My Town

From the day I walked into Colorado Springs, battered, confused, terrified, this town helped me put my life back together. The folks here are strong and good-hearted. They have been my salvation and inspiration. I dedicate this volume to them with my gratitude and love.

Dorothy Jennings

Chapter 1: The Colorado Springs of My Past

My folks moved to Colorado Springs from Kansas after Daddy's pa died. The farm he'd grown up on and worked for his entire life now belonged to his older brother, my Uncle Rick. Daddy wanted his own place so he packed up his new bride and headed west to a place where new opportunity waited.

Before long the farm was up and running and my parents decided it was time to start a family. Daddy wanted big strong boys to work on the farm and carry on the family name. All he got was girls-me and my older sister Maude. We worked just as good as any boy could have but Daddy still wouldn't even consider leaving us the farm when he passed. Ownership of land was a man's world and two young females could never have handled it-not as far as daddy was concerned. It was up to Maude and I, then, to find husbands Daddy thought suitable to take over his beloved farm.

The farm was a ways outside of Colorado Springs but that is where I met my husband. Once a month we'd go into town to visit the mercantile, then owned by Darren Bray. He and his wife Marianne had lived in Colorado Springs all their lives and worked up a good business. They were always kind to me and Maude when we came to do the shopping. Maude eventually married their son, Loren, but I had bigger dreams than staying in town allowed. I wanted to be out in the open air, tending to the farm like I had always done.

I soon fell in love with Marcus Jennings, a man with the desire to start a farm. We didn't court for long before we were married. Marcus loved me and knew how to treat me right. When Daddy died Marcus got the farm and we worked it together for many years. My fantasy marriage, however, did not last long.

Colorado Springs was the closest town but we lived far enough away that most people there didn't know we even existed. I tried to stay in touch with Maude as much as possible so I ended up spending even more time in town after we were both married than I ever did as a child. I became a part of the town and got to know many of the people there, but it wasn't until I came back later in life that I would really call it my home.

Marcus and I had three children together, two girls and a boy. Tom was the oldest and always protective of his little sisters, Loraine and Amelia. After my youngest daughter was born, Marcus changed.

One afternoon, while I was at the sink preparin' supper, Marcus burst through the front door of our homestead. "Pack up your things darlin', we're movin."

I brushed my hands clean on the apron I was wearing and walked calmly over to him. "You'll wake the baby," I warned. "Now what's this about movin'?"

"I bought us some land," he said with a large grin. "Down in Pueblo."

"Marcus you're talking crazy. We don't have enough money to go buyin' land."

"We had plenty saved. Won the rest in a poker game."

"But this is my mom. You promised Daddy you'd take care of this land. What's gonna happen to it?"

"We'll sell it," Marcus said without feeling.

"But Pueblo is so far. I won't see Maude…"

He cut me off. "Well that's just an added bonus no isn't it?" he sneered. "She won't be able to tell you what a bastard I am and that husband of hers will stop fawnin over ya."

"Don't I get any say in this?" I asked. I got my answer with a sharp slap across the face. I held my hand to my burning skin and looked at my husband in shocked horror. That was the first time he had ever struck me. I told myself he was just frustrated and that it wouldn't happen again.

The new farm wasn't mentioned again in words. We silently backed up as many belongings as would fit in our wagon. We tied the animals to the back so they could follow behind.

We had to start from scratch on the new farm and the frustrations that went along with it made Marcus an unpleasant man to live with. He started drinkin' a lot more often, leaving me to do his chores as well as mine. With three young children, this often left me with more than I could handle. When I didn't do things exactly as he wanted, Marcus resorted to beatin'. I took whatever he threw at me, mainly because I was scared he'd go after the kids if I didn't. One night he proved me right.

Tommy and Loraine sat by the fire, him teaching her his new favorite game, checkers. Marcus came home and found me in the kitchen, still trying to clean up from dinner, a meal he had missed. "Ya save me some food," he asked, coming behind me. He placed his arm around my waist and drew me to him. I could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Figured you'd be eatin' elsewhere tonight," I responded daringly. I knew of course that he would be expectin' a meal when he finally waltzed through the door, but something made me throw out his share that night.

"You're gonna regret that," he said, drawing his arm up to hit me. I dodged his blow and he hit his arm on the counter top. He left me alone long enough for me to walk calmly out of the room and to the kids. I didn't want them to see their father like that. "Come on kids, time for bed," I told them.

Tom was about to protest the end of his game when Marcus entered the room. "No darlin' let them stay up. Tom's old enough, aren't ya son?"

"Yes sir," the boy responded. "I don't need to go to bed with the girls."

"You think you're a big man now don't ya?" Marcus taunted.

Tommy stood up tall. "I am a man. And I ain't gonna let ya hit Ma no more."

That was all it took for Marcus to completely lose his cool. He struck Tommy, almost knocking him to the floor. I intervened then, not willing to let him lay another finger on my babies. "Marcus, you're drunk," I scolded. "Why don't you just go sober up and when ya get back I'll have your supper ready."

"You already messed up darlin'. Now I'm gonna remind ya what happens when you don't do what you're supposed ta."

I shuffled Tom and Loraine behind me and told them to get to bed. They remained only long enough to see me get a bloody lip.

Marcus beat me whenever he drank but I refused to forget all the good times we had before that. I held on to those memories and stayed with him so that the kids would have a pa. Tommy and the girls were the only thing that kept me goin'. I knew I couldn't leave them alone.

When Marcus finally passed out late into the night, I would sit by the fire and cry myself to sleep. I'd rarely share his bed and made sure I was up before he rose. Sometimes Tommy would wake and come down, finding me with tears in my eyes. I hated having him see me like that but it happened often.

When he was small he would crawl up onto my lap and wipe away my tears with the scarf I had knitted him. "Don't worry mama," he would whisper. "One day I'll be bigger then him and I won't let him hurt ya no more."

Years passed and the kids grew. Lori and Amelia ran off and got married without our permission. I always figured they blamed me for Marcus always drinkin' but I never thought they'd forget about me completely. But as soon as some handsome fella came along promisin' an escape, they took it. Tommy joined the military when the war broke out. I worried every day over him but had kept myself busy on the farm so I didn't think about it all the time. When I got the letter sayin' he'd been shot, I wanted to jump on the next stage out. Marcus had other plans.

"I need ya here," he insisted. "Ya can't be runnin' off. Tom has plenty of docs to care for him. They don't need a frettin' woman gettin' in their way."

"He's my son," I begged. "I have to go see him. What if he don't make it."

"Then you'll see him when he gets here in the wooden box."

I willed myself not to cry, knowing that would only worsen the situation. Under my breath, I could not help but asking "When'd you get to be so heartless." I had half hoped he would hear me but knew that it was better if he didn't. I saved myself a beatin' by keepin' quiet and stayin' home. Tommy let me know he was alright soon as he could but he didn't come home.

It took many years for me finally to work up the courage to leave my husband. One night he came home, more alcohol in him than I thought possible for one man to consume. He gave me the worst beatin' of my life that night. One that left me unconscious for who knows how many hours.

When I woke up, Marcus wasn't around. I grabbed my shawl as I stumbled out the door and wrapped it around me to fight off the chill that marked the presence of fall. I somehow managed to get on my horse and rode off, determined to never return to that farm or that man.