“Sorry to hear that.”
“Wasn’t sorry to see her go, and neither were my twins.”
On the far bank Garrett spotted deer drinking from the river, but the animals looked stronger and more robust than the ones at home.
“They’re elk,” Mr. James explained. “In the fall, their antlers can grow three, four feet across. They use them to fight over who gets the ladies. You can hear them bashing each other for miles.”
Garrett found that fascinating. “This is a truly beautiful place.”
“I agree. It’s one of the reasons I stayed. Winters aren’t much fun, but once spring comes you forget all about how cold you’ve been.”
“What’s it been like living here as a man of the race?”
“Haven’t had too much trouble. You run into prejudice every now and then just like any other place else, but folks here are generally too busy surviving to worry about what color you are.”
“Does your family live nearby?”
“Daughter is in Denver. She’s married and has three boys. We lost her brother ten years ago. He was laying track for the railroad and got crushed beneath a load of steel that fell.”
“My condolences on losing your son.”
“Thanks.”
They arrived at the mill a short time later. The barnlike building made of wood weathered gray by the elements and time was set on the riverbank. Like many old mills it was powered by water. Waiting nearby were a few men on wagons and horseback.
They were put to work cleaning the conveyors, checking for breaks in the heavy steel chains, and repairing the many internal joists and platforms. Garrett spent his time hammering in new wooden supports for some of the blades and adding new two-by-fours to the dock where the cut trees entered the building. Ten men had been recruited, all strangers to him except for Odell, Moss Denby, and saloon owner Heath Leary. The men he didn’t know were a bit standoffish at first, but by the time they broke for lunch to eat the sandwiches sent to the mill by Dovie, he was included in the laughter, joking, and assistance they extended to each other.
After lunch a large man wearing a buffalo coat arrived. As he left his wagon and approached, Garrett sensed the atmosphere change from loose and easygoing to a guarded wariness.
Moss Denby, who was working beside Garrett on the dock, glanced the man’s way and said, “That’s Ben Lee.”
A surprised Garrett studied Spring’s grandfather, noting his height, girth, shaggy gray hair and beard, and that his presence was commanding. What little Garrett knew about the man could fit on the head of a pin and he wanted to know more, not only for the newspaper article but also for the reasons behind the estrangement with his granddaughter. The urge to go over and introduce himself was strong. He paused, however, choosing to wait and watch instead.
Odell solved the issue by bringing Ben Lee over to meet Garrett. After the introductions were done, Garrett said, “Pleased to meet you, sir.”
Eyes sharp with disapproval, the imposing Lee studied him silently.
Garrett continued, “I’d like to interview you for my article, if I might.”
“Got nothing to say.” And he walked off.
Odell observed the retreat with a shake of his head. “Sorry.”
“You’ve nothing to apologize for.”
“He can be rude as a bear just out of hibernation.”
“I understand.”
Odell sighed and left Garrett to his work.
At the end of the day an exhausted Garrett rode back to town with Odell. He was pleased to have contributed to the effort, and glad to have met a few more people. Ben Lee was still on his mind, however.
“Is Mr. Lee always so cheery?”
Odell chuckled. “You’d think he was raised by wolverines the way he acts. Sorry again for his rudeness.”
“Is the rudeness why Spring speaks so poorly of him?”
“Partially. Has she told you what happened between them?”
“Just that she refused to marry his choice of a husband.”
“Can’t blame her. Ben wanted to give her away because he was tired of looking after her.”
“What do you mean?”
“Spring’s father, Lewis, died during the war and his wife, Isabelle, joined him in death a few years after the Surrender. Ben was the only family the children had left. After Colt went off to Howard, Ben had had enough of child raising and decided to marry Spring off so he could head back to the mountain, but Spring wanted no parts of the plan.”
“Did you know the man?”
“Yes. Cyrus Russell. He was old as Ben and I back then, and frankly, was just looking for a young woman to warm his bed.”
Garrett thought about his sister Melody. Even though they had different fathers, his father, Hiram, loved her and even though he’d been trying to arrange a marriage for her for years, he’d never palm her off to a terrible man. “Ben didn’t see Spring’s side?”
“No. He had his mind made up. He refused to let her live in the house alone. Told her it wasn’t proper. She asked to go East to be with Colt. He said there was no money. Which was a lie, of course. In the end he demanded she marry Russell or leave, and so she did.”
Garrett couldn’t imagine how hurt she must have been.
Odell continued, “She stayed with me for a while. I offered her a home for as long as she wanted but the girl has a lot of pride. I didn’t know she’d signed on with Ketchum until the day after he gave her the job. I was furious with Ben. He and I fell out for months after that. And he had the nerve to be mad when she started running wild.”
“And Spring is still angry.”
“And hurt. She left the home she’d been born in with nothing but the clothes on her back. I loved Ben like a brother. Still do. But I’ll never forgive him for what he did to my godchild. Never.”
Garrett now had more pieces to Spring’s puzzle and thought he understood her a bit better. He admittedly didn’t like Ben Lee. He was the root cause of her being publicly called a whore by wastrels like Matt Ketchum.
