A Path Worth Taking

by Mariella Starr

  “I have reddened your fanny again,” he whispered in her ear.

  Beth opened her eyes and twisted around to kiss him. “I didn’t mind this time and this way. Don’t get in the habit of the other kind.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Winter had a stranglehold on the high plains, yet spring was trying to break its hold. Garret brought in the first bud of a wildflower he plucked out of a melting patch of snow and handed it to his wife. By the smile on her face, it was as if he had given her the moon.

  Beth had not experienced any more bad days. At least none that required him to intervene for an attitude adjustment. As the days got warmer, the deeper drifts of snow began to shrink. One day, the frozen creek gave a mighty crack and within minutes it had pushed large chucks of ice upward and over the banks. The water current was moving again, not sedately under the ice, but aggressively pushing the ice out its way.

  One day there were ice chucks in the creek from the melting and the next morning there was snow on the ground again. By the afternoon, Garret and Jasper were working outside in their shirtsleeves.

  Of course, melt off meant mud, a deeper thicker mud than before. It clung to their boots weighing down every step. Even Garret had to concede he and Jasper could not track several inches of mud onto Beth’s clean floors every time they came inside. He laid a thick mat of straw in front of the cabin threshold and during the day they left their boots outside on top of an old trunk. At night, they put their mud-covered boots inside the trunk to keep critters from carrying them off.

  With the break in the weather came more chores and plans for planting. They still had to wait until the ground was firm enough to support the wagon wheels before attempting to make a trip to town. It was full steam ahead making lists and preparing for the trip to buy seed and replenish their provisions.

  Beth and Jasper were excited with the prospect of traveling to Denver. It had been months since they had seen anyone beyond themselves. Then, a knock on their cabin door had Garret grabbing for his rifle only to open the door to a man introducing himself as Sheriff Clark Brady from Denver.

  Garret invited him in and offered him a cup of coffee. Once the pleasantries were observed, the men got down to business. “What’s your reason for coming all the way out here?”

  “Well, sir, I’ve had a complaint from a Mr. Seth Younger. He says you stole this property from him. Forced him to sell it to you for pennies on the dollar of the land’s worth.”

  “It isn’t true,” Garret said. “I bought this property more than eight years ago after the plague of grasshoppers came through and stripped every shred of vegetation for fifty miles. The grasshoppers left nothing behind, and the land had no value. I did buy it for pennies on the dollar because it was not worth anything at the time. Mr. Younger offered it for sale, and I bought it for his asking price. I have had to wait years before it could even support a single head of cattle. A man can’t sign off on a deed and decide later he made a bad deal and want it back.”

  “I’ll need to see your deed,” Sheriff Brady said.

  Garret shoved his chair back, but Beth put her hand on his shoulder to stall him. “Garret, I need to speak to you.”

  “I have business to attend with the sheriff, Beth,” Garret said.

  “I have to speak to you, and it can’t wait,” Beth insisted.

  “We’ll be with you in a minute,” Garret said to the sheriff as he took his wife's arm and impatiently guided her into the bedroom.

  “What’s so all-fired important for you to sass me in front of the sheriff?” Garret demanded.

  “That man is probably not any kind of a law man,” Beth whispered. “This is the same trick the carpetbaggers used after the war to get their hands on poor farmers’ lands. He’ll tell you he has to see the deed. When you show it to him, he’ll say he has to take it to the land office to verify your legal ownership. Then, he’ll forge your signature, have the deed put in his name, and sell this ranch right out from under us.”

  “Beth, he’s the sheriff.”

  “You don’t know for sure. All it takes to pretend to be a sheriff is a badge. I have half a dozen badges in a box in the loft. If I pin one to my chest, it won’t make me a man of the law.”

  Garret frowned before putting his finger on his wife’s chin and tilting it upward. Then he smiled, “Stay here.” He removed his revolver from a dresser drawer and stuck it in the back of his pants.

  Beth stayed behind the door, but she kept it cracked open so she could hear what was being said.

