STOLEN FOR GOOD

STOLEN FOR GOOD

I left Highway 89 to find a camp spot along a dirt road just a couple of miles east of the Paria River when it happened. I was driving toward the Kanab construction office to collect my pay for a week’s work in Page, Arizona. I was utterly exhausted. I couldn’t afford a motel, so I planned to sleep under the stars that night.

It was Friday, early evening. There was still some daylight when I found a level area to park and set up camp. I needed to move some rocks to build a campfire. That’s when I saw it; a cowboy boot with a spur attached. The boot was weathered and looked incredibly old; the attached spur was black with oxidized silver.

I searched for the boot’s mate, moving more rocks, but found nothing else. The rocks cluttering the camp spot had evidently rolled down from the cliff face bordering my camp. In the cliff face, where the rocks had dislodged, there was an opening; it looked like a cave up there. An old trail led up to the opening, but I was too tired to investigate. It was getting dark, and I could wait until morning to climb up to it.

Sleep wasn’t easy. I was bordering on mental depression, fighting to stay out of that dark place. I was dead broke and needed money to support my family. I wanted to reunite with my wife, but that would take more money and a secure income.

My thoughts tormented me: “It’s not going to happen, Jaycee.” I needed help from above, though I barely believed it would come. Still, I offered a prayer for guidance and deliverance. Sleep finally came.

Joan and I married in 1956, right after high school. We had our first child the next year. I was terrified of the responsibility and struggling to make an adequate living as an auto mechanic. I was limited to an hourly wage and tried in every way to increase that income. I prayed; a lot. When I read a news article extolling the benefits of the Glen Canyon Dam construction and the growing communities around it, I was sure it was a divine signal.

It was a revelation meant to change my life. I knew I had to move my family. It was the right choice for a fresh start, and success would surely follow. We packed up our old Plymouth with essentials and headed for Page, Arizona. Bad mistake.

Opportunities around the dam were scarce in 1958. Jobs were few and paid little. Auto mechanics were plentiful and not in demand. Grunt work in Glen Canyon City, Big Water, and Page barely paid the bills. Our savings drained away on rent, and I was in a constant panic to keep food on the table. The only real opportunity I had was a partnership offer in a tire shop in Kanab, 80 miles away. It would be a lucrative business and provide a good life for my family. I desperately wanted that partnership.

But reality hit hard. Joan said, “What are you thinking, Jaycee? You can’t consider investing money we don’t have. We have no assets, our credit is maxed out, and a business loan is out of the question.”

She was right. There was no way to buy into a business. My construction wages barely met our obligations. Sticking with Joan’s realism, we gave up our apartment in Page. Joan left on a bus with our two-year-old son to live with her parents in Salt Lake City. I was alone, lonely, depressed, and homeless. I had a job but saw no hope for a better future.

60 YEARS EARLIER

Seth grew up on a homestead in central Utah in the late 1800s. He hated farming but loved horses. At 20, he gave up the homestead to ride with a gang of outlaws. His horse skills made him valuable, and he became a trusted member of Butch Cassidy’s Wild Bunch.

Seth, nicknamed “Dandy” for his stylish black attire and fine leather vest, managed escape routes and fresh horses for the gang. Though he shared in the loot, he avoided direct involvement in robberies. Unlike his fellow outlaws, Dandy had a moral code; he believed he could do some good with stolen money from the banks and stage lines. After every raid and every hold up, he would take his share to do something good with the loot. It was an obsession; a mission that justified his participation in the theft.

The gang's most infamous heist came on April 21, 1897, in Castle Gate, Utah. They stole over $7,000 in gold coins from a mining payroll without firing a shot. After the escape, Dandy split from the gang and headed south. He had a mission; he would do something good with his share of the loot.

His plan was to find the remote hideout of Paria, Utah, and lay low for a while. But when a bounty hunter picked up his trail, he was forced into a desperate race. Riding full gallop through the rugged Utah landscape, Dandy avoided capture. However, a bullet grazed his leg, and as infection set in, he barely made it to Paria. There, his friend Zack Johnson helped him into a hidden cave along the Paria River Gorge.

Suffering from fever and exhaustion, Dandy collapsed in the cave, his gold untouched. Zack promised to return with help, but he never did. A shootout with the bounty hunter left Zack dead. Dandy, alone and feverish, died in the darkness of the cave.

PARIA RIVER GORGE, 1958

I woke Saturday morning, recalling the strange boot and the cave opening in the cliff. Curiosity got the better of me.

Climbing the narrow ledge to the cave, I moved some rocks to let in light. Inside, I saw another boot; attached to a skeletal leg. The mound of sand in the cave concealed a partially mummified skeleton. Further back, an old sombrero lay beside some leather bags. When I opened them, I found gold coins and an old pistol in a black holster.

A dilemma. The skeleton was unidentified, the items had no clear owner, and the land wasn’t private property. Legally, I could likely claim the gold.

I spent the day restoring the cave, leaving everything as I found it; except for one small thing. On Monday, I collected my paycheck in Kanab and reported the skeleton to the sheriff. I handed over the boot and spur, provided directions, and told him I was headed to Salt Lake to reunite with my family.

Driving north, I knew Joan would be thrilled at our reconciliation and my newfound success -- owning the Kanab tire shop. Depression was gone. Panic subsided. My financial troubles were over. Someone had reached out in my time of need.

I wonder who it was.

###