Of Sterling Quality: Book Seven: a Change of Elegance

By Barbara L. Wyckoff

Elegance is a state of mind which cannot be changed..... Merely enhanced by the nature of its circumstance. When prohibition closed Denver City's Sterling House, Lillian Anne Sterling found a circumstance which was true. Her elegance went with her to be forever changed in the shadow of a great mountain where she was surrounded by peach trees, adobe walls and a family that became hers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 15, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499037500

Barbara L. Wyckoff

About the Author . . . Barbara L. Wyckoff With her creativity, curiosity and constant quest for knowledge of bygone eras, Barbara L. Wyckoff is able to reach across time into the past. She writes with wisdom about the mountains, the streams, the rivers and a time that once was. It is with the greatest of sensitivity she writes of aging people, choices they must make for the uncertain future they face and the emotions of someone lost between two races of people.

Book preview

Chapter

One

There is an unexplainable mystery which surrounds the Grand Valley on the Western Slope of Colorado. It began after the upheavals and volcanoes had more-or-less subsided and the tremendous guttural sounds from the throats of Apatosaurus, Brachiosaurus along with the spike tailed Stegosaurus had ceased to reverberate across the great Valley once the Mancos Inland Sea retreated. This retreat left only rivers and the wind to carve the future of the land.

Long after the dinosaurs thundered their last challenges across this vast Valley, leaving their remains to fossilize in the shale and sandstone left behind by the inland sea, the first human murmurings were heard from the Paleo and Archiac Indians who ventured into the area. Their needs were few, mainly survival. They left little to mark their passing.

It had been the Fremont Indians who later came to the area who left a legacy of rock shelters and pit houses along with rock art painted on or etched into boulders and cliffs surrounding the Valley.

However not until the Ute Indians, who wandered largely over what was to become Utah and Colorado, came into the area to seek game, the Valley became seasonably settled.

The spirit of those Ute sensed, felt and understood the sacred powers which echoed from the canyons, mesas and buttes formed by the upheavals, volcanoes and the inland sea from bygone days before time had a name. They instinctively knew and accepted the sacred powers which seemed to control the lives of all who entered the Valley along with the destinies of those who left.

By the time these wandering Ute led the first European explorers across the mesas into the Grand Valley, time, the wind and erosion had left it barren and dry except along the deep channels of the two great rivers which flowed into and across the region. These Mexican and Spanish explorers, soldiers and priests searched for gold as well as easier routes into California. They saw where the fertile verdant Rocky Mountains left off and the canyon lands and deserts began. These deep canyons and devastatingly hot deserts were not good passages for them unless they wished harsh deaths.

Undaunted, seeking souls to save along with passable travel routes from Santa Fe, New Mexico, to California, two Spanish friars, Escalante and Dominguez, traveled much of the land naming many canyons and rivers as they explored the region. Later, after Spain deserted their claim allowing Mexico to take title, the Rocky Mountain area, to include the Grand Valley, was open to a flood of trappers, traders and mountain men who looked for beaver to trap or trade with the local residents. To further open the area for settlement, John C. Fremont and an army explorer, Captain John Gunnison, charted much of the region while they sought mountain railroad courses.

The Ute of the area knew nothing about the controlling of the lands, railroads or soul saving for that matter. What they knew was they were slowly being pushed and shoved aside to make room for the white settlers who were moving into their domain. It became inevitable the Ute would have to be removed from their homeland just as the Cherokee had been forcibly evicted from their traditional home, as well as the Cheyenne from theirs, the Shoshone, the Crow along with what was left of the Kiowa, Comanche and Apache from theirs.

For Colorado, the story was the same. Where vast areas became available, settlers moved in to build their towns. Unable to fight this onslaught from such a strong adversary, by 1880 the Northern Ute tribe, under the leadership of Chief Ouray, had left to join others on the reservations in Utah. Ouray did not leave before he cursed those who had done this to his people to include all the whites who would follow.

