Storiesonline.net
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                             His Lucky Charm
                                by Argon

Copyright© 2010 by Argon


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Description: After losing his beloved fiancé to a dishonourable rival and being wounded in the Crimean War, Captain James Tremayne leaves England as a bitter man. He heads for the Western Territories of the United States and eventually becomes a digger during the Pike's Peak Gold Rush. 'Baltimore Rose' Donegal is a saloon whore and convict who in 1861 crosses his path in Fort Laramie. Read how she of all women becomes His Lucky Charm and much more. Book 1 of 2.

Codes: MF cons hist oral pett Mil
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Foreword


This story is part of the Anthony Carter Universe, but in Book 1, the main characters of that universe play only marginal roles early on. The bulk of Book 1 is set during the Pike's Peak Gold Rush, in South Park and in Denver, and involves a number of historical events. I have tried, with the invaluable help of Spike CO, to maintain historical accuracy wherever possible. Of course, the main characters and the plot are fictional and not based on any real people and their lives.

A Captain Tremayne and a Lance Sergeant Malone fought at the Battle of Balaclava, as part of the 13th Light Dragoons, the latter earning one of the first Victoria Crosses ever awarded. I hope that none of their descendants take offense at my use of their names for this tale. I had picked the name 'Tremayne' as a typical English name from a Leslie Charteris novel, but to my astonishment, I found that an officer of this name had indeed fought at Balaclava. Talk about coincidence! The way I have described other historical figures and their characters is purely fictional, too, and in no way reflects their characters and doings in real life.

Please note that I employed British English spelling and word usage when appropriate (Prologue, but also letters exchanged with England), but the main body of Book 1 is written in American English. Work on Book 2, set mostly in Berkshire, England, is in progress. In it, you will meet again many characters from In The Navy and Ellen Trilby.

Now for the legal stuff: This story and the characters I invented for it are my intellectual property. I post my work exclusively on SOL, and I do not wish for it to be viewable on any other websites unless I authorize such additional posting in writing. Of course, you may download the story for your personal perusing and store it on your own computer or any other personal electronic reading device owned by you or your family (e.g. E-reader, iPhone/Pad/Pod) for the sole purpose of reading it. Any distribution to third persons outside your household is a violation of my copyright. There is one exception to this rule: if you want to forward the story to a friend who resides in a country where the Internet is censored, just do it and don't even tell me.

Enjoy!



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Chapter 1

Going Private

October 25, 1854, Crimea, Russian Empire

Captain James Weston Tremayne reined in his horse and his look swept over the men of his troop. Nothing to complain about, he decided. The men were as ready to fight as he could wish. Spurring his horse, he closed to his squadron leader, Major Pryce, who was scanning the enemy lines with his brass telescope.

"Heavy metal, Tremayne! That's 24-pounders, no cover and almost two miles of open field. What in hell is Lucan thinking?"

"It'll look good in the papers, Sir," Jim Tremayne replied cynically.

Pryce was a Berkshire man like Jim, practically a neighbour, and they spoke openly most of the time. This was a sore point with the junior officers. The presence of news writers on the war theatre was one of the new things about this war on the Crimean Peninsula. They wrote about what they perceived as the heroism of British soldiery, each of them trying to surpass his fellow writers with their gruesome depiction of the battles they witnessed.

The unwanted side effect of this was that some commanding officers ordered reckless actions, for the sole purpose of seeing their names in the newspaper reports. It was just like the Earl of Cardigan to order another reckless charge against a fortified artillery position.

"Return to your men, Jim! We'll get the signal any moment," Pryce said through his teeth.

Jim Tremayne wheeled his horse and had it trot back to his troop. For a moment, his hand clutched the medallion that hung around his neck. It contained a miniature of his fiancé, Priscilla Bywater. If he came out of this campaign alive, he could bid for a major's commission, allowing him to finally marry her. Major Penniworth was due to retire, in fact he had stayed with the depot troops at regimental headquarters when the 13th Light Dragoons were shipped to the Crimea. Jim Tremayne was the second son of a Berkshire landowner. Without the higher rank, he could not hope to maintain a wife such as Priscilla in the style she could expect.

He ordered readiness, and his men formed two credible lines. A cornet signal sounded from the centre of their Brigade and Colonel Payden could be heard.

"The 13th will advance!"

With Jim in the lead, flanked by Cornet Chamberlayne and Lance-Sergeant Malone, the troop broke into a trot, advancing on the Russian lines. The Russian heavy guns were firing canister at them, and they had not proceeded for more than a few hundred yards when they came under heavy fire. Men and horses started to drop left and right, Jim could see.

A new cornet signal sounded. Lord Cardigan, in the lead, changed into a canter, and the Brigade followed suit. Jim saw the 17th Lancers to their left, their lances still held upright, like knights of old.

They were only two hundred yards away from the Russian artillery when Cardigan's Cornet blew the charge. Cornet Chamberlayne rose in his stirrups while he repeated the charge signal for the troop. Decimated they were, but they charged the Russian lines like a tidal wave. Sword in hand, the dragoons wreaked havoc among the hapless artillery soldiers, silencing the big guns for lack of handlers.

Cardigan wanted more, though. A new signal sounded, and they were off against a Russian lancer regiment. Dragoons always had a hard time against lancers, but the 13th were in fighting spirit. Jim parried and hacked with his sword, more than once avoiding lance points by the breadth of a hair. Whenever he had a chance, he tried to rally his men, and each time, there were fewer of them to heed the cornet signal.

To his left, he heard screams. Turning, he saw Major Pryce, a lance point protruding from his chest. Jim Tremayne could read the dying man's lips. "Siobhan!" he cried.

Jim Tremayne nearly fainted - he knew Siobhan Pryce, had even witnessed their wedding. Then his weakness turned into fighting rage.

"Charge!" he screamed. "Charge!"

Like a man possessed, he stabbed and hacked at the hapless lancer who had killed Pryce. His lance point still stuck in Pryce's chest, the lancer was defenceless, and he fell from multiple wounds. Pryce was barely living, and with his blood-smeared hand, he pressed his sword into Jim's hand.

"Give ... Siobhan ... Tell her ... Love..." were his last words, and he fell from his saddle, already dead. Jim stuck the sword into his saddle mounted sheath and turned. In the senseless fury of the fighting, he had completely missed the retreat signal, but Lance-Sergeant Malone rode up to him and yelled into his ear.

"Signal to retreat, Sir! The 17th are already turning!"

Malone was covered in blood, from head to toe, and Jim realised that he must look the same.

"Cornet! Sound the retreat!" Jim yelled at Chamberlayne.

They had to fight their way through the Russian infantry who were closing in from the sides, but it seemed as if they could make it. Their numbers were frightfully down, but there was an open stretch on the right flank.

Raising in his stirrups, Jim half turned and yelled at his remaining men.

"To the right, to the right! Go for it, you men!"

The musket balls hit him like blows from a sledge hammer. He swooned for a few moments and almost fell off his horse, had it not been for Lance-Sergeant Malone. Malone had his horse shot from under him, but he was at Jim's side in a heart beat, seating behind Jim and holding him upright. The pain and the blood loss soon made him pass out, and his last conscious thought was of Priscilla Bywater, his fiancé.

-------

When Jim Tremayne woke he was sure to have landed in hell. Cries of pain sounded around him, and his own body was on fire with pain. He moved his head and tried to see in the weak light of what he recognised as lazaretto. The cries came from a table where a surgeon was sawing away at a human leg while five burly men held down the struggling, screaming victim of his efforts.

Jim looked down at his own body. With relief he noted that all his limbs were still attached, but his chest and midsection burned like hell fire. He remembered. He had been gut shot. Not a good thing, he realised.

Suddenly, he hallucinated. He saw a woman bend over his cot, and her sweet voice came straight from heaven.

"Are you awake, Captain? Doctor Donovan will look at you presently."

"Where am I?" Jim croaked.

"In Scutari, in the infirmary. I am Nurse Thurmond, Captain."

She left Jim in a daze. How had he come to Scutari, close to Constantinople? And what was a nurse? A few moments later, a surgeon wearing a long, surprisingly clean shirt, showed at his side.

"I am Doctor Donovan, Captain. I have treated you since you arrived here, three days ago. You were shot, do you remember?"

"Yes, Doctor, I do," Jim said unsteadily. "That was in the Crimea, though. How did I get here?"

"By steamship, Captain. All the severely wounded were evacuated. I had to extract a musket ball from your abdomen. It had not penetrated far; it must have been deflected from your saddle horn. It seems, no internal organs were damaged too badly. Another shot went through your chest, far to the right, without hurting the lungs. Your ribs will take a while to mend, I suppose."

Jim nodded. This would explain the pain when he talked and breathed.

"Since you're improving, I shall see to it that you will get on the first transport to England."

"But ... my regiment?"

"They will have to make do without you. It'll likely be a year before you can ride again, if at all. Lie back, and let your body heal, Captain. That's all you can do."

