reason why.
The Tower Of Babel
With Four Mile Inn behind them, Letty and Eulis set off for Denver City. Whether they would admit it to themselves or not, they each had dreams of striking it rich. Funny thing was that their dreams never went beyond the strike. Eulis couldn’t see his future past today, and Letty was afraid to think of a future for fear of jinxing it.
But their excitement was obvious as they chattered amiably while hitching up the team. It continued through the early morning until they rounded a bend in the road about a quarter of a mile from their destination. There, hanging from the limb of a very large oak tree, was the claim jumper the men had hauled out of the Inn last night. Whatever personal goals Art Masters had entertained were over. And by leaving his body hanging in plain sight on the road into town, the message was plain. Claim jumpers and back shooters were not tolerated.
Eulis looked away and grew silent. But Letty kept looking, staring at the man’s darkened face and soiled clothes and as she did, noticed that he was wearing only one shoe. It wasn’t until they grew even with the dangling body that she saw the other one near an old wooden bucket that had been abandoned by the road. She’d seen men hanged before and was familiar with what some called the dance of death—the kicking and jerking that a hanging man does as the life and breath are strangled out of him.
“Looks like he kicked the bucket,” she said, and pointed.
Eulis’s eyes widened as he saw what she was pointing at, and then he looked at Letty, unable to believe that she’d just made a joke about a dead man.
“Dang it, Letty. You hadn’t oughta make fun of a man like that.”
“A man like what?” Letty asked.
Eulis frowned. “You know what I meant. The man’s dead.”
“So’s the fellow he back shot.”
Eulis was silent for a moment, then he looked back at Letty and nodded.
“You know what? You’re right. The fellow don’t deserve a second thought.”
Letty smiled smugly. “Of course I’m right. I’m always right.” Then she laughed out loud and elbowed Eulis. “And don’t you forget it.”
Eulis grinned and the moment passed.
Within the half hour, they came upon the gold camp. Eulis pulled up at the top of the hill to look down into the valley below.
“Holy Moses,” he muttered, and whistled between his teeth.
“What in hell is that?” Letty asked.
“You cursed,” Eulis said. “I reckon that there is Denver City, although I’d heard it just called Denver, too.”
“I did curse,” Letty said. “And, I miss-spoke. What I meant to say was, is that hell?”
The sight below was like nothing either one of them had ever seen. It was like looking at the inside of a very busy, but very violent ant hill. There were people everywhere—in the creek—in the dirt-packed streets—going into tents—coming out of tents—loading wagons—unloading wagons—and fighting. What seemed most at odds with the sight was the Arapaho encampment on the other side of the creek.
The land at Cherry Creek and the surrounding areas had been given to the Arapaho under the 1851 Fort Laramie Treaty, but once gold had been discovered, the treaty was as good as gone. The Arapaho were a small tribe with light skin and a predilection for chest tattoos, and they had learned long ago that to get along, they went along—often despite misgivings.
Their chief, Little Raven, had welcomed the white men, whom the Arapaho referred to as the “spider people”, which was an oblique reference to the white man’s constant habit of leaving roads, survey stakes and fences behind them as they went. The Arapaho even went so far as sharing their women with the miners, as was the custom of the tribe, in hopes that they could learn to live together. But it seemed evident that Indians and whites were never going to live side by side in harmony when the whites couldn’t even accomplish that among themselves.
There were men and tents and horses on the other side of the creek—and noise—noise at such a level that it seemed impossible any one word could be distinguished from the other. A few rough-cut buildings had been erected. Letty could read the signs from here.
One was an eating house. The only sign above the doorway said MEALS. Another was a saloon called ARLIE’S BAR. The third was a dry goods store, with a sign stating the obvious. They could