In the Shadow of the Mountains

by Rosanne Bittner

  Her eyes suddenly teared. She turned to Rose, telling her to give the children their cake. “And give some to the photographer, too. We’ll have ours in a few minutes.” She turned to Ramon and Red. “Come with me into the study,” she told them.

  Ramon frowned and Red just shrugged, both men following her into the study she and Ramon shared. Three walls were made up of bookshelves from floor to ceiling, and in one corner sat a desk inundated with drawings and blueprints, while in the other corner was Irene’s desk, neat and tidy. She moved behind her desk and sat down, asking Ramon and Red to take chairs also. Ramon eyed her closely, going to his own desk and taking a cigarette from a wooden box. “I think I had better stand,” he said. He brought the box over to Red and offered the man a smoke.

  “I’m sorry, Ramon,” Irene spoke up as both men lit their cigarettes. “With the party planned and all, and you getting home late today, I just haven’t had the chance to tell you.” She took a deep breath. “I talked to the family doctor today. Something about Father suddenly deciding to go into the mountains six months ago kept bothering me, especially when he talked about not wanting to die here in Denver. After all, I know his heart was broken over John, but he was still a strong, seemingly healthy man who could live another ten years or more. I badgered Dr. Aimes until he finally admitted Father didn’t have that much time left at all. In fact—” She hesitated, the painful ache returning to her throat, “in fact, he could already be dead, or dying.”

  Both men looked at her in surprise. “Kirk,” Red asked. “Lord knows I never saw much of him these last several years, considering the hard feelings between us, but what I did see of him, he seemed as robust as ever.”

  Ramon came around to stand beside Irene, putting a hand on her shoulder. “What is wrong, Irene?”

  She swallowed back the tears that wanted to come. “Dr. Aimes said Father has a disease called cancer, that it was slowly eating at him and there was nothing that could be done about it. Father knew. That’s why he went to the mountains.”

  Red shook his head. “I can hardly believe it. Kirk—after all the brushes with death he had back in our old days of hunting and trapping and fighting Indians.” He looked at his own wrinkled hands. “Of course, I guess none of us is immune from getting old and dying.”

  Irene reached up and touched Ramon’s hand. Oh, how she prayed they would both live to be very, very old. She could not imagine life now without him. “No, none of us will escape it,” she answered. “I asked you here, Red, because there is something I want you to do for me. I know you and Father were not the best of friends these last few years, but you were once; and I think that deep inside you both still are. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

  Red grinned slyly. “I think you always knew both of us pretty good, Irene.”

  “I always felt bad about how the friendship ended.” She sighed deeply before continuing. “I want to find my father, Red. You’re the only one I can think of who might have some idea where he would have gone. You traveled with him once, lived with him, hunted and trapped and fought Indians by his side. You know the country he loved best. I know it’s a lot to ask, and maybe you aren’t up to it physically—”

  “Hell, I’m just as able as I was forty years ago,” he protested, sitting up a little straighter. “You know I’d do anything for you, Irene, but Kirk went off alone on purpose. He wants to die up there. What good will it do for me to find him?”

  “If we find him, and he’s still alive, he won’t die alone. I can’t bear the thought of not giving him a last good-bye, Red. And I can’t bear the thought of him just dying up there alone to be eaten by wolves. I want at least to be able to bury his body. I wouldn’t ask him to come back home. I know he wants to die in the mountains. I just can’t stand the thought of never knowing what happened to him, where he is. He should be properly buried.”

  “Well, I can give it a try—”

  “Wait a minute,” Ramon interrupted, kneeling beside Irene. “What’s this about ‘we’? You aren’t actually planning to go with Red into the mountains, are you?”

  She looked at her husband warily. “Please, Ramon, I have to do this.”

  “Irene, it’s nearly September! You know that from here on the weather up there is totally unpredictable! You could be caught in a blizzard!”

