the rolls to his right and received the platter of chicken from the man across the table. He held it while Mrs. Cooper chose a thigh for herself, then he grabbed a breast for himself and moved the dish down the line. This went on with all of the food until everyone had been served. Then, as if on cue, everyone picked up their forks and began to eat.
The food was some of the best Charlie had had since leaving home. His mother’s cook did a wonderful job, but his dishes were often quite rich and sometimes exotic. Charlie preferred the simpler fare he enjoyed at the Coopers’ house. And if there was a need to add to the richness, Mrs. Coopergenerally had cream gravy and freshly churned butter that could be incorporated into just about anything a man wanted to add it to. Charlie was just as happy to eat his meal the way Mrs. Cooper served it.
“Boys, you needn’t use a knife with your chicken,” Mr. Cooper announced from the far end of the table. “Never was able to master it that way. Use your hands if you’re inclined. You’ll get no reprimand from me. Just don’t wipe your hands on Mrs. Cooper’s tablecloth. You have napkins for that.”
Charlie nearly laughed out loud at the look on the newspaperman’s reddened face. He had only been in the house a couple of days longer than Charlie and looked as if there had been some other incident that brought about this warning. The man hurriedly tucked his head and focused on buttering his roll.
There was all manner of chatter at the table. The railroad men shared information about the line moving west. Some of the workers had been clearing land and laying tracks, and others were loading up train cars with supplies from the stores of goods laid up all winter in the warehouse.
