Uncompahgre

by Reid Lance Rosenthal

  “We is Israel and Lucy Thomas. We come from the east and we’re hoping to settle out there to the west, somewheres over them mountains.”

  “That your wife?”

  “Going on twenty-five years,” said Israel, casting another quick glance at Lucy. There were tears streaming down her face and the trembling of her lips overpowered the clench of her jaw.

  “Where exactly are you planning on going? Those mountains go on mostly forever. Give me a specific place that you’re headed to? Kinfolk?”

  Israel swallowed and realized he was nervously playing with his hat. We’re headed to a place we never seen but we heard about. It’s called Uncompahgre.”

  The officer’s eyes widened. “That’s clear down southwest. Some of the most remote country there is.” His eyes narrowed. Israel was sure he detected a click of realization in the officer’s expression. “I’m Captain Henderson, C Squad, F Troop, United States Army, Second Cavalry. We are based out of Fort Laramie, which is a good ways to the north.” He smiled. “Actually, we are based out of these saddles. Haven’t been back to the fort for weeks.” His stare was stern but softened as his eyes rested on Lucy. “Let me see your papers. The Army is the law out here, you know. There’s treaties and such that we are bound to uphold.”

  Israel felt his heart sink. “Papers?” he repeated slowly, trying to buy time to think.

  There was a hint of stern concern in the captain’s face. “Do you have your papers?”

  Israel sighed, then drew his shoulders back. “We got our papers. They’s wrapped up. They is on newspaper so dry it could break apart.”

  The captain’s eyebrows raised. “That’s it?”

  Israel felt sick to his stomach. He nodded slowly.

  “Let me see those papers.”

  Israel hesitated. Captain Henderson smiled, “I’ll be careful.”

  Israel went back to the saddlebag draped over Sally’s rump and withdrew the several pages of old, yellowing New York Times carefully wrapped in a handkerchief and pressed between two thin pieces of wood as protection. He delicately handed the bundle to Captain Henderson. Gotta get the tremble out of my hands.

  The officer looked surprised. “You can read?”

  “Mistress of the plantation taught me, though she weren’t supposed to.”

  The captain’s eyebrows arched as he quickly scanned the still folded newsprint. “These are not official papers, Mr. Thomas. What is this?”

  Israel straightened his shoulders again, shoving his hands in his pockets to hide the shake in his gnarled fingers and looked with a steady gaze square into Captain Henderson’s eyes. “That there is a cutout I made from part of an article in that New York Times paper.”

  The captain began to unfold the brittle, yellow sheet. A small corner of it cracked and fell fluttering to the ground.

  “I’d be obliged if you handle that carefully, suh; it cracks easy. One of the first things I ever read after the Mistress taught me. I aim to keep it; mebbe pass it on my kinfolk if I ever find them.”

  The captain glanced sharply at Israel but slowed his unfolding, gently unbinding each layer of newsprint from the next. He paused momentarily, looking up from the task. “Mr. Thomas, these are not official papers. I ask again, what is this?”

  Israel lifted his chin, “It is the Constitution of these United States. And there’s one part of that I want to especially point out to you, captain, suh.”

  A puzzled expression flashed across the captain’s face; his shoulders lifted in a partial shrug and he continued the process of unfolding the paper, finally holding both edges, one in each hand. His eyes moved rapidly back and forth over the print, every so often lifting to Israel’s face and then back to reading.

  Israel took two steps so that he was next to the officer and extended one long, skinny dark finger pointing toward the top left of the long columns of print. “Captain suh, read these words if you would please, where it begins with All men are created equal.…”

  The captain turned his head sideways to Israel, a look of understanding suddenly replacing the authoritative expression he had worn to that point. He cleared his throat. “I’ll do that Mr. Thomas. Matter of fact, I will read them aloud. We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.”

  After reading the first line, he raised his eyes to Israel’s and completed the entire preamble, his eyes never returning to the page. “That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed—That whenever any form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to affect their Safety and Happiness.”

