Chapter 6: Burning Memories

"Tonight I'm burning old love letters, photographs and memories of you.

Hoping somehow I'll feel better and when the smoke is gone I won't want you."

Mel Tillis

I found a small one bedroom apartment but I didn't like it at all and was looking 'round for something better. I'd started going to David's cross-country practices and would sometimes run through some of the workouts with them. It felt good to run seriously for the first time since high school instead of "jogging."

I was way out of shape at first but I was surprised how quickly I improved. After six weeks I'd got my pace down from eight-minute miles to seven. I'd been looking around for a place to stay and one night after practice David introduced me to a woman I'd seen at the workouts with the women's team.

"Dad, this is Dana Ross, the coach of the woman squad. Her team has won the Division II cross-country championships the last five years in a row. Dana, this is my Dad, Jack.

"Dad, she wants to talk to you about a place to stay."

I'd seen her around but I thought she was one of the runners. She looked like she was twenty but I later found she was two years short of thirty.

She shook my hand as David left. "I'm glad David mentioned you were looking for a place. My family had a ranch north of here just before you get to Mosca. It's up off of Highway 17—turn right on Lane 4 North and you can't miss it. We had a couple of thousand acres but sold all of it a few years ago except for the original homestead. What we have left is one hundred sixty acres with the ranch house and all of the outbuildings, corrals and such. We have a first rate spring that has never dried up.

"There is an old manager's quarters on a hill 'bout a quarter mile in back of the ranch house. It's nice but it has been in disuse for a number of years. David says you are handy with tools. What I propose is that if you clean it up and do any repairs necessary—I know the floor has to be sanded down and refinished, for example—you can stay there for nothing. You do the work and I'll pay for all supplies. Later, when and if you leave, I'll be able to rent it out."

We talked for a while about it and decided I'd come out the coming Sunday and look it over.

As she walked away she added, "Hey, David is going to be a great addition to our team. I'm sure he will be all conference and maybe an all American. Why don't you bring your running stuff and we can take a run after you look things over."

I did look it over and was really impressed. It was structurally in great shape but it would still be a fair amount of work. I was working about five to ten hours a week for the Rocky Mountain News and writing, as I felt inspired. I was currently working on a history of the Civil War in Colorado, particularly the impact of the battles of Glorietta Pass and Valverde on the failure of the South to make the inroads into the west they had hoped for. This was my first non-fiction effort and I was enjoying doing the research. I'd driven down to Glorietta Pass between Las Vegas and Santa Fe New Mexico to take pictures and visit places mentioned in the reference material I'd found.

So I had time to work on the house and I figured the effort would be a fair trade for free rent and utilities except for phone. The house was about forty by forty feet and the front was open—about forty by twenty-five. In the back left was a kitchen, open to the big front room, which was fifteen by fifteen. The bedroom, on the back right was fifteen by twenty-five with a closet and bathroom on the side against the kitchen.

The house was on a hill about a hundred feet above the rest of the ranch and surrounded by huge cottonwood trees. It was shady with a view that went on forever. The house was built of logs up to the windowsills, about three feet. Above that it was framed with two by sixes. The Walls had a wainscoting of light colored pecan panels up to the windowsills with moldy wallpaper above. The floor was made with live oak planks and was stained a dark color that I didn't like. The kitchen cabinets looked like they were pecan also but they had been painted white.

We did go for a run and she had a well-marked trail around the perimeter of the property. At a quarter section I figured each side was a half-mile making it a two-mile loop around. When Dana started the fourth loop I begged off. She had been running a much faster pace than I was used to. But I could see that living here and running with her might even make me a competitive runner in the forty to forty-five age group.