Jim Tremayne had to follow the Doctor's advice as there was nothing else he could do. After spending another two weeks in the infirmary, tended by the female nurses led by the 'Lady with the Lamp', Florence Nightingale, he recovered sufficiently to be carried by stretcher on board a steam ship headed for England. There were over two-hundred wounded and disabled men on board, many of them far worse off than Jim.

Wonders over wonders, somebody had saved his sword, as well as Major Pryce's, but the rest of his possessions were still at their regiment's quarters, near Sevastopol. A grey wool coat of unclear provenance had been given to him, along with a coarse shirt and shapeless trousers. He still had his uniform coat, torn but cleaned, but that was all. Once on board the steamer Andes, he received some more clothing items, a shaving kit, and more shirts. His cabin, located far aft, was infernally loud from the ship's screws, and he could barely find sleep.

Those of the returning officers and men who could walk, and Jim soon recovered enough to walk short distances, would sit on the sunlit deck as the ship ploughed through the quiet waters of the Mediterranean Sea. Past the Strait of Gibraltar, there was no sun, just clouds and rough sea. Still, Jim Tremayne spent the days on deck, staring ahead.

His mind was in turmoil. He was being sent home as an invalid, and this would seriously affect any chances of promotion. He and Priscilla had been engaged for two years already, and he yearned to be married to the tall blonde girl. However, without the promotion to Major, there was no way her father would consent to a wedding.

A letter had been sent ahead to his family on his behalf. When the ship made fast in Plymouth harbour, Jim Tremayne could see his brother Edward in the mass of waiting people. They had never been close to each other. Edward was five years Jim's senior, after all. However, when Jim limped over the gangway onto the quay, Edward rushed forward to hug his younger brother, and his cracking voice conveyed his emotions.

"You're back, Jimbo! You are really back! You scared us terribly. It's so good to see you!"

Embarrassed, Jim mumbled a few words. When Edward spoke next, there was sympathy in his voice.

"I'm so sorry about Priscilla!"

Jim felt the blood drain from his face. Had something happened to his fiancé? Edward noted his expression and paled himself.

"Didn't you receive her letter?"

Her letter? That meant she must be alive. Why was Edward sorry?

"What letter? I was laid up in an infirmary in Constantinople. My mail probably went to the regiment, in the Crimea."

"She ... Damn, this is no news for me to break! Anyway, Priscilla broke your engagement in favour of Lucius Marsden-Smith."

Jim stared at his brother. This could not be! His last thoughts before he thought he'd die had been of Priscilla. Her image before his eyes had sustained him through the months of hardship and danger. In favour of Marsden-Smith? A dam burst inside James Tremayne, and anger washed over him.

Lucius Marsden-Smith was a fellow-officer in the 13th, a captain like Jim, but not his friend. Still, how could he woo Priscilla when Jim was at war while Lucius stayed back at the regimental headquarters with the depot troops? And how could Priscilla do this to him?

"You know his father, Jim. He bought Penniworth's commission for Lucius. Not two weeks later, Pricilla informed us that she had broken the engagement. Father was so angry, we feared for his health."

Jim became pale. Instinctively, he reached for his sword hilt. Marsden-Smith's behaviour was a violation of the accepted code of conduct, a code they all abided with. Edward's hand touched his arm.

"You have to recuperate first before you can challenge him. I swear, I'll be at your side. That man has to be taught manners. You'll have to be careful though. He's your superior in rank now; you cannot just challenge him."

Edward's words sunk in. Marsden-Smith held a major's commission. To challenge him would be grounds for a court-martial. Yet, to serve under him, in the 13th Light Dragoons, would be unbearable. It would be unbearable anyway, once his comrades returned, since they all knew of his engagement to Priscilla. In a moment, his decision was made. He had no future in the regiment. The one opening was now taken by an officer who had stayed at home, effectively nullifying Jim's chances for promotion. Major Pryce had fallen at Balaclava, but that rank would be filled by now, by one of the captains who were still serving in the Crimea.

"Father wants to purchase a commission in another regiment for you," Edward offered.

That was something to think about, Jim allowed. Yet, the story how Marsden-Smith had stolen his fiancé would make the rounds, making Jim the butt of jokes and innuendos for life. He also knew that the purchase of a patent would tax his father's means. Jim slowly shook his head.

"Let us go home, Edward. I don't know what to do right now."

"Certainly. Come this way and let Jameson take your dunnage."

Jameson was the coach driver of their family who saluted stiffly to Jim before he took Jim's valise.

The coach ride to Berkshire took two days, and it taxed Jim's strength to the breaking point. Although the road was in decent shape, the movements of the coach caused him great pain, and he looked pale and drawn when he alighted from the coach at his father's house. Robert Tremayne took one look at his son before he rushed forward to welcome him. Jim could not see his father's face as he hugged him, but his voice conveyed the anguish the older man felt.

"'Tis no way for a brave soldier to return to home! That girl should be standing here now, to give you welcome, to weep over your wounds and suffering. By God, if there is justice, her life will be miserable!"

His mother was more composed, more rational.

"She was wrong for you, Jimmy, wrong from the start. I know how you adored her, but think how bad it would have been to be married to an unfaithful woman. Best be rid of her now!"

That was an entirely new perspective, Jim had to concede. He was not sure whether he could subscribe to his mother's views, but they were worth consideration.

In fact, over the next weeks, while his body recuperated and his wounds healed, Jim convinced himself that he was better off without Priscilla, without any woman in fact. Women were false, traitorous beings, unable to return the love men invested in them. In his disappointment, he attributed Priscilla's character flaws to every woman, and several neighbours' daughters, invited by his mother to lighten his mood, found him a brooding and cold man, unwilling to enter into conversation and downright hostile to their modest advances.

Once his wounds were closed, he took up fencing in his father's barn. Edward and sometimes their neighbour Mr. Wilson practised with him. The exercise caused him much pain at first, but he continued with dogged determination.

He sought the solitude of the forests, too, walking hours by himself and finding solace in the beauty of the winter landscape. In his lonesome walks, he also pondered his future. First however, he had to pay a visit, one he dreaded.

Siobhan Pryce, he had learned, was living with her parents again, and thus Jim had to take his father's coach to Woodbridge Manor, the seat of Lord Lambert. Lord Lambert was in London, but Lady Lambert received him, wearing black.

"Milady, I came to call on your daughter, Mrs. Pryce. I was with Major Pryce in his last moments, and I brought home his sword and his last greetings."

"That is very kind of you, Captain. With all the heart ache you must suffer, you still came? I shall call Siobhan."

The deep sadness of Siobhan Pryce cut through Jim's heart when she entered the tea room where he waited.

"James, Mother says you were with Reginald when..." she had to stop, her voice failing.

"Yes. I was close by. His..." Now Jim's own voice faltered. He cleared his throat and shook his head to master the powerful emotions. "His last thoughts and words were of you, and he charged me to bring his sword and his love, as his last greeting. I'm sorry, I could not do more."

He laid the sword on the table. He had spent hours on board the Andes cleaning it, and there was no blood left on either hilt or blade.

Siobhan put her hand on his arm.

"I heard you were wounded?"

"Yes, two musket balls, but I'm healing," he responded.

"And then you returned and had to hear about Cilla."

It was not a question, just a statement, full of disgust, even hatred. Jim was surprised. Siobhan and Priscilla had been friends since their girlhood. He nodded, still unable to speak about the topic.

"Rest assured this will not be forgotten!" Siobhan hissed, her mourning making way for burning anger. "That cowardly man will rue the day he proposed to her! They even had the gall to show at Reginald's memorial service!"

Jim took a deep breath.

"Yes, she showed at my parents' house after ... when the news of Balaclava broke. I hope to never see her again!"

"Will you let this stand, then?"

Here, a grim smile showed on Jim's features.

"Hardly, I have a few things to settle first, but Lucius Marsden-Smith will have to face me, man to man."

"You are a good man, a brave man, James. I will pray for you and I wish you the happiness you deserve."

"I heard you gave birth to a son, Siobhan?"

"Yes, he is my sole consolation. He'll never be a soldier, if I have a say."

Jim nodded. He could understand. He told her a few more thing, details that never found their way back to England, and he answered her questions. He was emotionally drained when he left her to return to Hamden Gardens, but in the hallway, he found himself face to face with Siobhan's grandfather, Sir Anthony Carter GCB, Admiral of White. Sir Anthony was a legend, a hero larger than life, and Jim had never seen him from up close. He was in his mid-seventies, Jim knew, a tall man with lively blue eyes that belied his age and his white hair.

"You're Robert Tremayne's boy, aren't you?"

"Yes, Sir Anthony. I came to bring Major Pryce' sword to his widow, Sir. I was at his side when he died."

"He was a fine fellow. Lucan's tomfooleries cost us the flower of our young men." He shook his head in disgust. "If only the Duke had been alive and in command, but that's idle thinking. Are you at least recovering from your wounds?"

"Yes, Sir Anthony, I'm almost as good as new."

"I heard of your fiancé, we all did. A shame that and an infamy on the part of Marsden-Smith. Will you do something about it?"

