I awoke and pulled my blanket closer to me. Night in the high mountains was frigid, even in the summer. I could see Rusty, my dog, curled up beside the remnants of last night’s campfire, the glow from its embers highlighting his shape. Behind me, in the trees, I could hear Sam, my horse, as he shuffled his hoofs in the undergrowth. I was anxious for morning to come, for I knew that by noon today, I would be starting a new chapter in my life. The trees that surrounded us did not move in the early morning stillness, and as I looked up through their branches, I saw many stars twinkling in the blackness of the night sky.
I rolled over in an attempt to return to sleep, but the combination of the hard ground and building anticipation made further sleep impossible. Finally, I threw off my blanket, got up, and walked over to the campfire. Stirring the embers and adding more wood brought the fire back to life, and I welcomed the heat created. Sitting close to the fire, I waited for the dawn and contemplated my life and its strange twists and turns. Looking forward, I hoped this new opportunity would finally bring me the peace that had so far eluded me. It would be nice to come home to a soft bed every night in a home protected from the elements.
My life started in St. Louis seemingly ages ago. I was born the oldest of three children in a family made wealthy by selling supplies to the people moving west. Our house bustled with activity; relatives and neighbors, stopped by regularly. For as long as I could remember, the local schoolteacher would have Wednesday night dinner with us, and the preacher would join us for Sunday supper. Growing up, it was assumed I would take over the business and continue the family tradition of helping guide the local community’s growth. St Louis was growing rapidly, and everyone agreed strong, intelligent hands were needed to drive the change. Unfortunately for my family, but maybe fortunately for St. Louis, I was being pulled in another direction. School did not interest me, but the unknown did. Finally, at sixteen, I could resist the pull no longer. I said goodbye to my family and headed west on my first horse.
I taught myself how to shoot and soon became an expert marksman with rifles and handguns. I also learned how to hunt for food because I would have gone hungry many nights without these skills. It was all a great adventure at sixteen, and I wasn’t worried about the future or even where my next meal would come. After drifting from place to place, the realization struck me that life would be better if I had a job.
Opportunities were everywhere, but nothing could hold my interest for long. I watched the transcontinental railroad grow and hunted to provide meat for the crews that built it. I wandered the mountains and trapped animals for their fur until I tired of killing more animals than anyone could eat just so someone far away could have a nice hat or coat. I worked as a ranch hand and moved from place to place whenever I became bored with my current surroundings. I got as far west as Sacramento in my travels but thought it looked too much like the St. Louis I left, so I headed east again.
Finally, fate stepped in and gave some direction to my life. I was working on a ranch when a dispute arose with another ranch regarding grazing rights. The conflict escalated until both ranches were taking turns terrorizing the other in hopes of driving them away. I had worked for both ranch owners at different times, so I stepped up to bring some sanity to the situation. I negotiated a settlement that both owners could live with, and from that opportunity, a career of sorts was born. I found I understood a dispute from each side and suggested solutions that would be acceptable to both.
Word got around that I could help settle disputes peacefully, and the solutions were fair to both sides. I began to earn a living by traveling from place to place, resolving conflicts that had escalated to the point the parties could no longer live with the current situation but could find no solution. At one point, I worked with the governor of Wyoming to help settle a dispute with a neighboring state. Eventually, I went to work for the federal government as an Indian agent to build an environment where both the Indians and the settlers could live in peace. For several years I traveled the west, moving from conflict to conflict. I took pride in my ability to bring peace, but as I grew to understand and admire the Indians, I realized that the Indians lost something and the settlers gained in each negotiation. Finally, I could no longer be a party to a system that forced the Indians onto lands that had little value, all in the name of peace, so I quit in disgust.
I grew tired of the constant travel, with no place to call home. I now dreamed of finding a community where I felt welcome and could settle down. I took jobs as a town constable at several small towns for the next few years but never felt part of the local community. I ended up in Virginia City and provided security for one of the larger mines in the area. I found a room for rent over one of the many saloons in town; it was noisy, but the bed was soft. Virginia City was past its prime, but there was still plenty of excitement every night on the streets of town.
One night, while having a drink in the saloon, I met the editor of the Enterprise. Over the next few months, we became good friends. We would sit in the evening and swap stories for hours. He seemed to enjoy most of my time spent as an Indian agent, and I enjoyed the stories he would tell about a young reporter who worked for him several years previously. He was fond of saying that he would tell every new reporter, “Never say we learn so and so, or it is rumored, or we understand so and so, but go to headquarters and get the absolute facts; then speak out and say it is so and so. In the one case, you are likely to be shot, and in the other, you are pretty certain to be; but you will preserve the public confidence.” The young reporter had joined their team and was soon renowned for imparting the essence of any story he covered. Living in Virginia City had finally brought some stability to my life, but now I longed for someplace where I could settle down and build a home of my own.
I was at work at the mine offices one blustery fall day when in walked a young man that looked vaguely familiar. As we shook hands, we recognized each other. He was the son of one of the ranchers who started my career. He was in town for a few days to meet with the owners of the local mines, and we agreed to get together one evening to talk over old times. It turned out he was the owner of the largest mine in Bodie and was very proud of his little town. I told him of some of my adventures, and we parted company at the end of the evening.
As the following spring was turning to summer, I received a letter from the Bodie town council inquiring about my interest in becoming their constable. They were offering an excellent salary and some land on the outskirts of town. They would assist in building a house on the property. It didn’t take long to see that this was probably the best opportunity I would have if I wanted to settle down. I wrote back saying I would accept their offer and would be able to be there by the end of June.
The sky was now getting light in the east, and the morning was fast approaching. I tossed Rusty a piece of jerky and walked over to Sam to saddle him and prepare for the day. I doused the fire, mounted Sam, and the three of us left the tiny clearing that had been our home for the night. We climbed higher in the mountains and had gone above the tree line by dawn. Now we could see the mountain peaks around us, purple in the early morning light.
The sun was now high in the sky, and the day had turned very warm. We crested a hill and could finally see the little town of Bodie nestled in the valley below. There wasn’t as much activity visible as I expected, but then I noticed a small procession leaving town and heading toward the local graveyard located on a hill just north of town. I rode down the road leading to town, and as I drew closer, I could see a makeshift barrier across the road. I rode up to the barrier and saw the sign “NO ENTRY. THIS TOWN IS QUARANTINED.” Notes attached to the sign indicated some illness was spreading through the community, so no one was allowed to enter or leave the town to prevent its spread. It appeared I would have to communicate by leaving a note for the town council and checking back in the evening for their response. Sometimes it seemed that my life never took the easy road. I looked for a place to set up camp and contemplate my immediate future.