  “I know.” Her eyes began to tear more. “Ramon, I have to go! All my life I’ve wanted to go back into the mountains. It’s like…like Father is keeping his promise to take me. Even if I find him dead, it will be as if we were together again. I need to do this, Ramon. With the proper horses and gear, Red and I will be fine. He knows all about how to survive up there.”

  Their eyes held for a quiet moment. Ramon took a drag on his cigarette, shaking his head. “Not Red and you.”

  “Ramon, please understand—”

  He put his fingers to her lips. “I do understand. But I refuse to let you and Red go alone. And I will not let you suffer what you might find alone, either. I am coming with you.”

  She stared at him in surprise, and a tear slipped down her cheek. “You mean you aren’t going to try to stop me?”

  He smiled sadly. “Could I stop you if I wanted to?”

  She smiled in return. “Probably not.”

  He leaned up and kissed her cheek. “We will all go, and we will take along some pack mules and a couple of extra men. We have ten children who will be back here in Denver waiting for their mother to come home to them. I do not intend to let anything happen to her. Besides”—his eyes softened—“I could not live without you myself. If I did not go along, I would go crazy sitting here waiting and wondering and worrying.” He looked over at Red. “Do you think you can find him?”

  Red sighed. “All I can do is try. It’s been a long time since I’ve been up there, you know. With all the gold towns and all, things have changed some. There is one place he always liked best. He told me once that if a man had to die, he couldn’t think of a better place for it to happen, up at Bear Lake, by Hallett Peak. I have to warn you, though, you’re talking some of the highest mountain range in Colorado, in the whole country, for that matter.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Irene replied. “Besides, I’ve always wanted to get into the really high country myself before I’m too old to manage it.”

  Red grinned. “We might all of us already be too old.” They all laughed, but a feeling of sadness hung in the air. “When do you want to leave?” Red asked.

  Irene rose. “Well, Sharron is playing the piano in a concert at the opera house in three days,” she answered. “I’d like to leave the day after.”

  Red nodded. “I’ll start getting together the proper gear and mounts.”

  “Don’t spare anything,” Ramon told him. “I want the best. I don’t want anything to go wrong.”

  Red got up from his chair. “I know what to do.” He sighed deeply, crushing out his cigarette. “I’m sorry about Kirk, Irene. I wish we had patched things up before he left. Maybe I’ll still get the chance.” He shook his head. “It’s amazing what all has happened since that day he left Bent’s Fort carrying you in his arms. How old are you now?”

  “Forty-seven.”

  Red closed his eyes. “My God. Was it really that long ago? It’s strange how we never know where life will take us, isn’t it?”

  Irene clung to Ramon’s hand. “Do you ever hear from Elly, Red?”

  He looked at them, his smile turning bitter. “No. Bill Byers told me he got a letter from her asking him to start send the News to some hotel in San Francisco, so I guess that’s where she is.”

  Irene sighed. “She always said she’d go back to California. I wonder if she ever found Chad.”

  Red put his hat on. “They can have each other.” He breathed deeply and headed for the door. “I’m going to get started on this. Takes some planning, you know. I’ll pass on the birthday cake.” He nodded. “I’ll see myself out.”

  “Thank you, Red,” Irene told him, tears in her e
yes.

  He gave her a wink. “You always were a favorite of mine.” He walked out and Irene turned to Ramon. He pulled her into his arms. “Thank you for understanding,” she told him.

  He kissed her hair. “I think it is crazy, but I understand why you have to do it. I just hope what you find isn’t more than you can handle. That’s why I’m going with you.”

  She looked up at him, touching his face. “But you’re so busy.”

  “I have good men who know what to do. I couldn’t stand waiting here for you, worrying about you. Besides, I haven’t done any hunting in a long time. I used to go up into the mountains west of Denver and hunt elk and bear, before I had such a large family to care for, remember? I’ll take my gun along and we’ll hunt our own food and live like your father used to live. In fact, perhaps it would be a good idea to take the three older boys along. It would be especially good for Sam. He likes to hunt. He would be able to see what it is like living the way his people used to live. And I haven’t taken David and Alex hunting in years.”

