by Dan Arnold
In the centuries of constant travel from the Near East across Europe and into the New World, the Romani have developed independent laws and customs. They’re often despised by the locals who spit and call them ‘damn Gypsies’. Our ways seem strange and foreign to the ‘Townies’.”
“I’m sorry, John, I’ve never met any of the Romani. I never heard the word till I met you. We all just grew up saying ‘Gypsy’. I hope I didn’t offend you.”
“No, Lora, I’m used to it. But the truth is I’m more of a townie than a gypsy.”
I was remembering the difference between being a true Romani and a townie was the thing that ruined my first marriage.
***
As we traveled the country and I grew into manhood, I found myself drawn to a beautiful girl, one of our people. Katya was my first love.
When I was twenty, I took a job in Texas in one of the towns where we’d been camped and persuaded Katya to be my wife. I tried to make a life in that town with Katya, she aimed to make it work, and for a while we were happy. We had a son we named Nicolae.
But life in a town apart from her people was not good for Katya. She became more and more heartsick and miserable.
Then, one day, while I was gone driving a herd of cattle to Cheyenne, she took our son and joined a different band of Romani who happened to be passing through. They were her people and distant relatives, so they were happy to have her, I suppose.
They’d been gone for nearly a month by the time I came home to an empty house. It took me another seventeen days to catch up with that band of travelers and when I did, Katya and Nicky were not with them. Those Romani wouldn’t tell me where my wife and son had gone.
Whenever I could and whenever their travels brought them close enough, I would go home to Sasha and Kergi. Sasha always told me she had heard good things and that all was well with Katya and Nicolae, but she did not know where they were. I’d leave money with Kergi and he would see to it that their needs were met, somehow. After many years, I eventually gave up any hope of finding them and got on with my life. That life had become law enforcement, first as a deputy sheriff in Arkansas, later as a Texas Ranger, now as the Sheriff of Alta Vista County, Colorado.
***
“John, you must be very tired. You drifted off there for a little while.”
“I’m sorry, Lora. I guess I am tired. Let’s talk about the wedding.”
3.
It was Sunday morning, and in Bear Creek, for some of us that meant going to church. People traveled into Bear Creek from miles around to come into town and attend church services.
There were five churches in town, the First Baptist, the Methodist, the Lutheran, our church, and the Catholic mission that had originally put Bear Creek on the map.
The white washed church with the tall steeple we attended could seat about a hundred and fifty folks and was always full.
On pretty days, I could just stroll over to our church. It was only about six blocks away and downhill from the courthouse, on the northwest side of town, well within walking distance of the courthouse. It was about the same distance from Lora’s house, and in good weather she would walk there and meet me at the church.
The next time I’d walk to the church, I would meet her there, and we would be going home together as man and wife.
Folks tended to get to the church early on Sunday morning and stay late after the service. We often had dinner on the grounds. We gathered together at the church for various meetings and social events as well.
Today, I would meet Wes Spradlin, ostensibly the new preacher. I had known of him for years. He had a reputation as a dangerous man and a natural born killer. It was hard for me to imagine him as a preacher. I wondered what his game was.
As I approached, I could see horses and buggies tied up all around the church grounds.
There were little knots of people here and there, all decked out in their Sunday best. I knew nearly all of them. “Hey Sheriff, good to see you,” “Morning Sheriff, we’re sure looking forward to the wedding,” and “I heard you were in California,” were some of the greetings.
“John,” Becky smiled, as I shook hands with Tom. “We are so glad you made it back safely.” She gave me a hug.
“Thanks, me too,” I replied. “Have you seen Lora?”
Becky nodded. “She was over on the other side of the church with the Courtneys a little while ago.”
“The Courtneys” were William Courtney, his wife Annabelle, and their lovely daughter Lacey. Bill owned the Bar C ranch, the single biggest ranch in the county. In fact, at more than 35,000 acres, part of his ranch was over in Chaparral County. Bill had nearly been a casualty of the Chaparral County war. He was ambushed and shot by the Sheriff of Chaparral County, Joe Holden, but he survived and was doing well.
