Before the 1860s, life west of the Mississippi was idyllic, a land virtually untouched by man.General Douglas MacArthur, writing about his father, a soldier guarding railroad builders during the westward migration, penned these words about the untamed frontier.

"…what a dazzling area it was — a lonely land of sun and silence. Not yet had the plow turned over the grass. Not yet had the land been spanned by ribbons of steel. Out there were still the horses, the cattle drive, the lonely rider on the mesa, the dust of the corral, the shone of saddle leather. Over the East and South still hung the smoke and bitterness left by civil war. But here, in the West, was a bright land of promise scarred only by the wind and weather — a land with unknown mountains to be climbed, alluring trails to be ridden, streams with strange names to be navigated by the strong and vigorous, a land of water holes, of dusty sagebrush, of sturdy pines."

And then came the railroads. Always on the heels of construction crews was a rolling townoffering any vice desired, including prostitution, gambling, and liquor. This traveling settlement came to be known as Hell on Wheels.

A peculiarity of history is how some are remembered, often for minor accomplishments, whileothers are completely ignored, despite incredible achievements.

Jack Slade is a mostly forgotten contributor to our past despite single-handedly maintaining the most difficult section of the Overland Trail, suppressing Indian uprisings and bandit attacks, and being instrumental in the success of the Pony Express.

Slade was a brutal, no nonsense man, equally capable with guns and fists. That his story is not celebrated, much less remembered, is odd, perhaps the result of violent alcoholism or hisunfortunate ending.

In our lust for the sensational, we often embrace fiction over the truth. This human tendency was vocalized in the famed western movie, The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, when a newspaper editor said these words at the film’s end: “When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.”

And so it is with mountain man, Jeremiah Johnson. Only his name was not Jeremiah Johnson.And he was not a mythical warrior who single-handedly killed hundreds of Crow Indians.

However, his true story is no less impressive or memorable than the fictionalized movie. It justbecame lost in the legend.

When you hear the words, newspaper publisher, you probably do not envision someone called a braggart, jealous, and aggressive. You most certainly don’t imagine a man who wanted to know if his employees could shoot before asking about their writing experience.

But such is the legacy of William Byers, who printed Colorado’s first newspaper in 1859.

Beyond the newspaper business, Byers was instrumental in Colorado attaining statehood, served as Denver’s first postmaster, was part of the first group to scale the State’s most rugged fourteen-thousand-foot peak, and was an owner of Denver’s first tramway system.

If you have spent time in Denver, Colorado, you may have heard the names Larimer, Wynkoop, and Stout, but you probably do not know why the surnames are honored.

Today, Denver is a thriving metropolitan city, the newest destination of tech companies, California transplant, and a place of noticeable wealth. But in the 1850s, it was a grassland, occupied only by Native Americans and virtually unknown to citizens of the United States.

Gold, rather the hopes for gold, changed all of that, bringing in tens of thousands of prospectors, land speculators, and those seeking to escape law and order. From that complicated stew, a city emerged at the base of the Rocky Mountains.

By any measure, life on the frontier was full of danger in the 1800s. Violence usuallywon over reason, and those willing to kill often imposed their desires on the masses.

In 1875, in what was then Lake County Colorado, now known as Chaffee County, awar between newcomers and long-time locals exposed the lengths to which rancherswould go to protect their land and ensure the future would be written by them.

Historians refer to this story as one of the most vicious crimes in the annals of history.We’re talking about the murder of a sitting judge, Elias F. Dyer. The identity of thekiller or killers was a public secret that has never been shared.

The 1800s were not only a time of conflict between individuals, but businesses also fought. Sometimes literally. 

Led by a couple of hard-charging, unforgiving men, William Jackson Palmer and William Barstow Strong, two railroad companies repeatedly butted heads over territory in Colorado. The Denver & Rio Grande Railroad and the Atchison, Topeka, & Santa Railroad clashed numerous times before a final conflict in 1879, a contest that shaped not only the State but the entire West.

The battle was over land near Canon City, Colorado, and involved hundreds of men, including Sheriff Bat Masterson of Dodge, City Kansas, Doc Holliday, over 60 hired gunmen and a competing force of 200. Forts were built, sabotage was frequent, and blood was shed—all over the direction of a new railroad line.

Before there was a Bernie Madoff, who conned hundreds of millions of dollars out of unsuspecting investors, there was Wilbur Foshay.

He was a dreamer and a doer who made a fortune in the utility industry while living in Minnesota. Unfortunately, his riches were the result of a pyramid scheme and when the scam collapsed, countless lives were ruined, and Foshay ended up in federal prison.

Wilbur Fosha began his path to redemption in Colorado, leaving a mark that is still visible on the mountain overlooking the town of Salida and is even part of the city marketing slogan.

Baxter Stingley was one of Colorado’s most memorable law enforcement officers.

His legacy includes heroic shootouts bloodier and most exciting than any Hollywood movie. And the way he helped transform a dusty frontier camp to one of the most modern cities in the west can’t be denied. The man planted trees in a sage desert, stood toe-to-toe with some of the toughest men in the west, and he made Salida a place that hardcore criminals avoided. By any definition, the man was a hero.

But Baxter Stingley’s story also has a dark side, one that includes friendships with criminals, a failed political career, and participation in a vigilante gang that murdered settlers in the Arkansas Valley.

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In 1891, Salida, Colorado is one of the most modern towns in the west. There is electricity, numerous multi-story buildings, a thriving economy, and the town is the center of railroad activity. Salida is the epitome of bootstrapping American success.

 

But under the surface is a not-so-secret truth--the people are among the most brutal in the mining region. The majority are rough-and-tumble railroad men who regularly settle their differences with fists and knives and guns. And ropes.

 

Oliver Briley is a newcomer, working in the rail yard. Not understanding the difference in Salida's surface beauty and the underlying violence leads to him paying the ultimate price.