Simply stated, if one immigrated to the great Valley, or was born there, they could never leave. Or, if they did, they would always return. The only way to break the curse was to take a small amount of sand from the four directions of the Valley and take it with you to be cast into the four winds when you reached your destination.

Despite the ‘whispered in the wind curse’, before the ink was dry, and the latest treaty to remove the Indians had been filed away, white settlers flooded into the area.

Under the direction of George Crawford, along with other settlers, a township quickly developed. This burgeoning little town was first called Ute, Colorado, then West Denver and finally Grand Junction due to the confluence of the two major rivers which for centuries had flowed through the Valley artfully carving the landscape of the Grand Valley.

The hardcore entrepreneurial town builders seriously encouraged the development of their plucky little town in the great Grand Valley. Not only was the town sprawling in all directions from the first cottonwood log cabin built at Ute and Second Streets by the Mobley Family, but to what promised more to richly compliment what they all hoped would be a great city. This was the flourishing of the fruit orchards being planted in the rich soil left behind by the dried up Mancos Sea. To these harvesters it did not matter water had be carried and hauled from the rivers to these thirsty trees.

By 1900, in less than 20 years from the first cottonwood structure, the population had grown to over 3,500. By 1910 it had doubled. This newly established town had notable wide streets from 1st to 12th Streets and North Avenue to South Avenue. Plus, there were elegantly built brick and mortar buildings to house prosperous businesses mingled with holdover remnants of the wooden structures which reminded the residents of their humble beginnings in their new city of Grand Junction, Colorado.

In this place of mysteries, diverse backgrounds and back drops, Lillian Anne Sterling found herself waking up on her first morning in her new home in the Grand Valley of the Western Slope of Colorado.

With his oldest son, Major, Solomon Martinez, caretaker of the peach orchard Erwin owned, had met Lillian, Paris and Erwin at the Grand Junction train depot the evening before. These two, more than proper, polite Mexican men, transported them, and their baggage, safely to what was to become their home on this, the Western Slope of Colorado. It had been so nearly dark when they had arrived, little could be seen of their new surroundings.

Lillian knew nothing of a great inland sea or Western Colorado to have been a flood plain with a humid climate complete with herbivore dinosaurs foraging on plant life and the carnivorous delighting their palates on what they could track down, catch and devour long before she had set foot in this Valley.

It was of no consequence to any of them volcanoes had spewed forth lava flows and rocks to help create the great basin along with the surrounding mountains. This was long after the great inland sea had inched its way into oblivion leaving the soil rich in organic matter and nutrients but arid, parched and dry except along the banks of the two rivers which converged into one on the Southwest side of the Valley’s vastness.

Lillian knew nothing of the Paleo Indians who had once roamed across this Valley with little to nothing more in their minds but survival.

In like manner, nothing was known of the Fremont Indians who had left behind their petroglyphs on canyon walls to the south and rock outcroppings to the north. Furthermore, she had never heard of a curse on any part of Colorado, let alone the Grand Valley, by a people she had never met. The Ute.

The only curse she knew of was the one on anyone who served alcoholic libations to a public thirsty for such pleasures. The curse was prohibition. This had been the ‘Bone Dry Act’ which had gripped the throat of Colorado’s saloons and restaurants. Places where wines were served with a meal to include delicate brandies after the repasts were consumed. To make the serving of these drinks illegal had strangled the life out of far too much due to this moronic act.

Lillian, who was still very much alive, had Erwin to thank for her new life and what ever controlled the fates to thank for bringing her love back to her. Paris Jacob LaRoche de la Montoya was by her side as she stepped into her destiny on the Western Slope of Colorado.

*         *         *

Solomon Martinez silently waited with his oldest son, Major Martinez. They watched and listened for the train from Denver to arrive at the fairly new depot in the town of Grand Junction.

With the curiosity of a 16-year-old young man, Major was in awe of the huge Italian Renaissance style white brick structure with its terra cotta details. His young curiosity made him want to go inside to see the interior. His respect for his poppa made him stand his ground outside. There would be another time when he was not on such an important mission.