“Becky, I hear Lora’s wedding dress is a work of art. She says you’ve outdone yourself.”
“Wait till you see it, and then decide,” she replied, with just a hint of smugness.
I grinned at her. “I’m looking forward to it. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go find my fiancée.”
***
I found Lora with the Courtneys, their ranch foreman Glen Corbett, who I knew was sweet on Lacey Courtney, and another man I didn’t know.
“Bill, you look great. I’m sure glad to see you up and around. Hello, Annabelle, Lacey,” I said, tipping my hat to the ladies as I took Lora’s offered hand. “Howdy Glen, how are you doing?”
Bill introduced me to the stranger. “John, I’d like you to meet our new Preacher, Brother Wes Spradlin. Wes, this is John Everett Sage, the Sheriff of Alta Vista County.”
I found myself looking into the grey eyes of the notorious gunman, Wes Spradlin, who was reaching out to shake my hand.
I hesitated for a moment. He noticed and smiled slightly
“I’ve heard of you,” I said, briefly shaking his hand.
“Yes, I suppose you have, as I have heard of you,” Wes Spradlin replied. “I’m looking forward to officiating at your wedding on Saturday.”
I was tempted to point out that he had contributed to a lot more funerals than he had to weddings, but I restrained myself. After all, the same could certainly be said of me.
“If you folks will excuse me, it’s about time to get the service started.” Brother Spradlin turned and headed into the church.
As he started up the steps, people began to follow him inside. Soon the first hymn was being sung. When he got around to giving his sermon, I paid close attention.
***
“…so, you see when God is at work, there is always change. Just as He changed Moses from a Prince of Egypt into a sheepherder and changed him again into the leader of His people and the Law Giver, He changed His chosen people from slaves in Egypt into a prosperous nation. God changed David from a lowly shepherd boy into the King of Israel. He changed others from dead, back to living. He even changed Jesus, His own son to become like us in the form of a little bitty baby, born of a virgin. He changed Saul, a man whose only life goal was to see Christians persecuted, into Paul, an Apostle and one of the greatest saints in the Bible. I’m here to tell you that He changed me, and He can change you.”
Wes Spradlin paused in his sermon, for a moment of reflection.
“I know some of you are aware, I was a bad man. I don’t mean just another ordinary sinner like everybody else, oh no. I was hell bent. I had no respect for anyone or anything. I loved no one, not even myself. Before God got ahold of me, I would do anything for money, power, or personal pleasure. There was pretty much nothing I wouldn’t do. I did whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, and if somebody got in my way… I removed them.”
Yeah, I was familiar with his history. His self-description was pretty accurate.
“But God, who is rich in mercy and loves us all more than we can imagine, had a plan for my life. He has a plan for your life too.
Listen to me now! God is all about changing people’s lives. He has a plan and He wants you to experience His love an
d gentle leadership. He wants to heal your hurts and mend your relationships. He wants to make you a light to the world and an inspiration to the lost.
Are you lost? Do you know the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob? Moses didn’t, until he met the Lord one day on a mountain. Paul didn’t, until he met the Lord one day on the road to Damascus. I didn’t, until I met the Lord one day on the road to hell.
Now, I don’t want you to think that God will just come along one day and hit you in the head and drag you into His kingdom. He won’t do that. He will invite you.
He has a plan for your life, but He won’t force it on you. He’s inviting you today. He’s inviting you to live life to the fullest, to know Him and His love, to walk in newness and redemption. He won’t force it on you. He’s inviting you, pleading with you.
New life is free for the taking, but you have to reach out and accept the gift. If you deny Him and his free gift, he’ll let you go on in your sin.
The Bible says ‘the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life, through Jesus Christ our Lord.’ God offers it to everyone, but not many people really want it.
It is a free gift, but you have to accept it and receive it. A free gift does you no good if you never actually receive it.
