Scott Joplin was born in east Texas near Texarkana in 1868. He was one of the first generation of post-slavery African Americans who found themselves in a world where things were changing. Mostly these changes were good, but some of them were difficult, remnants of old hostilities left over from a brutal and prolonged conflict and the perceived wrongs stemming from the War of Northern Aggression. Joplin grew to find a talent in the piano, and his creative mixture of different kinds of musical styles he was exposed to - from gospel to classical to brothel jig music - enabled him to generate and pioneer a new type of music, called rag or ragtime. The term stems from the ragged syncopation associated - even still - with this style of music. Ragtime music evolved into the blues, jazz, and even rock and roll. All of these musical styles stem back to one source - Scott Joplin. While he was not working in a vacuum, and others influenced him as he influenced them, his music was the standard. Others who were contemporary with him, including Fats Waller and Jelly Roll Morton, borrowed heavily from themes that Joplin introduced and perfected.
Joplin was particularly noted for his lilting and easy bouncy beat. Such popular favorites included the Maple Leaf Rag, and perhaps his most famous piece, The Entertainer. They were popular because of the ease of access to the music. People could just sit and enjoy the music, while other music of the period tended to be heavy handed and complicated, requiring a trained ear and even much study to understand its varied levels and depth. This accessibility unfortunately left it snubbed by the musical elite, who have only recently come to understand the depth and interest and talent that Joplin infused into his music. This is the case with many artists in all media - they are not often appreciated or regarded until they are gone.
Sam Donaldson wondered at these thoughts as he drove down Highway 12 in Garfield County, listening to Joplin coming through the speakers as his unmarked Crown Vic eating up the miles. He'd been in the area for three days now, and there was no sign, no break in the case which was proving to be as elusive as the morning mist. All they really had was the sighting of a vehicle which vaguely matched the vague description provided by a known felon. That, and the missing deputy.
He'd been down several of the side roads, none of which helped or provided any additional insights into the disappearance. The roads were typically rutted very deeply or sandy, and the recent rain hadn't helped either. There was just no way of knowing where Deputy Trotter could have gotten off to.
He ran through the possibilities, each as unlikely as the others. It didn't seem possible that he could have gone off on his own, leaving a beautiful wife and home and job he loved. He had a good life. So what did that leave? An accident? Had he gone off the road? But there was no wreckage, no sign of any kind of distress at all. Foul play? By the folks in the Tahoe? Based on what Sam knew of the situation, he decided that this was entirely possible. But what happened to the vehicle? Someone surely would have seen and reported a white Bronco with Sheriff markings. But the vehicle was gone... Completely gone.
He turned down another side road, noting that this one looked a little more heavily traveled. He went down the road about a mile and stopped. He couldn't say why he stopped - maybe just to stretch his legs and appreciate the scenery, or perhaps it was because he didn't like the way the canyon was narrowing. Either way, he stopped and got out, walking to the passenger side of his vehicle and looking at the massive sandstone monoliths that surrounded him.
Something glinted on the roadside at his feet.
The area was heavily traveled, but it was still off the beaten tourist path. Those who visited these kinds of areas were usually very careful not to leave trash or anything around. The things he saw at his feet were tiny, though. He crouched down to look more closely at what he'd seen. They appeared to be tiny bits of silver. They were pitted and grooved, on one side, while the others were relatively smooth - definitely not a naturally occurring circumstance. He blew on the sand surrounding the bits of metal, not touching them yet. He uncovered a total of seven bits of metal, all varying in size and shape, but all of the same metal. He went back to his car and retrieved a small baggie and a pair of tweezers. He picked up the small bits of metal and put them in the baggie.
Standing back up, he looked around again. He had a very uneasy feeling being here, and decided it was time to go. He got back into his vehicle and headed back to the highway and on to Panguitch.
He'd find out later how close he'd come to death, both that of Deputy Trotter and his own.
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