LUCKY ENCOUNTER
“SERGEANT, GET THOSE TROOPERS in line.”
“Straighten up, lads. Line up those columns.”
Lucy’s eyebrows shot up over eyes suddenly twice as large as normal. Looking down from astride the mule, she opened her mouth to speak but Israel raised his forefinger to his lips. “Shhhhh. Might be soldiers down in them thick trees close to the river,” he whispered.
He looked quickly around. A thick stand of heavy trunked cottonwoods was directly in front of them, like the icing on the cake of the horseshoe bend in the river that curved in their direction several hundred yards away. Downstream, the South Platte tapered, glistening through less dense trees in a west sinking sun, its rolling current framed by white, jagged peaks rising in the distance.
The mule stood at nervous attention; its grey-white muzzle pointed directly toward the source of the voices, one ear forward, one ear back. Lucy’s cheeks were twitching under her eyes. Reaching up, Israel set one gnarled hand on hers and squeezed.
“Israel, which side of that line you was talking about, between freeman and slaves, do you think we’re on?” Her voice was an anxious hiss.
“Don’t rightly know,” Israel answered quietly. “It’s called the Mason-Dixon line. Not sure if it even goes this far west. Weren’t nothing in the papers describing what happens to it near the mountains.” He looked furtively around. “But one thing’s for certain sure; we ain’t come this far to get turned in ‘cuz we be on the wrong side of a line some white men drew up. Let’s get over in them trees and hope those soldiers, or whoever they are, pick another route out of the stand.”
Lucy sucked in her lower lip and bit on it, nodding assent.
“We’ll get maybe twenty feet inside them trunks,” Israel breathed. “Have a little room to move and still be hidden. Hopefully, we’ll just blend into that grey bark. Let’s go! We can’t stand here in the open.”
As quietly as he could, he led Sally and his wife toward the tree line. Our clothes is mostly dull colors. He looked down at the grey, threadbare jacket that hung halfway to his knees, ‘cept Lucy’s bandanna. “Take that bandanna off, woman.”
Lucy blinked, an understanding flitting across her expression. She hastily pulled the bandanna off her wiry, salt-and-pepper hair, scrunching up the colorful cloth and holding it in her hands so it couldn’t be seen.
“By the twos, sergeant.”
“Yes, sir. By the twos, troopers. Smart about it now. Might be a general outside this tree line waitin’ to review you.” There was muffled laughter from a group of men.
Israel felt a slight lessening of anxiety when they reached the cottonwoods. Melting into the timber he looked behind him several times to make sure they would be hidden, or at least obscured by the outer band of trees to any eyes riding out into the open country where they had been just seconds before.
“Move them out, Sergeant O’Malley.”
“Yes sir. Forwaaaard ho-oooh!”
“Don’t wait for me sergeant. I will take over lead of the column once we are out away from the river.”
“Yes, sir.”
The voices were clearer now, nearer. The mule’s nostrils were flaring. Don’t be thinking about making no sounds, Sally.
Israel could hear the muted thuds of a number of horses hooves punctuated by the occasional snort and crack of branches downed by winter winds.
Now there were glimpses and flashes of blue sifting momentarily into sight, then disappearing as the riders moved through narrow alleys in the timber at what appeared to be a perpendicular angle to them. He exchanged a quick glance with Lucy.
Israel had positioned the mule’s nose into a particularly thick cottonwood trunk between them and the riders. Keep the big animal’s shape head-on rather than sideways.
A hundred yards from them, the first of the column of riders quick stepped from the tree line, their forms and uniforms clearer outside the trees. Army, sure enough, but how many and which way they goin’ to turn?
The cavalry troops did not turn. They continued to ride straight northeast.
Some of the tightness left Israel’s shoulders. He turned to Lucy, a slight smile beginning to form, then freezing at the distinctive click of a pistol hammer being cocked.
Lucy pressed her lips together hard to stop their trembling and the mule shifted his weight from one shoulder to the other without moving.
Israel slowly leaned over, inches at a time from behind the cottonwood.
A medium height man in a blue uniform with gold buttons stood twenty feet from them. Partially concealed by a tree, he had drawn his pistol, which pointed at them from the waist. He led a dark sorrel horse draped with a blue and gold blanket underneath a saddle, to which was strapped a saber and rifle scabbard. His wide-brimmed hat had an insignia of crossed swords centered on the crown; a braided, gold headband with twin tassels wrapped the base of the crown where it met the brim.
