Scar and the Double D Ranch

by Jim Cox

  Liz had joined in, but her smile was bland, and the sparkle to her eyes was gone. Her mother had noticed her daughter’s expression and knew the reason. She knew what was going through Liz’s mind. The celebration should be for me…I should be having a baby…why can’t I get pregnant?

  With the baby news, the men speeded up the construction process on Tony and Morning Sun’s house, which was being built across the stream and a couple hundred yards north of the Douglas house, not far from the food storage cave under the waterfall. The plans included a kitchen, a large sitting room, and a bedroom downstairs. In the loft overhead were two, fair-sized bedrooms. One for Little Eagle and the other for Little Turtle. And now, when the time came, one of the rooms would be shared with their new brother or sister.

  After the Double D men had completed the construction of Tony and Morning Sun’s house, they loaded wagons with lumber and tools, and the whole clan headed for the Ross homestead. The place had been run down and was in poor condition. The last year the Rosses lived there the upkeep was mostly ignored, and now it had been vacant for over a year.

  Within a week the house and barn were put back in tip-top conditions, and the grounds had been worked on. Fences were replaced or repaired, weeds were cut, fruit trees were trimmed, and the flower beds around the front porch were spaded up and raked to get ready for the planting. Brush was cleared along the mountain stream running in front of the house and barn. Afterward, the men had spent two long days pulling fallen trees to the cutting area and sawing them into the winter’s firewood.

  The women stayed busy at the Ross place, too. Windows, ceilings, walls, and floors were washed down. The walls in the kitchen and sitting room were painted. It was decided the bedrooms could be painted sometime later. Curtains were made and hung. Spare furniture was brought from the Double D, and three straw mattresses were made. During a rainy day, the men made a kitchen table with benches and a few other pieces of furniture.

  The whole clan helped on moving day. In addition to Thomas, Virginia, and the kids’ personal belongings, other items were brought in. Chickens, two milk cows, a horse and buggy, along with three saddle horses, pots and pans, lanterns, and other household items. Tony and Morning Sun had packed a beef half, five bacon slabs, and a sundry of canned items for Virginia and her family.

  The ride back to the Double D after the move was rather depressing. Words were scarce. It seemed as though the Double D homestead was breaking up. Only two families remained in the big house. Jake and Betty had moved to Flat Peaks, Tony and Morning Sun’s family had moved into their new house, and now Thomas and his family were gone.

  Evenings became lonely in the big Douglas house. After the supper dishes had been washed and put away, Morning Sun and her family went home, leaving Liz, Scar, and Mr. and Mrs. Douglas to themselves. The original intention had been to visit one another in the evenings at least once a week, but that plan hadn’t materialized.

  During one of their visits to Flat Peaks, Scar stopped by the livery before noon to have coffee with Eli. He’d not been seated very long when he noticed the weekly newspaper lying in a nearby chair. CONGRESS MAY SEND ALL INDIANS TO RESERVATIONS was the headline. He couldn’t believe what he was reading. Why wasn’t I informed of this development? As he read on, the article said Congress had made a decision to vote on the matter on August 20, 1879. That’s only two weeks away, he thought.

  Eli was about to top off his coffee, but the big man waved him off. “I’ve got to go see Jake, Eli. I need to find out what’s behind this Indian article. Could you go to Jenny’s for me and tell Liz and Mrs. Douglas I’ll be thirty minutes late?” he asked, as he headed for Maude. Eli nodded.

  Jake looked up from typesetting when Scar entered and quickly said, “The telegraph agent has been asking about you every day…says he has an important wire for you.” The big man hurried off.

  August 3, 1879

  From. Governor John Long Routt

  Big problem with Congress concerning the Indians.

  A meeting is scheduled in my office on August 15th with two Washington dignitaries. Be here two days early.

  Scar reread the telegram, put it back in the envelope, and headed for Jenny’s.

