by Dan Arnold
He chuckled.
“What do you know about Capitol City?”
“Nothing, the Governor pointed to it on a map.”
“Well, it’s pretty much out back of beyond, way up in the mountains, in Hinsdale County. Lake City, the County Seat, and the only real city in the county, is the supply hub for all of the mining in the region. It’s like your town, Bear Creek, in that way. Capitol City is one of several mining towns on the high slopes. A guy by the name of George Lee pretty much built the whole town. Hundreds of people live up there. Its remote and rugged country and they live a hard scrabble life. Most of the townsfolk are miners and their families. You know what the rest are likely to be, in a boom town like that. There is a sheriff in Lake City, but he has little support in the mining towns. We’ll get him to take us up to Capitol City.”
“Isn’t Lake City the place where Alfred Packer killed and ate his fellow prospectors, before the town was built?”
Max nodded.
“Yep, they put him on trial and convicted him there again, just a few years ago.”
Two days later, Max Warren and I arrived in Lake City. It was a pleasant and fairly prosperous town, built on the banks of the Lake Fork of the Gunnison River. Along with Don Talbot, the Hinsdale County Sheriff, we took a stage from Lake City up into the higher mountains. Capitol City was built at about 11,000 feet above sea level. At this elevation it was still early spring, with great patches of snow still on the ground. The road was steep and muddy, but there was considerable traffic. This county, reminded me of Alta Vista, which was where I really wanted to be. I had just been elected Sheriff, but here I was, on the opposite side of the state, running an errand for the Governor.
I knew Max Warren didn’t need me. He could have brought his deputies, or Don could have brought his. This was a test of some sort. I hate tests. On another level, I figured this was some kind of political favor and I had to do it. I might need to get re-elected, at some point
As we stepped off the stage, we could see a noisy little knot of people in front of the black smith’s shop. Evidently, our arrival coincided with a party.
It turned out it was a necktie party. A mob was in the process of hanging a man.
I think Max and I both fired at the same time. We had each pulled our guns and fired in the air, to announce our presence. The three of us immediately spread out around the edge of the mob.
“I’m United States Marshal, Maxwell Warren, that man over there is Hinsdale County Sheriff, Don Talbot, and this man is Sheriff John Everett Sage. Who’s in charge here?”
The mob kind of shifted around, with people looking at each other. Finally, a man with a bowler hat, and an enormous, bushy mustache spoke up.
“We’re the Citizen’s Action Committee. This nigger has committed murder, and we’re hanging him.”
“Not today you’re not,” I said.
“If this man has been accused of a crime, he will stand trial in a court of law,” Max said.
The mob was made up of about a dozen rough looking men. Several of them were armed. They were taking stock of the situation. I was hoping three lawmen with guns drawn had to be pretty intimidating. Fortunately, none of them looked like they wanted to argue the point, except the spokesman.
“He’s had all the trial he’s gonna get. String him up, boys!” He yelled.
The spokesman was standing closest to me, so I walked right up to him and planted the barrel of my Colt up under his chin. The mob froze. The sound of me cocking my.45 was surprising loud in the clear, high mountain air.
“You’re under arrest for disturbing the peace, inciting to riot, and attempted murder. Now, if you’re feeling lucky, we’ll have your trial right here. I’ll be the judge, and this six-shooter Colt, will be the jury. That’s all the trial you’re gonna get. Is that OK with you?”
His eyes were about to pop out of his head. Standing this close, I could smell the whiskey on his breath.
“You men disperse; go on about your business. This is over,” Don said.
That was it. The crowd broke up, with a little grumbling. I didn’t let my man go. I kept my gun under his chin. As I looked him in the eye, I could see him sobering up.
The badly beaten, black man was still standing on the crate, with his hands tied behind his back, the noose around his neck.
Several new people started to gather around. These were the local shopkeepers, clerks and visitors.
Max went over and cut the ropes, so the black man could hop down off the crate.
“Thank you, suh. Ah surely do thank you,” he said.
I holstered my gun and put my manacles on my prisoner.
Don raised a hand toward the people gathering around.
“There’s nothing to see here, folks.”
One of the men who had just arrived spoke up.
“I’m Mark McGhee, the Mayor. I’m sure glad to see you here. I guess the Governor must have sent you.”
Max made the introductions. We learned my prisoner was named Frank Loughner. He was the self-proclaimed leader of the Citizens Action Committee. He owned a local saloon, popular with the rougher element in town. Clearly he enjoyed the product he purveyed.
The black man was Ed Jackson. He owned the blacksmith shop.
“Mayor Mcghee, is there somewhere we can go to sort this out,” Max asked.
We went to the Mayor’s office, which was just a room behind his dry goods store.
