The Reckoning

By Douglas Orahood

Jake Tanner’s assignment as a United States Federal Marshal in the newly minted state of Colorado is complicated by an influx of trappers, mountain men, and prospectors. Added to this collection of immigrants are settlers filing homestead claims and cattlemen looking for free grazing land.

Jake, in addition to keeping the peace, takes advantage of the Desert Act of 1877 and acquires enough land to start a cattle ranch of his own. Success as a federal marshal and cattle rancher is assured until mysterious events occur. Although relatively minor at first, these episodes become increasingly serious until the lives of Jake’s family are threatened and innocent people are killed.

Has Jake’s former life as a federal marshal in Kansas finally caught up with him? To find out, Jake devises a plan to find his adversary and bring him to justice. Simple as that plan seems to be, though, catching his ghostly opponent is far more complicated than foreseen. Will more people die before the identity of Jake’s diabolical antagonist is disclosed and justice is served?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Sep 12, 2019
• ISBN: 9781480881181

Douglas Orahood

Douglas Orahood is a retired United States naval officer and California public school administrator. He is also the author of Retribution, the first in a two book mystery series set in the late eighteen hundreds.

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Copyright © 2019 Douglas Orahood.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Archway Publishing

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Interior Map Image Artist: Otto Coonrod

ISBN: 978-1-4808-8119-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4808-8117-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4808-8118-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019911591

Archway Publishing rev. date: 8/12/2019

CONTENTS

Dedication

Acknowledgements

Introduction

Chapter One November 1881

Chapter Two September 1883

Chapter Three

Chapter Four March 1884

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven May 1884

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten 1885 - 1889

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen Two Weeks Later

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Historical Places And Events

Historical People

Bibliography

DEDICATION

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TO MY LOVING AND PATIENT wife, Charlene, for sixty-three blissful years of marriage and our four wonderful daughters, Pamela, Peggy, Holly, and Sally, our little angel in heaven who is the spiritual glue that holds us eternally together, this book is lovingly dedicated.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

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IT IS WITH SINCERE GRATITUDE that I acknowledge my wonderful family and many friends who contributed so much to this book’s completion after three challenging years of sweat, blood and tears. I would be remiss, however, if I did not acknowledge and thank all those who gave their time and energy in taking my less than scholarly efforts and making them something that I am very proud of. I would first like to thank my three readers, David Higbee, Joanne Rasmussen, and Ryker Ericson, for gently pointing out my errors and omissions. Next, high praise must go to my editors, Mary Griffin, Pam Ingram, and Pattie Mortensen, for making my book the quality product I always hoped it would become. And, of utmost importance, this book could never have become a true historical fiction novel without the help of James Wetzel, director and curator of Delta’s history museum, who spent many hours reviewing my manuscript for historical accuracy against my liberal literary license. Finally, in order to provide readers with a visual sense of the story’s geography, I asked my talented graphic artist friend, Otto Coonrod, to draw the map shown in the first pages of the book. Credit must also be given to my good friend and neighbor, Gary Bird, for his stunning photograph of my T-Bird and me.

As an additional note, after three visits to Delta County, the first about six years ago when I first contemplated writing this novel, and two during the past three years, I would like to express my appreciation to the citizens of Delta, Hotchkiss and Paonia for their welcoming reception. It might also be interesting to know that I initially visited Delta County, and Paonia specifically, because many years ago my uncle, Burt Tucker, was a Forest Service Supervisor for the Grand Mesa National Forest and lived in a house on the hillside overlooking Paonia that my father helped build.

IN MEMORIUM

FOR

Major Sidney B. Johnson, USAF, Ret.

My dear friend and fellow Viet Nam veteran.

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Northwest Colorado Settlements Map, 1883

INTRODUCTION

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THOUSANDS OF YEARS AGO AN ancient tribe of men, women, and children slowly migrated across the Bering Strait into, what is today, Alaska. During the following centuries, they continued their wanderings east and south through Canada and North America, where it is believed they became the ancestors of various Shoshone Indian tribes. One of these tribes, the Utes, later became the principal occupants of northwest Colorado. For centuries thereafter, the Ute Indians lived a bounteous life among Colorado’s unspoiled mountains and wild grasslands. Rivers and streams flowing throughout the land carved twisting canyons through native forests, harsh desert land, and adobe dotted plains, all untouched except for the forces of nature until the arrival of the Spaniards and their slave trade in the 1700s.