  “I might as well get my rail ticket for Denver while I’m in town. I’ll need to leave in six days,” Scar said, after reading the telegram to the folks sitting around the café table.

  “It doesn’t sound good for the Indians,” Jake interrupted. “I’ve gotten wind the Congressional vote is simply a formality, the decision has already been made to send all Indians to reservations.”

  “Where will the reservations be located?” Mrs. Douglas asked.

  “Speculation has it they’ll be scattered among a few states where the Indian population is the heaviest. That means the western states will have the most,” Jake answered.

  Liz’s heart was breaking as she sat looking at her husband. Her distress was not about the terrible action about to be levied on the Indians, as bad as that might be, but because of the pain her husband was going through. She knew it was almost unbearable for him.

  All eyes turned to the big man as he rose and left the table for the outside. Liz followed and joined him sitting on a bench in front of the café. Several minutes of silence passed before their red, teary eyes connected. Liz wiped her eyes and then gently wiped her husband’s.

  “I’m sorry, Liz. I can’t seem to control my emotions. I’ll be all right in a few minutes.”

  “Your emotions are as they should be, Bart. You feel Indians are God’s creation, equal to any other human being. Many are your friends. People you have helped and those who have helped you.”

  “But I was given the charge as Director of Indian Affairs for the state of Colorado…to protect and keep the Indian tribes in good standing with the U.S. government. And I failed them…I’m a failure, Liz. I let them down.”

  Liz stood. With stern eyes, she looked down at her husband. “Listen up, Bart Carter and listen good. You’re not a failure. You’re not the reason the Indians are being sent to reservations. Get that thought out of your mind. It’s those heartless creatures in Washington who we call Congressmen that’s to blame. You’ve done everything humanly possible to keep the Indians free.” She paused and then with tears streaming down her cheeks, she said in a much softer tone, “I’m proud of you, sweetheart. My respect and love for you has never been stronger than at this very minute.”

  People came, and others left the café, but Scar and Liz remained sitting on the bench in silence. Finally, he said, “Why don’t we walk to the train station and get my ticket to Denver, Liz. We should be leaving for the ranch before long.” Scar started to stand, but Liz pulled him back.

  “I want to go to Denver with you, Bart, but I don’t want to travel by train. Let’s take our time and ride horseback. It’ll help settle our minds…give us time to talk about our future.”

  Her husband’s eyes furrowed a bit. “Are you sure you can stand the trip, Liz? You’re not used to riding that far. It’ll take us at least five days to get there.”

  “Don’t worry about me. The ride to Denver will be a challenge, but I’m excited about the time we’ll share together,” Liz said, reaching for her husband’s hand.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Their first travel day ended an hour before sundown. They stopped at a small cliff indention a few yards from a swift flowing mountain stream. Farther down the mountain slope, perhaps a quarter of a mile, was the prairie where Maude and Molly now grazed. Scar knew they’d be ambling back to camp when darkness set in.

  Liz and Scar had organized their camp and were sitting inside the indention with their backs against the rock wall. They held steaming cups of coffee. Several strips of bacon were hanging from a forked branch over the fire a few feet away.

  It had been a long day. They had left the ranch in darkness. They talked about the Indian situation for part of their ride, but mainly they talked about their future—not in many specifics but enou
gh to indicate they each had concerns.

  Darkness was approaching when Maude and Molly came back to camp. Scar watched them go for water before they lay down beside a large boulder. Turning to Liz, he said, “There’s not a cloud in the sky, Liz. It won’t be long until the stars will flood the heavens.” Liz responded with a smile. The mild westerly breeze made the evening almost perfect. As they sat quietly, their coffee was getting cold.

  They were getting ready for bed when Liz asked, “What will you do, Bart, if your state government job is eliminated? Will you work for Papa?”

  “I don’t know what I’ll do, Liz. I don’t want to work on the Double D for the long stretch. There’s a chance I could get reappointed to the state marshal’s job.”