  She smiled. “I love you so much, Ramon.”

  They embraced, and her worry for her father was quickly interrupted when Anna came running into the study, shouting that little Ernesto had just smeared chocolate frosting onto his face and into his hair. Outside Red drove his buggy toward the livery to see about renting the best horses and mules for mountain travel. His heart ached at the thought of Kirk dying, and he was disgusted with himself for letting the rift between them remain so wide.

  “Damn you, Kirk, men like you don’t die,” he muttered, a tear slipping down his cheek.

  They took the Denver-Pacific north to Loveland, then mounted their horses and gathered their pack mules, heading west into some of the most magnificent country Irene and Ramon had yet seen. Ramon had hired two men who were experienced at traveling in the mountains, and their three oldest sons, David, Alex and Sam, had eagerly agreed to come along.

  They made their way through Thompson Canyon, hardly able to hear each other talk because of the roar of the Big Thompson River that was made louder by the high, majestic, rocky walls of the canyon. Rocks seemed to literally dangle precariously above them where the red-rock walls bulged at the tops as though ready to fold over them and bury them any moment. Green fir trees seemed to sprout right out of the rocks, making one wonder how on earth the trees’ roots managed to find any soil.

  The three sons gaped and pointed, excited at what they were seeing, craning their necks to see to the tops of the canyon walls, where huge pine trees appeared tiny. Occasionally everyone had to scatter when a rock came crashing down. Irene would feel near panic for the boys, but they all would just laugh, thinking it was exciting and adventurous. It brought the three of them, none of whom were related by blood, even closer. David was Irene and Hank’s son, Alex was Ramon and Anna’s son, and Sam was Yellow Eagle’s son. Yet the way they got along, one would think they had all been blood brothers.

  In spite of the danger, Irene was glad now they had come. The trip was good for them, especially Sam, who was seeing some of the country the Cheyenne had loved most, although he would go even deeper into the mountains than even any Cheyenne had ever gone. They were actually moving into Ute and Shoshone country, although as with the Cheyenne, there were no Indians left here.

  They followed the twisting canyon, camping one night there, then went into the sleepy little town of Estes Park, the last sign of civilization before moving into the higher mountains just beyond it. The state of Colorado was presently contemplating designating the area into which they would travel a national park, and Irene hoped it would happen, for the country into which they rode then was some of the most magnificent any man could behold.

  They traveled for days, following Red in one long pack train, picking their way among rocks, following hard, narrow pathways left by Indians and fur trappers, weaving through thick groves of deep green pine and aspen, breaking out onto mountain ledges and gasping at how high up they were.

  Whenever they broke into the open they would just sit and stare at the glorious view. Autumn had turned the aspen leaves to a brilliant gold, and when the wind blew the leaves fluttered from their gold side to their white side, giving the impression they were glittering. It was almost as if they were telling people that gold was what had built Colorado.

  “And so it has,” Irene thought. Just before leaving, they had learned of a new gold strike near Pikes Peak, and yet another wild, new gold town called Cripple Creek was already exploding with new prospectors. Irene had thought the days of the big gold strikes were over, but it was happening all over again. K-E owned a lot of land and mines near the area of the strike, and Irene did not doubt that new veins of gold would be found. It was rumored this was one of the biggest finds yet in the whole state, and the discovery was turning Colorado’s financial woes, as well as K-E’s, into celebration.

  Irene wondered if Kirk knew about the new find. In the old days, he would have immediately left to do his own prospecting and stake his own claims for K-E. But she knew deep down that he didn’t care about those things anymore. David Kirkland had done his share, found his gold, built a city, kept and raised his little Indian daughter. She breathed deeply of the rich scent of pine. This was Kirk’s first love, the only thing that really meant anything to him.

