Creede was established in the late eighteen hundreds.

At the north end of town is a silver mine that has become a museum. Running through the middle of town is a river that carried mining sludge into the valley below that is now being reclaimed by environmentalists. Main street is a Historical landmark with old red brick buildings turned into shops, restaurants, museums, and a repertory theater. The two cliffs on the north side of town look the same as they did when our family came to vacation here in the 1960’s.

While Richard fills out a police report on the deer that ran into us on a highway turn last night, I take a walk about.

In its prime, this town would have been filled with dusty miners who cleaned up in the cold stream and put on Sunday clothes for a chance to dance with dance hall girls in local saloons. Their picks and shovels would be leaned in a corner of the cabin they shared with other boys and a silver dollar would have bought them dinner and drinks all night.

The people who founded this town were tough, rough and ready.

Out here, in the West, you keep your powder dry, your mouth shut,your ears open.

Why that deer turned, and ran in front of our van, haunts me?

When Richard exits the police station with a copy of the police report, he says the insurance company is taking care of damage to our rented truck.

On our way back to his cabin site, we both watch both sides of the highway extra hard.

Deer don’t have insurance and they make mistakes too.

 

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