by Jim Cox
Meanwhile, Scar and Tony were escorted into the big tepee where five Indians of importance sat. One stood with an open palm. Scar immediately recognized Little Big One, the great-grandson of the old chief he had helped. He was the Ute chief who had released Scar while he was being tortured to death and delivered him back to the wagon train during Scar’s trip to Colorado. After a few words of greeting through Tony, Little Big One stepped back. Then the chief stood as the other natives rose in admiration. The old chief looked as though he’d outlived his body. His long gray hair was thin and hung to the center of his back. He was extremely thin, the skin on his scarred, wrinkled face looked like dried leather. When he lifted his hand to give his greeting, his fingers looked like protruding bones. However, his authority and grandeur were obvious. Even though his body was feeble, he stood erect and with distinction. His black eyes penetrated Scar’s very soul. After standing for a few minutes while greetings were shared, the old chief motioned for everyone to sit. Scar was directed to sit next to him. Tony would interpret.
Much time was spent talking about the white man’s treaties and why they were not being enforced. The natives said their hunting grounds were being destroyed by prospectors who were invading their land while looking for silver and gold. Little Big One said he’d been told the white man was going to take away their protected land, and if it happened, many of their young warriors would rise up against the whites.
The old chief could tell the conversation was becoming political, so he raised his hand to speak. The tepee immediately became quiet. The chief spoke.
Scar looked at Tony and asked, “What did he say?”
“He said, ‘It’s not good to talk about fighting with these white brothers or to put the white man down at this time. We bring these white friends to our camp to celebrate friendship.’”
A moment or two later, the old chief smiled and asked through Tony, “Do you still wear my necklace?”
Scar nodded. He then removed the necklace from his neck and handed it to the chief. “I very seldom take it off,” he said. “It’s a great honor for me to wear it.” The old chief’s bony fingers turned each of the four claws, as he mentally recalled the details of how he had gotten them many moons ago.
Then unexpectedly, the old chief rose and said, “Come.”
As he led the men toward the sitting circle, the crowd spread. All eyes were on the chief. Sitting on a stone, he motioned for Scar to take one beside him. The chief then called for the young boys to come close. Scar thought the chief must have asked for a certain age group because only boys who looked to be from about ten to fourteen came forward.
When everyone was settled, the great-grandfather chief stood, raised the necklace, and identified the animal each claw came from—an eagle talon, a bear claw, a wolf claw, and a claw from a mountain lion. He spent several minutes describing how he had gotten each one. When he finished with the stories, he stood and addressed the entire gathering. “Necklace should be worn by the greatest warrior of the Ute tribe. That is the law of our ancestors. Great-grandfather is no longer greatest warrior. Not because of the many moons I have lived, but because my power comes from here.” He pointed to his head and then paused before adding, “Our tribe’s adopted white brother has strength from a stronger and better place than mine. It comes from his heart.” He placed his hand over his heart. “It is much better to decide matters with heart instead of head.” The old chief motioned for Little Big One to join him. Together they replaced the necklace around Scar’s neck.
The balance of the afternoon was a time of fun. Children played several kinds of games. One especially caught Liz’s attention. Dozens of children holding three-foot-long sticks were hitting a ball constructed of leather wrappings inside a marked-off field. The child who knocked the ball into a circle was the winner.
The young men participated in horse races, wrestling, and a target shooting contest with bows and arrows. Various kinds of snacks were served periodically, and hot sassafras tea was available at all times.
An hour before sunset, the activities stopped, and the women started their evening chores. Some moved the horses to fresh grass, some carried in firewood, and some started cooking. The men sat around the sitting circle discussing all sorts of matters. They did not help with any of the work.
As the sun was sending its last glimmer of light, several containers of food were set by the meat cooking over the fire while drums were carried to the sitting area. When the preparations were complete, lines started forming. Scar was the honored guest, so his plate was filled first, followed by the great-grandfather, then the other men of importance, and lastly the balance of the men including young boys over eight. The women did not eat at this time but stood by ready to serve the men.
