“I’ve done it!” he shouted. “Mrs. Fraser, I’ve done
it!” He looked at the distinguished gray-haired woman who cared for his son.
He turned to Will, “Son, we are going west!”
“West?” Will questioned, “What’s west, Father?”
“It’s a second chance, my boy, a second chance.”
William Warren, Sr. had quit his job, sold the house that had once been his one
and only dream, and bought land. Land he had never seen, but
nevertheless, land. Land in Colorado.
***
It was the summer of 1880, and Will stood on the boardwalk outside the general
store in Toole City, Colorado, remembering his father’s excited words.
Actually, Will had not thought of anything else, since his father burst into
their Wisconsin home, shouting at the top of his lungs. Mrs. Fraser was
helping with the housework while father worked. She was in as much shock
as Will was.
It now seemed like so long ago, but finally after the long stagecoach ride from
Laramie, Wyoming, Will had awaken that morning, in Colorado!
Although they still had not seen the land his father purchased, Will knew they
would get there... someday.
Meanwhile, he was just a curious 10-year-old boy, eager to find out everything
he could about this bustling mining town. Starting with, why was there a
black and white Border collie crawling out from under his feet.
Will watched intently as the little dog wearily made his way for the dirt
street. The collie grunted, stretched his legs, sniffed the air, and
began his morning rounds.
Will watched as the dog headed first, toward the bakery, for a slice of freshly
baked bread. Then, last night’s leftovers from the restaurant around the
corner. Next, the butcher shop for one or two strips of bacon. If
he found any of the wooden doors closed, he would make a soft growl, and the
door would immediately open. At each stop, he left behind a smiling,
human, satisfied that he or she had done their duty for the black and white
Border collie. Finally, he would jump up on the wooden boardwalk in front
of the General store.
A sound startled Will and he turned to look behind him. A little girl come
out of the store with an old tin plate. The plate was full of
water. She placed on the wooden boardwalk. Suddenly the black and
white Border collie that Will had seen earlier bounded up next to the tin plate
and started drinking.
The little girl proudly said, “I see you've met Hermit Jack.”
The boy looked over the collie, then said “funny name for a dog.”
“Well.” the little girl said, “He is named for Jack Creek, south of town."
she pointed. "And any loud noises scare him; he runs under the
boardwalk and nearly burrows himself in a hole there. He’ll stay for
hours, just like that old hermit, up in the hills.” But I just call him Jack
for short.
Both continued to watch Jack lap up the cold water, giggling as most of it got
sloshed out of the plate. Then the little girl said:
“My name is Sally, my Dad owns the store here,” as she pointed back to the
building she had walked out of. “We’ve lived here nearly six months
now. You are new here aren’t you? You must have come in on the
stage yesterday.”
The boy was a couple of inches shorter than she was, so she looked down into
his eyes impatiently waiting for a response.
Will caught the girl’s gaze and took a step back. He was not really that
shy, just startled by her directness.
“Um,” he hesitated, not sure really how much information he was ready to give
out about himself, yet. “I’m Will,” he finally answered, and decided to
just leave it at that
Nevertheless, Sally pushed on. “Where did you come here from?”
“Laramie,” he said. “My Dad and I came in on the Laramie stage last
night.”
“I knew that silly, but I don’t think you lived in Laramie, I think you came
from somewhere else."
Will frowned, “Ok, this isn’t going to be easy,” he thought to himself.
“We’re from Wisconsin,” he finally stated.
Sally’s mouth dropped. “Wow! That is a long ways away. What
are you doing in Toole City?”
Will ignored her question and asked, “So is he your dog?” pointing at Hermit
Jack.
Sally had lots more questions about this boy, but remembered her father’s
warning that sometimes strangers do not like to talk much. She paused,
and then said,
“No, he’s not, he’s pretty much the town dog. No one really knows where
he came from, or when he arrived. He just showed up begging for food one
day, so everyone feeds him.”
Will nodded, and then a frown crept across his face as he said. “I’m
supposed to be going to school, where is it?”
Sally literally beamed as she grabbed his arm. Despite his efforts to pry
it away from her, Will found himself being drug down the boardwalk toward the
end of the street.
