After five full days since leaving Estes Park, they finally reached Bear Lake, a pristine, deep blue body of water that was partially iced over. Rich green pine and colorful rocks decorated the lake’s edges, and all around it more snow-capped peaks rose as though to protect the area from outsiders. They made camp, and Red began a search, insisting on being allowed to go alone.
For two more days the boys practiced shooting; Ramon and Irene took walks, Ramon keeping a constant eye out for bears. Irene felt even closer to Ramon here in the high country, away from all the distractions of Denver and everyday business. “This is even more peaceful than at the ranch,” she told him. “Here we’re truly alone. It’s as though the rest of the world doesn’t even exist, isn’t it? It’s as if we’ve made it to heaven. I like to think heaven would be something like this—all beauty, unspoiled by man and sin.”
Ramon moved to put his arms around her from behind. “It is beautiful,” he answered. “I am glad we came, in spite of the reason. This has been good for you, good for the boys. We will come again, maybe not into quite such dangerous territory, but we will come, and we will bring the rest of the children.”
They stood together, wrapped in thick, fur coats and in each other’s arms. There was no sound but the moaning wind in the pines. It was a strange, sweet, special moment, one of those moments one knows will never come again. Irene leaned against Ramon’s chest. “As soon as we get back, I want to find out what’s being done about making this a national park, Ramon. We have to make sure it happens.”
He grinned. “Another one of your pet projects?”
“I want to do it…for Father. He’d be glad to know the prettiest part of Colorado will remain untouched, will stay the way it was when he hunted and trapped here.” She turned to face him. “He’s dead, Ramon. I feel it.” She leaned her head against his chest. “But it’s all right. It’s what he wanted. He’s happy now.”
Two hours later Red came back to camp, his face pale, his eyes watery. He held Kirk’s old rifle in one hand. “I found him,” he announced. “He was…sitting against a tree, his gun beside him.” He handed the gun to Irene. “You’d best stay here with the boys till Ramon and the other men and I get him buried. He’d want you to remember him the way he was when he left, Irene, not the way he looks now. One thing I can tell you, the way he was sitting there, he died happy, Irene. He sat down under a nice big pine, where he had a grand view of the lake and the mountains beyond it, and he just let it happen.”
Irene nodded, handing back the rifle. “This old flintlock was his favorite—out-dated, but he liked it because it reminded him of the old days. Bury it with him, Red.” She looked at Ramon. “I hate to give you such a burden, but I wish you and Red would bury him alone—then come get me—just me. I don’t want anyone ever to know exactly where Kirk is buried. The fewer who know it now, the better. If the children don’t see the grave, they can’t say for sure where it is and won’t feel pressured by others to tell.”
She looked at the boys and the two extra men. “I don’t even want you to mention Bear Lake to anyone, is that understood? Your grandfather—” she looked at the two men, “David Kirkland, died in the Rockies and is buried up here somewhere. That’s all anyone needs to know. I won’t have people coming up here looking for his body, claiming they own David Kirkland’s old rifle or his jacket or buckskins. I know how vile and sacrilegious some people can be. Kirk came here to be alone, to die alone. Now I want to be sure he’s left alone in death. You are never to mention exactly where he was found. Is that understood?”
They all nodded, Sam wiping at sudden tears, struggling not to cry in front of the others. He turned away and walked off by himself. Ramon and Red took shovels from their gear, and Ramon came over to kiss Irene’s cheek before mounting up to follow Red deep into the pines and out of sight. By the time they returned it was too late to go back. They camped again for the night, then returned to the grave the next morning with Irene, who knelt beside the pile of rocks that covered the grave so that wild animals could not dig it up.
“I can make a marker,” Ramon offered.
“No,” Irene answered, touching the rocks, her throat aching. “It would just make it easier for someone to find it. This way, even if it is found, no one can be sure who is buried here.”