Solomon, on the other hand, had seen the inside of this building and felt no need to see it again. When the depot had first opened in September of 1906, he and his wife, Juanita, had assisted with those still fleeing the devastation of the San Francisco earthquake which had nearly destroyed that city. Those who sought refuge, who had decided to leave the quake leveled city, were the first through the train depot. These survivors had to be attended to by local physicians because they were ill with many injured from the quake. Solomon and Juanita were among the volunteers who served food, handed out clothing and set up cots for convenience. That had been ten years previous. This was the first time Solomon had been back to this building.

The people he had helped attend to were refugees who had moved on as life dictated. These people he waited for on this late afternoon would not be moving on but staying on. He, his wife, and children, as they had been born to them on the estate, had been the caretakers of the large peach orchard near the Palisades for close to 20 years.

This was a beautiful farm he had come to feel was his own even though he knew there was a rightful owner somewhere over those high rugged mountains to the east coming from a place known only as Denver. In a few more moments that owner, along with people like him, would be here to take possession.

Solomon Martinez was a humble, hard working man who after all these years was concerned about the future of his family. He could not believe his work here was done because the owner, along with his partners, was coming to take possession.

In the distance, they heard the train whistle. Solomon took a deep breath, removed his hat and walked toward the platform where the train would hiss to a stop.

Major called after him, Papa, nosotros sobreviremos.

But, how will we survive? Solomon questioned. No man could predict his true destiny when someone else held title.

*         *         *

At 16, Major Martinez, was very mature. Solomon trusted his son to secure all the baggage from the depot and drive a separate vehicle, with these items, to the home of the rightful owner of the peach orchard near the Palisades.

Lillian wanted to see where they were going, but the head lamps, on the Model T, did little to illuminate the hard packed dirt road before them or their surroundings.

After the initial greeting, Solomon had spoken little on the drive but told them food would await them when they reached their destination in the Palisades he spoke of.

Erwin was his usual withdrawn, quiet self. Yet, he too felt the anxiety of being taken to a place completely unfamiliar to him. The banker had assured him the home was beautiful and the orchard profitable. In reality, he still had no idea how they were going to live but had done his best to reassure his Miss Lillian this was the best they could have done under the circumstances. He prayed the banker was correct.

The life which had been carved out by Andrew Wesley Sterling and Charley Gaynor on the Larimer Street of old was a thing of the past.

He still felt he had been wise to follow the banker’s advice by investing into this fruit venture on the Western Slope of Colorado. Every year he had owned this orchard it had produced fruit. The sale of that fruit had produced an income. Not sizeable but substantial. Erwin felt they could survive on it where survival in the Sterling House had literally come to an end.

He only wished he had taken one trip over here to learn about this place before they were literally forced to come here due to the closure of the Sterling House.

While he rode along in the front seat of the motor car, with Lillian and Paris in the back, he also realized he was seated next to a perfect stranger. This Mexican man who had taken care of his invested interest had met them at the train depot in Grand Junction to take them to their new home. A man Erwin was going to have to depend on and learn to trust.

Looking through the windshield of the car, Erwin saw a few of what he thought were farmhouse lights and overhead he could see a sky filled with stars. He marveled at the closeness of those twinkling lights in the sky. If his study of Astronomy was correct, and memory served him, the Big Dipper was strongly visible over what appeared to be a large, dark outline of a mountain.

Strange, he thought. I never saw the stars this clearly before. There had never been a need to consider the stars. Denver City’s lights obliterated most of the them.

Solomon Martinez made several turns on what passed for roads with billows of dust following them as the car bounced out of one rut into another. After what seemed like an eternity he finally pulled into a gently sweeping driveway where Solomon stopped in front of a long, low, solid fence with wide arches and a wide opening which led to what appeared to be a large square structured home.

We are here, he said, setting the hand brake as the car sputtered to a stop.

Lillian looked out her side of the vehicle, brushed the dust from her skirt where it had blown into the motor car on their drive. She was, to some extent, warmed by the sight of lights which glowed through large windows in what she could only assume was to be her new home.