When the men were finished eating, the drums sounded, and the dancers began their dance inside the sitting circle. The women and girls were allowed to get their food at this time but remained behind the men while they ate. The celebration lasted for nearly two hours and was coming to an end when the Double D people brought out the gifts for the natives. There were blankets of various colors, neck scarves, hats, strings of beads, buttons, and several bags of candy. The native smiled, especially the children, but they all hung back. When everyone had gathered, Little Big One came forward and passed the gifts out, one at a time.
After the gifts were received, the camp thinned, and a woman escorted the four Double D guest to a large tepee. Their belongings had been placed inside. A fire burned in the center. After the native woman left, Tony spoke up, “The natives think Morning Sun and me are married.” Morning Sun eyed the ground with a smile.
Liz chimed in, “Morning Sun and I will sleep on this side of the tepee, and you men can sleep on the other side.” The night went quickly. Only Tony heard the native woman adding logs to the fires in the wee hours.
After a large breakfast the next morning, the Double D folks said their goodbyes and headed for home. It was a bright, cloudless day as the four rode down the mountain valley. Their thoughts were on the hospitality of their new friends, which contradicted the gossip in most white men’s circles. Riding into the sun, they reflected on the children’s fascination with Liz’s red hair and the women’s inquisitiveness about the white woman’s ways. The native men seemed concerned about their future and the possibility of more fighting.
Scar’s thoughts went to the great-grandfather, knowing it was probably the last time he’d see him alive. But he did not dwell on the chief’s death, for he knew death was part of living. Instead, he focused on the old chief’s contributions to his people. Scar touched the necklace under his shirt. It’s only on loan to me, he thought. The great chief is its rightful owner and it should stay in his family. When the chief dies, I’ll return it to Little Big One.
Scar pushed his hat back and wiped his forehead as Maude walked beside a big boulder. “It’s going to be another hot one,” he mumbled.
Chapter Twenty-One
In the weeks leading up to the statehood celebration on September twentieth, Liz and her mother were full of excitement. They were constantly discussing what they would wear, how they would fix their hair, who they wanted to meet, and the like. Their departure date was set for September 13, which allowed three travel days and four days of shopping for the women. They felt they needed the time to purchase clothing for the occasion. After all, their existing wardrobes consisted of pioneer style, homemade dresses and accessories. The men didn’t have proper clothing either, but they were not concerned.
Mr. and Mrs. Douglas, Liz, and Scar rose in the wee hours on the thirteenth. After eating breakfast and loading two large traveling cases plus a carpetbag, they headed off in the chill of the morning. The travelers had allowed three hours to get to Flat Peaks before boarding the stage at first light.
The day started off cloudless with a strong southerly wind. It had been over two weeks since the last rain, so the ground was powder dry, causing the dust from the pounding hooves to rise and swirl amon
g the passengers in the open buggy. When they arrived in town, the stage with its six-horse hitch was already at its boarding location in front of the mercantile. Eli was standing by to say his goodbyes before taking their team and buggy to his livery where it would stay until they returned from Denver. “Day light’s burning,” one of the drivers said after placing the two big pieces of luggage on top of the stage. “Let’s get started. It’s going to be dirty and uncomfortable traveling through all this dust. I’ve lowered the stage curtains, which might help some, but the dust will still be bad. If I was you, I’d tie a bandanna over my nose and mouth. It’ll keep most of the dust out of your lungs,” he said. “We’ll stop every hour or so to wipe the horses’ nostrils. There ain’t no rain in sight,” he said, looking up at the cloudless sky. “And if yesterday is any indication, it’s gonna warm up considerable. We’ll be stopping at a rest terminal in three hours to get a fresh team. There’ll be coffee and toilet facilities. We’ll stop again at noon and get something to eat.” The driver started to climb up but turned back with a warning, “It’s gonna be a rough ride. The holes and rocks in the road from here to Denver are pretty bad. Hard to miss ’em all. Pound on the roof if you need anything.”