When they reached town, Odell stopped the wagon in front of the boardinghouse. “Thanks for your help,” Odell said to him.
“You’re welcome.” Garrett had already agreed to rejoin the crew the next day. “See you in the morning.”
“If there’s a wire waiting for you from your folks, I’ll bring it over.”
Garrett gave him a nod and went inside.
The next day, Garrett once again volunteered his help with Porter James’s mill. Ben Lee didn’t make an appearance and Garrett didn’t mind. Thanks to the story Odell shared, Garrett didn’t care if their paths ever crossed again. At the end of the workday Mr. James thanked everyone and announced plans to travel to Denver for the christening of his new grandson. The remaining work on the mill would resume when he returned.
That evening, Garrett received a wire from his father saying the family was happy he’d arrived safely, and all was well at home. Smiling, he went to bed and slept well.
Chapter Six
After lunch the following day, Dovie came to Garrett’s room to let him know Dr. Lee was waiting for him in the parlor. Ecstatic, Garrett picked up his journal and pen and hurried down to meet the man he’d traveled halfway across the country to see. Dressed in a worn black suit, Colton Lee was much taller than his sister, but they favored each other in skin tone, leanness, and features.
“I’m Garrett McCray,” he said, extending his hand.
“Colton Lee. My apologies for not being here when you arrived.”
“No need. Seeing to your patients was more important. Shall we sit here, or would you be more comfortable in your office?”
“I’d prefer my office—just in case I’m needed.”
Garrett understood. “Let me get my coat.”
Thanks to rise in temperatures over the past forty-eight hours, the bulk of the blizzard’s snow was just a memory. The sun was shining, the air warm. Garrett was no expert on the Territory’s weather, but it appeare
d that spring had arrived.
As they entered the office, Garrett looked around, taking in the desk and chair, and a door that he thought maybe led to an examination room.
“Have a seat,” Lee invited. “I hear you were rescued from the storm by my sister.”
“Yes, and she took me in.”
“She said you injured your knee? Do you need me to look at it?”
“No, it’s still a bit sore but that’s all. She encouraged me to stay off it, and I took her advice.”
“She has a way of making you listen to her.”
Garrett nodded. “Yes, she does.” He hadn’t seen her since the incident at the saloon and wondered how she was faring. He doubted she missed his presence but he liked to think she did.
He and the doctor spent the next hour talking about everything from Colton growing up in the Territory, to his training at Howard Medical School under Dr. Alexander T. Augusta, the famous Colored Civil War surgeon.
Looking up from his notes, Garrett asked, “Why not practice medicine back East?”
“It would probably be more lucrative, but there are only a few doctors here and I’m needed. Plus, I’d miss the mountains.”
“They are rather inspiring.” The pull of them and the towering timber seemed to be growing in him with each sunrise.
“And being here brought me Regan after the death of my first wife. Life for my daughter Anna and I would be infinitely poorer without her.”
“Congratulations on your son.”
“Thank you.”
Garrett wanted to ask if he knew about Ketchum’s threats against Spring but thought that wasn’t his place. Lee and the sheriff were reportedly good friends. Lambert would tell him about the confrontation if he hadn’t already.
The office door opened and in walked banker Arnold Cale. Short and round as a turnip, he exuded the air of being the biggest fish in the Paradise pond, even though it was no more than a puddle by back-East standards.
“Afternoon, Arnold,” Lee said. “What can I do for you?”
“The wife’s having a dinner party and wants to invite McCray along with you, Regan, and Spring.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow evening, if possible.” He looked at Garrett. “You available, Mr. McCray?”
“Yes, and thank her for me, please.” It was short notice, but he had nothing else planned. That he might see Spring again also fueled his ready acceptance.
“What about you, Dr. Lee?”
“I’ll have to see how Regan feels. Tell Glenda I’ll let her know as soon as I’m able.”
“The wife says she can bring the baby and Anna if she needs to.”
“I don’t think an adult dinner is a place for our children, but her offer is very kind, and I’ll pass it along. Thanks for the invitation.”
Garrett expected Cale to depart after that, but he didn’t.
Lee asked curiously, “Is there something else I can help you with, Arnold?”
He drew himself up importantly. “The town council wants to know if Mr. McCray plans to interview us for the newspaper story, too. Miller and I think your readers might like to learn more about our town and some of the other people who reside here.”
Garrett sensed Cale was really referencing himself. “I’d be very interested in talking to the council. Newspapers have limited space, so I can’t promise all we discuss will be in the final draft, but let me know when’s a good time to speak to everyone.”
He beamed. “Can we meet this evening at Dovie’s? Say around seven?”
“Sure. I don’t see why not.”
“Good. We’ll be there. I’ll let you two get back to your business.”
Once he was gone, Lee said, “Let’s hope he and Miller don’t end up fighting over who gets to talk the most.”
“Are they competitive?”
“Yes, and spend a lot of time attempting to top each other.”
“How so?”
“Last year on the Fourth of July, they tried to outdo each other with the size of the American flags they displayed on their businesses.”
“Who won?”