Now, I know some of you are sitting there thinking that you are already saved, but if God isn’t changing you, maybe that’s because you don’t really know Him. Maybe for some of you, today is the day; this is the moment of salvation. You have to make a decision. I’ve decided to follow Jesus. How about you?
Open your hymnal to page three fourteen, and sing along. I’ll be waiting here if you want to come forward to tell me that you have decided to follow Jesus.”
***
After the service we all had to greet Brother Spradlin on our way out the door. People mumbled “welcome, we’re glad to have you, nice sermon,” and so on, as they shook his hand.
Lora said “Thank you, Brother Spradlin, I’ve always heard when a person preaches you should ‘tell us what you’re gonna tell us, tell us, then tell us that you told us.’ You did a fine job today.”
I had to grin.
So did Wes Spradlin.
We caught each other’s eye for a moment. What I saw there was a kind of deep calm, like the calm before a storm. I would have to wait and see about him.
4.
The next morning I was sitting behind my desk, talking to my deputy, Walter Edward Burnside. He didn’t like to be called Walter, Walt, or Eddy. His friends call him Ed.
Ed is a young guy who had been a deputy to some very good men in a couple of towns in Texas. I had gotten to know him some when I’d been a Texas Ranger.
He’d taken a job as a railroad detective, but eventually became dissatisfied with his employers, and they with him.
After Ed got my telegram offering him a job, it had taken him two weeks to get to Bear Creek because he wouldn’t ride the railroad.
“Yep, Bob got one of the Thorndyke boys over at Mrs. Poole’s ‘boarding house’ in Chaparral County. He walked in and caught young Howard with his pants down and not another Thorndyke around. He arrested him without a shot being fired. He dragged him back here to catch the train to Denver, where I presume he turned him over to the U.S. Marshal, Maxwell Warren. That’s what he said he intended to do.”
“And collect the reward,” I mused.
Ed shrugged. “Yep, the reward has gone up to two thousand dollars on each of ‘em now.”
***
The Thorndykes were a powerful ranching family in Chaparral County until they’d made an attempt to steal land and cattle and get it blamed on innocent settlers. Of course, not all of the settlers were innocent; some had been known to rustle a few cattle here and there. The Thorndykes took advantage of the situation and formed a Stockman’s Association to rid the area of unwanted settlers. They hired the County Sheriff, a man named Joe Holden to be a “regulator.” Holden liked to shoot people from ambush and leave a single rifle shell standing upright on a flat rock as his “calling card.”
Bob and I stopped him. When Joe Holden was convicted and hanged, without giving up the names of any of his employers, the Thorndykes knew the Stockman’s Association had dodged a bullet. His execution left them without an enforcer, and there were still three names on the list of people to be eliminated.
The Thorndyke boys took it upon themselves to solve the problem.
One morning, right at daybreak, they snuck up on one of the small ranches that had armed itself in defense against the killings. When one of the men in the barricaded house stepped out to get some water from the well, they attacked, laying down a hail of bullets. He was killed instantly. The others inside the house, returned fire and a pitched gun battle erupted. It turned into a siege, until the Thorndyke boys sent a burning wagon load of hay down the hill, into the house. As the occupants of the burning house staggered out of the smoke, the Thorndyke boys shot them down, one by one. In all, four men, two women and a small child were killed.
That was too much for the vigilante committee. They burned down Herman Thorndyke’s house in town, with him and one of his sons, Horace Thorndyke, inside it. They were both killed. The fire raced from building to building, nearly engulfing the town of Thorndyke. Even the courthouse was burned and all the property records destroyed. The Army finally got there and restored order. The remaining four Thorndyke boys disappeared.
For their part in the violence that became known as the Chaparral County War, the four Thorndyke brothers were now wanted men. They’d killed seven people, two of whom were women, and one, a small child.
At first, The Diamond T was still owned by the Thorndykes, but the state had just seized the property.