Paris got out, came around and helped her out of the vehicle. My sweetheart, you are very quiet, he said. He took her hand and sensed she was more than a little apprehensive.

Oh, Paris, I am not sure what I have gotten us into. Where are we? What are we going to do? It seemed as if all her pent up anxieties were escaping her mind to swirl around her. She had been all right on the train in the light of day, but now surrounded by darkness, covered with dust, with the only light she could see coming from a home she had never seen, Lillian was not so sure.

Paris leaned down toward her saying very softly and very calmly, Lillian, I believe in Erwin and what he has done for you and for me as well. We will be just fine. Let’s go inside. It seems safe and warm.

Erwin held the front door of the house open for her and Lillian stepped into her new home with Paris following. She blinked her eyes a few times to adjust to the light and Paris saw she was immediately pleased.

Although not perfectly placed, as she would have done, here was her furniture from the Sterling House arranged in a new living room. She had been very selective in what was taken from the Sterling House to be freighted over here. The sight of the rose designed, crushed velvet settee with the two burgundy colored velvet chairs from her private sitting room at the Sterling House put her fears to rest. She gave Erwin a hug and said to Paris. We are going to be just fine, aren’t we?

A brilliant white moon rose over the flat topped mountain to the east of the warmly comfortable kitchen where Erwin Frederson, new resident owner of a peach ranch on the Western Slope of Colorado, Lillian Anne Sterling, retired owner of the Sterling House in Denver, Colorado and Paris Jacob LaRoche de la Montoya from Spain, enjoyed a late dinner of carne asada, refried beans and tortillas complimented by coffee and a rich peach cobbler.

They were comfortable. This would be their home. Lillian would see to it.

*         *         *

Paris Jacob’s body warmth helped her stay cozy warm under the quilts piled on the bed they shared in their new home. She had not taken too much inventory of where they were the night before because it had been so dark. She had been far too exhausted to explore the house but was more than pleased to see some of her furniture from the Sterling House. This gave her a sense of comfort.

After dinner she had requested to be shown to a bedroom. There were six of these rooms on the upper level of this unfamiliar house. She had been shown to what she had been told was the master bedroom on the east side of the house which she could share with her husband. She loved the sound of the word husband reflected in her direction. Solomon assured her that her bedroom furniture would be put into place as soon as possible and apologized for the simplicity of the furnishings in the room.

It is all wonderful, she replied, noticing how clean, orderly and neat everything was with lamps lit on night tables. She saw where some of their shipped baggage had been placed on stands, opened but not unpacked. Apparently someone had known what would belong in this room.

Erwin had been shown to the second largest bedroom on the other end of the long hallway which was down the center of the upper floor where all the bedrooms were located.

Lillian found herself lying on a comfortable feather tick mattress, next to the man she had loved from the first time she seen him. At times, she still found herself in amazement he was with her at all. Just like she had done so many times since his most timely return to her, she closed her eyes and reopened them. It was not a dream. Paris Jacob LaRoche de la Montoya was sleeping next to her where he should have been all their lives and finally was.

She had endured so much to wait for him. The worst being her mother’s hatred of the man along with her constant wrath regarding him. She recalled only too well the spiteful words of her mother, but she had locked those words away refusing to hear them again, even in her mind. It had taken him over 30 years, but, he had returned as he promised he would and they were together as he also had promised they would be.

Nothing else mattered except she had waited as she had promised she would. Her mother had been wrong. Again, she pushed bad memories away.

She let her sleepy eyes wander around the room, where she saw some kind of smooth, ivory colored plaster on the walls and huge dark beams across the ceiling. No rich heavy wall paper graced the walls or lace and velvet draperies adorned the windows. The window openings were set back into the walls with closed shutters over the glass.

Lillian listened very carefully, yet she could not hear one street sound. Instead she heard birds singing. Song birds which seemed to be right outside the bedroom window.