The Spaniards were soon followed by fur trappers, mountain men, prospectors, and explorers, and the world of the Ute Indians became increasingly endangered as the white man began to exploit Colorado’s many riches and establish settlements. The final death blow for the Utes was the Meeker Massacre of 1879, when a self-righteous government bureaucrat named Meeker harshly attempted to convert the nomadic Utes from hunters and gathers to farmers. The Utes eventually revolted, with Meeker stripped naked and left to die with his mouth filled with sugar and his lower jaw hammered into the ground with a stake. This revolt was avenged in 1881 when the government expelled the Utes from their native hunting lands and forced them into desolate reservations in eastern Utah and southern Colorado.

It is into this period of upheaval that our fictional character, Jake Tanner, is introduced. In addition to Jake and other fictional characters, the names of real people living in Northwestern Colorado during this same period are included to provide a sense of historical accuracy but are not part of the fictional story. To help the reader differentiate between historical people and the book’s fictional characters, and to identify historical events as they occur throughout the story, a listings of each has been provided at the back of the book. That being said, welcome to THE RECKONING.

CHAPTER ONE

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NOVEMBER 1881

THE DOOR TO THE FOUR-SIDED iron cage slammed closed with a loud, resounding crash. Although this was the first time that United States Federal Marshal, Jake Tanner, had been locked inside a maximum security prison cell, he took comfort knowing he was not going to experience the crushing silence of long confinement. He knew this because this particular cell was only used for short visits with condemned prisoners.

Following the directions received a few minutes earlier from a stern, no-nonsense jailer, Jake sat on a wooden chair in front of a plain wooden table, both of which were firmly affixed to the floor in the center of the cell. On the other side of the table was another wooden chair, also bolted to the floor. Other than those stark furnishings, the cell was empty.

Time passed slowly, the minutes dragging by. Jake, standing over six feet tall with broad muscular shoulders and a serious demeanor, was not a man of great patience. He was about to make his annoyance known to his jailers when the silence was broken by the sound of shuffling feet and rattling chains. Soon, a man dressed in a soiled white shirt and baggy gray pants with no belt came into view, escorted by two uniformed prison guards. His long, unkempt gray hair brushed his shoulders and a scrubby beard of the same color covered most of his face. The shoes on his feet were not laced and he wore no stockings. On his wrists were iron cuffs linked together by a chain, which was then linked to a chain dragging between the cuffs around his ankles. Had he not known the man from his past, Jake would not have recognized him.

The guards opened a cell door opposite the one Jake had walked through, and roughly sat the man down in the empty chair across from Tanner. While one guard stood behind the prisoner, with his hands pressing down on the man’s shoulders, the other guard used a large lock to secure the chain between the cuffs on the prisoner’s wrists to a metal loop bolted to the top of the table. Both guards then left the cell, slamming the iron-barred door shut behind them, and stood just outside the cell.

For more than five years Jake had known this man as United States Federal Marshal, Frank Farnsworth, but that wasn’t his real name. His real name was Warren Langston, a former Confederate Army colonel who was soon to be hanged for the murder of over 100 people during an event known as the Middleton Massacre. He was also the man ultimately responsible for the murder of Jake’s mother and father.

Been a long time, Langston said casually looking directly into Jake’s eyes. Didn’t think you’d come.

I’m only here to see you hanged, Jake replied sharply.

Yeah, well, can’t say I blame you. I did you wrong in more ways than I care to admit. So, go ahead, get it off your chest.

You’re a back-stabbing, murdering snake, snarled Jake, who deserves to be roasted over a fire in hell.

Yep, I can’t argue with that, replied Langston as he leaned back in his chair with a small smile. You got anything else?

Yeah, you’re also a sniveling coward who betrayed me from the very beginning. I thought you were a man of honor and integrity, but the only reason you hired me as your deputy was you thought I’d find Flack and kill him before he could testify against you for murderin’ all those people. You also thought I’d find the $250 million in gold you killed all those people for and then kill me to get it, but it didn’t quite work out that way, did it, colonel? Now they’re gonna put a rope around your neck and drop you into the devil’s fire.

Okay, okay, enough! Langston shouted angrily as he sat upright in his chair. You’re right, okay, you’re right, but all this is your father’s fault. If he’d done like I told him we’d all be rich.