An eagle floated above, its shadow moving over the grave. Irene looked up at the magnificent bird. I came back, Father, she thought. You always said you’d bring me back to the mountains, and now you have. She stood up, picking up a handful of dirt and small rocks and sprinkling them over the grave. “Another one of life’s circles is complete,” she said aloud. “Father is truly home now, back where he started from. Sam will go back to his people, and you have gotten back the land your grandfather loved, Ramon.” She looked at him. “And I have you.” She reached out and took his hand. “Father once said the eagle is a good sign. I believe him. I’m all right, Ramon. I’m glad we came here, glad we found him. I think he wanted me to come.”
Ramon pulled her close. “Fue muy triste lo que le sucedió, pero también bueno,” he told her gently, telling her what had happened was sad, but good. It was what Kirk wanted. “Yo te amo, querida. Vámonos a casa.”
She looked into his eyes. “We are home, Ramon. Wherever we are, as long as we’re together, we’re home.”
He smiled sadly. “Sí, mi vida. Your father needed these mountains, but all we need is each other.”
A quick wind suddenly moaned through the pines, kicking up snow, and the eagle flew quietly away, heading for a distant peak.
The earth is all that lasts.
The earth is everywhere in me
Even when I’m gone.
NANCY WOOD
“War Cry on a Prayer Feather”
Chapter Forty-two
Irene looked out from a top-floor window of the new K-E offices, which had been built just two years ago. From her seventh-floor perch she had a grand view of Denver, including the gold-domed capitol building. She looked out at a street many blocks long, lined with other buildings as high as K-E’s, electric poles strung along the way. Denver was a thriving city now, competing in size with such places as San Francisco and Chicago. Many of the streets were paved, and several city parks had been developed. It seemed incredible that her family had been part of the reason for the city’s phenomenal growth over the past thirty years. No other town could quite compare to Denver when it came to rapid progress and a stubborn refusal to die.
How many times had this city been on the brink of disaster, ready to fold as had so many other gold towns? There had been the terrible fire in ’63, the flood in ’64, the shock of discovering the Union Pacific would not come to Denver, the panic of ’73, the recent depression, gold mines that played out, the crash of the silver market. But a combination of luck and stubborn citizens who refused to buckle had won again. The gold rush at Cripple Creek was having its repercussions on Denver, and again they had bounced back from doom.
She wished Kirk could have lived to know about the latest discovery, one of the biggest ever. K-E would thrive once again, and a couple of the older gold mines had been reopened. But there would be no celebrating today. Today was the reading of the will. Elly had been located and had returned, looking a little ragged. She had very little left, and Irene knew the only reason she had come was that she hoped to find new riches through her inheritance.
Irene’s heart ached at the news Elly had brought with her. She had found Chad in San Francisco. He had died the previous year from a venereal disease, a horrible death, a near-insane man at the end. It was a sad yet strangely fitting end for a man who had led the sorry life he had. Much as Irene wanted to hate him, she could not. She felt sorry for how he had died, sorry for his brutal, painful childhood. If only he had shared his problems with her, let her try to help him get over them. There was a time when she might have understood, might have been able to love him.
Ramon came into the office then, followed by Robert Slade, the compan
y attorney who had handled Kirk’s will. Elly came inside the room, standing stiffly toward the back. To his surprise, Red had been asked to attend the reading: He came inside, glancing at Elly with a look of bitter sorrow. She raised her chin and looked away from him. All of Irene and Ramon’s children were ushered inside, as well as some of the servants and the old black carriage driver, Jim Washington, who had worked for the Kirklands and for Irene and Chad for so many years before finally retiring.
Irene walked over to pick up little Ernesto, then sat down with him on her lap, ordering the rest of the children to gather around her and be very quiet. Everyone else but Elly took chairs, and Slade, himself an old man now, opened the will and began reading.
A hefty sum of money was willed to old Jim, as well as each of the servants, even more to Liz Thomas, who had been Bea’s personal maid for years. A considerable amount of money was designated to the Cheyenne River Indian Reservation, as well as Rose Bud and Pine Ridge reservations, to be put into a special fund and used for improvements such as schools, better farm equipment, a museum to preserve Indian artifacts, clothing, weapons, and the like. “My daughter, Irene, will be executor of this trust until such time as my grandson, Samuel ‘Jumping Bear’ Kirkland, is of the age and ability to take it over. I will leave Irene in charge of deciding when Sam is capable of same.”