“Who else is behind that tree with you?” The man’s voice was wary, but not hard. He wagged the muzzle of the pistol slightly. “Come out where I can see all of you.” Israel took two steps to the side leading Sally and Lucy into view. He noticed two straight golden bars on both of the soldier’s lapels. An officer.
The officer’s eyes carefully searched Lucy, scanned Israel and then roved the length of the mule. “You are not armed?”
Israel removed his hat. “No, suh; all we got is a knife for camping and filleting fish and such.”
The officer lowered his pistol but didn’t holster it. He took a few steps toward Israel. “What’s your name, where are you from and where are you going?” Israel shifted his eyes to Lucy. Let me do the talking.
“We is Israel and Lucy Thomas. We come from the east and we’re hoping to settle out there to the west, somewheres over them mountains.”
“That your wife?”
“Going on twenty-five years,” said Israel, casting another quick glance at Lucy. There were tears streaming down her face and the trembling of her lips overpowered the clench of her jaw.
“Where exactly are you planning on going? Those mountains go on mostly forever. Give me a specific place that you’re headed to? Kinfolk?”
Israel swallowed and realized he was nervously playing with his hat. We’re headed to a place we never seen but we heard about. It’s called Uncompahgre.”
The officer’s eyes widened. “That’s clear down southwest. Some of the most remote country there is.” His eyes narrowed. Israel was sure he detected a click of realization in the officer’s expression. “I’m Captain Henderson, C Squad, F Troop, United States Army, Second Cavalry. We are based out of Fort Laramie, which is a good ways to the north.” He smiled. “Actually, we are based out of these saddles. Haven’t been back to the fort for weeks.” His stare was stern but softened as his eyes rested on Lucy. “Let me see your papers. The Army is the law out here, you know. There’s treaties and such that we are bound to uphold.”
Israel felt his heart sink. “Papers?” he repeated slowly, trying to buy time to think.
There was a hint of stern concern in the captain’s face. “Do you have your papers?”
Israel sighed, then drew his shoulders back. “We got our papers. They’s wrapped up. They is on newspaper so dry it could break apart.”
The captain’s eyebrows raised. “That’s it?”
Israel felt sick to his stomach. He nodded slowly.
“Let me see those papers.”
Israel hesitated. Captain Henderson smiled, “I’ll be careful.”
Israel went back to the saddlebag draped over Sally’s rump and withdrew the several pages of old, yellowing New York Times carefully wrapped in a handkerchief and pressed between two thin pieces of wood as protection. He delicately handed the bundle to Captain Henderson. Gotta get the tremble out of my hands.
The officer looked surprised. “You can read?”
“Mistress of the plantation taught me, though she weren’t supposed to.”
The captain’s eyebrows arched as he quickly scanned the still folded newsprint. “These are not official papers, Mr. Thomas. What is this?”
Israel straightened his shoulders again, shoving his hands in his pockets to hide the shake in his gnarled fingers and looked with a steady gaze square into Captain Henderson’s eyes. “That there is a cutout I made from part of an article in that New York Times paper.”
The captain began to unfold the brittle, yellow sheet. A small corner of it cracked and fell fluttering to the ground.
“I’d be obliged if you handle that carefully, suh; it cracks easy. One of the first things I ever read after the Mistress taught me. I aim to keep it; mebbe pass it on my kinfolk if I ever find them.”
The captain glanced sharply at Israel but slowed his unfolding, gently unbinding each layer of newsprint from the next. He paused momentarily, looking up from the task. “Mr. Thomas, these are not official papers. I ask again, what is this?”
Israel lifted his chin, “It is the Constitution of these United States. And there’s one part of that I want to especially point out to you, captain, suh.”
A puzzled expression flashed across the captain’s face; his shoulders lifted in a partial shrug and he continued the process of unfolding the paper, finally holding both edges, one in each hand. His eyes moved rapidly back and forth over the print, every so often lifting to Israel’s face and then back to reading.
