Chapter 8
Astride a big, handsome black horse, the rider entered town from the west as Deacon circled Lambertson’s spread. Sitting high, he walked the horse quietly, surveying storefronts no different than hundreds he’d seen spring up across the west, first a saloon arriving followed shortly by a general store then a blacksmith with livery. It was said, and he believed, more towns were started by a wagon load of whiskey stopping by a river and selling off the gate than for any other reason, this one looking to be of that sort. Behind always came some nature of café where men poorly skilled at cooking could find a friendly female face serving eggs, game meat and pancakes with coffee no different than the one he saw just ahead and looked forward to attending.
Eyes covering each building in turn missed nothing even while seeming not to move, the smithy perched on an overturned keg watching warily. Strangers were common but this one, he saw, was less so if only for twin pistols in tied-down holsters rare to see complimented by a new repeating Winchester rifle in one scabbard paired with a shotgun in the other. Returning the man’s wave, the blacksmith was surprised seeing a face younger than expected, likely less than twenty five and closer to twenty, framed by long, curling brown hair reaching his shoulders. Beneath, the riders chest, arms and shoulders bulged befitting one raised in Michigan farm country where cutting firewood, hauling rocks and handling plows were everyday activities from youth.
Adam Pike knew precisely what the smith saw while giving no thought to it or to what was not seen. Under his finely tanned brown vest cut deliberately long in the back, a six inch Arkansas toothpick lay snug in its holder fastened to his belt, the tie easily loosened by practiced fingers for occasions when a knife was needed in a hurry. His left inner pocket contained an over-under derringer seized from one of the murderous Barstow gang after he captured those five outlaws while in a matching pocket on the right was pinned his badge reading “United States Marshall”.
Walking the horse, Adam considered if any in this town knew him before deciding it unlikely. In most of Wyoming, Idaho or northern Colorado, at least one would but this place he’d not had call to visit so might be unknown. The people here, however, weren’t unknown to him. Just as the buildings looked familiar, stories of each settler were as well, having heard thousands of men and women tell how they arrived in the west and why. Details varied some but rarely anymore did Pike hear one explain moving west for reasons or in ways that surprised him. Opportunity drove most, the law a few, with all sharing exceptional levels of will and acceptance of risk required to join the first wave ahead of a flood to follow.
Pike had been one of the first true settlers coming west, dispatched by his family long before the Civil War ended to find and claim land with good graze and water suitable for the kin. Their Pa saw clear the end of that conflict would bring lower prices for his land and crops as the South began to rebuild and figured rightly Western lands would be cheap until displaced families and soldiers freed from uniform began to move. The youngest of three brothers and a sister, Adam diligently pursued his duty, scouring land from southern Minnesota through Nebraska and New Mexico before turning north to Denver and Colorado where a small range he named Checkmark Mountains won his heart and became their home.
That he’d been named the youngest US Marshall in history was no mere chance, either. Grace and good timing aiding strenuous work to bring favorable results, Adam’s recommendation to President Johnson for appointment as Marshall came from a newly seated Territorial Governor pledged to bring law and order to the north of Colorado.* Unsuccessful finding any sane man willing to accept a challenge so daunting or one crazy enough to get it done, Governor Cummings surrendered to his good friend and supporter, Denver City’s longtime US Marshall Jediah Hanks, selecting Pike despite misgivings older men always have about those younger.