Collected Stories 2

LIFE OF O. E. HOBACK as told to Edna Greet (Vernon’s grandmother).

Arriving in Denver, he found that he was still a long way from either brother.  He had only a few dollars left, so he talked to the ticket agent, who named the different places to which his money might take him.  Oscar decided on a ticket to Colorado Springs, which was still not very near to either brother.  Joe was working on a ranch on Gypsum Creek, on Eagle river, and Will had a homestead on the head of Flag Creek, 14 miles south of Meeker.  When Oscar got to Colorado Springs his pockets were empty except for a knife and a few matches.  He tried a job of ditch digging, but was too light for the work.  Starting out to walk, he stopped for a night with a family named Breedlove.  They persuaded him to stay with them until after Christmas, and were very kind to him.

I’ve inserted a map to help you envision his travels. Eagle, Colorado is where I’ve put a dot and underline.    Back then, Interstate 70 did not exist. He went south, then worked his way northwest.

 When Oscar left the Breedlove home after the holidays, he deliberately left behind him the satchel containing the clothes his step-mother had fixed for him.  He was not very warmly dressed and had no overshoes.  He followed the old Midland railroad, which went through Manitou, Flourescent, (Florissant?) and Idlewild Canyon on the South Fork of the Platte River.  New Year’s Eve he walked through Flourescent and shortly afterward came to an abandoned sawmill town, ghostown.  The buildings had been left furnished, and some of them even contained food and fuel.  It would seem an ideal place for him to spend the night, as it was growing dark.  But the utter desolation of the place oppressed the boy, and when a hoot owl started hooting at him he fled in a panic.  No one, not even a dog, only a hoot owl, got spooked and couldn’t get out of there fast enough.  Back on the railroad right of way he took his knife and matches and built a bonfire to warm himself.  But he hardly had it going good when the section walker came along and ordered him to move on.  He said there was a section house around the bend where he could stop.  Several bends later he came to the section house, where the foreman took him in and warmed and fed him.

     In the morning he started on again.  The next town was Hobart, and there he jumped a freight.  He was riding the couplings between the cars when the brakeman found him and took pity on him.  He took Oscar to the caboose, where he rode until they reaches Buena Vista.  From there he walked the seven miles to Northrop.  Nathrop? Nathrop is south of Buena Vista and it seems strange to head south, but what was 7 miles!? There he went to work for a while, helping an Irishman named Dick Goodwin (Yorkie) chop ties in the timber.  Oscar then got a job as flunky at a charcoal camp.

     This camp had six big kilns in it, each 20 to 30 feet high.  They were built of stone, with outside stairways to reach the vents which were used to regulate the draft.  The color of the smoke was the only guide as to whether the charcoal was burning correctly.  The wood – pinion pine preferred – was arranged in a certain order for burning, and it sometimes took tow weeks to burn a kiln-full.  After the wood was burned the vents were closed, putting out the fire, and then the doors were opened.  At least a foot of liquid from the wood would be drawn off and saved.  The charcoal was sent to the smelter.

     Young Oscar, now nearly 16 years old, and the greenest of tenderfeet, was roughly handled at this camp, where he was considered fair game for their practical jokes.  It was there he got his first taste of whiskey.  Two of the men held him down while a third poured half a pint of the raw liquor down his throat.  Of course he was very sick and a very drunk boy.  This and other things rankled him, and when he got ready to leave about the first of June he planned his revenge.

(to be continued)

Photo of charcoal kilns in Coaldale, Colorado.

   

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