Israel took two steps so that he was next to the officer and extended one long, skinny dark finger pointing toward the top left of the long columns of print. “Captain suh, read these words if you would please, where it begins with All men are created equal.…”
The captain turned his head sideways to Israel, a look of understanding suddenly replacing the authoritative expression he had worn to that point. He cleared his throat. “I’ll do that Mr. Thomas. Matter of fact, I will read them aloud. We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.”
After reading the first line, he raised his eyes to Israel’s and completed the entire preamble, his eyes never returning to the page. “That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed—That whenever any form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to affect their Safety and Happiness.”
Israel let several seconds of silence lapse. “You see, captain, these are my papers and they’re her papers,” Israel pointed at Lucy who was watching the exchange wide-eyed, “and they’re your papers. Matter fact, suh, seems to me you wear that uniform because of this paper and it seems to me there’s no papers more important than the one you got in your hands.”
Captain Henderson began to speak, but instead turned his head toward the sound of a horse coming at a gallop.
The rider reined in ten feet from them. The newcomer was stoutly built with wide shoulders and a shock of brown hair with a reddish tint underneath a blue Army cap with a black bill. There were stripes on his sleeves. “Sir?” He had drawn his pistol.
Captain Henderson glanced at the newcomer’s weapon and then at Israel and Lucy. “That’s all right Sergeant O’Malley. At ease. You can put that away.” The sergeant’s bushy red eyebrows surged upward. Shaking his head slightly, he reached over with his left hand opening the flap of the holster on his hip and shoving the pistol back into it with his right, taking care to fasten the holster flap after the gun was sheathed.
“Came back to check on you, captain.”
“Yes, sergeant, by happenchance I saw Mr. and Mrs. Thomas here through the trees, and came over to investigate their papers.”
The sergeant’s eyes moved from Israel’s face to Lucy’s, back to the captain’s and came to rest on the large yellowed paper in the officer’s hands. “Don’t look like no papers I’ve ever seen before, captain. We gonna take them back to the fort?” The tone of the sergeant’s voice made it clear he believed he already knew the answer and he raised himself in the saddle partially lifting one leg, beginning to dismount.
“At ease, sergeant. No need to dismount.” Captain Henderson’s eyes were fixed on Israel’s even as he was talking to his noncom. “In point of fact, these here papers are in perfect order. Might be the most complete set ever presented to me.” The corners of the captain’s mouth turned up in a suppressed smile and his eyes were kind. Maybe even respectful. Without taking his gaze off Israel, he carefully refolded the page, reaching out a hand and taking from Israel’s the handkerchief and two thin protective wafers of wood. He wrapped the old paper in the cloth, positioning the wood pieces firmly and gently on either side of the refolded article and then presented the rebound document to Israel.
“Sir?” The sergeant’s voice was filled with puzzlement. “You’re free to go Mr. and Mrs. Thomas.” He shifted his gaze to Lucy, drew himself up and saluted smartly. “My apologies, ma’am for delaying your trip.” Captain Henderson turned back to Israel. “If you’re headed to that destination you told me of when we first met, I think, if I were you, I would take a less settled route, though it might be a tad more arduous and the journey several weeks or two longer than following the Platte down to Cherry Creek and taking the usual route over Kenosha Pass.”
“Sergeant, hand me that pad and pencil of yours. I’m going to draw a map for the Thomas’.” The captain smiled at Israel. “Going to take more than one page with these little sheets, but I’ll number ‘em. Stand behind me while I sketch them out. It will help you remember.”
Israel could feel Lucy’s questioning stare on the back of his head. What’s he drivin’ at?
Captain Henderon’s pencil scratched industriously. “I would recommend you cross the South Platte several miles upstream from here where it widens out. If you keep a west northwest course, you will hit a large creek about a hard stones throw wide. That’s Lodge Pole Creek. Follow it ’til it joins another slightly larger river. That’s the Laramie River. Work your way upstream. The going is mostly flat ’til you hit the abrupt toe of the Medicine Bow Mountains south of the Snowy Range.”
He chuckled. “You’ll be able to see them peaks, and you’ll know why they got that name. A short ways into the mountains the Laramie bends hard south, and a smaller creek comes in from the west. It will seem like the better trail goes up the Laramie, but not at your age or as old as that mule is.” He nodded at Lucy. “Gets too steep.”
Good Lord Jesus, he’s tellin’ us how to stay free!
