Grand Junction, Colorado
Monday morning, July fourth, found us on our way into Grand Junction,
over good roads, and while we had to go a little slow on Kate’s
account, we had no special mishap. The country on both sides was taken
up by alfalfa and fruit ranches, and one or two small towns we passed
through seemed quite busy and prosperous. At Fruita, a little town
about ten miles out, we picked up an Indian and gave him a ride almost
to town, and, showing the Indian’s characteristic, he departed without
thinking it worth while to thank us.
We ate our lunch outside of town and as we drove slowly down the main
street, just at 1:30 P. M., looking for a place to put up, we were
hailed by Mr. Bradley and the boys, who had finished their lunch and
were out looking for us. They had arrived in town only an hour before.
It certainly was a hilarious meeting and, as they had located a
corral, we drove over there and put up the horses, backed our wagon
into the middle of the yard, and the race to be at Grand Junction on
July fourth was won, with 944 miles to our credit.
Just to feel at home we all repaired to the St. Regis Hotel to clean
up. This took some time, but when we finally got our store clothes on
we realized it was the fourth of July, hence, a holiday, and no mail
to be had and no stores open; so we took in the town and the newspaper
bulletins of the Jeffries-Johnson prize-fight, and also told the boys
how we had made and enjoyed the trip. The Doctor received a telegram
stating that Mrs. Lancaster would not arrive until the next evening.
That night we tried to lay out a plan for our trip to Denver. The
boys, Norman Bradley and Norman Harris, both wanted to ride horseback,
so we had to have an extra horse. Instead of three there would be six
in the party, so we must get our tent, which we had sent on from
Daggett, California, as we could not expect to sleep on the ground in
the mountains, and could not all sleep in the wagon. So we planned it
out that night after a fashion, although the Doctor was uncertain as
to just what condition his wife was in and, therefore, thought he
might have to go home with her.
This put quite a damper on the party, but we had decided to stay in
town a day or two longer to rest our horses and make our purchases,
and we hoped that Mrs. Lancaster would be well enough so the Doctor
could finish his trip with us.
We were up early the next day, shopping and getting ready for a new
start. The horses were shod and inquiry made for another one. The
question as to which route to take was discussed with various people
and we finally decided to go up the Gunnison River and over Marshall
Pass, instead of up the Grand River, through Glenwood Springs, and
over Tennessee Pass. It is a longer and harder route up the Gunnison
and I suppose we chose it on that account and also because we had
never been over that way by train.
In the afternoon while calling on Mr. Adams of the Delta County
National Bank, he asked me suddenly what hotel we were stopping at,
and when I said the St. Regis, he said, “Perhaps you had better go
over and get your things; it is on fire.” Notwithstanding his quiet
way of breaking the news to me I made a hasty exit and found, as I
reached the door of the hotel, that our whole party had arrived at the
same time from different directions. We found our rooms and had our
luggage out in short order, although, not having our keys, we had to
break in the doors. The fire, fortunately, did not do as much damage
as the water, but the guests were homeless, so to speak, and we
immediately sought out new quarters at the Navarre Hotel, and the
excitement was over.
I had not yet been able to find the horse I wanted. I had, however,
decided to let the boys ride Kate and Dixie. This would be easy work
for the horses. Dixie’s neck would get a chance to heal, and Kate
ought to be able to carry one of the boys and keep up with the wagon,
if she was not asked to do any fast traveling. Bess could pull her
share over the mountains, I was quite sure, with any horse, even a
fresh one, although she needed more rest than the two days she was
getting. Still, we expected our work would not be so hard from now on,
as we would have real roads and would rest oftener.
I located a big brown gelding that afternoon that was being worked
double on a transfer wagon. He was a tough one, I could see, but he
had so many faults I was advised not to take him. He would balk and
kick under certain conditions, and under others he would run away. He
was afraid of a gun and of automobiles, and was about as unsafe a
horse as one could pick out to take up in the mountains on a trip of
this kind; but I liked his looks and could not find another that I
thought could do the work, and so, after some reflection, I bought
him.
I knew that if he took a notion to run that we would probably be
wanting to go in that direction anyway, and if he got going too fast,
Bess and the brake could slow him up. If he refused to pull, I could
probably talk him out of it, and as a tired horse soon gets to be a
good horse, I was pretty sure that I could make a tired horse out of
him very shortly and, therefore, a good one. We would need him only
while our party was large anyway, and when the boys left I expected to
sell him, so we added him to our list as a liability, and the boys
having learned of his tricks, called him “Cyclone.”
We had nearly finished our preparations by evening and were quite
anxious to hear the Doctor’s report after Mrs. Lancaster arrived. He
seemed quite worried after he had met her and brought her up to the
hotel. We could not get him to say much that night, but the next
morning he told us he would have to go home with her, as he felt she
was too sick to go farther alone, and, although Bob offered to go with
her, the Doctor felt she needed a doctor’s care. So our party was
broken up, Bob deciding to go with the Doctor, and thus my two
partners of the desert were leaving.
I hated to have them go, but I could not ask the Doctor to stay under
the circumstances. Bob had made the trip on the spur of the moment, so
to speak, but Doc and I had planned to go through together. We had
followed many a trail before, sometimes on foot, often on horseback,
and again by wagon or boat, but always he was there at the end and we
would shake hands at parting and agree, when the frost came again, to
do it over. But we knew we would not make this trip over again and he
was not going through. I knew how he must feel, so tried to be
cheerful and talk about something else.
It was a very quiet party, therefore, which sat down to dinner
together. Mr. Bradley, the two boys, and I were to leave immediately
afterward. The Doctor and Mrs. Lancaster and Bob were going to stay
over and take the train the next morning. At one-thirty we had our new
team, Bess and Cyclone, hitched to the wagon. Norman Bradley was to
ride Kate, and Norman Harris was to have Dixie for his saddle horse.
Immediately afterward, having said good-bye to my old camping partners
and Mrs. Lancaster, we pulled out for Delta, Colorado.
Mr. Adams had given me letters of introduction to various people along
the route, so that I did not have that lonesome feeling in starting on
this second lap of the journey into the mountains that I did starting
on the first lap into the desert.