  Garret flat out lied to the sheriff telling him his deed was in a lockbox at the bank. “We’ll be in Denver sometime in the next couple weeks,” Garret assured the sheriff. “If Mr. Younger wants a fight over this land, he’ll get it. I paid for this property fair and square, and will see him in front of a judge.”

  “I could clear the matter faster if you would give me permission to see the deed,” Sheriff Brady offered.

  “Sheriff, I’m in no particular hurry,” Garret responded. “This is my land, and it’s been my land for nearly a decade. If anyone thinks he can take it away from me, he had better come prepared. You go back and tell that to Seth Younger. This is my land, and the proof is a cleared deed.”

  Sheriff Brady nodded his head, but he wasn’t really happy with how the situation had turned on him. “I’ll tell him.”

  Beth and Garret watched Sheriff Brady ride off. “I think you were right,” Garret agreed. “I believe he might be a land-scam thief. It was real smart thinking, Beth. I’m glad I married a smart woman.”

  “What if he is the real sheriff?”

  “We’ll still fight,” Garret promised. “No one is taking our land from us.”

  ***

  Garret readied the wagon and the horses for their trip to town. They loaded more scavenged furniture and a bunch of empty trunks to be sold. He made a soft nest inside the wagon so Beth could ride comfortably. She had told him the previous week she might be with child. She had only missed her monthly by a couple of weeks, but she was very regular. They were both pleased and excited.

  Denver had continued to grow during the long winter. Along Cherry Creek, parts of the road were blocked with wagonloads of brick and lumber. Denver certainly had no immunity from the mud and dirt of the building projects.

  The main difference in the settlement was the absence of teepees across the river. There had been hundreds of teepees dotted along the South Platte riverbanks the previous summer. They were gone now, replaced by ramshackle buildings and old tents. There was also a large presence of colored men in Union Army uniforms.

  Mrs. Johnson explained the presence of the Buffalo Soldiers as soon as they entered Johnson’s Emporium, which had a fancy new name and a new sign out front. The inside of the general store seemed the same as it had before. She explained how the Arapaho and Cheyenne had been relocated from their summer camp to the new Indian Territory. The Buffalo Soldiers, who had fought during the war in the Union Army’s Colored Regiments, had mostly been reassigned to the South Platte River area to fight in the Indian Wars.

  As the proprietor’s wife talked a mile a minute telling Beth everything newsworthy, Garret was busy giving Mr. Johnson the long list of supplies they needed.

  Garret left Beth at the Emporium while he and Jasper took the wagon and delivered the scavenged furniture to Mr. Tolliver. This time, Mr. Tolliver was more interested in the smaller brick-a-brack, the clocks, the china, and the hand-painted vases and glassware. Women were moving into town. Most of them followed the trade into the many brothels. Nonetheless, some were decent women and wives to the men starting new businesses in town. The women in town would buy the pieces and not quibble about the prices.

  While Beth was getting a detailed account of the changes taking place in town from Mrs. Johnson’s point of view, Garret was getting one from the men’s point of view.

  Denver was still more shacks, shanties, and log cabins than brick and mortar buildings. There were more saloons, gambling
halls, and brothels than businesses. The town was a rough and tumble place full of bummers ready to fleece a man of his earnings.

  Garret asked Mr. Tolliver about Sheriff Clark Brady and if he was an honest man. Mr. Tolliver shook his head in confusion.

  “I’ve never heard of him. The town council committee hired a man named Russ Wilson as sheriff. All he’s done is line his pockets since he was hired,” Mr. Tolliver snorted. “Don’t be spreading around I was badmouthing him. I don’t want to get on his wrong side.”

  “So, if I found a wallet or watch, would I take it to Sheriff Wilson to return it to its rightful owner?”

  “Not unless you were giving it to him as a gift.”

  Garret chuckled getting the message loud and clear. “It’s a good thing I didn’t find anything.”