Bud, the foreman, ran the place until it could be auctioned off.
Henry, Harvey, Howard and Homer Thorndyke, were outlaws on the run, but they were not without resources. The other members of the now defunct Chaparral County Stockman’s Association considered them heroes.
It was rumored they’d inherited quite a bit of money. That inheritance was still in the Bank of Thorndyke. A bank in which they were now the majority stockholders. The bank was one of the few buildings that hadn’t burned, as it was one of the few buildings in the town of Thorndyke built of brick, rather than wood.
With money in the bank, they had some freedom to operate for a while. They were desperately wicked, with time on their hands and hearts full of hatred.
A couple of the people on the vigilante committee, had been murdered since the Thorndykes were on the run. There was no way to know for certain, but everyone believed the Thorndykes had done those killings, and others.
Bob made it a personal priority to catch the Thorndyke boys.
I had too much on my own plate, to worry about them.
Eventually, Bob got too restless and, when he heard the Thorndyke boys had shown up in Chaparral County again, he came to see me.
“You do remember the terms of our agreement, right?” He asked.
I nodded. “What specifically are you referring to?”
“Well you agreed I could have the freedom to take some time off occasionally, to take a job away from Alta Vista County. I want to do that. I want to go after the Thorndykes, on my own. They are worth five hundred dollars each. I would find the additional financial resources to be of suitable motivation, even if they weren’t such terrible miscreants.”
I thought about it. If I said no, he could just quit and go do it anyway. He’s a man hunter and predatory by nature. As long he was still technically my deputy, he might show some restraint.
“OK, but keep in mind they’re wanted alive. There’s no reward if they’re dead.”
It seemed that Bob had managed to catch one of them while I was gone to California.
***
“Ed, do you have any idea where Bob is now?”
“Nope, he’s drifting in the wind—waiting and watching for the Thorndykes. They’re looking for him too.
You should have s
een him, John. You know Bob is kind of a dude, right? I mean he likes everything fancy, fancy clothes and polished boots, fancy women, fancy words, silver trappings, and all that. Well, he looked like a down in the heels drifter, maybe a down on his luck cowpoke, at first glance. It takes a trained eye to see how careful he is and how clean his guns are.
He’s like you, you know, something about the way he moves and the way he searches with his eyes. Most folks wouldn’t notice it, but you know what I’m talking about.”
“What’s your point?”
“Oh, I guess just that he could be anywhere. He’d blend in perfectly in any saloon or campfire in any little town, or even in a big city; if Bob Logan doesn’t want to be noticed, he just sort of fades into the background.”
“Yeah, well in his line of work it pays to be careful. If you do see or hear from him, let me know.”
Ed nodded. “I expect he’ll put in an appearance for the wedding.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Oh, you know. It’s probably going to be a pretty big social deal. There’ll be pretty girls, free food and drink. Everybody who’s anybody will be there. Did I mention the girls? Bob wouldn’t want to miss all that.” Ed winked.
I chuckled. “Yeah, you may be right.”
5 .
I walked over to the livery stable to check on my big buckskin horse, Dusty. I hadn’t seen him for a couple of weeks. I’d briefly thought about taking him on the train to California, but I knew such a long trip in a livestock car would have been pretty rough on him. I planned to ride up to North Fork and Flapjack City in the morning, and I wanted to be sure Dusty was ready for the trip.
North Fork is nestled in a pretty little valley nearly five thousand feet above, and a little over thirteen miles west of, the city of Bear Creek. It’s a steady climb, averaging a little less than five hundred feet per mile, but in some places there’s a ten percent grade in the switchbacks.
Flapjack City was only about eight miles and a dozen or so switchbacks above North Fork, way up high in the mountains at an altitude of about thirteen thousand feet. It was where the miners lived and worked the mines. The mine owners wouldn’t allow any women or gambling up at Flapjack City. Many of the miners had their families living down in North Fork, but North Fork was the place where all the miners from Flapjack City went for entertainment.