  Liz quickly interjected, “Please don’t go back to that work, Bart. I can’t stand for you to be away for long periods, especially when you’re up against a dangerous situation.”

  Scar smiled. “We’ll cross the marshal’s job off of the list, sweetheart. I don’t want you worrying over me.”

  “Do you still want to be a horse rancher?” Liz asked. “That’s what you said you wanted to do a couple of times.”

  “It’s my dream, but it would take a great deal of money to get started. We’ll have to be satisfied with something else.”

  “We could borrow the money from my parents. I’m sure they’d be pleased to help us out.”

  Scar shook his head. “We won’t be doing that, Liz. We’ll stand on our own two feet. Things will work out. You’ll see.” Several minutes passed before Liz responded to her husband’s comment. “Bart, I have no doubt things will work out. I have the utmost confidence in you.”

  “Thank you, sweetheart,” he said, as he pulled his wife to him for a lingering kiss. The night was beautiful. A falling star streaked across the southern sky. A far-off echo of a coyote sounded, but the young couple missed it all.

  Four days later, Liz and Scar were standing in front of the registration desk at the Cattlemen’s Hotel in Denver. It was mid-afternoon. The big man leaned down and whispered to his wife, “It’s not as nice as the hotel we stayed in during the statehood inauguration, Liz, but I believe you’ll find the accommodations are adequate.”

  “It’ll be fine, honey,” she said with a smile.

  During supper that evening, Scar told Liz he would be having breakfast with the governor come morning and would probably be spending most of the day with him. She nodded and indicated she’d sleep in and do some shopping in the afternoon.

  Liz heard the door close when her husband left the next morning but quickly went back to sleep. After waking a few hours later, she lazily dressed for breakfast and an afternoon of shopping. It was mid-afternoon when Liz returned to the hotel and found Governor Routt sitting in the lobby. He rose and hurried to her. “Good afternoon, Governor Routt. I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” Liz added, as the governor approached. “Where’s Bart?”

  “I haven’t seen him, Liz. He never showed up for breakfast. I thought the evening train might have had a problem and didn’t make its run, but the station agent told me a few minutes ago it had run on schedule.”

  “He left our room this morning to meet you,” Liz said, alarmed.

  “I came to the hotel a few minutes ago and was told both of you had checked in yesterday afternoon. The desk clerk said he saw you leave this morning without him.”

  “Something terrible must have happened to him, Governor Routt,” Liz said excitedly. “He’d never miss an appointment with you. Not unless he was hurt or in trouble.”

  “I’m sure there’s a simple explanation, Liz. Let’s not get overly concerned. We’ll check around and find out where he was last seen.” They headed for the registration desk.

  “Yes, sir, I spoke to him early this morning. He said he wanted to get a hair and beard trim before he met you for breakfast. I saw him heading south when he left the hotel. I imagine he went to the barbershop that he normally goes to when he’s staying here. It’s a block south of the hotel.”

  “Did you see him return?” the governor asked.

  “He didn’t come back.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, sir. I keep a close eye on folks.”

  Liz started for the door, but the governor called her back. “Let’s not rush things, Liz. I’ll fetch a policeman to assist us. We may need protection.” Nearly a half hour passed before he returned with two lawmen.

  »»•««

  The eastern sky was turning gray when Scar had left the hotel for the barbershop. He was surprised to find the shop already open. He looked at his watch. “It’s fifteen minutes before six o’clock,” he mumbled. “The shop normally opens up a few minutes past the hour.”

  Scar walked in to find a strange man wearing a barber apron sitting in the cutting chair. “You’re new. I haven’t seen you in here before,” Scar said.