As soon as the stage headed out, Scar opened the carpetbag, removed four bandannas, and passed them out. Within minutes both women were sleeping with their heads resting on their husbands’ shoulders. They woke occasionally when a stage wheel hit a sizeable stone or a hole and were jostled about, but they were soon back to sleep.
The travel was uncomfortable. The passengers took out books, but the bumpy ride made reading nearly impossible. Conversations faded. Time passed very slowly. Dust continued clouding the air inside the stage and settling on every exposed object. The closed-up stage became warm, making the passengers sweat. Their moist bodies caused dust to cling to them. However, they agreed the heat was better than the dust, so the curtains remained closed. Hardly five minutes passed without their bodies being jostled to and fro as the wheels hit a stone or hole. Stops were welcomed, but reboarding brought thoughts of agony.
It was a long night as the stagecoach continued its journey toward Denver. The women got several hours of sleep in spite of being bounced around, but the men stayed awake. By the next morning’s breakfast stop, their clothing was saturated with caked dust and every muscle ached.
Nothing changed much on the second day except during the noon stop. The Double D foursome were eating at a corner table when two fair-sized, rough-looking men holding bottles ambled up. Their clothes were dirty and hair and beards had not been tended to in days. Their boot heels were worn down, and their hats had lost their shape. However, the pistols hanging from their sides looked to be clean and in good working order.
“You’ll be staying here till tomorrow’s stage,” one of the men said. “Our horses are all tuckered out. We’ve come a ways. We’ll be taking the stage over to Denver. You’d better be getting your personal things off. The stage will be leaving before long.” The Double D men kept on eating. “Didn’t you hear me?” said the man. “I told you to get up and get your things off the stage.” Scar and Mr. Douglas still didn’t move.
The second roughneck stepped forward and said to Mr. Douglas, “Old man, you’d better do what he says, or he’ll skin you alive.”
With that, Scar stood and with a slight smile said, “You boys had better be careful who you’re passing out orders to. That old man, as you called him, was a bare-knuckle prize fighter in Ireland in his younger days. In those days, men usually fought until their opponent was dead. As you can see, he’s still alive, so he must have never lost. If I were you, I’d go about my business and leave us alone.”
“And besides,” the stage driver called out from across the room, “the young man you’re threatening is Scar. He’s a marshal for the State of Colorado…and a man known for his fighting skills.” Both challengers looked defeated and returned to their table, hoping to catch tomorrow’s noon stage.
It was late afternoon on the third day when the passengers stepped from the stage in front of the Inter-Ocean Hotel in Denver. They were tired, hungry, and needed a bath. A hotel clerk quickly came forward to direct the men to the registration desk and attend to the group’s luggage.
As the four entered the lobby area, they were awestricken by its size and grandeur. The room was circular, nearly a hundred foot in diameter. The ceiling was extremely high. A massive chandelier hung in the center. There were works of art on the walls and sculptures setting about. Ornate rugs under elaborate styled furniture were placed at various locations on the hardwood floor. Two wide, curved stairways rose across the room from the entrance. One led to the west wing and the other to the east wing. A wide opening between the stairs led into a formal dining area.
A dozen or so well-dressed couples were in conversations as a waiter milled about serving drinks and finger foods. Mrs. Douglas and her daughter were somewhat embarrassed by their appearance and hung back at the registration desk, but everyone was looking at the new arrivals. Many of the women’s eyes turned toward the two rugged men with broad muscular shoulders tapering to narrow waists. They stood erect and towered above the other men in the room. The taller, younger one had a severe scar on his cheek, but it didn’t seem to distract from his overall attractiveness. His companion was older and had red hair.