Follow the smaller creek west ’til it peters out. The trail is not much, but it will do. Some of the prettiest stands of straight-trunked lodgepole you will ever see. The climb is gradual enough, and the Arapaho call the top Fox Park. On the west side, the trail follows several small drainages down and though faint, is easy to travel. Stay out of anything that looks boggy or around beaver dams. That mule will sink into her belly. The valleys will get wider until you come out above a tremendous big area called North Park. You’ll see the signs and tree line of a river out some miles. That would be the North Platte and there’s a canyon to the east there, Northgate. Might be a good place to hole up a few days and rest. It’s good fishin’. Follow the Platte until it bends north, then keep heading west across and next to a number of smaller creeks and rivers—the Canadian, Michigan, Grizzly and Willow Creek.”
The captain’s pencil paused as he stared into the trees and thought. “At the west side of North Park are the Buffalo Mountains. You’ll take Muddy Pass below, and then Rabbit Ears Pass higher up which is marked by two tall columns of rock at the top. Can’t miss them. This is a big high stretch, and if your bones are aching when you get over, there will be hot springs on the west side. You’ll see the steam rising in the morning just up from the valley floor if you keep your eyes sharp.
“Once you’re over Rabbit Ears Pass it flattens out quite a bit. The river over there is the Yampa. It runs mostly east-west until you get about fifty miles from the west side of Rabbit Ears, where it bends south. Follow that bend. The Yampa will turn back north, but you keep heading south, sticking to the lowest areas and those trails will bring you all the way down to the Colorado River. You’ll know you’re halfway to the Colorado when you cross a good sized river flowing mostly east and west. That’s the White.” The captain drew another line on the page.
He looked up at Israel, pointing the pencil at him. “That Colorado is a big, powerful river. First really good crossing is about seventy miles down from where you will come down on it, just above where the Gunnison River comes in. Some call it Grand Junction. Cross there. There is a short cut, and a crossing by Brush Creek, but it entails another pass. I think the less up and down for your mule and your wife, the better. And,” he looked hard at Israel, “If the river has not yet dropped from the melt, you hole up until it does or you will all be swept away.”
Israel knew his eyes were wide from the building surprise at the wealth of detailed information the captain was sharing. He nodded vigorously, glancing quickly at Sergeant O’Malley. Them eyebrows of his get any higher, his cap’s gonna eat ‘em. I ain’t the only one flabbergasted.
Captain Henderson began to draw again. “Follow the Gunnison River upstream to what’s left of an old fort, Fort Uncompahgre, on the south bank. He craned his head back and up at Israel. “From here on, I’m less familiar. Only been down this far south two or three times. Once in a while I hear about various folks setting up a temporary trading post in what’s left of the fort, until they get run out by the Ute. This spot is a very large delta formed by the confluence of the Gunnison and the Uncompahgre. From there, follow the Uncompahgre up river to wherever you want to wind up. You’ll certainly be seen by Injuns, though you may never know.” He pursed his lips. “But I don’t think they’ll bother you on account of your age, you being Negro, and…” his eyes flicked to Sally, “…how old that mule is.” His one eye hidden from Sergeant O’Malley by the bridge of his nosed closed in a quick wink. “It’s a long way, for sure, but less people and less chance of running into…” The captain paused, “folks who would take from you what is yours.”
“Thank you, captain. Those there might be the best directions we ever received. How long do you reckon it will take us to get to where we are headed going that way?”
The officer’s eyes flickered over Israel’s legs, appraised the mule and lingered on Lucy’s swollen ankles. “I would say, Mr. Thomas, that traveling at the rate that would best suit you would put you up in that country at the first to mid part of September.” He paused. “Just so you know, winter can start up there any time around then. It all depends on the year.” He looked from one to the other of them, then abruptly turned, taking two steps to his horse and lifting himself stiffly into the saddle. “May the good Lord look after you.” His head swiveled toward his sergeant. “Sergeant, let’s rejoin the troop.”
Sergeant O’Malley’s eyes were still wide and his jaw slack. He looked at Captain Henderson, blinked, shoved his wide shoulders back and stuck out his chest. With a nod to Israel and Lucy, he wheeled his horse, as did Captain Henderson and the two of them burst from the trees at a fast canter headed northeast toward the distant cloud of dust that was their patrol.