  Beth was eyeing fabric, although she knew it would be wasteful for her buy any. She had a whole stockpile of dresses stored in the loft of their bedroom. When the bell over the door jingled, she turned and screamed. The woman in the doorway echoed Beth’s scream, and the two ran into each other's arms, crying and talking so fast they could barely hear each other.

  “Ladies!” Mr. Johnson shouted. “If you’re going to carry on in such an undignified manner, take it outside!”

  Beth and Lettie glanced at each other, wrapped their arms around each other, and skipped outside.

  “Look at you, Lettie,” Beth exclaimed laying a hand on Lettie’s stomach. “You’re with child, and it will be here soon.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Lettie exclaimed. “Miss Beth, what are you doing here?”

  “Let’s go sit on those steps,” Beth said, motioning to a new building, which appeared almost finished. They moved across the street and made themselves comfortable on the steps. “My husband should be able to see me here when he returns,” Beth said sitting down.

  “I got me a husband, too,” Lettie announced.

  “What happened to you?” Beth asked.

  “I was stolen or kidnapped. Whatever way you want to call it.” Lettie said. “I went out trying to find us something to eat, and I run across the Beckhams. They said they would give me a ride and some food for you. Instead, they took me to their place and locked me in their cellar. Those Beckhams had done gone plum crazy. The way they talked about us colored folk and about Mr. Lincoln setting us free was shameful.

  “They said they were heading south because the whole dang country had gone mad. They said the war was going to end soon, and the South would return to its time-honored civilized way of living because it was God’s will. God didn’t enslave us, Miss Beth. It was people like those Beckhams!”

  “I know, but why did they take you?”

  “They said your people helped their slaves run away, and it was only right for them to take me as restitution. They treated me something awful. One day they forced medicine down my throat. When I woke up, I was in Alabama.

  “You’d thought the war was still going on. They threatened me saying I was in a slave state with no papers proving I was a free woman. Most of those people were crazy mean. The war was over, and they lost, but they were acting like the South won. They treated their colored folk something awful. We was all free by then, but it didn’t matter much down there, and it was plum scary. As soon as I had a chance, I run away. I met a bunch of folk heading north. We didn’t know where we were going but anywhere was better than staying there. We hid during the day and traveled at night.”

  “I’m so glad you escaped,” Beth exclaimed.

  “It took a while, Miss Beth. I had made it to Virginia, and that’s where I met Virgil Stokeman, and we got married. We stayed in Virginia for a while. Since he was in the Army, we were treated all right. We were lawfully married too, not any jumping over a broom nonsense. We got married by a preacher.

  “Virgil’s a soldier, and his unit was reassigned to come west, so I followed him. When his enlistment period is finished, Virgil wants to go further west and file for some homestead land.”

  “Lettie, I live here,” Beth exclaimed. “Well, not exactly here in Denver, about forty miles west. My husband, William Garret Wakefield, was a soldier, too. He was also a wagon train scout. Do you remember when the Union men camped in our yard? Garret was the lieutenant in charge.”

  Lettie smiled. “I thought you were pining for that man.”

  “I was not!” Beth denied. “It was a total surprise to run into him, again. Lettie, I lost Nate to cholera on the way here.”

  The two women hugged. “We both lost our brothers,” Lettie said sadly. Then she visibly shook off her sorrow and straightened. “Well, ain’t this something? We’re both married ladies!”

  “We’re both having babies too, although mine won’t be for a while. We live close enough we can visit each other!” Beth exclaimed happily, hugging Lettie again.

  Garret walked toward his wife and a colored woman. He had seen them from the store window chattering and hugging. Some people in the mercantile thought they were carrying on disgracefully. He guessed who this woman was although this was his first meeting with her. He had held Beth in his arms as she cried over her lost friend.

  “Garret!” Beth jumped to her feet and helped pull her more heavily pregnant friend to hers. “This is Lettie Mason Stokeman, my best friend from back home.”

  “I already guessed,” Garret said, offering his hand to the woman.

  “I didn’t think I would ever see my Miss Beth again,” Lettie said with a smile. “I’m real glad she found someone to take care of her.”