  They all wore heavy fur coats now. The days were cold and the nights colder. Three days into the mountains a wicked snowstorm hit, bringing a howling wind and stinging sleet and snow. They quickly erected tents and huddled inside them, wondering if they would be buried there until spring. But after two days the storm abated. The sun returned, and although the snow did not melt, the days became clear and bright again, and they continued their journey, although the snow and ice now made everything more dangerous. Yet it also made the scenery even more beautiful. Puffs of snow clung to the pine trees and capped rocks. The thick blanket of snow on the ground muffled the hooves of the horses so that a rich silence hung in the air. They passed glittering waterfalls, and the sights and sounds were so beautiful that it sometimes made Irene shiver.

  David, Alex, and Sam were not the least bit alarmed or threatened by the weather and the danger. Whenever they made camp the three of them immediately began pelting each other with snowballs and wrestling into drifts. Whenever Sam would get one of his brothers down, he would stand up and raise his arms, letting out a yelp of victory, reminding Irene sometimes of Yellow Eagle and the day he had attacked her.

  Although Sam had a streak of white blood in him, one would never know it. He was all Indian, his black hair falling nearly to his waist, his skin so dark. The bit of white blood he carried only slightly softened the hard Indian lines, making him a most handsome young man, one whom Irene suspected the young Indian women on the reservations would find most attractive. Sam had already decided that when he married, it would be a Sioux or Cheyenne woman. He would surely have his pick once he was old enough.

  Alex already talked about marrying Sharron. To Irene and Ramon, they both seemed such children, and now Irene understood how her own mother might have looked at her and Ramon the same way. She could understand in some respects why Bea had been concerned, but she also remembered how she had felt then. She was not going to stop young love. If Alex felt the same way when he turned eighteen, which would only be two more months, they were going to allow the marriage. Alex was already doing well at Vallejo Construction. It was obvious he was talented enough to take it over completely when Ramon was gone.

  The thought made her look back at Ramon, who gave her a grin. “Keep your eyes ahead, woman. This is a dangerous path.”

  “This horse doesn’t need me to guide it. I think she knows the way better than the best mountain man. I just wanted to make sure you were still there,” she answered.

  “I will always be here, right behind you the rest of your life.”

  She smiled, turning to look ahead again, taking comfort in the words.

  They bent their heads against wicked winds, fought
snow and sleet, then rallied in bright sunshine, moving through Limber Pine, past lichen-covered rocks, trying to steer horses away from the sharp needles of Juniper shrubs, constantly climbing until it seemed they should be able to touch the heavens.

  Irene began to feel a strange warmth in spite of the cold, an inner warmth. She felt as though Kirk was with her now. This was his country. He had not brought her here this time, but he had beckoned her. She could hear his voice in the wind that groaned and howled through canyons and crevices, feel his soul in the howl of the wolves at night. His heart lay in this vast wilderness, this magnificent land that still belonged only to God. Man would never totally invade and conquer this rugged terrain.

  They passed areas of stripped-out fir trees, where avalanches the previous spring had ripped down the mountainside, tearing away everything in sight. This was a land of ancient order, a land whose history drifted far back beyond man’s short time on earth, a land that would not change for generations to come. It was vast, overwhelming, magnificent beyond man’s small imagination. Range after range of mountains seemed to stretch out into eternity.

  Ramon taught Alex and Sam to shoot, and all three boys and their father practiced whenever they got the chance. Once Sam shot a buck, and he let out a wild war whoop that echoed against canyon walls, bringing to mind the days when Indians roamed and hunted these rugged mountains.

  Red and Ramon showed the boys how to skin and clean the deer, and they ate roasted venison for the next three days, packing the rest of the meat in leather bags Red had brought in case they got stranded and had to hunt for their food and store meat. They stuffed the bags with ice and snow to preserve the meat, and Sam kept the deerskin.

  “I’ll show you how your people cleaned and dried animal skins soon as we get back,” Red promised the boy.

  In the still, cold nights, Red told stories around the campfire, stories of his days of hunting with Kirk, stories of Indian fighting and rendezvous. Irene had heard them before, but she didn’t mind listening again, enjoying the enraptured looks on her sons’ faces.