Jim took a deep breath under the watching blue eyes of the old admiral.

"Yes, Sir Anthony. Once I am recovered fully, he shall hear my opinion. I suspect that will be followed by another rendezvous."

"Quite so, young Mr. Tremayne. If you need seconds, call upon me. I am somewhat knowledgeable in such affairs."

Jim swallowed. He had a brief vision of the old admiral in the full splendour of his uniform, standing in as "friend" for a small captain of dragoons.

"I would consider it an honour and a boost for my confidence, Sir Anthony."

"Well then, practice with vigour, Captain. I shall hold myself in readiness."

-------

It was late January when he asked his father for the coach to travel to the regimental quarters, claiming it his duty to report back as convalescent. He was received by the Lieutenant Colonel in charge of the depot troops. The man eyed him with a mix of sympathy and bad conscience.

"It's good to see you recovered, Tremayne," he said. "There's not much to do here. Why don't you go home to your father's house? I can send word to you when we need you again."

Jim was sympathetic to the Lieutenant Colonel's wish to preserve the peace, but he had made up his mind.

"Sir, I came to resign my patent. I find it impossible to serve under an officer who grossly violated the regimental honour code by pursuing a comrade-in-arm's affianced bride."

Lieutenant Colonel Caldwell looked embarrassed and even guilty.

"This is quite a drastic step, don't you think, Captain?"

"Perhaps, Sir. It is my decision nonetheless."

"Very well, then. Do you have a buyer for your commission?"

"No, Sir. I would ask you to find an adequate officer."

"My nephew has been lieutenant for three years. I shall buy your commission for him. Will the usual £3,500 be adequate?"

"Yes, Sir. That sounds like a handy solution. Please have that money returned to my father."

"Quite. Well, what about a decent farewell for a veteran officer? I have only twenty men here, but they could give you a farewell salute?"

"Thank you, Sir, but you had better not. Since Major Marsden-Smith would be part of that ceremony. That might prove awkward."

The Lieutenant-Colonel blushed again.

"Well, Mister Tremayne, then I can only wish you good luck with your future endeavours."

Nodding silently, Jim turned on his heel and left. For seven years, it had been his ambition be a part and to rise in the ranks of his regiment. Now he had nothing to live for, nothing but revenge. From the Caldwell's office, he strode across the courtyard and to the mess hall. True enough, there was Marsden-Smith, sitting with two Lieutenants and talking big as usual. He saw Jim and stood quickly, looking at his rival with a mixture of triumph and fear.

"Well, Captain?" he asked.

Jim had practised his words for a few days. They came out just as he had planned.

"Major, I have the honour to inform you that you are a coward, a traitor and unworthy of being a Queen's officer."

The two subaltern officers looked at Jim, mouth agape, but Marsden-Smith grinned maliciously.

"I'll see you court-martialed for this, Tremayne. You have just insulted a superior officer."

Jim gave him a cold smile.

"As always, you are a little behind the events, Marsden-Smith. I resigned from the regiment. Consequently, you are not my superior. I'm afraid that, much as you dislike putting yourself in harm's way, you will have to settle this matter in person. Do I have to expect a friend, or do you accept my assessment of your character?"

Marsden-Smith showed a mixture of emotions, fear and glee chief among them.

"Very well, then. I shall send a friend."

"I'm at my father's place, but Admiral Sir Anthony Carter will act for me. Good day, gentlemen," he added for the benefit of the two lieutenants.

-------

True to his word, Marsden-Smith sent his friends the very next day. Jim and Edward were later summoned to High Matcham, the seat of Sir Anthony Carter. The old admiral had a grim smile on his lips.

"Marsden-Smith's side insists on the sabre. I told them you were still recuperating from battle wounds. They hemmed and hawed, and they were both properly embarrassed but adamant. We'll make this known!"

"I shan't complain, Sir Anthony. I anticipated this, after all. I hope you did not advertise the fact that I practiced fencing regularly for weeks?"

"Of course not. Do you aim to kill him?"

Jim thought about that. In the end, he just shrugged. Perhaps, he would kill Marsden-Smith, perhaps he would not. An idea was germinating in his head which had its merits, as it might allow him a dual revenge.

Later that day, after returning to Hamden Gardens, Jim was alerted by a commotion in the entrance hall. Curiously, he went downstairs to investigate. He came to a stop, halfway down the stairs, for in the hall stood Priscilla Bywater, his erstwhile fiancé. His father faced her, ordering her to leave, and she refused, demanding to see Jim.

She spotted him on the stairs and, dodging his father, ran to meet him.

"Let it be, father, please," Jim said quietly. He walked down the last steps and faced Priscilla, his eyes conveying nothing but cold disdain.

"Well, Miss Bywater?"

"I heard that you challenged Lucius?" she started hesitantly.

"Yes, indeed. What of it?"

"This cannot change anything between us. You know that, don't you?"

She sounded saddened. To his surprise, Jim managed a genuine laugh.

"You thought that I aim to win you back? Whatever would I do with an unfaithful ... Trollop?" Priscilla staggered back under the insult, her cheeks blushing a deep red. "What would I do with a woman who cannot stay true for even a few months? You did me a favour. Better now than to have you cheat on me after our marriage.

"If you have need to know, your fiancé has violated our regimental code of conduct by poaching on a comrade-in-arm's bride. That breach of our code is my sole reason. Personally, Miss Bywater, you are irrelevant to me. Please leave now! I may be indifferent to your presence, but my father is dying to take a riding crop to your back."

"I thought better of you, James Tremayne," Priscilla retorted, deeply hurt, her anger rising. "I never thought you'd be a sore loser. You cannot stand it that I left you for a better man!"

"A better man?" Jim taunted her. "And here I thought you were promised to Lucius! You already cheated on him, too?"

She actually stamped her foot in anger and she gave her famous temper free rein.

"You will understand if I will abstain from attending your funeral," she spat.

In his present mood, Jim would not leave her the last word.

"That would not be your decision anyway. I do not anticipate my father allowing tarts at his son's funeral."

He watched as her face once again lost its colour. Priscilla stood undecided for a few heart beats but then she stormed out of the house without another word. Edward emerged from the tea room, a young woman at his heels.

"Well, Brother, you certainly kept the upper hand."

He motioned to his left, and Jim noticed the woman at Edward's side. He could not place her.

"Penny, this is my brother James. Jim, this is Penelope Prendergast, my ... good friend and hopefully more, soon."

Penelope was a pretty girl, not beautiful like Priscilla, but with an endearing, open smile.

"It is a real pleasure to meet you, Captain Tremayne," she said earnestly. "Ed has told me so much of you. I hope we can be good friends."

Something about her words and friendly smile touched a chord in Jim, in spite of the calluses he had build around his heart. He gave her a halfway friendly smile in return.

"I certainly hope we can, Miss Prendergast. I regret that you had to witness this spectacle. Unfortunately, my former fiancé has a penchant for dramatic scenes."

"And a woeful lack of wit!" Penelope laughed. "You certainly kept up your side in the exchange, Captain. I am confident that a fine gentleman like you will find a woman more deserving of his attention. If I had a sister ... well, alas, I have not, so let us drop this. I wish you good luck in your trials, Captain."

Edward would be a lucky man to snare this girl, Jim thought while he finished his will that evening and sorted his documents. Penelope was the daughter of a retired Navy captain who had become their neighbour a year ago. She had gone to school until recently and had only come to live with her father, a widower, a few weeks ago. Jim hoped they would be happy. Personally, he could not see himself as ever trusting a woman again.

-------

It was a poorly chosen place for a duel, but again, Marsden-Smith had insisted on a location close to his father's house. The winter sun was just rising over the naked trees, lighting a small clearing, covered by loose sand. It was surrounded by dead wood, broken branches, and tree trunks.

Jim was beginning to get cold, but he could not wear a coat, let alone a great coat when fighting for his life. Marsden-Smith was shivering, too, he noticed.

"It's damned cold, let us start," Edward said.

The opponents faced off against each other and Admiral Carter spoke up.

"I will remind you gentlemen of the rules agreed upon. The aggrieved has chosen the sabre as weapon, and no other weapon will be permitted. The fight is restricted to the sandy patch. Leaving the sandy ground is not permitted. The fight will continue until one party is incapacitated by his wounds. Are those rules understood?"

Jim nodded, Marsden-Smith, too.

"Very well, then. Gentlemen, en garde!"

They crossed their sabres. Jim was briefly distracted when Sir Anthony lifted the blade of a magnificent, old Toledo sword. It came down hard on the crossed blades, and the duel was on.

Fighting with a dragoon's sabre requires physical strength as well as dexterity. Marsden-Smith had bulk enough to look strong, but with the regiment away, he had led an easy life, leaving most of the tasks to his sergeant. Furthermore, he expected Jim Tremayne to be weak of limbs, after months of convalescence. Thus, he was woefully unprepared for the onslaught Jim unleashed.