  “I do my best,” Garret said. “Are you living in town?”

  “Lettie’s husband is camped down by the river. She’s married to a Buffalo soldier,” Beth informed him.

  “Our camp’s a fair piece down from the white settlement,” Lettie added. “My husband, Virgil, doesn't get off duty every night, but sometimes he gets to come visit.”

  “I paid for a room tonight at the new hotel,” Garret said. “Why don’t you come visit us?”

  Lettie shook her head no. “They won’t let me in. We’re lucky if the folks around here let us buy supplies, even if our money is as good as theirs. We were told Denver was mostly Union sympathizers, ‘cept we ain’t seen any proof of it.”

  “All right,” Garret said. “You give me the directions, and we’ll come visiting this evening.”

  Garret paid an overnight fee to park the wagon on an empty lot two doors down from the new four-storied brick hotel. Jasper would sleep in the wagon overnight as they had been warned Denver was rife with thieves. Anything unlocked or not nailed down was considered fair game. He escorted Beth to a room on the second floor and, although the outside might have been built of brick, the walls inside were thin as paperboard. They could hear the people next door talking to each other, although it was difficult to make out their words.

  “I feel bad for Lettie not being allowed to stay with us,” Beth said as her husband escorted her to an encampment about a mile away from where they had left their wagon the last time they had been in town.

  “This is awful,” Beth whispered as they walked past piles of trash and stinking makeshift outhouses.

  Lettie was housed in what was obviously a discarded military tent. She and three other women came outside when Beth and Garret walked up. Lettie made the introductions and then the other three women took their children and went to another tent.

  “It’s not much, but the Army isn’t very good about paying their soldiers,” Lettie said. “Virgil’s enlistment is done in three months if his orders come through.”

  “This is so unfair,” Beth exclaimed angrily, gazing around. “Do the white soldiers live like this?”

  “Beth!” Garret chided her softly.

  “It’s all right, Mr. Garret,” Lettie said. “Miss Beth and I don’t hide nothing from each other. No, the remaining white soldiers live in those little log cabins south of the wagon settlement. When they sent the white soldiers to Fort Laramie, the Army rented out most of the cabins to white
folk rather than let the Colored Regiments live in them. They think their old tents and teepees are suitable for colored soldiers, although we heard they intend to send us to Fort Laramie after a while. We’re hoping those orders don’t go through until after Virgil’s discharge.”

  “Will we be able to meet Virgil?” Beth asked.

  Lettie shook her head no. “He was posted on sentry duty tonight. I’d like you to meet him. He’s a good man.”

  “We would like to meet him,” Garret said. “Lettie, if there’s anything we can do to help, please don’t hesitate to contact us. I’ll be bringing Beth into town a couple times during the spring and summer months, so you haven’t seen the last of her.”

  “Thank you. I’ve missed her something awful and worried myself sick not knowing what happened to her. I’m real happy she’s found herself a good man,” Lettie answered with a smile.

  She and Beth hugged and carried on some more before Garret had to tell his wife it was time to return to the hotel. It was getting dark, and the word was it was unsafe to be on the streets of Denver at night.

  ***

  Garret grimaced as a discordant sound emitted from inside the wagon. It sounded very much like a flatulent, caterwauling moose.

  At her husband’s description of the noise, she had to ask. “How would you know that?”

  “Because I’ve been close enough to hear one,” Garret said grinning. “The only difference, between a moose and that contraption is that the moose stinks!”

  Beth giggled and slapped her hand over her mouth.

  Jasper had bought a concertina from Mr. Tolliver and from what they heard it would take him a while to learn how to play it.

  “Jasper!” Garret hollered.

  “Yes, sir!” the boy said sticking his head through the canvas flaps of the wagon.

  “When we get to the ranch, that thing stays in the barn!”

  Jasper grinned. “I planned on asking if I could move back into the barn, at least until cold weather.”

  “You’re welcome in the house,” Beth said, turning to the boy.