CHAPTER FOUR
UNDER ATTACK AT HARTSEL
RING – RING – RING…The phone on the night stand rang loudly, startling us both. Charles reached over and grabbed the phone. “Hello,” he said. “O.K. Thank you very much. That’s our wake-up call, Ian. We have an exciting day ahead of us. It’s time to rise and shine.” I rolled over and covered my head with a pillow. Charles took a shower and let me catch some more sleep as he did. I felt a hand shaking me, and I looked up. Charles was standing over me with a big smile. He had a huge jaw with big white teeth. “O.K. big guy,” he said. “It’s shower time for you.” I jumped up and sluggishly moved toward the bathroom.
The warm shower water seemed to urge me to come alive. I began thinking about the upcoming day’s drive to the ranch, and visions of riding horses and hiking mountain trails raced through my mind. When I dried off and stepped out of the bathroom, Charles was returning with bagels, juice and hot chocolate. “It’s cold out there,” Charles shivered. “Here’s some fuel for the furnaces.”
“I’m starved,” I shot back, as I bent over to tie my shoes. We ate our food, packed our gear and walked out to greet the new day. As we did the cold air hit me in the face, but it was the beautiful clear, blue sky above us that took my breath away. A thick white blanket of snow had covered the ground as far as we could see. In the distance, mountain peaks were covered in white and against the blue sky and tree covered mountainsides, it looked like a beautiful painting. We placed our duffel bags into the Jeep and wound our way down the side of the hill to the highway below. The roads were clear from the snowplows working all night, and we eagerly headed west out of town on Highway #24 toward Lost Gorge.
The drive was extremely exciting and scary at the same time since I had never been so close to steep drop offs as I was now during our drive in these mountains. There were some guardrails, but many areas had none. I was surprised to see such wide and beautiful roads as we drove the twisted paths along the mountains. “There’s the Air Force Academy, that way, Ian,” Charles said, as he tapped my leg. “Maybe someday you’ll attend there since you want to be a pilot.”
“That would be great,” I responded as we passed the road sign that said “17 miles to Air Force Academy.” We also passed a sign that read “Pike’s Peak.” Charles told me about a car race that was held yearly on that mountain. I thought they had to be nuts.
We had been traveling for some time, climbing as we went, when we saw another sign reading: “Wilkerson Pass – 9625 feet…4 miles.” I looked off into the distance and saw a train winding along the side of a mountain like a long, twisting snake. We continued our journey but were suddenly stopped by a flagman dressed in orange standing in the road ahead of us. Charles stopped beside him and asked if there was a problem.
“Yes, sir,” he replied. “There’s a danger of an avalanche ahead that has to be removed. It’ll be a short delay.” We could hear the roar of what sounded like a large explosion in the distance that seemed to echo forever throughout the deep valley below. Charles looked over and gestured to the flagman to come over.
“Pardon me,” Charles asked, “What’s the loud boom we just heard?”
“That was our Howitzer cannon firing into an avalanche shelf to remove any danger of it sliding onto the highway. You see,” he continued, “We’ve had early snow falls and the snow builds up and gets trapped along the mountain ridges sometimes and has to be released before it becomes too large. If we didn’t, huge avalanches would destroy this entire highway and close the pass, and this is an important route to the western Colorado area.”
“Well, I’ll be,” Charles exclaimed. “You learn something new everyday. Thank you, sir. I appreciate the information. Well, Ian, is that fascinating or what?” Charles asked.
“I guess this trip is going to be educational as well as an adventure,” I replied. Charles started forward as the flagman waved us through. Charles nodded and smiled as we passed him and headed toward the summit. As we did so, we passed the cannons and the huge plows, which had removed snow that had come from an avalanche run above. Luckily we had filled the Jeep up in a little town called Lake George earlier so the delay wasn’t bothersome.
Though the distance we had to travel to Lost Gorge wasn’t a great one, the roads had narrowed and become curvier and with the fresh snow and ice, we had to travel more slowly. We continued winding our way through the valleys and along the creeks dotted with beaver dams. I’d heard of people calling this God’s country; now I could see why. God certainly had smiled when he created this. Charles and I talked about anything and everything as we drove. I found myself hardly missing the orphanage guys and girls at all. But, I did miss Zack. We continued along the slick highway at a good speed but always aware of the snow and icy conditions around us. We soon saw a road sign which read “Hartsel 21 miles.”
“I’m ready for a little break. How about you?” Charles asked.
“Sounds good to me,” I answered. “I’d like to get some hot chocolate and some chips.”
“Then Hartsel it’ll be,” Charles continued. I reached over and flipped on the radio just in time to hear John Denver singing “Rocky Mountain High.”
