by Al Lacy
Latawga glanced at his father. The tension in the chief’s jaw and the pinched wariness at the corners of his dark eyes told Latawga that his father was very uneasy.
Feeling the pressure of Tando’s glare, Colonel Smith replied, “There was a Ute band that stole cattle yesterday morning from a rancher named Jack Bates near Central City. Bates caught them in the act. A gun battle followed. Bates and his family were gunned down. Neighbors saw it, and reported that it was definitely Utes. There were eight of them.”
The seven surviving young warriors who had stolen the cattle and gunned down the Bates family were clustered together within the group who stood with the chief. Each of the seven felt tension rise within him at the colonels words.
The stony look remained on Tando’s dark face, but he did not comment.
The weight of the colonel’s gaze was as heavy as a hand against Tando’s forehead as Smith said levelly, “Chief, I want to know if it was one of your warrior bands who did this.”
Tando’s mouth pulled down at the corners. His voice was as cold as his eyes. “It was not one of my warrior bands.”
Smith had expected him to deny it. He then pointed to the carcasses of the cattle that were hanging from the trees. “Where did you get those cattle you just butchered?”
“There are Utes who raise cattle on the plains west of the mountains. They often give me and my people some of their cattle for food.”
“I want to see the hides. Where are they?”
The chief bristled. “I know you want to see if there are brands on the hides. There are no brands. Indians do not brand their cattle. The Utes who brought us the cattle had need of the hides for making winter coats for their people. They waited here until the cattle were slaughtered, then took the hides with them.”
The colonel felt confident that Tando was lying and knew he would not give him the true names nor the location of the Ute cattle raisers who were supposed to have given them cattle and left with the hides. He adjusted himself in the saddle. “Chief Tando, the Bates’s neighbors reported that one of the warriors among those who stole the cattle and shot down the Bates family was shot by Jack Bates.”
He looked toward the burial ground, then back at Tando. “I see two fresh graves. Who is buried in them?”
The chief’s wrath was rising in him at the colonels brazen question, but he suppressed it. “Two of our women died yesterday. We buried them before sundown.”
“I’m having a hard time believing you, Chief. I am going to have my men open the graves so we can see if two of your women are buried there.”
Tando stiffened and his voice jumped at Smith. “You cannot do this! The graves of our people are sacred to us!”
“I do not order this with pleasure, Chief Tando, but my government needs to know who killed the Bates family and stole their cattle.”
The warriors around Tando were showing their anger. The chief’s face was a mask of fury. “Do not give the order, Colonel Perry Smith! If you do, blood will be shed!”
Smith turned and nodded at his men.
Rifles were brought to bear, and the men at the Gatling guns released the safety switches loudly and aimed them into the group.
The Ute warriors tensed.
Smith cleared his throat. “Chief Tando, we will open only one grave. If we find one of your women in the grave, we will believe that there is a Ute woman in the other one.”
In his mind, Smith knew if there was a dead warrior in the second grave, he would possibly have made the Indians and their chief nervous enough to bring their thefts and attacks on white ranchers to a halt.
The colonel pointed toward the burial ground. “Men, there are shovels leaning against that cottonwood tree right there. Corporal Baxter, Trooper Walvord, use the shovels to open the grave closest to us.”
“Yes sir!” The two cavalrymen trotted their horses toward the burial ground.
Tension ruled over both Utes and cavalrymen, but nobody moved. The Indians gripped their weapons, but their fear of the deadly Gatling guns held them in check.
Latawga leaned close to his father and whispered in the Ute language so only he could hear. “Father! The grave they are going to open is that of Yamda! There are more of them than of us, and they have those death-spitting guns on the wagons. What will we do when they find Yamda with the bullet in him?”
Keeping his eyes on the cavalrymen and the two threatening Gatling guns, Chief Tando whispered back, “Your father will handle it. Do not worry.”
Latawga swallowed hard. “But what if they decide to open the other grave in spite of what the colonel just said? If they find the white woman—”
“Your father will decide what to do if that happens,” Tando cut in.
“Say no more! The colonel is watching us.”