In the end, we determined Ed Jackson had killed a man named Earnest “Earnie” Myers. Myers (a member of the Citizen’s Action Committee) had refused to pay his bill, saying it would be a cold day in hell, before he would pay a black man to serve him. When Jackson had grabbed him by the shirt collar, Myers had grabbed a pair of tongs and proceeded to beat Jackson with it. Jackson had managed to shove Myers away from himself, causing Myers to fall back against the anvil, striking his head on the sharp end. He died as result of the head injury. There were several witnesses to the incident. When the word reached Loughner’s saloon, he had stormed out with his “Committee” to punish the Negro.
“Loughner has been the main actor in this ‘Citizens Action Committee’.” Mayor McGhee said, “They’ve all but taken over the town. We had a town marshal, but they scared him off. They’ve been the only law around here since last fall.”
“I was up here when they cleared the road right after the first snow flew, back in August. Nobody said anything to me about this,” Don said.
“Our marshal hadn’t thrown in the towel yet. Besides, its eleven miles down to Lake City and eleven miles back up here. It takes more than half a day to get up here. There’s damn little travel at all when the snow flies. This is a big county, and you’re often gone. We need some real law, right here in this town.”
“This town has got to make that happen. The good citizens need to stand together and back whatever lawman you get. I’ll see to it one of my deputies moves up here, but you have to band together and ensure that justice is served. Otherwise, this town won’t survive,” Don said.
“I agree completely. Mr. Lee tried to build a real town. They called it Galena City. I’m the Mayor of Capitol City. It’s chaotic up here. There are too many people trying to make money any way they can, there are crooked organizations and the population is constantly changing with the miners and drifters coming and going. We’re divided up into factions. Right now we just need some law enforcement.” Mark McGhee replied.
“Don is right. He’ll provide a good deputy. You’ll have a local lawman, but the town has to decide how it wants to live. To grow and be healthy, you’ll have to have stability. As long as a town is only about people making money, any way they can, open to prostitution, gambling, and vice, there will be no stability or safety for anyone,” Max said.
Don stayed on in Capitol City, while Max and I took the prisoners down to Lake City. Don came down the next day and arranged to have one of his deputies move up to Capitol City. Max and I stayed on a few days, for the trials.
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br /> Loughner was convicted of disturbing the peace. The other charges were dropped. He was fined $50.00, and released
Ed Jackson was found innocent of the murder of Ernie Myers, by reason of self-defense. Everyone had their day in court. The law was enforced, but justice was only partly served.
Mr. Jackson told us he was going to sell out and move on to a different town. He believed he couldn’t live safely in Capitol City.
I hate injustice.
We do what we can, but life is not fair. In the end there is only so much a lawman can do.
Some of us have to try harder.
22.
On the ride back to Denver, Max told me what I had already been suspecting.
“John, I like you and I think you have the right to know the reason the Governor sent you and me off on this little side show.”
“I figured he wanted you to assess my attitudes and abilities as a lawman.”
“That’s it exactly. You have a reputation as a lawman that gets things done with a gun. I expect it’s the way you had to do things as a Texas Ranger, but the times are changing and the rule of law must prevail. The job of the lawman is to see to it justice is done according to the law. Bringing law and order into tough and lawless places takes more than just a man with a gun.”
I nodded in agreement and answered, “There are still places out here where the only law is whoever has the most muscle, guts, or guns, but the times are changing. I’ve had to be the law in some rawboned towns, but I’ve also tried to change with the times. I look forward to more peaceful times. The whole country is becoming more civilized and that’s good for everybody.”
“Well, the Governor’s primary concern was finding out what kind of man you really are. He recognizes there is a limited supply of truly reliable lawmen. “
“That’s what I try to be.”
He grinned.
“Yeah. Me too.”
When I got back to the Governor’s mansion, I was shown to my own room, by a liveried servant!
There’s something to be said for who you know. I thought.
“Supper will be served in the main dining room, promptly at nine. You will want to dress appropriately,” the servant said, with a sniff.
Supper at nine! I was usually ready to go to bed by then.
What did he mean by “appropriately”? I wondered. I was wearing my best suit. The servant had looked at me with some disdain. Did he expect me to show up wearing velvet short pants and high stockings, like he had on?
Fortunately, after I was settled into my room, I met Irving McCormick coming up the stairs. He was carrying a bag with a hanger sticking out of the top of it.
“Mr. Sage, the Governor asked me to pick this up for you. We dress for dinner, and formal wear is expected. The Governor realized you probably were not prepared for the occasion, as uh… you’ve been traveling and you hadn’t been informed.”
He looked relieved, to have come up with a clever lie. He probably could tell, just by looking at me, that I didn’t own any “formal” wear.
Later, when I had dressed for dinner, I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked like any other “swell” in a white tie, waist coat and dinner jacket. I was glad I didn’t have to wear some sort of silly hat.
Dinner was a very formal affair. We were seated at a huge table with fancy place cards, to let us know where we belonged.
The table was set with china, crystal and silver. Liveried servants brought the food, and I’ll tell you it was quite a feast!
At first, I felt as out of place as a toad in a china tea cup.
The people around me were the most elegant I had ever seen, especially the ladies. These were some of the most powerful and influential people in Colorado, but I soon learned nearly all of them had started with nothing. Very few of them had any more education than I did.