  “The regular barber is taking a break. I’m filling in for a few days,” the stranger said, as he climbed down and motioned for Scar to take the seat. Scar tossed his hat on a nearby chair and climbed up. As the barber was swinging a barber’s bib onto the big man’s chest, Scar started giving his usual instructions on how to trim his beard around his scar. But to his surprise, the bib on his chest was hiding a rope that was quickly pulled taut and tied behind the cutting chair, pinning him tight. Scar was reaching for the rope to free himself when two men came running through a side door. One clubbed him on the back of his head. The last thing Scar remembered before darkness set in was a man saying, “That’ll teach you…you Indian lover.”

  When Scar woke, he was lying on his side on a plank floor in a windowless room. A small gleam of light was showing around the sides and top of a door, but the main source of light came from a two-inch gap under the door. It lit the room enough to make things out.

  Scar’s head ached terribly. It felt as though it had been split with an axe. He attempted to reach for the ache, but his hands were restricted. His wrists were tied together in front of his body with leather straps, which then connected to ropes binding his feet, leaving him with very little mobility. He tried to sit up, but the awkward curvature of his body caused by the bindings made sitting almost impossible, so he lay on his side thinking about his dilemma. Maybe they didn’t find my hide-a-way knife. The bindings were tight, but there was enough slack between his hands and feet for him to reach inside the top of his right boot. It was there. In spite of his pain, a smile came when he felt the knife handle.

  Very carefully, he pulled the knife from his boot. He then cut through the rope binding his feet. He rose to a sitting position and stretched his legs to ease their cramps and then scooted to a wall to lean against. After resting his back for a couple minutes, he maneuvered the knife so its point was facing inward, between his wrists. It wasn’t long before the razor-sharp knife had done its job, and his hands were free.

  He carefully reached for the gash on his head. The best he could tell it was three or four inches long and open to the bone. His hair around the cut was matted with a sticky substance. When he pulled his hand back, he could make out the redness in the dim light. Wonder how long I was unconscious, he thought. He reached for his pocket watch, brought it within inches of his face, and through squinted eyes found the watch’s hands. “It’s a little past four o’clock,” he mumbled. “I’ve been unconscious nearly all day.” He then leaned back against the wall and started making plans.

  Chapter Forty

  When the governor returned to the hotel with two lawmen, the men hurried to Liz who was already walking toward them. “These policemen have information about Scar’s disappearance, Liz. At least we believe there’s a connection. Why don’t you men repeat to Mrs. Carter what you told me?” the governor said, nodding to the lawmen.

  “Early this morning we were notified foul play had occurred at the barber shop a block south of here. When we entered the shop minutes later, no one was present in the main room, so we called out, thinking someone may have be
en in the back room. And to our surprise, a moan sounded from behind a closed door. After we removed the rag that had been stuffed in the barber’s mouth and removed his bindings, he gave us the details of what had happened. He had gotten to the shop around five thirty this morning, which is a mite earlier than normal. As soon as he unlocked the door and stepped inside, he was grabbed from behind and blindfolded before he had a chance to see anyone. Of course, it was pitch dark, which didn’t help anything. The rag was quickly stuffed in his mouth, so he couldn’t call out, and he was taken to a back room where his hands and feet were bound.”

  The policeman paused collecting his thoughts and then continued. “The barber said he couldn’t see, talk, or move, but he could hear. One of the men had gone back inside the main room and closed the door. The other two men stayed in the room with him. He could hear them whispering. They said they’d have to be careful with the Indian lover, as they called him, because he was known to be a mighty good fighter. They also said they’d turn him loose as soon as the Indian parley with the governor was over…if they could remain unidentified.”

  “The barber told us about the fracas he heard in the shop shortly after he had been hogtied, followed by someone being drug through the back door into the alley.”

  “Do either of you have any idea where the captured man was taken?” the governor asked.

  “No, sir. We don’t.” There was a long pause.

  “The governor said the kidnapped man was more than likely your husband, Mrs. Carter,” a policeman said. “Do you have anything to add to the barber’s story?”

  Liz shook her head and said firmly, “His name is Bart Carter.” The governor looked at Liz and then turned to the lawmen. “Most people call him Scar.”