From the start, Marsden-Smith was forced into the defensive, desperately trying to fend off the hailstorm of blows, coming from every quarter. Panic set in on him. More and more, he retreated under Jim's attacks, each step backwards bringing him closer to the fringe of the clearing. When his left foot tangled in a root, the seconds interfered for the first time.

"I must remind you, Major, to stay within the permitted area," Sir Anthony admonished him, disdain in his voice. "Cross your blades, Gentlemen! Go!"

Again, Jim Tremayne's relentless attacks began. Marsden-Smith had been able to catch his breath during the short interruption, but that helped him only briefly, for Jim, too, had been able to rest for a few precious seconds. Time and again, the heavy sabre crashed into Marsden-Smith's guard, with shattering, numbing force, and in the end, forced him to retreat again. This time, while stumbling back, his foot stepped on a mossy tree stump, slipping to the side and spraining the ankle. Pain lanced through the joint, and he sunk to his knees, moaning.

Immediately, Jim checked his attacks and stood still, panting heavily. The seconds stepped forward. One of Marsden-Smith's seconds prodded the ankle here and there, each time eliciting a cry of pain. It was clear that the Major was unable to continue.

The seconds conferred for over ten minutes before they apparently reached an agreement. With a face of stone, Sir Anthony announced their conclusion.

"We have agreed that you, Major, have violated the terms of this duel twice, by stepping out of bounds. Therefore, you have not sufficiently refuted Captain Tremayne's accusations. Since the affair is unresolved, there will be need for a second rendezvous once you have recovered, unless you and Captain Tremayne can reach some other settlement."

The other seconds nodded gravely. In effect, Lucius Marsden-Smith's honour was in limbo until a second duel would resolve the matter. It was a highly embarrassing outcome. It meant that Marsden-Smith could not act as a gentleman, and his officer's patent would be suspended. This was even better than Jim had anticipated. His rival would never be able to live this down!

Edward Tremayne stepped up to Jim and wrapped a wool greatcoat around him, to protect his overheated body against the cold. Then he steered him towards their coach. They ignored Marsden-Smith as dictated by etiquette, and it was not until they sat in the coach that Edward spoke.

"By Jove! You ruined the man, Jim! He will never be able to show his face again!"

Sir Anthony chuckled with grim satisfaction.

"That sprained ankle was a lifesaver for the fellow. That was some fair sabre fencing you showed, Tremayne. How are your wounds?"

"Hurting a little, Sir, but the overall feeling is too good," Jim grinned.

"Well then, you upheld your family's honour. It was a pleasure to serve you."

"Thank you, Sir Anthony. You are being too kind."

"I shall leave you and your brother now. I have been charged to inform my granddaughter of the outcome. We'll have the next rendezvous in a more adequate location where he can't run away again."

When Sir Anthony had climbed into his coach, Jim turned sober. "Ed, I have arranged for my future. With the back pay I'm entitled to, I shall leave England. I'll take passage to Boston in ten days. I don't know yet what I'll do, but I need to get away."

Edward was shocked.

"Jim, you are not serious, are you?" he asked. "Think of Father and Mother!"

"If Malone hadn't dragged me back to our lines, I wouldn't be here anyway. I can't stay. After today, the elder Marsden-Smith will be my mortal enemy. I have heard good things about America, too. You can get land for free, in the western territories. There are wide plains and deep forests. A man can live there."

"That's a rather drastic step, Jim. I beg you to reconsider. Damn, I'll split the lands with you if you stay."

Jim shook his head.

"You know that I could never accept that. You need more than the lands we have to marry Penelope. She is a good girl, and I'll never stand in your way. As a matter of fact, I want you to take the proceeds from the sale of my commission and buy more land. At least one of us should be happy and prosperous, and I can't see myself as ever trusting a woman again."

"What if Priscilla reconsiders? After today, she cannot believe that Lucius is a fitting husband."

Jim smiled evilly.

"I want her to marry him, I want her married to a disgraced man. That will be my revenge on her. She's engaged to him. If she breaks another engagement, she'll never find another man, not with Lucius' father as her enemy."

Edward whistled softly.

"If you leave, Lucius will never be able to clear his name. He'll have to resign. You have to offer him another chance, though. He'll claim you evaded him, else."

Jim nodded.

"Offer him another duel a week hence. Tell him I'll leave the country after that. It's his only chance."

-------

Marsden-Smith claimed his sprained ankle disabled him. When Sir Anthony warned that Jim would be unavailable at a later date, the Major still did not see fit to renew his challenge. His own seconds then relinquished their office in protest. Together with Sir Anthony Carter, they reported Marsden-Smith's refusal to the regimental quarters, and Lieutenant-Colonel Caldwell saw no other choice than to suspend Major Marsden-Smith's patent.

This brought old Marsden-Smith into action. He visited the Tremaynes to find a way out of the impasse. It was too late. James Tremayne was gone. No blame attached to him, as he had forewarned his adversary of his impending departure, as witnessed by all four seconds.

When the 13th Light Dragoons returned from the Crimea, the situation became untenable for the Marsden-Smiths. Colonel Payden was livid over the situation he found, and ordered an investigation. Lt.-Col. Caldwell chose to retire, and Marsden-Smith felt the unforgiving ire of his fellow officers. They resented his very presence, the presence of a man who had poached on the bride of a fellow officer. Marsden-Smith was ostracised and shortly after, he was forced to offer his commission for purchase. To heap injury on disgrace, there were no bidders, and Marsden-Smith had to resign with a loss of almost £5,000.

Officially, Marsden-Smith 'went private', but the true story spread rapidly. With his father's help, Marsden-Smith was able to secure a position with the East India Company, in one of their native regiments. He was even able to maintain major's rank. He left England in a cloud, nevertheless.

Edward Tremayne became engaged to Penelope Prendergast, and they were married in August 1855. No letters or news had come from James Tremayne, and his family learned nothing of his fate or whereabouts for years, in spite of their attempts through the British consulate in Boston. Jim Tremayne had vanished in the vastness of the American continent.

Editing and local color by Spike CO



-------

Chapter 2


Baltimore Rose

Independence, MO, February 1861

"In the case of the People of Jackson County, Missouri, versus the woman known as Baltimore Rose Donegal, she is found guilty by a jury of her peers of whoring and of viciously attacking an upstanding citizen, Landon Bunion of Independence, and she is hereby sentenced to seven years in the Women's Work House of the Great State of Missouri. Her possessions of jewelry, gold, and other items of value are forfeit to the county and will be sold at auction to cover the expenses of this court and to compensate the victim for his injuries."

The gavel banged, and Rose Donegal stared at the Justice unbelievingly. Not two weeks ago, he had fucked her, during one of his weekly visits to the Emerald Isle saloon, and told her what a sweet girl she was.

And now? Not a word of mention that the 'upstanding citizen' had tried to stick his slimy pizzle into her butthole. Rose had screamed, scratched, and bitten the foul man, and he had lost the sight of his left eye. She was not even given a chance to testify for herself. In fifteen minutes flat, Justice Alberts had buried her alive for seven years.

Rose was under no illusion as to her chances to survive seven years in the hell that was known as the Work House. The women in there had to work for fourteen hours each day, with little food, and in sack cloth dresses. Hardly anybody survived ten years in there, and seven years were not much better.

To the jeering of the spectators, the sheriff's deputy pulled her up from the bench by her manacled hands and dragged her out of the courtroom. In her dazed state, she did not notice it at first, but a moment later, she found herself in the chambers of Justice Alberts.

"Leave her here, Deputy!" Alberts ordered.

The deputy grinned lewdly and left.

"My dear Rose, what a mess! This breaks my heart! You know how much I enjoyed you, but I had no choice. Bunion and his family and friends are up in arms. Believe me, I would not last a week in this office had I acquitted you."

Rose stared at the old geezer.

"But, seven years! Nobody survives seven years in the Work House!"

"I know! We cannot even risk sending you there, my sweet. Bunion's brother-in-law is the warden. I shudder to think was they might do to you."

Rose was confused.

"You just sentenced me, didn't you?"

"Yes, I had to, I told you that. Rose, there is only one way out. A woman sentenced to the work house can gain her freedom when a man pays her fine and takes her for his wedded wife. There is a man in town, John Caplan, who arranges these things. He will leave this afternoon. He has one slot left to fill. If you agree to marry his client, he can bring you out of Independence, before the Bunion clan will know."

"Marry?" Rose asked in panic. "Marry? Whom?"

"I don't know," the Justice answered. "Caplan goes west, to Fort Laramie. That's where you'll find out. His clients are farmers, traders, and prospectors. Anyway, you'll be safe from the Bunions."

"Fort Laramie? Isn't that in Oregon?"

"No, not even half way to Oregon. Rose, you have to decide. It's either Caplan and Fort Laramie, or the Work House. We, the patrons of the Emerald Saloon, have collected a few things for you, like warm clothes, a coat, and three gold eagles. We care about you, Rose."

Slowly, realization set in for the young woman. She would have to leave civilization, to save her life. She had an idea then. Whoever she was to marry, she would have an easy time to fool the backwoods simpleton. A girl with her face and body would not have to stay long with a fur trader. She looked up at the Justice.