Latawga glanced at Smith from the corner of his eye and could tell he was looking their direction. When the whispering ceased, Smith set his line of sight on the two men who were now digging into the designated grave.
The tension remained while Baxter and Walvord continued digging. The rest of the warriors and the village people looked on, their own nerves taut.
Finding the grave relatively shallow, the two men in blue soon discovered the stiff corpse of Yamda, wrapped in a dirt-caked blanket. They lifted the body onto the ground beside the grave, flung aside the blanket, and quickly found the bullet hole. Corporal Baxter looked back toward his commanding officer. “Colonel Smith, come and look at this!”
Turning to Harper, the colonel said, “You stay here and keep a sharp eye on those warriors.” Then to Craddock he said, “Captain, you come with me.”
Chief Tando spoke up. “My son and I are coming with you.”
Smith nodded. “Captain Craddock and I will dismount, and we will walk together.”
Tando and Latawga waited for the officers to dismount. Then without speaking, all four made their way across the grassy land on the edge of the village to the burial ground where Corporal Baxter and Trooper Walvord were standing over the lifeless form of the young Ute warrior. As they drew up, Baxter knelt down and pointed to the bullet wound. “As you can see, sir, he was shot right here.”
Smith knelt down beside him, examined the wound, and shook his head. He rose to his feet and set steady eyes on the chief. “Your warrior has a bullet in him. It’s evident to me that he is the one who was shot by Mr. Bates.”
There was rank anger in Tando’s eyes. “Can you prove he is the one who was shot by the rancher Bates?”
Smith sighed and rubbed a hand over his mustache. “No. I can’t prove it. So tell me how he got shot then.”
“This is private business of Tando and his people. We are not obligated to give Colonel Perry Smith this information.”
Smith and Craddock noticed that all the village’s warriors were now making their way toward the scene at the burial ground. The cavalrymen were following on their horses, rifles ready, and the two wagons bearing the Gatling guns were among them. The warriors were already less than twenty yards away.
Smith put his attention back on Tando. “Like I said, Chief, I can’t prove the dead brave is the one who was shot by Jack Bates, but I will say this. I know that you and your people are not in sympathy with the majority of the Utes here in Colorado. Their spokesman is Chief Ouray, who is a man of peace. He is a sensible man. He has asked all of the Ute Tribe to live in peace with the white men. Am I speaking the truth?”
Tando stared at the colonel, his stomach tightening. His lips pulled into a thin, shapeless line. It was obvious that no answer was forthcoming.
The warriors—with the cavalrymen on their heels—were drawing up. They could all tell that Chief Tando was angry, and they all fixed their attention on the colonel, who was about to speak.
Smith put some gravel in his voice. “I’m warning you, Chief Tando. You and your warriors are on the edge of disaster. Understand this. Your village will be under the eagle eye of the United States Army from now on. There will be army patrols from Fort Junction moving
about this area like never before. If other ranchers or white men of any other occupation are killed or wounded by your warriors, you and they will suffer severe consequences.”
The observers, Ute and men in blue, stared at the scene, eyes wide.
The colonel paused and scrutinized the chief’s stone-like face. “I’m not aware of how much English you understand, Chief. Do you understand what I just said?”
Tando’s stony features seemed somehow to droop, hanging heavy on the sharp angles of his bones. Something was burning in his eyes. Behind the glimmer of his irises something was white hot. Something with a life all its own.
Anger showed in the faces of Tando’s one hundred and fifty warriors.
The chief said stiffly, “I understand your words, Colonel Perry Smith. Do you have anything else to say?”
“No. I’ve told you how it is going to be, and I mean what I said.”
The colonel turned to his men. “Captain Craddock and I will go get our horses, and well be heading back to the fort. My edict has been pronounced to Chief Tando.”
“We’ll go with you, sir,” said Major Harper.
The mounted men rode behind Smith and Craddock as they walked back to their horses. The wagons bearing the Gatling guns brought up the rear with the guns pointing in the direction of the chief and his warriors, who stood looking on with hatred in their eyes.
