Chapter 36: A Place to Hide
Lowell Jackson’s ranch sat high on a ridge outside Fairplay, Colorado. From his front porch he could see cars on Highway 9 in the valley below him. One day in January of 1950, he watched from his porch chair as an old Ford pickup turned onto his road far below and began the circuitous passage up the mountain.
A light dusting of snow had covered the road earlier that morning, but the afternoon sun had melted it, and now the gravel road was in good shape. Lowell had lived on this ranch since retiring from the army in 1939. He raised horses and some cattle, but mostly he watched as the world went on its way far below. He didn’t get many visitors, so the old Ford crawling up the hardpan road was of some interest to him.
“Manuel, looks like we got company,” he cal