Sam’s eyes teared, and Elly scowled, fury and frustration building in her eyes. Irene took Sam’s hand and squeezed it. Elly nearly gasped when Slade read that Kirk willed fifteen thousand dollars back to Red McKinley, “money I never would have demanded be repaid,” the will read. “If you needed more, Red, I would give it,” Slade read from the will. “But you already own a good deal of what was once K-E. This money is simply a token of the friendship we once shared, in hopes it will erase hard feelings from the past. Perhaps one day you and I will walk together again in the mountains, in a place where hard feelings and hatred do not exist.”
Red took out a handkerchief. “If that’s it for my part, I’d like to be excused,” he told Slade, his voice sounding ready to break.
“That’s all,” Slade answered.
Red quickly left, putting the handkerchief to his eyes as he went out. Slade continued the reading, leaving fifty thousand dollars to Elly. Elly stiffened, her eyes widening in indignation. “You once owned much more, Elly, but you squandered it all and were careless in such a way that you lost most of it,” Slade read. “The rest fell into your ex-husband’s hands, and rightly so. You brought nothing but pain, sorrow, and disgrace to this family, and part of the reason for your mother’s death was because of the worry you caused her. If you spend wisely, fifty thousand dollars should see you to old age.”
“Old age!” Elly nearly screamed the words. “How dare he do this to me! Irene and I are the only remaining children. I should get half of everything!”
“This was Kirk’s wish, Elly,” Slade told her. “I was with him when he made out this will, and he was perfectly sane at the time. I can attest to that if you plan to fight this. It was before John died, so you can’t say he made it out under grief or duress. In fact, there is a clause here for John, to whom he willed a hundred thousand dollars and nothing more—with the same reasoning—that John had his chance to work with K-E and prove himself but did not.”
“Then why would he give John twice as much as me?” Elly fumed.
“He doesn’t say,” Slade answered. “But I imagine it’s because John did not do anything to deliberately hurt a member of the family. I think it’s fairly common knowledge what you did to Irene.”
Elly sniffed, glaring back at him. Anna and Miguel glanced at their aunt, then scooted closer to their mother, afraid of the tall, overbearing, dark-eyed woman in the black taffeta dress. “Finish the will,” she sneered at Slade.
The man sighed, glancing at Irene. “Go ahead, Robert,” she told him.
Slade cleared his throat. “The rest of my estate, all K-E holdings, all personal property and any cash holdings I give to my daughter, Irene, and her husband Ramon Vallejo, discounting a trust fund of twenty thousand dollars each to be set up for Irene and Ramon’s children, David, Sharron, Alejandro, Samuel, Eduardo, Elena, Anna, Miguel, Ben, and Ernesto; with the understanding that everything else bequeathed to Ramon and Irene will one day be divided equally among said children upon the deaths of their parents. By this will—”
“It isn’t fair,” Elly spoke up, stomping forward. “My mother built most of this, and Irene wasn’t even her daughter! She’s half Indian! And those children—they don’t even all have Kirkland blood! One of them was just a street orphan! One is Ramon’s, not Irene’s! And Sam—Sam is an Indian! It isn’t right that the bulk of the entire estate should go to Irene and Ramon and children who aren’t even directly related—”
“That’s enough, Elly,” Irene said, rising and handing Ernesto to Ramon. “I’ll not have you insult my children in front of them! They are all my children, legally; more importantly they’re ours in our hearts. They’re good, loving young men and women who deserve anything Father wanted them to have! You have caused me enough sorrow over the years! I will not let you cause them sorrow, too! The will is legal. You can fight it in court, if you so choose, but I guarantee that I would win, because I would be fighting for what belongs to my children! If you want to use up a good deal of your inheritance paying a lawyer in a losing battle, that is your choice!”
Elly stiffened. “You always win, don’t you,” she said, her voice a low hiss.