The colonel and the captain swung aboard their mounts and trotted them up beside Major Harper, who was already positioned in the lead. As they moved southward away from the village, the flatbed wagons took up a position in the rear. Sergeant Clint Burke took the white flag from the stick, stuffed it into a pocket, and dropped the stick on the ground.
The two officers were flanking their leader as before. Captain Ron Craddock said, “Colonel, sir, I noticed that in all of the conversation with Chief Tando, you never told him that Jack Bates is still alive.”
Smith chuckled. “I figured since his warriors weren’t the ones who stole Bates’s cattle and shot him and his family down, they didn’t need to know that Mr. Bates is still living.”
Both Craddock and Harper laughed.
“Sure,” said Craddock, still laughing. “That lying renegade chief never sent that band of warriors out to steal Bates’s cattle, did he?”
At the village, as the Indians watched the army unit ride away, Latawga turned to the chief. “I am proud of my father for standing firm before the soldier coats. White men are intruders in this land, which once belonged only to the Indians. They must pay for coming here uninvited and stealing Indian land.”
Emotions warred in Tando’s heart. “You are correct, my son. The white men still owe us, and we will continue stealing their cattle, in spite of what Colonel Perry Smith says. And when the opportunities are offered to us by our gods, we will also attack stagecoaches and wagon trains as we have been doing for many grasses.”
After seeing patients who had early appointments on Saturday morning, Dr. Dane Logan stepped out of the office and climbed into his buggy to make house calls on patients that he needed to check on before leaving for Denver.
When he arrived at the home of the foreman of the Holton Coal Mine, Wilma Frye responded to his knock on the front door. “Hello, Dr. Logan. Nice to see you. Please come in.”
As he stepped in, the doctor asked, “So, is Ben doing all right?”
“I believe you will be quite satisfied with his progress,” she replied, closing the door behind him. “His boss is with him at the moment.”
Dr. Dane halted. “Oh? Well, I’d better come back later.”
Wilma waved him off. “No need for that. He’ll be glad to see you. C’mon.”
When Wilma led the doctor into the room where Ben lay in bed, the mine owner was seated on a chair beside the bed, and quickly rose to his feet.
“Dr. Logan!” Ben said warmly. “Nice to see you.”
Kirby Holton shook the doctor’s hand, with a big smile on his face. “Dr. Logan, I very much appreciate the good care you’ve given my foreman. He’s looking worlds better.”
“I’m glad for that, Mr. Holton. How’s everything at the mine?”
“Doing almost 100 percent, Doctor. I say almost’ because without Ben, it’s not quite running smoothly.”
The doctor chuckled, placed his medical bag on the small table beside the bed, and said, “Well, we’re going to get him back on the job for you just as soon as possible.”
While Wilma and the mine owner looked on, Dr. Dane checked his patient over, replaced the bandages on his temple and neck, then looked down at him, smiling. “You really are doing well, Ben. I’ve got to go to Denver on Monday to do a hip replacement on Nelda Cox at Mile High Hospital. Do you know the Coxes?”
“Oh, sure. I’ve known Eric and Nelda for years. I’d heard that this hip replacement surgery was going to be done on her.”
“I’m taking my wife with me to be my surgical nurse for the surgery, so she won’t be here, either. But Dr. Fraser and Nadine Wahl will be filling in for us at the office. I will have Dr. Fraser come and check on you while we’re gone.”
Ben nodded. “Thank you, Dr. Logan.”
Wilma smiled. “I’m so glad Dr. Fraser is still able to fill in for you when you have to be away.”
“Me, too. Bless his heart, he won’t be able to do it much longer. His age is showing on him.”
“What will you do when he no longer can do it?” she asked.
“Well, I’ve got some plans taking form in the back of my mind, but I don’t have time to explain them right now. I’ve got to keep moving.”
Kirby Holton said, “Before you go, Doctor, I’d like to ask you: Have you ever been down in a mine?”
“No, sir. Never have. But as far back as I can remember, I’ve wanted to see what it was like.”
“Well, how about letting me take you down in the Holton Coal Mine sometime soon?”
“I’d love it.”