"I accept. I thank you, too, for your help. When will I have to leave?"

"In an hour or two, my dear. That leaves you with time enough to ... err ... compensate me for the trouble I will doubtlessly incur; me and the fine Deputy outside who will have to close his eyes when Mr. Caplan comes to collect you."

Rose's temper almost flared up. The old goat demanded a free ride, and the Deputy, too. She swallowed her anger, though. Two more swines who would rut on her would not make much of a difference. She nodded.

"All right. Tell that moron, though, no manacles. And if he touches my backside, I'll scratch his eyes out, just like Bunion's."

-------

It was two weeks later, and Rose Donegal wanted to go back to Independence and skin Justice Alberts alive. No fewer than twenty-five women were huddled together in the three covered wagons, and they were miserable, cold, and hungry.

John Caplan was the worst weasel. From what Rose had learned, he charged the men in Fort Laramie one-hundred and twenty dollars to deliver wives for them. He wanted more, though. He wanted the women on his little wagon train to fuck men in the small settlements they passed. That was something Rose would have had small problems with, but the weasel wanted all the money for himself.

Most of the women on the train had worked as whores at one point in their lives, but to swive men without being paid went against their grain. They refused. That was why Caplan starved them. He claimed that they had to work for food. All they received was water, for greedy as he was, Caplan knew they would die without water and deprive him of his $120 head money.

He had three men drive the wagons, and another two for protection, and those men were even worse. They saw the women as fair game and refused to hear a 'no' from them. Three days ago, they had cut off Angie Stevens, from Rose's wagon, while she was behind a bush, peeing. Three of the swine had gang-raped the poor woman so brutally, that even Caplan saw fit to intercede, to protect his merchandise.

There had been much cussing between the hired men and Caplan, and in the ruckus, Rose had managed to steal a skinning knife from the driver's seat of the wagon. Lucy O'Hara, the acknowledged ring leader of the women, a black-haired giantess, had also busied herself around the driver's seat of a wagon, as Rose had seen.

A few whispered words between Rose and Lucy this morning had sufficed. Now Rose was waiting for an opportunity. It came when the wagons were crossing the crest of a little hill. The first wagon, with Rose, had just cleared it, while the second, with Lucy, was still struggling uphill.

Rose took a deep breath. It was now or never. Quickly, she slid from the back of the wagon and made for the woods to the right, ostensibly to take care of her necessities. Before Angie Steven's rape, that had been common practice for the women. From the corner of her eyes, she saw that the two mounted "guards" watched her instead of the wagons. She also saw that Lucy had jumped from the last wagon and made for the trees, without being seen. The trap was set.

Rose walked briskly through the underbrush, trying to get closer to where Lucy had entered the woods. For a moment, she was worried that the guards might not dare to follow her, but then she heard the sound of hooves. A little later, she heard the boots of the men, as they rushed after her. A few seconds later, they caught up with her, and Rose whirled around to face them.

"That you, Baltimore Rose? All alone, too, aren't ya?" one of them, Clem, leered.

Rose brandished the knife.

"You fellers know why I'm on this train? I messed up a bloke who wouldn't hear a 'no'."

"Damn, where'd you get that knife from?" He patted the grip of his gun. "But you know, Rose, we've got guns, an' yore knife won't do you no good."

"Yeah? Too bad you can't shoot, you moron. I'm worth twelve gold eagles alive to Caplan. Shoot me, and you'll find out how much you're worth to him!"

"Stick'em up fellers!"

Lucy's voice was as strong as the rest of her. Both men turned to look and gaped. Lucy held a wicked, double-barreled, sawed-off shot gun, and at close range, nobody in the path of its discharge would stay alive.

"Drop your gun belts, real slow-like, fellers," Lucy hissed. "I'm a-hankerin' to blow you to pieces, after what you did to Angie."

Carefully, Rose moved to a flanking position. In her career as saloon whore, she had already seen the mess a sawed-off shot gun could make.

The two men hesitated. When Lucy's finger at the trigger turned white, though, they opened their belt buckles and let their gun belts drop. Rose saw the minute movement as one man's hand went to his back.

"Watch out, Lucy!" she yelled.

Just as the man's hand sped forward, both barrels of the shot gun went off. The thrown knife barely missed Lucy, but a hail storm of shot swept the men away like bloodied rag dolls. The blast of the shot gun momentarily stupefied both women, but Lucy shook it off quickly.

"Quick, Rose! Their guns! We need to get their horses!"

Rose sprang into action. Quickly, the women searched the men, taking what few valuables they possessed. Each of them strapped a gun belt to their hips, and they ran towards where they expected to find the men's horses.

Before they could reach them, they heard Caplan shouting from the road.

"Clem, Eugene! What the hell happened? Where is the girl? Come out, or I'll kill you both!"

The women hid behind trees. Rose held the Navy Colt ready which she had taken from the dead Clem.

With a curse, Caplan dismounted. Still yelling after his guards, he passed the tree line between Lucy and Rose.

"Hands up!" Lucy challenged.

Caplan turned.

"What the... ?"

"Hands up!" Lucy repeated.

Caplan stared at the Paterson Colt in the big woman's hand and grinned. "There's an even chance, this piece of shit will blow up in your face."

"Maybe, but you'll die anyway if you don't stick 'em up!" Rose spoke up.

Caplan looked at Rose, and he saw the Navy Colt which she held with perfect ease. His grin vanished, and he raised his hands. Lucy stepped close to him from behind and relieved him of his gun belt.

"Git moving, Caplan," Rose ordered.

They marched the man out from the tree line and towards the horses. Lucy had helped herself to Caplan's fine Remington revolver, and she covered the man while Rose awkwardly climbed into the saddle of Clem's horse, encumbered by her dress.

With Caplan riding in front of them, they quickly caught up with the last wagon, and while Rose covered Caplan, Lucy held the driver at gunpoint. He was quickly disarmed and bound by the women in the wagon. Next, Caplan was tied with leather thongs, and Amanda Carlisle who claimed she knew how to ride and shoot, helped herself to Caplan's horse and to the weapons of the driver. They left the Paterson Colt and the driver's shotgun with the women and set out after the other wagons.

Within ten minutes, the women had taken over the three wagons, and the men were bound. They circled the wagons next. Three of the women who had grown up on farms knew how to unhitch the mules and hobble them. The animals were left to graze while the captive men were propped against a large boulder on the roadside.

Two of the women stood guard with shotguns while the rest broke into Caplan's food supplies. Lucy, their undisputed leader, saw to it that no-one overate. After a quick meal of beef-jerky and biscuit, two of the women started a fire to prepare a regular supper. The rest surrounded the four men.

One of the drivers had taken part in Angie Steven's rape, three days ago. There was no suitable tree within sight, with the forest comprising of conifers, and thus, Angie was given the Paterson Colt. The first shot was a dud. Caplan swore, realizing that Lucy couldn't have shot him with that gun. Angie cocked the Colt again, and this time, the gun discharged. The bullet hit the driver in the chest, but he was not dead yet. Angie cocked the Colt again and fired, and this time, she hit his face.

Two of the women dragged the corpse behind the boulder, while the attention of the others shifted to Caplan and his remaining two drivers. All three of them were pale with fear at this point. Lucy stepped close to Caplan.

"Now, Mistah Caplan, we can have ourselves a little powwow, don'tcha think?"

"What do you want?" Caplan spat. "Ye cain't kill us. Ye'll be lost. Ye cain't jus' turn an' go back ways to Innepennence. Ye know what waits fer ye in Innepennence."

Rose interceded. She bent down and stared into Caplan's face.

"We don't have to kill you, you bastard. I'll tell you what I'll do, though. Every morning, while we are forced to stay here, I'll cut off one part of a finger. That gives us twenty-eight days, before I'll switch to your toes. I'll stop when we're in Fort Laramie and with our proud husbands. I bet you'll get us there pronto, before you'll run out of fingers, wouldn't you?

"Or else, you'll be a nice, obedient boy and lead us to Fort Laramie without making a fuss. You'll even get to collect your money there. What do you say?"

"You still want to go to Fort Laramie?" he asked hesitantly.

"Sure! We just don't fancy being raped and starved. That's why we'll keep the guns and the food."

"What about Ed and Billy?" Caplan asked, meaning the two surviving drivers.

"They can drive the wagons, and if they behave, they can collect their money from you in Fort Laramie. One stupid move, though, and the buzzards will get fat off of them.

-------

Indeed, nine days later, when they arrived in Fort Laramie, Caplan's fingers were still intact. Lucy, Rose and Amanda were riding guard around the wagons, armed with the dead men's weapons.

There was a big excitement when they finally drove through the big gate. Soldiers and civilians alike came running from the bunk houses and taverns and crowded the wagons, babbling and shouting.

The women looked around, too. The men they saw were, for the most part, a disreputable bunch, with long beards and in coarse clothes. The few men who wore better clothing, mostly officers of the 6th Infantry, were accompanied by women, obviously their wives. It dawned on Rose and the other women that their prospective husbands were not traders, but rather trappers and other backwoods men.