The gentlemen had “adjourned to the smoking room” after dinner, for brandy, cigars and business discussion. This house had more rooms than most hotels I’ve been in. There was a library, a sitting room, (I suppose a standing room too, somewhere) and a sun room. There was even a billiards room. All of the ladies were in the Parlor.
The men here in the smoking room, had been introduced to me at dinner. These men were cattle barons, timber barons, rail road tycoons and captains of industry or masters of political persuasion. They were among the richest and most influential men in the state. There were a couple of mine owners in the group.
“Here’s the thing John, there are some problems up in your neck of the woods that have to be handled properly. For instance, right there in Alta Vista County there are some specific issues to address.
I’ve been aware that in the past, some of the mining owners were reluctant to see any real law and order, up there in Flap Jack City. Some of them were making money from every angle available, even owning gambling houses and what not. Times are changing and some practical business changes need to be made as well.
I know the mine owners didn’t support your bid for Sheriff of Alta Vista County. I hope you are aware that I was supportive and I’m thrilled to have a real lawman in Alta Vista County.”
I nodded. I was a bit embarrassed to be having this conversation in front of the other men in the room.
“I appreciate that, sir. I hope to earn your endorsement.”
Governor McGhee chuckled, and a couple of other men in the room held up their glasses.
“John, please call me Jasper. My friends all do. I’m well aware of your credentials, as is every man in this room.”
“Yes sir, I mean thank you, uh…Jasper.”
He nodded, with a twinkle in his eye,
“Now then, let’s get down to brass tacks. I asked you here to address a couple of issues which are sensitive and could have political implications. Do you follow me?”
“No sir, I’m not sure I do, Governor.”
“Jasper,” he reminded me.
“Yes, sir, I mean…Jasper. The thing is, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He looked around the room. Some of the other men were amused at my answer, some appeared impatient, even annoyed.
“Gentlemen, you’ll have to excuse Sheriff Sage. He isn’t your typical political animal.”
He looked at me.
“John, What I mean is, the things we’re about to discuss should never be discussed outside this room. There is a very real chance the decisions we make here this evening could affect my political ambitions, and yours, if you have any.”
“No sir, I don’t have any political ambitions, but I’ll be glad to discuss anything with you and you can count on my discretion.”
Governor McGhee looked around the room again and slapped me on the shoulder.
“Good man, John. Let’s sit down.”
When we were all seated, Governor McGhee resumed the conversation.
“First, I need you to look into a situation in Chaparral County. That’s the county just to the east of Alta Vista County. I have reason to believe there is a land grab going on out there. Some of the big ranches have started claiming land that does not belong to them, in order to prevent newcomers from establishing homesteads. More and more people are coming out here to settle. Some of the men who first got here and built their ranches from nothing, fighting Indians and the elements at great risk and peril, won’t tolerate newcomers. They’re used to having things their way and using whatever means necessary to get more for themselves and keep what they get. It’s a powder keg. I believe the situation is dire and there is a possibility of serious violation of State and Federal law. We’re a real part of the United States now and we need to start moving toward the 20th Century. Having lawlessness and people establishing their own control over large areas of our State, cannot be tolerated. I would like to be able to call on you, from time to time, to deal with some of the worst problems we’re facing. Do you follow me?”
I thought about that.
“Sir, I’m just a lawman. I haven’t done much else, fo
r a long time. I have duties and responsibilities within Alta Vista County. I’ll see law and order enforced in my county, everywhere in my county. That includes North Fork and Flap Jack City. I don’t have any authority outside my county. You must know other good lawmen in the other counties. If not, you have access to the United States Marshal, and the U.S. Army. I’m not a hired gun,” I concluded.
He nodded.
“I appreciate your position. I’m not asking you to hire out as a gunman. I have a number of resources in private practice, like the Pinkerton Agency and others, for that sort of thing. I’ve already arranged to have a private detective look into a rustling problem in Chaparral County. I need a man I can count on to represent the law, and represent this administration. The County Sheriff over there is not someone I can count on. I believe he’s too closely tied to the people conducting the land grab. The goal is to enforce the rule of law. You’re right, there are other good lawmen, all over the state, but it’s a very big state and there is corruption and vice in some areas as yet untouched by real law. Chaparral County is one of those places. If you’ll help me up there, and look into the situation, I’ll promise you the full support of this office and all of the men in this room.”
“In that case, yes sir. I’m your man.”
“Good, I knew I could count on you. We’re all familiar with your history.”
“Yeah, well, don’t believe everything you read in the papers.”
The room erupted into laughter. After all, each of these men had been the subject of newspaper stories. A couple of them were probably even newspaper publishers.
23.
The Union Pacific train from Denver to Cheyenne made its usual stop at Bear Creek.
It was the second time I had arrived by train, but it was the first time I arrived as the County Sheriff of Alta Vista County.
It was also the first time I had ever been met at a railroad depot by a woman.