“I’m twelve,” Sally exclaimed. “But I’m the only twelve year old in the
school, so I get to help the younger kids learn their reading and
writing. How old are you?”
It seemed impossible, but Will’s frown grew even larger as he visualized this
girl helping him read and write. “Ten,” he mumbled to himself.
“But!” he exclaimed, “I don’t need no help with readin’ and writin’” he forced
a smile at Sally. She was not detoured, still bouncing with glee, she
pointed to a big red building at the top of the hill. “There’s the
schoolhouse she proudly announced.”
As the two children rounded the corner leading up the hill, Jack found himself
alone. He took one last drink of water, and then lay down in the dirt,
next to the boardwalk. His head resting on his front paws. He closed his
eyes.
***
Hours later, Jack heard laughter from around the corner. His tail involuntarily
thumped in the dirt. He stood up, but did not take his eyes off the corner.
Then finally, children of all ages began pouring out into the streets of Toole
City. Jack was delighted. He broke into a run, and greeted the
children, with a quick lick on each of their legs. Sally and Will
simultaneously shouted, “Hi Jack!” as the dog ran in circles around them,
jumping with glee.
Will heartily rubbed Jack's head, but then stopped when he heard the
clickity-clack of stagecoach wheels coming from behind him. When he turned
around nothing was there. Then the dust from the street began to rise
into the air, as six horses rounded a corner and stormed down Main Street.
Will’s face broke out into a smile of recognition, as the stage driver cracked
his whip high above the horse’s heads. They breezed past Will and Sally
engulfing them in dust. Will broke into a run, as he made his way past
the store to the stage stop. Staying where they were, Sally and Jack
simply cocked their heads to the side in unison, as they watched.
Will made it to the stage stop, catching the stage just as a big man jumped
down from the driver’s seat. The big man’s face also broke out into a
smile of recognition, as he put his huge hand on Will’s shoulder.
“Howdy, young feller!” he exclaimed
“Howdy Andy!” Will shouted back.
“How’s Toole City a-treatin’ ya, Will?" He responded
“Ah, I’m not really likin’ it much, everything’s new." He paused, looking
down at the ground. Then looked back at Andy. "It’s good to finally
see someone I already know,” he said as he extended his hand.
Andy ignored Will’s hand, and wrapped a big arm around his shoulder.
“You’ll see me every day at 4 o’clock.” Andy untied his bright red
bandana and shook it in the air. Dust
flew in every direction, prompting Will to cough. Then Andy reached into his vest pocket and
pulled out a shiny gold pocket watch. “Ha Ha Ha”, he added with a grin,
“Oops… guess some days it’s a little after 4 o’clock."
Then Andy opened the coach door and out stepped the mine superintendent with
his cash box full of the miner’s weekly wages. He nodded in the direction
of the saloons. The girls gave a simultaneous sigh that could be heard
all the way back to where the stage sat. It meant that once again no one,
well, no one new, had come to town. No strangers would be spending their
money on the girls, or buying drinks. The blacksmith turned and went back
inside, knowing he too would have no paying customers. The doors to the
shops closed with a thud for the same reason. Meanwhile the sheriff made no
movement at all, as if he automatically knew there would be nothing to move
for.
Of course, the miners now had money. Miners always ran to the saloons
with their weekly wages burning holes in their pants pockets. They would pour the
money out on the tables faster than the bartender could pour the drinks that
they demanded, in unison. Will had discovered that there were at least four
saloons in the tiny town. Tonight they would be full of shouting, music,
and the sound of cardboard playing cards hitting the table. Every miner in town
would be out, even the superintendent. Although he never drank, he could
always be seen leaning against the bar peering out into the crowd for anyone
needing a little assistance getting back to the broken down old Jack Creek
hotel. The hotel was conveniently located at the mine’s entrance and had
been put into service as a bunkhouse for the miners the first day of the silver
strike. Most of the miners were single men, so the superintendent
begrudgingly became 'caretaker' for most of them. William Warren
naturally was the lone exception, as he dutifully returned each night to the
room in town that he had rented and shared with his son.
He would occasionally
stop and peer over the swinging wooden doors of the saloon next door. If
any of the miners inside recognized him, he would return their nod.
However, their invitations to come in, fell on deaf ears, as William Warren had
far greater plans for his meager salary.
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