Irene shook her head. “No, Elly. You continue to defeat yourself by your own behavior. I used to blame myself for your hatred and bitterness, but I stopped doing that. It’s something that is deep inside of you, and I feel terribly sorry for you, but there is nothing I can do about it, except to tell you that if you ever want to make amends, we’re here. You can’t make me hate you. I won’t let your venom spill out onto me or my children. I will not let you teach them to hate. We’re your family, and if you ever want to be a part of it again, you will be welcome, but only if you come with love and an open willingness to be a real sister and a loving aunt. The children would accept you, welcome you and love you, because they have been taught to love and forgive and be understanding of others. For the moment I will not allow you to stain their hearts and thoughts with your hatred. Your part of the will has been read. You might as well leave.”
“I don’t have to—”
“Get out.” Irene spoke the words calmly but sternly.
Elly blinked, realizing this woman was far different from the Irene she had known in her younger years. She could not hurt this Irene, and there were no avenues left by which she could defeat her. She felt a sudden, ridiculous urge to cry. “I hate you,” she said, surprised at how weakly the words came out of her mouth, with a quiver in her voice.
“No, you don’t, Elly,” Irene answered sadly. “You hate yourself. It’s yourself you can’t live with. You try to direct that hate to others, because it’s too painful for you to face the truth of the kind of life you’ve led, the people you’ve hurt. Please just go. Remember what I told you. We’re here if you ever really want to come home.”
Elly swallowed. For one brief second Irene saw her sister soften, saw a spark of surprise in her eyes at Irene’s offer. She quickly erased the look, putting her nose in the air then. “I have no home,” she said aloud. She looked at Slade. “I’ll be back tomorrow for my money. Have a check ready.” She stomped out of the office, skirts rustling. Irene watched her, smiling sadly. “She’ll be back.” She looked at Ramon. “She just needs to make it look like it’s her idea and not mine. She’ll think of some excuse to save her pride. She’s like Mother that way, so stubborn, refusing to admit she might be wrong.”
He rose, handing Ernesto to Sharron. “Are you all right?”
She held his eyes. “I’m fine.” She looked at Slade. “Is that all of it?”
He nodded. “Oh, there’s a little legal mumbo jumbo left, but that’s it as far as who gets what.�
�
The servants and old Jim stood there feeling awkward at the confrontation between Irene and Elly. They began thanking Irene, expressing their sorrow over Kirk’s death, their joy at their newfound riches, nervously leaving the office.
“This is a sad time, Miss Irene,” Jim told her, taking her hand. “But this is also a wonderful thing for my family. My wife, she’s been ailing, and my grandson, he wants some of that fancy schooling. Now he can have it. Your father was a fine man, Miss Irene, and you were the best child. I’ve been proud to know you, and I’m happy for your fine family.”
“Thank you, Jim.” To his surprise she leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Come and visit anytime. You’re always welcome.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” His eyes teared, as he remembered the night, not long after Irene delivered Sharron, when Chad Jacobs had ordered him to take him to Milicent Delaney’s house. Oh, what a sorry marriage that was. But now she had Ramon.
Jim left, and only Irene and the family remained in the office with Robert Slade. Irene walked to a window, looking out at Denver again, her eyes moving to the mountains beyond. Kirk lay buried up there, back where he belonged. She loved him for bequeathing so much money to the Indians. Again a circle had been completed. An old mountain man who had once lived among the Cheyenne would be with them again in spirit, would be helping the people he had once loved.
“I’d like a monument erected to my parents,” she said, still staring out the window, “maybe a big granite rock placed along one of the roads heading west of Denver, somewhere closer to the foothills. It could be engraved, telling about Bea and David Kirkland, how they were among the original founders of this city. I want something special said about Father, a kind of dedication, perhaps something along the lines of David Kirkland watching over Denver whenever the mountains cast their shadow over the city.” She looked at Ramon. “He told me that once, that whenever the mountains cast their shadow over Denver, he would be watching over us.”
In the Shadow of the Mountains Page 75