Men stood talking in an adjacent room. They, likewise, were taking in the new women. In spite of them being dressed in dusty, wrinkled pioneer style clothing and seeming out of place, they were attractive nonetheless. Each was tall, shapely, and in spite of their long tiresome trip on the stagecoach, the ladies stood with their shoulders back. Both had red hair and beautiful facial features. It required a careful look to tell one of the women was older.
After checking in, the foursome climbed the stairs to their rooms. Their accommodations were spacious and very nice. Each couple had a sitting room, a bedroom, and a room for bathing. After the porter delivered the bags to the appropriate closets, he was asked to have hot bath water brought to both rooms and menus, so an in-room meal could be ordered. While the women were unpacking and getting ready to bathe, the men headed for the hotel’s barbershop.
Mr. Douglas and Scar were seated at the breakfast table the next morning drinking coffee when Captain Willard entered the room. “Where are the women?” he asked, shaking hands.
“They’ve already eaten and left for shopping,” Mr. Douglas answered. The captain chuckled.
The three men sat with cups in hand, talking about the days they’d left behind. Some memories brought laughter, and some brought sadness. They talked about the travel convenience the new railroad would bring. Then the subject changed to the conflict with the six railroad surveyors. After a short discussion, the captain asked, “How’s Jake recovering? Will he be able to perform ranch work?” There was a pause before Mr. Douglas answered, “His leg has a ways to go before it’s completely healed. In the beginning, the doctor thought his leg would be much shorter, leaving him with a severe limp, but during his last examination, the doctor said it might not be as bad as he first thought.” Mr. Douglas paused again, collecting his thoughts before he said, “I don’t know that he’ll be able to do ranch work though.”
“What’s he gonna do then? What’s his future?” asked the captain.
Scar jumped in. “I haven’t talked to anyone about this, but we need a newspaper in Flat Peaks, and I think Jake would make the perfect newspaper editor. He doesn’t have a formal education, but we all know of the time he’s spent learning to read and write. He’s up-to-date on almost every subject, and he loves to keep up on things.” Mr. Douglas and the captain looked at Scar with a glimmer of enthusiasm in their eyes. Scar continued, “I thought we could investigate the situation while we’re in Denver and get information on the procedures and cost to start a paper up. I believe Jake would be receptive to running one.” Douglas and the captain both nodded.
“We might as well check on it now,” said Douglas. “Let�
��s get directions to the Denver newspaper from the desk.”
When they entered the print shop, a man with ink-stained hands wearing a leather apron and gartered shirt sleeves was cranking a large wheel on a sizable machine. Scar figured the big machine was undoubtedly the printing press. The man in charge placed sheets of paper in a large trough and then cranked the wheel which moved a large metal plate to the paper. Afterward, he raised the plate and remove the printed paper. The day’s headline read, PRESIDENT HAYES ARRIVES. When he had finished a run, he turned to his guests.
As it turned out, he was the paper’s owner and editor. But in reality, he did everything that needed doing in the shop, with only one young employee to help him. He told the Double D men he had learned the business in St. Louis three years before coming to Denver to set up his shop. He said he’d trained several men in the newspaper business since then.
After the Double D men outlined Jake’s qualifications and spent nearly an hour in discussion, the shop owner said Jake would most likely make an excellent newspaperman, and he’d be willing to put him through a two to three months training program. Mr. Douglas wrote down pertinent information, including the paper’s address, thanked the owner for his time, and they left.
On the way back to the hotel, they stopped at a men’s clothing shop. Thirty minutes later, the men left the shop, each carrying a large bag.
“How do you like this one, honey?” Liz said as she came from the bedroom, twirling about in front of her husband in one of her new dresses. The dress was dark blue with white lace.
“It’s very pretty, sweetheart. When do you plan to wear it?”
“I thought we’d dine with Mamma and Papa this evening and afterward meet some of the hotel guests, unless you have other plans.” She paused and then said, “Did you purchase some new clothes today, Bart?”