The wagons came to a halt in front of the large Sutler's store, and Caplan went in. A few minutes later, he emerged again at the side of the Sutler, one Seth Ward. Caplan bid the women to climb down from the wagons. He cast withering glances at the three armed women, when they mixed with the others, but he did not dare to cause trouble for them. The men, his customers, would not look favorably on him if it came out how he had tried to make extra money, and he was embarrassed, too. In the overall excitement, the fact that the women prisoners were armed might be overlooked.

Caplan pulled a list from his coat and stood on a barrel.

"Gentlemen, as promised, I brought your brides. I will now call each of you by name, and you will step up here to be acquainted with your bride."

Far more than the expected twenty-odd men surrounded the women and Caplan. Officers with their wives looked on, the latter casting disdainful looks at the convicts.

"Bill Bromley!"

"A-yup!" a middle-aged man shouted and muscled his way to the front.

Caplan searched the women with his eyes. He pointed at Alison Bulson and motioned for her to step forward.

"Alison, this is Bill Bromley. Bill, this is Alison. Get acquainted. I expect the parson will perform the wedding once I've matched up the pairs."

The bride and groom looked at each other hesitantly, but then, Bill Bromley took Alison's hand and pulled her to the side.

"Jesse Olsen!"

"Heeah!"

"This here's Lucy Walsh. She's all yours."

And so it went on. More than ten of the women had been matched already, when Caplan called:

"Ned Gourd!"

The man who came forward was aptly named, Rose thought, for his nose had indeed the shape and size to fit the surname.

"Amanda Carlisle, step forward!"

Rose, who had held her friend's hand, felt her tremble. Mandy was a pretty young woman of twenty-four years whose husband had shot himself when he couldn't pay his accumulated debt. He left his wife to face the music, and Mandy had been sentenced to a year in the Work House, for defaulting on a debt. She had been a respectable city woman, and now she would be married to this fabulously ugly man.

At least, Mr. Gourd showed manners. He took off his hat, and it was obvious that he had taken a bath and had his hair cut. He was shaved, too, and he wore his best clothes.

"I'm mighty pleased, Miss Amanda," he stated. "You shore are a fine woman, an' I'll do my best to take good care o' you."

Mandy looked at him, hesitantly.

"Hello, Mr. Gourd," she said, giving him a brave smile.

When Ned Gourd beamed back at her, he was transformed. By some miracle, his ugliness vanished, and he became a likable fellow. They joined hands, and a still smiling Mr. Gourd led his bride aside.

"Al Faulkner!" Caplan shouted next.

"He's daid!" somebody from the crowd shouted back.

"Damn!" Caplan swore. He glanced at Rose with a nasty grin. "You're a widow already."

Rose felt a chill. What if Caplan took her back to Independence? He was liable to do that, to get his revenge for the women's mutiny. She forced herself to smile coldly.

"I reckon we'll just have to travel back together. Let's see who of us will arrive."

Caplan's grin vanished. To her surprise, Rose realized that the man was indeed scared of her. He cleared his throat.

"Perhaps one of the other gentlemen may want to step in for the late Mr. Faulkner? I'll give you time to consider until the end of the pairing."

With that, he continued to call the grooms forward, until only Rose was left standing alone.

"Now, gentlemen, here we have Baltimore Rose Donegal, and I'm sure you'll agree with me that she is a fine-looking woman. Strong and capable, too. Convicted of whoring..."

"An' nigh on killing a man!" somebody shouted. "Kilt two more on the trek!"

Rose recognized the shouter as one of the drivers. He was drunk and angry.

"She's one murderous bitch. Y'may as well try ter fuck a rattler, fellers. She done tore a man's eyes out, back in In'epen'ence! Few days back, she'n the big'un kilt Clem an' Eugene, an' they was both packin' colts! Keep yore hands offa that bitch iffn you wanna see th' mornin'!"

With that, he turned and disappeared back in the store. Caplan was furious, for the surrounding men had clearly lost their interest.

"Come on, gents! She's a fine-looking woman. What if she's got a temper? Breakin' her in is half the fun, ain't it?"

However, nobody made a bid. The men shuffled on their feet. Suddenly, Rose saw a tall man stumble forward. He had been standing with Mr. Gourd and Mandy, and now he cast a reproachful look at them.

"Ah, at last! A man not afraid of a woman. Do I hear your bid, Sir?"

"Um, yes, four eagles," the man mumbled.

"Only four? Hell, the other gentlemen paid twelve!"

"Al already gave you six in advance!" Ned Gourd yelled, grinning. "An' it shore looks like she's bad luck. She not even arrived yet, an' Al already dropped dead!"

The surrounding men laughed, and Rose glared furiously at Mandy's future husband. That look, more than anything, scared other prospects away.

"Come on! A fine-looking lass like her! Lemme hear six!" Caplan whined.

"Six, if she brings that Navy Colt as dowry!" Ned Gourd shouted.

"Done! If there's no higher bids, Mr ... what's your name, again?"

"Jim Tremayne," the man answered.

"Well, if there's no higher offers, Mr. Tremayne and Miss Rose Donegal will join the others for the ceremony."

Rose could hardly see in this moment. Her tears welled up at the shame of being auctioned off like a heifer, but now the man offered his arm to her. Blinking repeatedly, she cleared her vision. He was tall! Over six feet, with wide shoulders and narrow hips. His tanned face was young, but his blonde hair had streaks of grey in it. He looked at her with pity.

"I am most sorry, Miss Donegal, for this undignified spectacle. May I offer you my arm?"

Mutely, Rose nodded and accepted his arm. He led her over to where Mr. Gourd and Mandy were standing. Mandy broke loose from her groom's arm and hugged her.

"I'm so glad, Rose! We'll be living together. Ned and Jim are partners, and we'll share the same house."

At least, that was some relief, Rose thought, hugging her friend back, before they had to form a line in front of the parson.

Editing and local color by SpikeCO



-------

Chapter 3


English Jim

Fort Laramie, Kansas, April 1861

"Git up, Jim! The wagons with the women are coming!"

'English Jim' Tremayne yawned and looked at his partner. Ned was almost dancing with excitement. Last fall, Ned had parted with four ounces of gold dust, almost a third of his year's winnings, as advance payment to that man, Caplan, to bring out a wife for him.

Save for a few floozies in Denver City, there were hardly any women around in the diggings, and Jim knew his partner to be one horny fellow. Ned had tried to trade the Ute for a squaw, but they were not interested in the gold they had panned. The man Caplan seemed to be Ned's only chance at finding a wife, seeing that Ned was famously ugly.

Ned had urged Jim to get himself one of the women Caplan could bring, but Jim had not felt it proper. Besides, most of the women convicts were whores and thieves, and some of the notions taught to him still held power over him.

For 'English Jim' Tremayne had been a gentleman and officer. In another life, he had been Captain James Weston Tremayne, of the 13th Light Dragoons, up to the fateful Battle at Balaclava, in the Crimean War. After resigning from his regiment, he had taken his meagre funds, a few changes of clothing, and his 1853 Enfield Rifle. He boarded a ship headed for Boston, where he arrived in the summer of 1855. Driven by his anger, he left Boston soon, going westward. He landed in Independence, Missouri, in the next spring. He accepted work under a wagon master who took wagon trains along the Oregon Trail. Jim rode guard and trained the settlers in disciplined fighting, but mostly he filled in for wagon drivers who died or were killed. The payment was not bad and over the next years, he slowly regained his mental balance, and he was even able to hold polite intercourse with the settler's wives and daughters.

Returning from yet another trek to Oregon, in late 1858, he heard of gold finds on the South Platte River, near Pikes Peak. He and two other hired drivers from that last trek, Ned Gourd and Abe Wilkins, decided to rush there as fast as possible to stake out claims. They fitted out hastily at Fort Laramie, investing their hard earned money in four pack mules, gold pans, shovels, and food supplies. They headed south in early October, but they were not the first to arrive at the Cherry Creek placers. They decided to push on until they reached a shanty town, Tarryall, in an area called South Park.

Here, they were able to register a large claim, in the gorge of a small tributary to Tarryall Creek. With the harsh winter approaching, they had no time to build a house. Rather, they used a rock overhang, high up over the bed of the creek, to build a primitive lean-to shelter.

Their first winter in South Park was almost their last. With a sparse supply of dry wood for fire, they barely survived the bitter cold, and Abe Wilkins developed a severe cough. It was mostly due to the warmth of the mules and horses which they kept in the lean-to, that they could survive in their primitive housing. Fortunately, spring came early that year, and they were able to start panning.

They had chosen a decent claim, and in the first four months, until August, they recovered no less than thirty-five troy ounces of gold dust, yielding them almost $600. They decided to stay and work their claim, and this necessitated the construction of a sturdy cabin. They spent most of the rest of that year building a log cabin. They also bought traps, to complement their food and income during the winter months. By mid-October, the cabin was finished, and they had a sufficient supply of firewood, too.