  Israel let several seconds of silence lapse. “You see, captain, these are my papers and they’re her papers,” Israel pointed at Lucy who was watching the exchange wide-eyed, “and they’re your papers. Matter fact, suh, seems to me you wear that uniform because of this paper and it seems to me there’s no papers more important than the one you got in your hands.”

  Captain Henderson began to speak, but instead turned his head toward the sound of a horse coming at a gallop.

  The rider reined in ten feet from them. The newcomer was stoutly built with wide shoulders and a shock of brown hair with a reddish tint underneath a blue Army cap with a black bill. There were stripes on his sleeves. “Sir?” He had drawn his pistol.

  Captain Henderson glanced at the newcomer’s weapon and then at Israel and Lucy. “That’s all right Sergeant O’Malley. At ease. You can put that away.” The sergeant’s bushy red eyebrows surged upward. Shaking his head slightly, he reached over with his left hand opening the flap of the holster on his hip and shoving the pistol back into it with his right, taking care to fasten the holster flap after the gun was sheathed.

  “Came back to check on you, captain.”

  “Yes, sergeant, by happenchance I saw Mr. and Mrs. Thomas here through the trees, and came over to investigate their papers.”

  The sergeant’s eyes moved from Israel’s face to Lucy’s, back to the captain’s and came to rest on the large yellowed paper in the officer’s hands. “Don’t look like no papers I’ve ever seen before, captain. We gonna take them back to the fort?” The tone of the sergeant’s voice made it clear he believed he already knew the answer and he raised himself in the saddle partially lifting one leg, beginning to dismount.

  “At ease, sergeant. No need to dismount.” Captain Henderson’s eyes were fixed on Israel’s even as he was talking to his noncom. “In point of fact, these here papers are in perfect order. Might be the most complete set ever presented to me.” The corners of the captain’s mouth turned up in a suppressed smile and his eyes were kind. Maybe even respectful. Without taking his gaze off Israel, he carefully refolded the page, reaching out a hand and taking from Israel’s the handkerchief and two thin protective wafers of wood. He wrapped the old paper in the cloth, positioning the wood pieces firmly and gently on either side of the refolded article and then presented the rebound document to Israel.

  “Sir?” The sergeant’s voice was filled with puzzlement. “You’re free to go Mr. and Mrs. Thomas.” He shifted his gaze to Lucy, drew himself up and saluted smartly. “My apologies, ma’am for delaying your trip.” Captain Henderson turned back to Israel. “If you’re headed to that destination you told me of when we first met, I think, if I were you, I would take a less settled route, though it might be a tad more arduous and the journey several weeks or two longer than following the Platte down to Cherry Creek and taking the usual route over Kenosha Pass.”

  “Sergeant, hand me that pad and pencil of yours. I’m going to draw a map for the Thomas’.” The captain smiled at Israel. “Going to take more than one page with these l
ittle sheets, but I’ll number ‘em. Stand behind me while I sketch them out. It will help you remember.”

  Israel could feel Lucy’s questioning stare on the back of his head. What’s he drivin’ at?

  Captain Henderon’s pencil scratched industriously. “I would recommend you cross the South Platte several miles upstream from here where it widens out. If you keep a west northwest course, you will hit a large creek about a hard stones throw wide. That’s Lodge Pole Creek. Follow it ’til it joins another slightly larger river. That’s the Laramie River. Work your way upstream. The going is mostly flat ’til you hit the abrupt toe of the Medicine Bow Mountains south of the Snowy Range.”

  He chuckled. “You’ll be able to see them peaks, and you’ll know why they got that name. A short ways into the mountains the Laramie bends hard south, and a smaller creek comes in from the west. It will seem like the better trail goes up the Laramie, but not at your age or as old as that mule is.” He nodded at Lucy. “Gets too steep.”

  Good Lord Jesus, he’s tellin’ us how to stay free!