“If that doesn’t get us in a good mood, nothing will,” Charles smiled. He’s a good ole Colorado boy and proud of it. “I can remember when I was working a security detachment in Raleigh, North Carolina after retiring from the Bureau. John and his entourage were coming to town to put on a concert and hired my company to set up all the security. He wasn’t extremely well known yet, but it was obvious to me he would be a big star someday. It didn’t take him long to prove me right. For years after that we handled all his security when he came to town, and we became good friends. He was a very genuine and sincere guy who made it real easy to like him. You know…when I think about it I haven’t seen him since I went to work for Mr. Bryant. That’s been years now,” Charles paused. “It sure would be good to look him up.”
“You sure have had an exciting life Charles, haven’t you?” I asked.
“I guess I have, Ian,” he answered. “I’ve met some great ones and some real bad ones.”
We continued driving and could see a small town in the distance that we knew had to be Hartsel. Within minutes we were approaching the outskirts of town and spied a bent over sign that read, “Hartsel Population 131”. I looked at Charles and was lost for words. I didn’t know that a town could be that small. As we entered town we saw maybe eight buildings nestled in the deep snow and a few more than that on the mountainsides in the distance. SPLAT – SPLAT. Out of nowhere two snowballs smashed onto our windshield startling us both. We looked over only to see two small figures scurrying around the corner of a building with a sign on top that read, “Nelsons Garage.”
“Welcome to Hartsel,” Charles smiled and exclaimed. Nothing seemed to bother Charles. All the buildings in town were very rustic. We could, we thought, identify some of the old buildings. One looked like an old barn with a blacksmith sign out front, a garage, gas station/general store combination and a restaurant. There appeared to be tiny cottages along a small frozen creek, which was fed by streams of water from the surrounding mountains. At the very end of the street there was an old mill house that read, “Withers Dairy.” We pulled up to the pumps at the gas station and got out to stretch. It was blowing, but the cold, dry air felt refreshing as we walked toward the steps to go inside. We opened the door, and a bell rang out as we did. “Ding, Ding”. We looked around and were amazed. It was like something out of the 1800’s, but it was fascinating and beautiful at the same time. We looked past a sign that read “Immerhaven Lodge” into a darkened room dimly lit by small oil lamps. We stood at the door staring at a huge fieldstone fireplace burning at the one end of the room. The walls were decorated with antlers and different size stuffed trout, and the tables were covered with, what Charles described as, fine linen tablecloths. Charles and I looked at each other not saying a word.
“May I help you?” a small voice asked.
We turned and saw a tiny old lady wearing a floor length dress with a broom in her hand.
Charles smiled and said, “Yes, ma’am, we’d like some gas and maybe some food, if it’s available.”
“Well, boys you know how the pump works. Turn the handle and start pumpin’. When you’re finished let me know the cost. We work on the honor system here,” she continued. “I got three choices for eatin; either small elk tenderloin, medium elk tenderloin, or large elk tenderloin. You get a large mess of mashed potatoes with gravy, candied carrots, a big basket of buttermilk biscuits and the best homemade ice cream west of Denver. Take it or leave it boys, but I need an answer, now,” she finished.
Charles smiled and with a twinkle in his eye said, “We’ll take two medium steaks and could you find some strong hot coffee for me and some cold milk for my friend here?” he asked.
“You got it, boys,” she answered. “Just go start pumpin.”
We headed outside to do as we had been instructed. “What do you think, Ian?” Charles asked. “I’d say she’s quite a character, wouldn’t you?”
“Do you think she lives here by herself?” I asked.
“No, I’m sure there’s help around we don’t see right now.” We gazed wondrously at the scenery around us as we finished pumping the gas. It truly was beautiful, but it was in the middle of nowhere. Charles nudged me with his elbow and nodded his head toward the mountains ahead. “Looks like some bad weather over there. We better eat and take off, or we may have to drive these roads in the dark, and I’m not crazy about doin’ that.” I looked at the darkening sky and saw the snow starting to blow fiercely and knew he was right. We finished pumping gas and once again headed inside. We hit the steps running, opened the door and were hit immediately in the face with the most delicious smell, we both agreed, we had ever experienced. We peered into the dining room and could see the tiny crouching figure of our hostess busily cooking over the open-hearth fire. This truly was like something we had studied in our history books about times gone by. We noisily, so as to not startle the old lady, walked toward the fire.
“Sit down, boys and get warm,” she suddenly said. “Lunch is about ready.” We both took a seat in two oversized wooden rockers and could feel the heat radiating from the hot embers of the fire. “Boys, you better plan on spendin’ the night if you’re travelin’ west. Trout Creek Pass is blown shut ‘cause of a bad storm that’s comin’ in. My daughter called from Buena Vista. That’s just on the other side of the pass. Her husband works on the state maintenance crew and is already workin’ to keep it clear. You get caught on these roads in a bad storm, and it can be a killer, but you make up your own minds.
“Do you have any rooms in town?” Charles asked.