“All right. I’d be glad to take you down and give you the grand tour when you get back from Denver.”
“I hereby accept the invitation, Mr. Holton. When I get back, I’ll let you know when I can work it into my schedule.”
“Good! I’ll look forward to it.”
Esther Fraser was on the front porch of her house, watering her flower pots, when she saw Dr. Dane Logan pull up in his buggy. Holding the watering can in one hand, she waved with the other. “Hello, Dr. Dane. Come in. Bob will be glad to see you.”
From inside the house, Dr. Robert Fraser overheard his wife speak to Dr. Dane, and came out the door. The physicians greeted one another; then Dr. Dane entered the house, and they sat down in the parlor.
Dr. Fraser adjusted his spectacles and set scrutinizing eyes on Dr. Dane. “You look pretty tired, son. Are you working too hard?”
Dr. Dane smiled. “Well, this has been an arduous week, Doctor, I’ll say that. I thought of you today, wondering how you’ve held up so good the past few years with the pace this practice demands. No wonder you’re ready to completely retire. You always seem so full of energy whenever I ask you to cover for me.”
Fraser chuckled. “Well, sometimes I put on a show of energy I really don’t have.”
Dr. Dane shook his head. “Then I shouldn’t be putting all this work on you when I have to be out of town.”
Fraser chuckled again. “I said sometimes, son. I love filling in for you. I know the day is approaching when I will have to retire completely. But not yet, thank the Lord. Even though you’re young, you’re a genuine physician and surgeon, so I know you understand that the need to heal people is born in us. I’m glad I can still do some of it.”
Dane sighed, reached inside his coat pocket, produced a folded piece of paper, and handed it to the elderly man. “I’m sure glad you still want to fill in for me. I’ve made up a list of the patients I’ll need you to check on while Tharyn and I are in Denver. I’ve written down what I’m treating them for, and how to find those out there in the mountains who are first-
time patients.”
Dr. Fraser unfolded the paper, and while scanning it, said, “I’ll take care of them, son. You just center your thoughts on performing that hip replacement.” His head bobbed. “Jack Bates?”
Dr. Dane cleared his throat gently. “Yes, sir. As you see there, hell be at the Wilson ranch with Rex and Dora.”
Esther leaned closer to the young doctor. “I can tell by the look on your face that something bad has happened to Jack, and if he’s staying with Rex and Dora, something bad has happened to Wanda and the children.”
Dr. Dane took a deep breath. “Yes. Something really bad. Let me tell you the story …”
Dr. Dane had been at the Fraser home almost an hour, and as he drove toward his office, he ran his gaze to the mountains that surrounded Central City, marveling at the magnificent grandeur of it all.
What a perfect place to live, he thought. I’m doing what God put in my heart to do so many years ago. There were times that it looked impossible that I would ever become a doctor. Like those terrible months I spent in that Manhattan prison for a crime I didn’t commit. It certainly looked like my dream of a medical career would never be realized.
Yet my wonderful heavenly Father is always faithful, and He has given me the desires of my heart. I’m able to practice medicine to my heart’s content, which is wonderful. But even more wonderful than that is the way my Father—in His wisdom and grace—brought Tharyn and me back together. In this great big world, the Lord let us find each other, joined us again in the love we had for each other, and joined us in marriage. Jesus is the head of our home, the very center and core of our lives.
Lifting his eyes to the vast canopy of blue above him, Dane Logan said, “Thank You, Lord, for giving me more than I could ever ask for or deserve. Truly, You are such a generous and wonderful Father.”
FOURTEEN
It was almost noon when Cassandra Wheatley and Rosemary Snyder were in Central City’s newest clothing store, known as Wortman’s, which had a large selection of ladies’ ready-made dresses.
Rosemary had money in her purse to purchase a new dress, and with eager anticipation, was taking dresses from the racks and trying them on in the dressing room. Cassandra was moving along the racks, admiring the large selection of dresses. With each dress, Rosemary appeared from the dressing room to ask Cassandra how she looked in it. Cassandra was consistent, telling her she looked perfect in each one.