  Follow the smaller creek west ’til it peters out. The trail is not much, but it will do. Some of the prettiest stands of straight-trunked lodgepole you will ever see. The climb is gradual enough, and the Arapaho call the top Fox Park. On the west side, the trail follows several small drainages down and though faint, is easy to travel. Stay out of anything that looks boggy or around beaver dams. That mule will sink into her belly. The valleys will get wider until you come out above a tremendous big area called North Park. You’ll see the signs and tree line of a river out some miles. That would be the North Platte and there’s a canyon to the east there, Northgate. Might be a good place to hole up a few days and rest. It’s good fishin’. Follow the Platte until it bends north, then keep heading west across and next to a number of smaller creeks and rivers—the Canadian, Michigan, Grizzly and Willow Creek.”

  The captain’s pencil paused as he stared into the trees and thought. “At the west side of North Park are the Buffalo Mountains. You’ll take Muddy Pass below, and then Rabbit Ears Pass higher up which is marked by two tall columns of rock at the top. Can’t miss them. This is a big high stretch, and if your bones are aching when you get over, there will be hot springs on the west side. You’ll see the steam rising in the morning just up from the valley floor if you keep your eyes sharp.

  “Once you’re over Rabbit Ears Pass it flattens out quite a bit. The river over there is the Yampa. It runs mostly east-west until you get about fifty miles from the west side of Rabbit Ears, where it bends south. Follow that bend. The Yampa will turn back north, but you keep heading south, sticking to the lowest areas and those trails will bring you all the way down to the Colorado River. You’ll know you’re halfway to the Colorado when you cross a good sized river flowing mostly east and west. That’s the White.” The captain drew another line on the page.

  He looked up at Israel, pointing the pencil at him. “That Colorado is a big, powerful river. First really good crossing is about seventy miles down from where you will come down on it, just above where the Gunnison River comes in. Some call it Grand Junction. Cross there. There is a short cut, and a crossing by Brush Creek, but it entails another pass. I think the less up and down for your mule and your wife, the better. And,” he looked hard at Israel, “If the river has not yet dropped from the melt, you hole up until it does or you will all be swept away.”

  Israel knew his eyes were wide from the building surprise at the wealth of detailed information the captain was sharing. He nodded vigorously, glancing quickly at Sergeant O’Malley. Them eyebrows of his get any higher, his cap’s gonna eat ‘em. I ain’t the only one flabbergasted.

  Captain Henderson began to draw again. “Follow the Gunnison River upstream to what’s left of an old fort, Fort Uncompahgre, on the south bank. He craned his head back and up at Israel. “From here on, I’m less familiar. Only been down this far south two or three times. Once in a while I hear about various folks setting up a temporary trading post in what’s left of the fort, until they get run out by the Ute. This spot is a very large delta formed by the confluence of the Gunnison and the Uncompahgre. From there, follow the Uncompahgre up river to wherever you want to wind up. You’ll certainly be seen by Injuns, though you may never know.” He pursed his lips. “But I don’t think they’ll bother you on account of your age, you being Negro, and…” his eyes flicked to Sally, “…how old that mule is.” His one eye hidden from Sergeant O’Malley by the bridge of his nosed closed in a quick wink. “It’s a long way, for sure, but less people and less chance of running into…” The captain paused, “folks who would take from you what is yours.”

  “Thank you, captain. Those there might be the best directions we ever received. How long do you reckon it will take us to get to where we are headed going that way?”

  The officer’s eyes flickered over Israel’s legs, appraised the mule and lingered on Lucy’s swollen ankles. “I would say, Mr. Thomas, that traveling at the rate that would best suit you would put you up in that country at the first to mid part of September.” He paused. “Just so you know, winter can start up there any time around then. It all depends on the year.” He looked from one to the other of them, then abruptly turned, taking two steps to his horse and lifting himself stiffly into the saddle. “May the good Lord look after you.” His head swiveled toward his sergeant. “Sergeant, let’s rejoin the troop.”

  Sergeant O’Malley’s eyes were still wide and his jaw slack. He looked at Captain Henderson, blinked, shoved his wide shoulders back and stuck out his chest. With a nod to Israel and Lucy, he wheeled his horse, as did Captain Henderson and the two of them burst from the trees at a fast canter headed northeast toward the distant cloud of dust that was their patrol.

