Attorneys anticipate judge’s historic ruling in 41-year-old land rights case

The uniqueness in case law derives from a uniqueness in circumstance. 

In a not-so-distant past, Indigenous tribes of what is now south-central Colorado were warred, restricted and removed to make way for settlement in a region claimed by over time France, Spain, Texas and Mexico. In 1848, following the Mexican-American War, the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo relinquished the area to the United States. Colorado Territory formed in 1861, finally achieving statehood  in 1876. 

One of the first permanent settlements, San Luis de la Culebra, was founded in 1851 during an ambiguous window of time: post-Treaty, yet pre-Territory. Spanish, Mexican and Indigenous settlers homesteaded under the orchestration of French-Canadian deed-holder Charles Beaubien, a fur trader who became a Mexican citizen in order to make land claims.  

Following Mexican law, the settled lands were set out in long lots called varas with equal access to acequia waters. A subsistence lifestyle continued, with settlers drawing resources from the mountain as promised in deeds by Beaubien. 

In 1860, the U.S. Congress confirmed Beaubien’s land grant. This was rare — it was one of the first and only land grants in Colorado to be honored in whole. The area included at least two million acres in the south San Luis Valley.  

Three years later, William Gilpin, the first territorial governor of Colorado, took privatization of the Sangre de Cristo Land Grant into his own name. He formed an estate company with plans to subdivide the land. 

Though he died before the property officially transferred to Gilpin, Beaubien included continued settlers’ rights to the mountain in his deed. Without this access, he recognized, survival would be difficult in the high altitude, desert landscape. The “benefits of pastures, water, firewood and timber” were noted in Beaubien’s document, along with a simple, overarching rule: “always taking care that one does not injure another.”  

Unknowingly at the time, this variation on the Golden Rule was to be the only guidance on how to manage the mountain rights the community received for 159 years — until now. 

Even back then, a history of local settlement rights did not exactly jibe with private land speculation. After acknowledging locals’ right to access the mountain upon purchase, Gilpin then tried to negotiate the rights. Research documents show that in 1863, attempts to reach settlement between Gilpin and local rights holders “fell apart because the parties could not agree on whether the parciantes would be allowed to graze livestock and cut timber on unoccupied lands.” 

Common rights to the mountain went uninterrupted for 100 years until its 1960 sale to Jack Taylor, who is known for placing a fence around the property and beginning a logging operation among the headwaters of the Río Culebra watershed. 

From 1961 on, a litany of lawsuits were filed on both sides for land rights infractions. In 1981, Attorney Jeff Goldstein filed a class action lawsuit against Taylor on behalf of plaintiffs and the Land Rights Council in 1981 to regain traditional rights.  

Over the next two decades, Goldstein and a large team of lawyers worked pro-bono to take the case through dozens of district, appellate and trial courts. Each court denied the rights.  

Multiple federal agencies and lawmakers intervened to try to support a resolution, at times attempting to purchase the mountain as public lands. 

In 2002, the Colorado Supreme Court made a stunning reversal of its previous decision to deny rights. Dusting off the Beaubien document became the herald of the case, with prescriptive use spelled out in grazing and tree resources. In 2005, after a lengthy title identification process, more than 350 landowners who could link their deed back to the time of at least Gilpin received the first keys to the ranch. 

Litigation continues to this day. Ranch owners have been in legal proceeding with the community in some form for the entire 62 years since Taylor first installed the fence. 

“It’s really one of a kind,” said Valencia, who felt called to work on the case because of his own family’s background in agriculture. 

The case is “a unique intersection of the law,” Valencia said. “It’s a historical, more communal way of living, mixed with an individual property owner’s rights, and how those have interplayed over the course of the last century.” 

Though she didn’t hear about it as a student at University of Colorado Boulder Law School, Wallace said she has been aware of the case for a long time.  

“It’s definitely such a famous case,” Wallace said in an interview with Rocky Mountain PBS. “I was interested primarily due to its unique legal perspective — this very unusual property right.” 

Attorney for the defendant Cotter said Lobato v. Taylor “wrote the law” with respect to prescriptive rights. “I don't have an easement case where the Taylor Ranch case isn't cited,” she noted. 

Cotter first became aware of the cases in 2007 during law school at University of Denver while working as a summer associate at Grimshaw and Herring. The firm began work on the case in 2004. (Grimshaw and Herring was acquired by Spencer Fane in 2012.) Researching, “I remember just being in awe about the scope and the uniqueness of the case, and the history of it,” Cotter said. 

From the perspective of the law, this case is unique “in every way,” said Cotter. “I've lost track of the number of times I've been present and either the parties or Judge Plotz say, ‘This is a unique case,’ as a way of framing whatever the issue is before us. It was the first of its kind. It made law really at every trip up to the Supreme Court. And there's just nothing like it from a factual and a historical standpoint.”  

Without points of reference, “there are very few black and white applications of the law to these facts,” Cotter noted. “And I think the history certainly colors the application of the law. History is everything in this case. It just is,” Cotter said.  

While she often works with clients entering into agreement over a common goal, Wallace said none of her cases are “as complicated, with this many personalities and complexities,” she said. “[This case] is not really like anything I’ve ever seen.” 

After generations of legal process and court decisions, “I really think we’re at a point now where a set of rules and regulations is appropriate,” Valencia said. “There’s enough history now that we can effectively develop rules for both sides.” 

The current climate 

Between the mountain and the town, the weather has created an interesting storm.  

Two decades of undefined access to Cielo Vista Ranch is underscored by the chaos of historic encounters. A storied and often traumatic past includes what has at times been a violent turf war, including brutal beatings, ill relations, even assassination attempts — making the mission to compromise today perhaps more difficult. 

In a small town, community relationships impact interactions on the ranch, Wallace said. She noted most ranch employees the hearing displayed as at odds with rights holders are residents with access rights themselves. 

“It’s a very, very small community, with lots of history. This whole case is based on a community’s history,” she said. “Familial bonds and generations who have lived here together all factor in.” 

Wallace said it was important for the court to understand that “these relationships go a long way back. Some witnesses have known each other since grade school. It explains that some of the heated exchanges we saw were based on years and years of frustration building up — probably on both sides,” she acknowledged. “Both sides testified they have been treated poorly because of their involvement or role on the ranch.” 

Elders hold memories of the economic and social impacts of privatization as herds were reduced or eliminated and families outsourced firewood and building materials. Without access, spiritually, a deficit began ticking: less than 1% of land in Costilla County is public. 

“There’s a lot of history at the ranch that’s hard to overcome, and I think sometimes it even spans owners,” said Valencia. The ranch has had four owners since 1981, each accepting the case along with the land title. “Each time it transfers hands, you encounter new problems” he said.  

Wallace said her impression was also “that things have changed from ranch owner to ranch owner. Some ranch owners have even fought against the premise that these rights exist.” 

“I think you could see the climate at the hearing,” said Cotter.  

Plaintiffs filed a motion that a “campaign of intimidation and harassment” by ranch staff and “improper restrictions” over managing resource rights were discouraging the community from using their hard-won rights. 

In a Catch-22, Cotter noted the climate “I think is made infinitely worse by a pending court case, an open court case, that is now 41 years old. I think that has resulted in a situation of people not being vulnerable and finding common ground, because it can negatively impact their standing in a litigation case — which I understand.”  

Some community members don’t want to get involved because history creates it is better to stay out of it, Wallace noted. 

For those who do step forward, “They’re the fiery ones,” Wallace said. “Nobody is going to stop some of these folks, at 80 years old, from accessing their rights.”