You bastard! yelled Jake as he abruptly stood up, leaned across the table, spat in Langston’s face, and used his right fist to hit the colonel in the mouth hard enough to split his lip and draw blood. My pa was an honest man tryin’ to do his duty as best he knew it. Deserting the army with them tintype pictures was the only way he could keep you from killin’ him and gettin’ rich off the blood of all those people. Yet, during all those years after the war when my pa was hard-pressed to put food on the table, and knew exactly where he buried the gold, he never took a dollar for himself. And if, as you say, everybody was goin’ to get rich, why did you kill all your own soldiers? Weren’t they supposed to get rich too?

Wars make people do a lot bad things, Langston replied. He sighed as he leaned forward in his chair and tried to wipe Jake’s spittle off his face with the sleeve of his shirt. My wife and children were killed and my plantation plundered and confiscated by carpet baggers when Union soldiers burned Charleston. After something like that, it’s easy for a man to become immune to his own atrocities.

Horse shit, said Jake with contempt. That’s just another of your damn lies. I’ve looked at your military record, colonel, and I know you’ve never been married.

Well, well, it seems you’ve done your homework, said Langston with a low chuckle. But what about you, Jake? I heard you found the gold and got a bunch of it for yourself. You feeling any guilt about getting paid off with blood money?

Damn you, Langston, Jake roared angrily. I didn’t know until almost a year later that the government was going to give me a 10 percent finder’s fee for helping them find the gold. All that blood is on your hands, colonel, not mine, and now you’re going to pay for every drop of it with your life.

Time’s up, Langston, said one of the guards as both men entered the cell. The hang- man’s waitin’.

Okay, okay, you made your point, Jake, said Langston as the guards unlocked his cuffed hands from the table, forced him to stand, and started dragging him from the cell. But what about General Sampson? He was the one who planned everything and told me when the train with the gold would pass through Middleton. Is he gettin’ hanged too?

No, answered Jake sharply. After I killed his hired assassin, Ray Gibbons, who twice tried to ambush me, there wasn’t enough evidence to connect him with you and the massacre. The trial, however, was enough to ruin his reputation and he was forced to resign as the president’s attorney general. Last I heard he had retired to his plantation in North Carolina. Too bad you didn’t kill Flack when you had the chance, colonel. It could be you sittin’ someplace nice and quiet while Sampson is getting hanged today instead of you.

Then you’d better watch your back, Langston yelled loudly as the prison guards dragged him down the hallway toward the gallows. He’s a vengeful man and sooner or later he’ll be comin’ after you. Mark my words, Jake. It’ll be you who pays in the end for ….

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It was with more than a small measure of satisfaction that Jake thought as he walked away from the prison, I guess he’ll never know that Leland Sampson was hanged yesterday.

CHAPTER TWO

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SEPTEMBER 1883

THE LITTLE TRAIN HUFFED AND puffed and spit steam at the passengers waiting on the small boarding platform twenty miles west of Salida, Colorado, the point where the Denver and Rio Grande – the D&RG - Railroad’s standard-gauge tracks stopped and all passengers, freight, and livestock were transferred to a smaller train that used narrow-gauge tracks. This necessity was the only way the D&RG could continue winding its way westward through the narrow, rugged mountains of the Continental Divide. Named the Baby Train of America, it was known to creep so slowly through the steep mountains that it was frequently held up by bandits.

How long do you think we’ll be delayed? Jake asked impatiently.

You should be on your way any minute now, sir, replied the station manager.

Have my horses and mules been cared for and transferred to this train as I was promised?

Yes, sir, Mr. Tanner. I’ve seen to it myself. They’re all in fine condition.

Thank you, replied Jake reaching into a coat pocket and handed the station manager five silver dollars. I understand there will be a few more stops between here and Uncompahgre.

Yes sir, a lot more ’n just a few. If you want to count ’em, they’ll be fourteen ’tween here and Gunnison, eight ’tween Gunnison and Montrose, and one ’tween Montrose and Uncompahgre. There’s also likely to be some flag stops, where people can flag the train down for a ride. A little train like this, puffin’ its guts out through the mountains, needs to make a lot of stops. Oh, and by the way, sir, are you aware that in August of 1882 Uncompahgre’s name was changed to Delta? Seems the post office thought the name was too difficult to pronounce or spell.

No, I was not aware, Jake said with a smile, but I completely understand the reasoning.

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After departing the Baby Train of America in Delta nine hours later, Jake wasted no time walking to the county recorder’s office, a rented log cabin behind the livery stable on the corner of Fourth and Main Street.