  CHAPTER 29

  June 19, 1855

  PREMONITION

  Chief smacked his lips, sucking and licking each of his fingers slowly their entire length, then wiped his hands on his already filthy leather leggings. “Mighty damn good—three days taking it easy, fresh deer meat, a fire, not looking over our shoulders. Yep, damn good.”

  The men around the fire, most holding chunks of meat and chewing, nodded. Tom wiped his mouth with the forearm of his sleeve. “Yep, I watched that whole thing. Had a perfect vantage point from them rocks you put me in up valley, boss. Chief kept them does’ attention and you did that sneak. Bit too far for me to see, but looked like a hell of a shot. Couldn’t a been much more than her head stickin’ up above that rock they was bedded behind.”

  Black Feather squatted, slightly to the side of the group, devouring steaming, dripping flesh hanging off a thigh bone. “Worked out good. They was fixed on Chief. Never saw me coming. Might’ve knocked down another one if they had stuck around a second longer.”

  Still chewing, he swiveled his head toward Dot. “You get enough to eat, girl?” She was sitting on a log positioned by Johnson as a seat for her near the fire. Her pale face, framed by scraggly blonde hair, lifted, her gaze looking up over the slab of venison in her hands. Still chewing, her lips greasy from the meat, she smiled and nodded.

  Johnson looked up at the stars, bright and white in the still deep black of the mountain night. “Been a while since we knocked over some loot, boss. I’m sure there’s a couple of settlers down there in North Park and might be some wagon or buggy traffic along that Platte trail between the Rawah and the Buffaloes. The river ain’t far from the toes of the Zirkel on the north side of the valley. That’s rugged country; easy to escape into if we need if I remember. And last time we was up that way from the west, weren’t much cavalry patrols.”

  Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Black Feather belched. He remembers that gold we hid too. We came in from the southwest back then. He ain’t never been to North Park from the east before.

  Taking another bite of venison, Black Feather chewed slowly, thinking. “That snowpack oughta be getting down on Cameron but there can still be some tricky spots and don’t figure there�
�s been any traffic. Folks don’t much start coming over the divide there ’til sometime in July.” He looked around the fire and then back to Johnson. Several of the men glanced between he and his second-in-command, waiting expectantly. They are getting a mite antsy.

  “I’m thinkin’ travel might be easier in four or five days, and she…” he nodded toward Dot, “…should not travel ’til her leg’s past opening and bleeding again.” She has seen enough killin’. Gonna try and shelter her from that here on in.

  “Well, maybe boss, some of us could go up ahead. Scout out the pickins’ and see what’s doin’ on the other side of the hill.”

  Black Feather rose. Turning, he hurled the thighbone out into the darkness. Crazy fools go down there and get caught, and then cavalry or some bunch of vigilantes will be comin’ after us. He raised his eyes into the darkness toward the ten thousand-foot peaks of Cameron Pass. Spring snow ain’t gonna be too stable up there either.

  Taking a step to the fire, he sat cross-legged, his hands out to the heat. All of the faces in the circle of the flames were fixed on his, the flickers of firelight dancing ghostly, red shadows across their eyes and cheekbones. “Tell ya what, Johnson. Take whatever of the boys want to go and head on over that way, but just watch. Don’t be knocking over anything ’til I catch up. Will be less than a week, maybe just a few days. We can’t afford to make a mistake as few as we are now and we don’t want to get chased from here to hell bywho knows who. If there’s something worth taking, it’ll be there the next day too.”

  The men glanced at one another and nodded.

  “Okay, boss. That’s a good plan. Who wants to come?” Johnson asked, shifting his glance to Tom, then Chief, then Miguel and the rest of the men. All of them nodded. “Okay, we’ll be lighting out of here after sunup tomorrow. We’ll camp this side of the pass so we don’t get caught up on top in the dark. Then we’ll head over and drop down into North Park the day after.” Johnson fixed his eyes on Black Feather. “You gonna be okay, boss? Sure you don’t need one of us to stay behind?”