27 July 1876 – Somewhere in Colorado

The sun beat down without mercy, causing sweat to trickle down his neck and his back.

Bright sunlight, dust, and sweat caused his eyes to burn, as he kept his gaze on the horizon. Boone Caldwell reached for the kerchief in his pocket and dragged it over his eyes, hoping it would ease the burning.

He had spent the last eighteen days on horseback, and just like him, his horse, Lucky, was looking forward to reaching their destination.

Where that was, Boone hadn’t yet decided.

Boone hadn’t had a destination, or a home for that matter for the last eleven years. The last time he had a place he called home, was the day before he left to join the civil war. The 10th Regiment Indiana Cavalry had been raised in the spring of 1864.

He could still remember how proud he had been when he wore his uniform for the very first time.

How proud his father had been…

Boone had left his home and everything familiar back in Jefferson County, Indiana, and marched off to war.

Because he was only seventeen at the time, he had been lucky enough not to be on the frontlines, but instead was tasked to guard chuck wagons and help in the camps. Over the next year he followed his regiment through Alabama, Mississippi, and Louisiana. After being enlisted for only thirteen months the Union got the upper hand and Boone was released from his duties. He mustered out of Vicksburg, Mississippi on the 31st of August in 1865.

Boone’s father had been one of the one-hundred-and-eighty-two brave souls in their regiment that had lost their lives during service. With no family to go home to, Boone didn’t return to Indiana but instead allowed himself to be lured by the promise of finding gold.

With nothing but a knapsack, a horse, and a hat to his name, he set off to find gold. Many others were lured by the riches of finding gold after suffering during the war. Freed slaves, soldiers, and even immigrants began to travel West; all suffering from gold rush fever.

Boone wasn’t any different.

He’d heard the news of John White’s big strike at Grasshopper Creek in Montana, and decided that would be a good place to start his life as a miner.

For ten years he traveled through various states, trying his luck at every new location where gold had been discovered. New Mexico, Arizona, Montana, Nevada, and Kansas, to name only a few.

Cherry Creek hadn’t delivered as much gold as Boone had hoped for over the last year, but it had delivered enough to keep him from using the money he had saved up from previous finds. Like that large rock, he had found in a stream in Nevada. It had been a magnificent son of a gun, weighing in at 7 ounces. He’d made quite a few more good finds in Nevada, but none reaching that weight.

That had been his largest find to date. Not only had it paid for the Colt Peacemaker on his hip, but it had allowed him to buy a Boss of the plains hat as well. The coins that were jangling in his saddlebag were also mostly from that find.

His someday-fund, as Boone liked to think of the drawstring bag he saved his money in.

Because someday he hoped to settle down, but until then, he and Lucky were destined to scour the streams for more gold.

He didn’t have a specific town, or state for that matter, in mind for their next stop, but he knew heading West was always a good choice when you were looking for gold. 

The scent of spruce trees carried to him on the breeze as he admired the mountains in the distance. The Rockies were just as majestic as the tales he’d heard about them. Regardless of the heat, or the fact that it was summer, snow-capped the peaks.

“Won’t ‘cha look at that, Lucky. Ain’t it the prettiest sight?” Boone asked his horse while rubbing his neck.

He often had conversations with Lucky, especially when they’d been riding without seeing a single person for days.

The horse whinnied, as if he agreed with Boone.

Boone glanced up at the sky and saw it was a little past noon. “The next stream we find, we’ll take a rest. We can rather put in a few more miles after dark, than riding in this heat.”

He thought about what food he had in his saddlebag and decided it would be jerky and canned beans for lunch. It was a good meal, but when you’ve been having it every day for going on three weeks, it lost its appeal.

“Let’s hope we find a stream with one of those large plain cottonwoods for shade. Might even take a nap,” Boone considered as he reached for his bottle.

There was little more than two swallows of water left. He cursed under his breath for drinking it before he knew where they would next find water.

“Where there are mountains, especially snow-capped mountains, there’ll be streams.” He assured both himself and Lucky.

They covered a few more miles before Lucky’s ears twitched. Horses could smell water miles away and Lucky only did that when he heard a stream trickle through the landscape or smelt a lake.

“Go find it, boy.” Boone sat up straight in the saddle and took hold of the reins just in time as Lucky began to gallop in a north-western direction.

Sure enough Lucky had heard a stream. With no shade trees in sight, Boone urged him further upstream until he saw the perfect tree for an afternoon nap. It was a plains cottonwood, larger than most houses.

Its branches stretched out like a man after a long day’s ride, its lush foliage green as emeralds. Its shadow was dark and wide, promising a reprieve from the hot sun. As they neared the large tree, Boone heard the sound of water falling.

Curiosity made him urge Lucky on just a little further than the tree.

A smile curved his mouth at the sight of the rocky outcrop with water falling over its edges. Couldn’t have been more than five feet high, but it was a waterfall nonetheless. At the foot of the waterfall was a sparkling clear pool luring Boone to cool down before his nap.

He slid out of the saddle, leaving Lucky to roam free while he moved towards the stream. Boone leaned over the bank and filled his water bottle before he drank deeply. When he opened his eyes he saw Lucky doing the same only a few feet away.

“See, Lucky, I told you we’d find a nice spot to rest.” Boone grinned at his horse before he began tugging off his boots.

A falcon’s cry sounded through the air. Boone looked up from his boots just in time to see the falcon swoop low over the creek. Its cry could be heard for miles around.

For a few moments, Boone didn’t have a single care in the world. He basked in the serenity and the beauty of the falls and the landscape that surrounded him. During his travels, he had seen many beautiful places, but something was different about this place.

It seemed to feed his soul on some elementary level.

He drew in a deep breath and relished the scent of pine and spring water before he let it out on a deep sigh.

A few moments ago Boone had planned on riding long after dark, but now he couldn’t imagine leaving this place at all.

His mind began to race at the speed of a runaway train as he looked around and ideas began forming in his mind. He calculated how much money he had in his someday-fund and glanced at Lucky who was grazing nearby, tired of a long day’s work.

There would always be more gold, Boone realized, but would he ever find another place like this? Colorado was one of the states that offered land to accelerate the settlement of the West. He wasn’t sure exactly how many acres he could claim, but he knew it would be in the vicinity of a hundred-and-fifty.

Surely hundred-and-fifty acres would be enough for a homestead and perhaps even a few head of cattle? There was the filing fee, but Boone would pay it in a heartbeat if it meant he could call this little patch of paradise home.

He straightened up from where he had been kneeling on the bank of the creek and moved towards Lucky. With the patience of a man who had all the time in the world, he unsaddled his steed.

“I think we’re done ridin’, Lucky. Whatcha say about you and me makin’ us a home right here?” Boone asked as excitement began to course through his veins.

The horse nickered before shaking his head up and down. Sometimes Boone really thought the horse understood everything he said. “You like that idea, huh?”

Boone chuckled and glanced at the small waterfall once more. “We’ll call it Falcon Falls.”