Paris rolled over, stretched and then wrapped his arms around her. I love you, he said. Welcome to our first day in our new home. He kissed her lightly and squeezed her a little tighter.

Lillian Anne snuggled closer to him, letting the strength of his arms reassure her. We will be all right here, she said more than asked. But, peaches?

Yes, my love. Peaches. I too feel we will do just fine here. We will learn about these peaches.

He released her and sat up. Erwin had never told you about owning this land or about this orchard, had he? he asked.

Lillian also sat up, pushed her hair back and stretched her legs out in front of her. No, she answered. I had no idea he had invested his money. From the time I can remember, Erwin was always just there, quiet and playing the piano. He always reminded me to mind my manners and stay out of trouble while we were growing up.

Did his chastisements stop you? Paris asked, laughing a little as he stood up and slipped into his robe.

No, Lillian answered, admiring the curve of his hips and buttocks before he took the pleasure of seeing his nude body away from her eyes by getting dressed. But, then, she said, thinking back, "Perhaps had I listened to him, mother would not have been so mean to my brother. Mean to the point Buckland took Soolie and Charley Paul away from the Sterling House and away from me.

I knew much about your mother, was all Paris said, allowing the subject to dropped. He remembered only too well how Abigale Sterling had tried to buy his separation from Lillian. He did not wish to tell Lillian about this or how the woman had spoken to him on that fateful day.

Coffee? Erwin’s voice came from the other side of the door.

Lillian quickly pulled on her dressing gown as Paris opened the door. Ah, yes, he said. Thank you. Come in.

Erwin set a tray down and poured the coffee. He handed one cup to Paris and one to Lillian where she had taken a chair by the window.

Paris opened the shuttered widows which allowed the bright morning sunlight to stream into the bedroom. Breathing in the fresh air, he surveyed the outside pleased by what he saw or perhaps what he did not see. No city buildings were to be seen in any direction. It is beautiful out there, he said before he drank some of his coffee.

Isn’t this house amazing, Erwin said with excitement in his voice as he too watched out the window. I walked around a bit just before the sun came up. From what I could see, yes, it is beautiful and quiet here with no lights and no traffic sounds anywhere. Only those song birds singing plus an orchard of trees which seem to surround us. But, Lillian, Paris, he said trying to contain his excitement, You might want to get dressed and be ready to receive company.

What? Lillian asked, Who would call this early in the morning?

Erwin walked back toward the door. Solomon Martinez was here at sunrise to tell me he would present his family to you this morning.

Lillian stood up quickly, set her coffee cup down, took a breath, looked from Paris to Erwin and said, I am not quite ready to receive but if this is the way of these people, I will simply have to adjust.

*         *         *

Lillian and Paris were downstairs, drinking more coffee, dressed and ready when Solomon Martinez knocked on the kitchen door.

Erwin opened the door for him.

Buenos Dias, senora y senores. My family is here to meet you. They wait outside. Solomon said, holding the screen door open.

Please, have them come in, Lillian said.

Solomon appraised her before he very seriously said, No, senora. There are too many of them. He stepped back and waited for them to follow.

This decorum and protocol was very different for Lillian. To the best of her knowledge, she had never been presented to a Mexican family or had one been presented to her. She again looked at Paris who looked at Erwin as they followed this Mexican caretaker of peaches into the back yard.

They stood in an orderly row. Six children along with an older woman, who obviously was very pregnant even though she concealed it well under a very loose Hubbard style maternity dress.

Senor Frederson, Senor Montoya and Senora Sterling~Montoya, Solomon said, stopping in front of them as he said their names, Este es mi familia. My family. Those who work with the peaches and those who will be here to help you in your new home.

Lillian could not stop herself and walked down the line of children. She did not miss the pride in the man’s voice when he, in way of introduction to his beautiful family, said their names.

Rosaria, our oldest, Major from last night, Joseph, Della, Genevieve and Thomas.

He stopped to stand beside the pregnant woman and smiled most handsomely. He smoothed down his moustache before he spoke. Mi esposa, Juanita, my wife.