“Arnold. They both had flags big as the Territory, but the bank sported two. Miller was furious for weeks.”
As the conversation continued, Lee had questions of his own for Garrett, such as what he did for a living, how life back East was faring for members of the race, and the future plans for the newspaper.
“I’m a carpenter by trade and frankly, my father’s paper is not very successful. He’s determined to keep at it, but sundown papers can be difficult to keep afloat.” He saw Lee’s confusion and explained as he had to Spring. “Sundowns are newspapers worked on after the editor gets home from his day job.”
Lee nodded his understanding. “What’s your father’s occupation?”
“He’s the doorman at one of the white hotels. He couldn’t take the time off to travel here, so he sent me instead.”
“Those are prestigious positions for men like us.”
“True. He was a coachman during slavery, so he knows how to conduct himself, even if the guests sometimes forget we’re free now.” His father was often infuriated by the more bigoted encounters such as those who slurred him for not opening the door fast enough, or accused him of ogling their wives. But as Lee pointed out, it was a prestigious position and the pay provided his parents a comfortable life when compared to those forced to live hand to mouth by picking rags, or shoveling horse manure from the streets.
Lee said, “When I was in Washington, the most coveted jobs were low-level patronage positions at places like the post office.”
“That’s still true, but most people lack the necessary political connections with the Republican party to secure one.”
They talked for a short while longer and when they were done, Garrett was pleased. “I think I have all I need for now,” he said, closing his journal. “Would it be possible to accompany you on some of your doctor visits? I’d respect your patients’ privacy and not get in your way.”
“I’m sorry, no, but I can let you attend the visits I make with animal patients.”
“Animal patients?”
“Yes. We don’t have a local veterinarian, so I do what I can to help with ailing stock and pets.”
Garrett found that intriguing. “My father’s readers might be very interested in that side of your practice.” He certainly was.
“Then if you’re still in town when I go out, you’re welcome to come along.”
Garrett stood and the men shook hands. “Thanks, Dr. Lee.”
“Thank you for coming all this way. Makes a man feel important.”
On his walk back to Dovie’s, Garrett thought back to his interview with Colton Lee. The doctor was impressive not only for his accomplishments, but also for not looking down his nose at him for having been enslaved. Some freeborn people did, and back East it often influenced how you were perceived for things like employment and your social circle.
As a former slave and a lowly carpenter, he’d never been invited to the homes of many of the people holding the coveted government jobs he and Lee briefly discussed. Although not everyone wrapped themselves in the born-free snobbery, there were those who did. His father was a bit of a social climber. Being a coachman had given him a status lacked by those who labored in the fields. In his mind, being a doorman offered the same elevated rank, but his past enslavement often barred him from the higher social circles he wanted to be a part of.
It was one of the reasons he was pushing for Garrett to marry Emily Stanton. Her father, Henry, a celebrated chef at the same hotel, was a descendant of people free since the Revolutionary War, and so was accepted in the rarefied places his father was not. The two men were longtime friends, and the Stantons occasionally invited Garrett’s parents to dinner. Mr. Stanton looked upon Garrett as someone he wouldn’t mind his daughter marrying if she could be convinced to do so, and if Garrett returned to the practice of law.
Garrett loved his father
, but he refused to be a pawn to further his social ambitions. Creating furniture and working with his uncle Quincy to build homes held all the satisfaction he needed in life. The feel of the tools, the scent of the wood, and turning that wood into something functional and often pleasing to the eye, was a joy difficult to convey. His uncle understood; his father did not. Garrett respected his father’s desire for a son who championed the law; the race needed such men, but it wasn’t his calling. Being enslaved, who he wanted to be had been beyond his grasp. Now free, his life, ambitions, and dreams were his own. He’d not turn the reins over to anyone else.
Per the arrangement, Arnold Cale and Chauncey Miller arrived promptly at seven, and joined Garrett at a table in the back of the boardinghouse’s dining room.
As they took their seats, Garrett asked, “Are the other council members on the way?”
“No,” Cale replied. “Mayor Nelson is in Laramie on business, Heath Leary’s doing inventory at the saloon, and Beck’s handling a funeral, so it’ll just be the two of us for your story.”
Garrett had hoped to speak with the entire group. “Shall we postpone the interview until they’re available?”
Cale shook his head. “I think Chauncey and I can provide you with all you need to know.”
The dour Miller studied Garrett through the thick lenses of his spectacles and asked, “Do lots of people read your newspaper?”
“A fair amount. There are a number of newspapers to choose from in Washington, so many people subscribe to more than one.”
Cale appeared pleased by that.
“How about President Cleveland? You think he’ll read about us in your paper?”
Garrett smiled. “I’m not sure. I don’t know if he reads Colored newspapers.”
Both men appeared perplexed, and Miller asked, “What do you mean by Colored newspapers?”
“Newspapers for the Colored population.”
They drew back as if he was contagious. “Coloreds have newspapers?” Cale asked.
The astonishment on his face forced Garrett to swallow an urge to laugh out loud. “Yes. There are quite a few, to be honest. In fact, the first one, Freedom’s Journal, was published way back in 1827.”
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