They would have been all set for winter, but around that time, Abe Wilkins was showing the signs of consumption, and he wasted away over the winter. That was a blow for the two remaining partners, for a schedule whereby two men were panning while the third provided food had worked out nicely. Nevertheless, they panned another thirty-seven ounces that year. That and the yields of their winter time trapping, made them decide to stay.

There were no fur traders in Tarryall, and the two friends, for friends they had become in the trying two years, decided to make the journey to Fort Laramie. Supplies would be cheaper there, too, and they would get a better price for their gold.

Indeed, they cleared $700 for their gold and another $210 for the furs they had collected. They were able to buy some luxury items, such as coffee beans and some liquor, as well as sturdy boots. Brand new Colt Navy revolvers were also on their list, as violence soared in the gold fields.

On their last day, a train of three wagons arrived from Independence, and wonders over wonders, it brought women, almost thirty of them. The man who owned the wagons, a fellow named Caplan, collected delinquent women from prisons back east who agreed to marry his customers, the pioneers who could not find women in the newly settled lands.

Jim watched his friend Ned with amusement, for Ned's eyes almost bugged out. Suddenly, ugly Ned with his huge nose saw an opportunity to find himself a wife. He parted easily with the $60 dollars he had to front, and in return, he was told to be back next April, to collect his bride.

Over the following weeks, and all through the harsh winter, while the men controlled their traps during the day, Ned spent the evenings dreaming of the woman he would soon call his wife. He imagined every hair color or figure and he did it so vividly that sometime in late winter Jim insisted on Ned throwing out his blanket which stank to the high heavens.

Jim himself had not felt tempted to follow Ned's example. The women Caplan had brought were not his fancy. They were mostly whores or thieves, and most of the thieves had been whores before they became too old for that trade.

Jim had met a few whores, had even paid a few of them, for some rushed and soulless rutting in the dirty back rooms of taverns along the trails he travelled. He had once even encountered a 'decent' woman, a widow on the Oregon Trail, but it was a rushed affair behind a few bushes, just a few steps away from camp, and Jim knew he had not met her expectations, shooting his load almost the same minute he was inside her.

He had met whores during the Crimean War, camp wenches, but he could not bring himself to touch them. They were dirty, and they took on dozens of dirty men every day. Priscilla was waiting for him at home, and he would not risk bringing home some disease to his future bride.

Nevertheless, when Ned made ready to go to Fort Laramie, next spring, Jim accompanied him. Trapping had been good that winter, and the two friends expected a good price for their furs.

They arrived two weeks early, and they camped outside the fort, trading with the Indians. Those were mostly Lakota, of the Oglala tribe, and Jim and his partner were able to trade for warm clothes and other items with them. They even learned a few words in Lakota.

Caplan and his wagons were a few days late, but when the dust cloud was seen in the East, Ned made Jim break camp in haste to ride for the fort. They had to wait for another hour, but once the wagons had entered the fort, Caplan was quick. Not even a half hour passed before Ned met his bride, and Jim had to concede that his partner was a lucky son of a gun, at least from Amanda's outward appearance. Ned brought her over to where Jim was waiting.

"Miss Amanda, please meet my partner, Captain Tremayne! Jim, this here's my bride, Amanda Carlisle."

"Your servant," the words came over his lips automatically.

Amanda curtseyed. "I'm pleased to meet you, Captain."

"Perhaps, if you were to call me Jim, Miss Carlisle?"

She smiled at him. She had a ready smile, and Jim liked her immediately.

"It's Mrs. Carlisle, but I'd appreciate you calling me Mandy."

Just then, the shouting made them look up. Obviously, one of the men who had paid for a woman had died. The woman, a striking young woman with reddish-brown curls, stood rather lost beside Caplan who announced that he would take bids for her later.

"Oh my, the poor Rose!" Mandy exclaimed. "It'll be her death if Caplan takes her back to Independence. She and Lucy were the ringleaders when we took over the wagons."

Jim suppressed a chuckle.

"What do you mean, took over?"

"Caplan wanted us to service men in the towns we came through. Lucy and Rose organized us, and we refused. Caplan didn't give us food, then. Three of his men also raped poor Angie, hurting her terribly. Two weeks ago, Lucy and Rose lured the two guards into a forest. I don't know what happened. We heard a shot, and when Caplan went to look for them, they brought him back, alone and bound. The other two were dead, we were told. Then Angie got to shoot the third of the rapists."

Jim grinned. "That li'l wisp of a girl sure has courage."

Ned had other thoughts.

"Caplan wanted to whore you out? I've a mind to thrash him good for that! But wait, Jim. Why don't you bid for the girl? She's certainly pretty, and brave to boot."

Jim made a face.

"I don't know, Ned. She'll fetch a huge price. Besides, I don't know..."

"Come on, Jim! Don't chicken out here. Besides, when me and Mrs. Gourd will be busy in the furs, what ya gonna do? Lie awake and listen to us? I'm telling you, I'm not into sharing, not with my wife. And she and my Mandy are friends already."

"I don't know. What should I bid?"

"I guess she may even run up higher than the $120 I paid Caplan. Hell, you can afford it. I'll loan you some if you need it, partner."

Jim was still undecided when Caplan began the 'auction', but just then, one of the drivers who'd had a few drinks in the tavern, burst into the open and called her a 'murderous bitch', accusing her of killing and maiming men. He heard murmurs all around, from the bystanders, who opined that the girl, pretty as she was, was not worth the risk of waking up with a cut throat. Ned nudged him.

"You can snatch her up for small money, partner. Go for it!"

With that, he pushed Jim forward who stumbled to the front, and when Caplan asked him, he made his bid of $40. From then on, Ned took over the haggling from behind, and Jim was still dazed when he stood before the redhead. He saw the tears in her eyes, then, and he felt with her. To be auctioned off like cattle must have been degrading. His first sentence conveyed this.

"I am most sorry, Miss Donegal, for this undignified spectacle. May I offer you my arm?"

Nodding silently, the girl took his arm, and he led her over to where Ned and Mandy were waiting. The women hugged, and then they all had to stand in line for the post's chaplain to perform the wedding.

It was over in ten minutes. They all repeated the required words in chorus and were pronounced man and wife. The marriage certificates had been prewritten by Caplan, and the men and women mostly made their cross signs. On Jim's and Rose's certificate, the name of the dead man, one Al Faulkner, was crossed out and Jim's name was filled in. Jim signed, writing his full name. To his surprise, his new wife signed with her name, too, in a clear, legible hand.

When he was allowed to kiss the bride, he only touched her lips briefly, unsure of how to do this. She gave him a weak smile, though.

"Let's ride over to the Lakota, Jim," Ned interrupted them. "We must trade for some warm clothes for Rose and Mandy. You'll need a pony for her, too."

Ned led the way to their horses.

"Where are we going?" Rose asked, seemingly awakening from her post-marital stupor.

"We're going south, up the South Platte River. English Jim and me, we own a good claim there. We built a log cabin, too, where you'll be safe and warm."

Ned's ugly face showed his pride.

"No, I mean, which town are we going to?" Rose insisted. Then, she registered Ned's words. "English Jim? Why would they call you English Jim?"

"Because I'm English?" Jim answered hesitantly, because he could see the blood shooting into Rose's face.

"I married an Englishman? God help me!"

"You're Irish?"

"On my father's side. My mother was from Cardiff."

They were standing in front of Jim's horse now. He mounted first and then helped Rose up behind him. With Ned and Amanda leading the way, they rode out of the fort.

"What happened to you? I mean, what got you into this mess?"

"I was working the Emerald Isle Saloon in Independence, you know, serving drinks and serving customers, if the money was right. This one man, Patrick Bunion was his name, his family is very important in Independence, and he paid me for the night."

Rose didn't know why, but she flushed pink. It went a little against her grain, to tell her new husband how she had earned her living.

"He turned out to be mean, even brutal. He ... He wanted to bugger me."

Jim wasn't familiar with the word.

"Bugger you?"

"He wanted to stick his thing into my bunghole, the swine. I fought him real hard and I scratched his face and eyes before he gave up. He went blind on one eye, and the Sheriff locked me up. Before I knew what and when, the Judge had sentenced me to seven years in the work house. I was lucky, though. I ... I knew the Judge, and he arranged for Caplan to take me away before they could send me to the work house. Bunion's uncle or cousin runs it, and I wouldn't have survived in there."

Over Rose's tale, they had reached the campsite. The tent was really small, and both men realized with dismay that it would never fit four people. Eagerly, Ned rode back to the fort, to buy a second tent, while Jim went over to where the Lakota were camping. He had previously traded for buckskins with them, paying with coffee and tobacco which the Lakota could not buy at the fort.

He helped the women select warm fur boots and moccasins, as well as leggings and tunics made of leather. Both women looked slightly apprehensive. They both realized that they would leave civilization behind, and the prospect was worrisome.