“Nope, no rooms,” she answered, “but you’re welcome to use one of those little cabins,” she pointed out back. “They’re not fancy, but they’re dry and cozy and will keep you warm with a big fire burnin’.”
“I think we just might take you up on your offer,” Charles replied. “Better safe than sorry.”
“Good idea, boys,” she said nodding approvingly. “Now, go sit down, and I’ll bring your meals over,” she said as she shooshed us toward a table she had set. Charles and I sat down as she carefully placed bowls of food all around us and then returned to the fire. Seconds later she was back carrying a platter with two beautifully cooked, huge elk steaks. She placed them in front of us and told us to dig in. “Take your time,” she said, “I’ll get you some blankets and oil for the lamps when you’re ready to head out back to your cabin.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Charles said. “You’ve been very kind.”
“Well, Ian,” Charles said, “It looks like we’ve had a slight delay.”
“That’s alright,” I replied. “The weather was getting pretty nasty and besides those old cabins looked pretty neat. How far is Lost Gorge anyway?” I asked Charles.
“From what I see on the map, it’s around Nathrop and that looks like about 50 miles,” Charles answered. “So tomorrow should be a fairly quick drive, depending on the weather and roads.”
“That’s great. I’m getting excited about seeing where I’ll be staying,” I answered excitedly. We didn’t say much after that because we were enjoying everything about the lunch we had spread out before us. If this was an example of Colorado food and hospitality, this was going to be a great experience. The elk tenderloin melted in your mouth, the potatoes were fluffy and creamy and the biscuits were light as a feather and hot. Our cook at the orphanage was good, but this lady was GREAT! We ate slowly, savoring every bite and marveled at the beautiful log dining room that surrounded us. Tonight would be exciting, I was sure. For a city boy, to spend the night sleeping in an old log cabin was something I thought I would never experience. Boy, was I wrong!
Charles and I finished our lunch and went to find the old lady. She was standing on a stepladder reaching high above her head removing cobwebs with her broom. “Ding, Ding.” We turned around to see two young boys coming through the door. They looked suspiciously like the two figures we saw throwing the snowballs at our Jeep. They couldn’t have been any older than 10 or 11. “Mrs. Parks?” the taller one asked. “Can we warm up by your fire?”
“Sure you can, Billy as soon as you and David apologize to these gentlemen for hitting their jeep,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. They turned their heads and looked at each other. They were wondering how she knew, and so were we.
“We’re sorry,” they both said, embarrassed. Then they took off running toward the roaring fire taking off their jackets and gloves as they did.
“I was upstairs cleaning my chandelier and just happened to look out the window when you boys were driving into town,” she said. Those Nelson boys are something else. I saw them waitin’ in ambush and knew you were gonna’ get it. You’ll have to forgive them. They’re good boys who are just plain bored. School’s on vacation, and the weather’s been tough this year.”
“That’s O.K.,” Charles replied. “I was young myself a long time ago.”
“Their daddy owns the local garage, but he’s out hunting a killer mountain lion that’s been stalking and killing some of our local cattle. It’s even killed some of our dogs. Way out here cattle and water are like gold. Mess with either one and you’re in deep trouble,” she said. “Well, enough small talk. Here’s your blankets, a can of oil for the lamps and this,” she continued. She pulled a rifle from a closet and handed it to Charles. “Know how to use this?” Charles took it in his hands, smiled and said he did. “Out here you need protection. You never know who or what may be around the next corner,” she continued. “Just take care of it and bring it back in the mornin’. It was my dead husband’s favorite rifle.”
The old lady, who we now knew was Mrs. Parks, took us out the back door, handed us a key and pointed us toward our cabin. “If you get hungry later, come on up, and I’ll rustle up some more grub for you.” We both thanked her and started wading through knee deep snow toward our cabin. We arrived at our temporary home, unlocked the door and entered a very cold and dark room. There was a very definite musty smell in the air so we left the door temporarily cracked to help air it out. Our eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, and Charles grabbed a couple oil lamps to fill up. He lit the lamps, and the cabin’s interior was immediately illuminated. It was obvious that ordinary sanitation had not been a priority. It seemed as though nothing had ever been thrown away. The cabin was jammed to the rafters with empty cardboard boxes, old coffee cans and everything else they wanted to get rid of. There were old newspapers and pieces of rotted cloth jammed between the logs to be used as insulation, some of which had fallen out allowing cold air and daylight to come through the walls. This could be a long, cold night and certainly a new adventure, I thought to myself. We managed to push boxes aside and clear an area large enough for the two cots that were folded against the wall. Charles grabbed some wood and started to build a fire to get the cold out of the air, and I head
ed outside to bring more wood in. There was quite a large pile of wood stacked against the wall outside. That was good news for us both, but we knew it still could be an uncomfortable night at best.
The Ghost of St. Elmo Page 4