Valle Verde

Fort Davis, Texas

Milo Potter descended the staircase of his Silver Dollar Saloon and scanned the room that was filling quickly now that the sun had set on this the last day of another long workweek.

Potter knew the people of Presidio County who were regular patrons of his establishment: those he paid scant attention to; however, when he spied the two strangers who occupied the table nearest the door his curiosity was aroused and he made for their table.

"I don’t believe I’ve seen you two gents around here before," Potter began, adding, "I’m Milo Potter, the owner of this establishment."

The older of the two men replied, saying, "We’ve been out here doing a surveying job for the railroad. We’re moving on now that it’s done."

"Yes," Potter philosophized, "it was good news indeed when we heard that the Southern Pacific was coming here to Fort Davis. Yes, sir, very good news indeed."

Nodding to the barkeep to bring another bottle, Potter added, "Allow me to present you with a bottle of my finest: a little token of my appreciation for the job you fellows are doing."

The two men looked at the bottle, then at one another. The man who had spoken earlier leaned forward and addressed Potter in a low voice. "We’re gonna tell you a little secret buddy, but you didn’t hear it from us, alright?"

Potter nodded conspiringly and leaned closer to the speaker.

The man continued, "The railroad hoodwinked you folks. The tracks are going in twenty miles southwest of here."

Potter’s brows raised, and he asked, "Are you sure about that?"

The man who had been speaking assured him, saying, "We did the survey, pal: no doubt about it. It’s going through Valle Verde ranch."

Potter protested, saying, "But that’s range land out there. The town is here, in Fort Davis! Why, they don’t even have an available water supply at Marfa!"

"Makes no difference to the railroad, pal. They go where they want to go and towns be hanged," the second man interjected.

"When is it coming through?" Potter queried.

"Sometime next year," the first man replied.

"This town will be ruined," Potter lamented.

"It’s happened before, and it’ll happen again before this thing’s finished," the younger surveyor interjected.

The breaking of the following dawn found Milo Potter still sitting in his saloon, the ownership of which he had come by with great difficulty.

The place had closed, and only one kerosene lamp remained burning to light the spacious room for its sole occupant.

Potter recalled his hasty departure from his lifelong home just outside London where the lusty wife of the local buffoon of a magistrate had become irate at Potter over his rejection of her repeated advances. She had, in a fit of temper, reported to her boorish spouse that Potter had attempted to ravish her innocent person. Potter had then been forced to flee England hastily to escape being incarcerated within the confines of Newgate Prison.

Bringing with him neither bag nor baggage, Potter had grabbed what monies that lay at his rapid disposal and boarded the next ship departing for America.

Further escaping, even from possible recognition by some other immigrant to the American East, Potter migrated farther into the interior of the country. When he found himself to be seriously lacking in funds, he had settled, of necessity, here in Fort Davis, Texas.

Relying then upon the only asset he had remaining, Potter had begun to gamble. Lady Luck had smiled upon him and within five years of his arrival he had amassed a comfortable estate which consisted of the ownership of this saloon, several parcels of land in and around Fort Davis and a healthy bank account.

Potter had, at last, begun to feel a sense of mental ease. Then, the two surveyors came and all that changed.

Now, Potter’s cunning thoughts devised, whomever should happen to own Valle Verde Ranch in the near future stood to gain substantially from the railroad’s planned change of location.

And were the ranch to suffer sufficient financial reversals within the even nearer future, then perhaps it would be entirely possible for a cunning and resourceful man such as himself to acquire said property at a substantial decrease in its present value.

Yes, perhaps it would indeed. . . .