Good afternoon, Edward, Jake said pleasantly as he entered the office.

Jake. Mr. Edward Kellog answered in a hearty voice as he rose from behind his desk to greet his visitor. Good to see you again. It has been quite some time since we’ve last spoken.

A little more than a year by my count.

Yes, and it’s fortunate you have returned at this particular time because more and more settlers are coming to this part of Colorado looking for land.

I’ve heard the same thing, Edward, so I must ask if the survey we talked about earlier has been completed.

Yes, I’m pleased to say it has, and if you’ll come into my map room I’ll show you.

Over the next two hours, Jake and Kellog examined maps identifying all surveyed land west, north, south, and east of a small settlement about thirty miles north of Delta called Paonia. Each surveyed parcel was divided into 640 acres and had a unique number assigned.

Have any claims been filed for any of this land? Jake asked, hesitantly.

Yes, Edward replied as he pointed to a location on one of the maps. These two adjacent, 160 acre homestead claims along the North Fork River belong to Mr. Wade and his sons, Ezra and George. Mr. Wade, as you know, was among the first to settle this area in 1881, and did a wonderful job surveying all this land for you last year. What you may not know is that he named his settlement Paonia, after the Peony flower. He picked these claims for the same reason Mr. Enos Hotchkiss picked his settlement claim nine miles downstream; they are the best locations to ford the river.

Thank you for your help, Edward, said Jake as the two men shook hands, and within the next few days, if all goes according to my plan, you will receive filings to claim a large number of these parcels, parcels that will eventually come to be known as the High Mesa Ranch.

I look forward to that day, Jake, and to your commitment that this historic land of the Ute Indians will be preserved for generations to come.

Thank you, Jake replied gratefully, and I hope the survey payment I left with you for Mr. Wade’s service was acceptable to him."

Yes, he was very pleased.

Before leaving Delta, Jake visited three other men: Mr. Arthur Swank, Attorney at Law; Mr. R. Jackson, Delta County Bank; and Delta’s newly elected Sheriff, Ben Gheen.

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Thirty minutes later, Jake left Delta behind and traveled northeast through barren adobe hills and valleys until he came to the North Fork of the Gunnison River and the small settlement of Hotchkiss. It was now early summer, and, as he continued to follow the river northward, he found himself increasingly at home in the valley’s grassy low lands, bordered by the West Elk Mountains to the southeast, the Ragged and Ruby ranges to the east, and the Grand Mesa to the northwest.

The Grand Mesa, an area of more than 800 square miles, is the largest flat top mountain in the world and the land of 300 lakes. To the southeast, at the foot of the North Fork River Valley, is Mount Lamborn, towering 11,396 feet above sea level.

Herds of elk and deer, solitary bears, big horn sheep, and a multitude of other wildlife could be seen wandering this pristine land. In the clear blue sky Canadian geese flew northward in orderly formations while soaring eagles swooped down to feast on small prey. Groves of broadleaf cottonwoods and boxelders fought for space along the river’s edge while Coyote and Rocky Mountain willows, alder, and river birch occupied the upper streams. Serviceberry, red-osier dogwood, and skunkbush dotted the flood plain, and wild flowers of every description were just now springing to life with the first of their seasonal blooms. As beautiful and vibrant as the North Fork River Valley proved to be, Jake was equally impressed with its temperate climate and rich soil for growing a multitude of crops.

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The next day, Jake reined his horse to a stop in front of a log cabin that served as Paonia’s general store and post office. After dismounting, he securely tied the reins of his two horses and the lead ropes for two mules around the store’s hitching rail and entered the store. He was greeted by a thin, round-shouldered, middle-aged man standing behind the counter wearing a soiled white apron tied at the waist. His full head of black hair was closely cropped around his ears and a bushy, handlebar mustache sprouted beneath his nose. Samuel Wade was not only an experienced surveyor, he was also a Civil War veteran, farmer, sawmill operator, postmaster, and father to twelve children.

Mr. Tanner! exclaimed Mr. Wade as he rushed forward to greet his friend, I hope you’ve returned for good.

Mr. Wade, Jake replied with equal pleasure. I thought you might not recognize me after my long absence.

Yes, yes, of course I remember you, and I hope you were satisfied with the survey maps I gave Mr. Kellog.

More than satisfied, Mr. Wade, and I can understand why you and Mr. Hotchkiss were among the first to record your claims. I only hope I can be as successful when it comes time to record my own claims.

"I have no doubt you