Rumors of Whiskey and Ghosts

By mid-summer of 1859 the tremendous tide of Pikes Peakers had passed over the divide. Travel along the Cherokee Trail reverted to intermittent traffic between Cherry Creek and the settlements to the south. Only an occasional visitor mentioned passing Fagan's grave. Stories, however, continued to be told about the man who lay buried there.

There were those who claimed that the teamster had been buried alive; his ghost, they said, could still be seen riding with the wind on the backs of buffalo or wild horses. Others spoke in hushed voices of a strange figure, dressed in full army uniform and with musket in hand, who would materialize in the dark to stand sentinel over the lonely grave. And even those who believed not in ghosts continued to spread the rumor of a cache of whiskey hidden somewhere in the valley near the grave.

The whiskey rumor was the first to be verified. According to J.H. Kerr - who later told the story - the year was 1862. The individual involved was one John Bott. Bott had come to the Front Range of the Rockies in late 1858; in August of the following year he had helped found Colorado City at the foot of Pikes Peak. It was while taking a wagonload of goods to Denver City by way of the Cherokee Trail that Bott and several companions chanced upon the whiskey said to have been cached by the Marcy-Loring Expedition some four years before.

Upon nearing Fagan's grave the Bott Party happened to notice a clump of bushes some distance out in the valley. For some reason these bushes seemed out of place. John Bott went to investigate and found eight barrels of fine Kentucky bourbon. One of the barrels was half empty. Bott "rushed forward, gave it a violent shake & then glued his nose & ear to the bung. There was a seductive swish, swash sound as the fiery liquid rolled from side to side, & a delightful aroma which permeated the innermost recesses of Bott's olfactories."(1)
Bott immediately called his companions to the spot. The thirsty men pried open the bung to sample the contents on the spot. They then loaded the remaining barrels onto their wagon, took some to Russellville at the head of Cherry Creek, some to Auraria, and retailed all at two-bits a drink. From the sale of what was once government-issue whiskey, John Bott and his companions were able to realize nearly $4,000.00 in profit.

Reported sightings of Fagan's ghost were not so easily dispelled. It was said that even the Indians of the plains joined in on the fun. The great Arapahoe War Chief, Left Hand, claimed to have met the ghost one evening on his return to camp. He took quick aim at "the thing wearing a white blanket," but the ghost only laughed as the lead ball passed through him with no fatal effects.(2)

Several years later the story was told of Colorado lawmaker Matt Riddleburger's experiences with Fagan's ghost. Matt had been elected from Huerfano County to serve in the lower branch of the state legislature. At the end of the session he and a friend named Zan Hickland left Denver to return home along the old Cherokee Trail. The two men were riding in a small spring wagon. On the seat between them was an opened jug of whiskey. Tied to the rear of the wagon was Matt's newly-purchased white mule. The first night's camp was made near Fagan's grave. After supper, the pair finished off the jug of whiskey, then settled down for a quiet night's rest. But sleep did not come easily for Matt Riddleburger:

"Along late in the night Matt nudged Zan and said, "Pard, I see a ghost.'

"Zan- 'O cover up Matt and keep quiet. There hain't no ghost round this here place."

"Matt - 'But I see a ghost.'

"They conversed a moment and finally Matt was persuaded by Zan to cover up his head and go to sleep for there was no ghost.

"But along towards morning when it was still quite dark, Matt again awakened Zan with the announcement that he still saw that ghost. After considerable talk Matt finally persuaded the doubting Zan to look and see for himself. Slowly Zan rolled off the blankes and while half asleep, sat up and gazing around their camp, was convinced that old Fagan's ghost was in their midst. So hastily raising his rifle and taking a good and quick aim, Zan blazed away at the ghost with his gun.

"There was a great floundering and both men rushed out to explore and see the dying ghost.

"'Left Hand may miss,' said Zan, 'but when I shoot at a ghost I fetch him.'

"The place was soon reached where the men had heard the floundering, and Matt raising his hands with a cry of horror, exclaimed:

"'D--n it, Zan, you have killed my white mule.'"(3)

A similar story was told by Uncle Dick Wootton. Wootton had been active along the Front Range of the Rockies even before the arrival of the gold seekers. He had farmed on the Huerfano River in the early 1850's. Later he had built a hunting cabin near the boiling springs at the base of Pikes Peak.

Uncle Dick Wootton

In 1863, at the height of the tensions brought on by the Civil War, Dick Wootton made a business trip from his home in Pueblo to Denver City. His stay there was cut short by word that he was about to be arrested for expressing his southern sympathies. Grabbing his horse, Wootton galloped south out of town. His flight took him along the Cherokee Trail towards the divide. He reached Point of Rocks just at nightfall. There he fumbled in the dark to build a campfire on a pile of rocks. Alongside these same rocks he lay down to sleep.

Later that same night, Wootton was awakened by the sound of horses' hooves. He hurried to the ravine where he had hidden his own horse, and made ready to gallop off should the visitors prove to be a posse from Denver City. Suddenly. out of the darkness came a voice: "Look sharp now for ghosts. This is Fagan's camp and they say the dead soldier's ghost stands guard over his grave every night."(4)

As if on cue, the smoldering campfire burst into flames. The startled visitors would have bolted for safty at once had not a calmer voice suggested they make an investigation. Not a word above a whisper was spoken as they approached the fire. Finally, someone blurted out:"It's Dick Wootton's camp fire, and I'm a natural born liar if he hain't been asleep on Fagan's grave."(5)

At that moment Dick Wootton himself emerged from the shadows. He found the visitors to be friends of his, all of whom had left Denver for reasons similar to his own. The inevitable happy ending to this incident was later related by Wootton in his autobiography:

"We didn't look for another camping place, but raked together the remains of my fire and piled on more fuel. Nobody cared much about sleeping, but we sat around the fire, and talked over war matters and nursed our grievances until morning. Then we went on to Pueblo and never heard anything more about the proposed arrests. When it got noised around that I had not only stayed all night in Fagan's camp, but actually kindled a fire on the grave and slept alongside of it until I was awakened by the party looking for me it spoiled a very pretty ghost story and Fagan's camp was no longer avoided by the mountain men or other travelers who had occasion to go that way...."(6)

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