The short Mexican woman with two very black braids wound around her head extended her hand and then started to pull it back.

Lillian caught and held her hand. My pleasure, Juanita, she said.

Della translated.

Shyly, the woman responded, no, es mi placer.

Lillian leaned forward and touched her check to Juanita’s. You are beautiful, she said.

Que? Juanita questioned, catching her husband’s eye, not sure what to do.

Hermosa, he beamed. Yes, mi esposa is very beautiful to me.

Lillian stepped back and took her husband’s arm. They are so beautiful, she said, appraising the children with their dark eyes and clean faces.

The girls had shiny black braids hanging over their shoulders and the boys were neatly groomed, their hair combed back. Although his mother was holding his baby hand, Thomas squirmed to get away so he could chase after a bug he had seen crawling across the ground. His father’s firm hand on his shoulder slowed his efforts.

When is this child due? Lillian asked, stopping her mind from acknowledging the fact she had never had her own children. Here this woman stood with six of them and expecting one more.

When God wills, Senora, Solomon said. He understood this baby had made his wife sickly and the birthing was about a week overdue according to the mid-wife.

Lillian gripped Paris’ arm a little tighter and took Erwin by the arm as well. I believe I speak for Erwin and my husband when I say we are here to learn but more importantly to be of help to you in this, your home where we hope to make our home.

Erwin blushed and glanced off toward a flat topped mountain in the distance. He was not accustomed to speaking to people even if they were for the most part children and was not sure what to say. He was relieved Lillian had spoken for him.

By all means, Paris added. We wish to become a part of your family here in this Palisades place of fruit trees. Obviamente la señora necesita tiempo adicional para descansar y los niños necesitan para jugar, He said in perfect Castilian Spanish.

Oh, Senor Montoya, you speak Spanish? Solomon exclaimed, having only heard the man speak English with little to no accent.

Yes, Paris answered. Pero it is from Spain, my country, and different from what you speak here. It is not easy to cross that line as Spain is different from Mexico. But in any language it does not take a very wise man to see your wife needs to rest and your children wish to go play.

As you say, senor. But, Juanita is here to see to breakfast, with Rosaria’s help. My sons have their chores in the orchard. The girls will play and take care of Thomas.

Her spoke to his wife in Spanish and she, without a word, walked toward the house with one hand on the underneath side of her stomach and the other on the top side. Rosaria dropped her eyes to the ground and followed her mother. Della scooped up her younger brother and also followed her mother. Genevieve ran off to sit down under the shade of a cottonwood tree where she started piling dirt from one pile to another oblivious to the adults.

Lillian was not sure about this as the woman appeared to be very uncomfortable. Yet, she kept her thoughts to herself hoping these Mexican people knew what they were doing. Although she knew nothing about pregnancy, in Lillian’s opinion, this woman was due to deliver.

The two older boys took off down through the orchard and for the first time, Lillian seriously studied the trees. She could only assume they were the peach trees she knew had to be here. They were not what she had expected and only one word came to her mind as she viewed them.

Scraggly!

Lillian Anne Sterling had never seen such uncomely trees in all her life. It seemed hundreds of them, row upon row, were in every direction as far as she could see in all directions from the house. Except to the North of where the house stood close to the road.

She looked across the road to some desert flats and dunes, covered with strange appearing shrubs only to have her vision stopped by a huge, what she thought to be a strange excuse for a mountain which obstructed her view. This was the oddest, most unusual pile of dirt and rocks she had ever seen with absolutely no vegetation on it anywhere she could see. It looked like a big lump of gnarly dirt with two crowns on top of it and ridges running up and down.

She returned her attention to what passed for trees with their treelike trunks, green leaves and branches. They appeared to be upside down in some way as they were squared off on the top with spriggly, spraggly branches protruding at odd angles from their flat tops. She could also see what seemed to be clusters of pale green marbles growing from the branches.

Paris, she said, very quietly while she frowned, Are those the peach trees?

Paris could see she

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