June 13, 1914

Nellie knocked on my door at 7:30 this morning. Fortunately, I was dressed.

“Freddie was mad, won’t get the carriage and drive us to the depot. He shouted at me, ‘It’s my day off remember?’ Please Julius, get the carriage at the stable and take us to the depot. We’re going to be late for the train. We can’t walk along the tracks; it would be unrefined.”

“I planned on going fly fishing.” She stomped her boot on the porch. “Alright, I’ll get it.”

“Jose will go with you and pay, but he can’t handle a team of horses. Can you?”

“But of course.”

She waved at the café and the young Spaniard cook came running. We hustled across the bridge and down the river road. He said with a Latin tinted European accent, “The ladies are very crazy today. I think they are afraid of traveling.”

“It’s a daunting train ride, but I think they’re crazy nearly every day.”

“True.” Then he added, “Did you see the sign?”

“No.”

“It says, ‘Closed for Bat Mitzvah.’”

“That sounds mysterious enough. I wonder if the customers will understand?” I questioned through huffs and puffs.

“Probably not.”

We reached the stable. The hand looked at my attire and said, “I’ll drive.”

“I can do it.”

“No, it will be amusing to be with the ladies and besides, if you put the rig in the river, it would be the end of my job.” He pointed at the ready-to-go carriage saying, “Get in.”

“I can handle this team.”

“Maybe later.” He snapped the whip and shouted, “Get up guys.”

The ladies waited impatiently outside the café. The stable man truly enjoyed his duty. He quickly loaded the luggage. He gave each woman his helping hand and stared at their posteriors until they were seated.  Madame Ollie motioned ‘get in’ to Jose and me. I sat between her and Fran who immediately cooed, “I heard about the card game, you devil.”

Madame placed her hand on my knee and had my attention. “Here’s the key. If you have any trouble call Gus Durbin or as an absolute last measure, the Sheriff.” She watched my expression and added, “You’ll do fine. We’ll be back tomorrow afternoon. Jose, enjoy your day off and get the place ready for the evening.” He nodded with understanding.

Nellie pouted and stated to me, “You cheated.”

“You’re a trickster too.”  Smiles gleamed around the carriage, except for Syl and Phyl who contemplated their financial setbacks.

“I guess that makes us even,” she softly reasoned.

“Maybe so.”

There were several carriages waiting to cross the bridge. Nellie encouraged me to show the driver I’m not afraid of horses. I told her, “Bring your camera.” Jose and I scrambled out and Nellie followed. I ripped off my necktie, stuffed it in my pocket, climbed and stood on a horse with Jose raising his hand like a triumphant circus ringmaster. Nellie snapped the photo while the driver climbed the adjacent one shouting, “Get off that horse, sir.”

Madame called out, “Gentlemen, Nellie please, get in the carriage.” We obediently returned.

At the depot, the train crew, who knew the ladies well, stumbled over each other to help with boarding. I heard them plotting to tell the return crew, ‘Half price at Madame Ollie’s tonight!’ I will probably have to tell them she is closed until Sunday.

The girls waved wildly as the train disappeared and the stable hand let me drive the team to the barn. He was in a good mood. Jose and I walked to Brooklyn and fly fished cautiously in the still fast-running Yampa until about 3 o’clock. Then I sat on my porch, read a book, and started guard duty.

The railroad crew arrived first, primed with misinformation of half price fun at Ollie’s. They read the sign. I overheard one say, “They have bats?” and another replied, “I’d take a bite.” They all laughed, pounded on the door awhile and finally lumbered down the street to another establishment.

The lawyer, as I learned, named JJ, turned up next. The girls did not like him, obviously I took an immediate dislike for the rude man and his pistol. He was a walking crime waiting to happen.  The anti-social chap kicked the door a few times yelling, “Damn it, Freddie, let me in!” The dark building and no answer convinced him to leave. He saw me watching and growled, “What are you looking at Limey?”

“I’m the properly assigned caretaker of this property and you, sir appear to be trespassing.”

He strode toward me pushing waist coat aside and revealing the pistol. I pointed my silver tipped cane, glowing in the lowlight, at him saying, “You are giving me reason to raise cane with you, sir.”

“Well aren’t you formal, blondie and with a stupid weapon. I should shoot you were you stand.”

A voice boomed from the darkness, “Gentlemen, I noticed a heated conversation.” He stepped into the light of my porch, looked at me and commanded, “What is your name?”

“Julius Brandon.”

“Hmm,” he turned to the truculent fellow, “I know you Mr. Hysser and you have now trespassed twice. It’s best you head on down the road,” he pointed at his intention.

“Ah, Sheriff we were just having a friendly chat. Him being new and all.”

“Move on,” he ordered and kept staring at JJ until the scoundrel turned and sauntered away. Then the officer veered to me saying, “Carry on Mr. Brandon and with more caution,” tipped his hat and stepped back into the shadows.

If I said the butcher, baker and candlestick maker all read the sign and knocked on the door; it would be close to the truth. The irritation and out-of-temper reactions were palpable.  One gentleman, an acquaintance who will remain anonymous, lamented Saturday night was his only night out by doctor’s orders, a case of securitatis causa, a sort of compulsory chastity. He would be deprived for a whole week and he was not amused. I mentioned he could walk down the street and the man replied, “It would be like cheating on Syl or Phyl.” I did not tell him the mole on Syl’s left breast revealed the difference or remind him of his spouse. He asked me to send him a cryptic message when the ladies returned. Perhaps his wife would let him out on Sunday evening. I assured him I would let him know when his “fish” arrived.

One fellow with too much drink already, fell asleep, vexed, on the porch after sadly moaning for an hour, “Freddie, please open the door.”

I let him lie, the night was warm, and it seemed safe for me to retire, properly, as well.

(Realize, you have met my two adversaries in this story. CE)