Jim made them dress in their new outfits while he busied himself with starting a fire. When they emerged from the tent, he nodded appreciatively. The buckskin outfits looked serviceable on the women, and they fit well.

Ned came back, with the tent and two horses in tow. He explained laughingly how he had confronted Caplan about the treatment of the women. The man had been scared when Ned threatened to beat him up over that and he had agreed to let Ned have the two horses of the dead guards for just $26. That was indeed a great idea as they all agreed, for the horses were used to Mandy and Rose already.

The second tent was pitched and Ned claimed it for Mandy and himself. Jim agreed good-naturedly and Ned moved his bedroll into the new tent. Ned had also bought fresh bread for supper, a rare treat for the men, and they ate venison roast from a doe Jim had shot the day before. They had ale to drink, from a small keg they had bought at the Sutler's, and Jim explained that he and Ned rarely drank liquor. That was fine with Mandy and Rose who accepted some of the ale, too.

With all their goods and their new wives, Jim and Ned decided to keep a watch. Jim owned a fob watch, and the men agreed on four shifts of two-and-half hours each. They decided on Ned taking the first and third watches, which meant that Jim and Rose could turn in to sleep.

They crawled into their tent, and Jim took off his outer clothing, keeping on his 'union suit'. Hesitantly, Rose took off her tunic and trousers, too, leaving her in her wool underwear. The shine of the fire outside gave some light, and Rose looked at her new husband.

"Do you want to swive me now?"

She could have sworn that he blushed. He cleared his throat, anyway.

"Perhaps we can get to know each other first? I mean, you are mighty pretty, but maybe we can just hold each other for a while and talk?"

"That would be nice," Rose answered, feeling somewhat rebuked nevertheless.

They settled under their blankets, and Rose moved close to him, allowing him to put his arms around her. He did, and the touch felt reassuring to Rose.

"Jim?"

"Yes?"

"You seem to be a good man, polite and caring. I'll try to be a good wife for you. I'm not much of a cook, but I can sew and clean, and I'll learn how to cook from Mandy. I'll work hard, too."

"I know you will, Rose. I'll try to make it as easy for you as I can, Rose. You'll make a fine wife, if you put your heart in it."

"Why did you come to America, Jim? The way you speak, you're a learned man."

"I ... I used to be an officer with the Dragoons. Did you hear of the Crimean War?"

Rose thought briefly. There had been something in the newspapers, a few years ago, but she had not paid attention to it.

"I seem to remember. Wasn't it about Turks?"

"You could say that. We were sent to protect our ally, the Sultan of Turkey, against the Tsar of Russia. There was a battle, at a village called Balaclava. My regiment was sent against the Russian heavy guns, and we lost a lot of men. I was wounded.

"When I came back home, my fiancé had left me and was about to marry another man. I was fed up with it all. I resigned and took a ship to Boston. I worked on the Oregon Trail for three years. That's where I met Ned. He's a great fellow.

"Two years ago, we heard about gold being discovered on the South Platte River. We bought some gear and rode down there, got a claim, and started panning. We were three then, Ned, Abe, and me, but Abe died last year from consumption. It was the first winter that killed him. Since then, we've build a sturdy cabin, and the last winter was much easier. We pan for gold in the creek, and in the winter, we set traps. Two or three more years, and we'll have enough to start a farm or a ranch in Oregon."

Rose had listened to him silently, but now she felt she had to say something.

"That sounds really nice. I've never had such a goal. My dad died when I was little, and my mother when I was thirteen. We were living in Baltimore, that's why they call me Baltimore Rose. I cleaned in a tavern, to earn my keep. When I was fifteen, the man who owned the tavern took me to his room for the first time. From then, I had to swive the patrons, every night.

"Four years ago, a man came through. He paid for the night, and on the next morning, he asked me to marry him. I was so stupid. He said his name was George Dupree and he said, he'd take me to meet his family We sneaked away in the middle of the following night. We travelled all the way to the Mississippi and took a riverboat for the journey upstream. It was a great journey. He was ever so courteous and we even travelled by stage coach to Independence. In Independence, he rented a room in the Emerald Saloon for us to sleep. When I woke up, he was gone, and the owner told me I had to work for him now. My 'fiancé' had sold me. Mr. Adams told me later that Dupree's real name was George Sims and that he traded in girls all over the west."

She took a deep breath.

"At first I was crushed. I had thought my days as whore were over, and now I wasn't even at home anymore. Then I found out that the Emerald Isle was not a bad place; we girls could keep half the money we earned, and Mr. Adams was always polite. One of the women had been a schoolteacher before, and in our spare time, she taught us how to read and write. I had saved some money and jewelry when they locked me up. That's all gone, now. I guess, whenever I feel I have made my way up a little, somebody pushes me back down."

Suddenly, she felt a mouth on her mouth. It was a short kiss, not lecherous or demanding, just a kiss.

"Your luck is about to change, Rose."

She giggled at his boyish attempt to console her.

"And yours. I'll not cheat on you, like that English girl. I may be a whore, but I've always kept my end of the deals."

She snuggled close to him, comfortable with his warmth. For a while, she listened to his breathing, but then the exertions of the last days caught up with her, and she fell asleep.

Rose did not wake up when Ned woke Jim, two hours later, to take the second watch. She woke when he returned to the tent, during the third watch, and she snuggled against him.

When she woke up the next time, he was gone again and she was cold. It was April and the nights were nippy. Wrapped in her blanket, she peeked out of the tent and saw Jim sitting by the fire, with his rifle across his lap, wrapped in a blanket. She scooted back into the tent and searched for her buckskin clothes. She shivered, for the leather was cold, and she was grateful for the warmth of her fur boots.

When she emerged from the tent, he looked up and smiled at her.

"Good morning, Rose!"

"Is it morning already? I woke up from the cold. Can I sit with you by the fire?"

Jim put two more pieces of wood into the fire and bade her sit with him. They huddled under his blanket together and stared into the flames.

"What are the plans for today?" she whispered.

"We'll break camp and head south. It'll take us three weeks riding to reach the South Park region. Are you comfortable on that horse?"

Rose smiled. "Don't worry about me too much. I may be small, but I'm mean. Will we have to keep watch on the trail?"

Jim shook his head.

"No, mostly not. It's just around the fort, with so many people around, that we rather keep watch."

"To protect your precious wives?" she asked with a smile.

"That, and our horses and gear. We also thought that Caplan and his helpers might try something to get back at you."

Rose shook her head, and the reddish curls danced.

"He's afraid of me."

"Yes, but scared dogs can bite. Anyway, with the Lakota around, we're pretty safe. We've traded with them and shared a few meals. I don't think that would keep them from stealing us blind, but they'd help us against any outright attack."

"Are there Indians where we'll go?"

"The Ute live around South Park. They're actually decent chaps. You can talk and trade with them. They're not as warlike as the Comanches or the Pawnees. We get along."

"Jim, I don't want you to get this wrong, but I'm a bit scared. A few weeks ago, I was sitting in a saloon, dressed nicely, and all I had to do for a living was to swive a man or three during a day. I mean, they were louts and dirty, but it was over quickly most of the times. Now, you'll take me to a place I've never heard of, and there's Indians and cold winters."

"Of course, you're scared, Rose. Ned and I will help you girls. We'll teach you what you need to know. By the way, that Navy Colt you're packing, do you know how to shoot it and take care of it?"

"We had Colts at work. Mr. Adams made us practice with them, too. Some patrons could get wild, and we'd back him up, then."

"We'll get you a rifle, too. A Colt is fine and dandy for a saloon, but out here, the bad fellows rarely get close enough."

"All right. What do you say, should I make some coffee?"

"That would be nice, Rose."

An hour after sunrise, they had broken camp, and their gear was stowed away on the four pack mules. They rode into the fort once more and stopped at the gunsmith shop. Here, the women were fitted light rifles in .36 caliber. A little after nine o'clock, they mounted their horses and started on the trail.

Editing and local color by SpikeCO



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Chapter 4


Raven Feather

En route, April 1861

It was a sunny spring day, and they made over twenty miles, in spite of the late start. The animals were rested, and the trail was easy. They made camp in a narrow gorge, a half mile away from the trail, where their fire would not be seen far. They made a small, Indian fire, and huddled around it in the blankets for the night.

Rose woke from her exhausted sleep when she heard a squeal. She smiled when she heard Mandy's giggle and Ned's chuckle. Then, Mandy gasped audibly, and her excited whisper carried farther than she intended.

"What's that? You don't mean to stick this into me?"

Rose couldn't hear Ned's reply, but she heard Mandy's sharp intake of breath a minute later. A low moan followed, and soon, the sounds of coupling were loud enough to wake Jim, too.

In the near darkness, Rose could see his open eyes. Mandy's moans became louder, and it she seemed unable to restrain herself. It all ended with a suppressed groan from Ned and a long moan from Mandy.

With silence restored, Rose cuddled against Jim again. She gasped. His erection pressed into her backside. She turned and whispered into his ear.

"I'll take care of you."

With a surety born of experience, Rose opened the buttons of the 'union suit' Jim wore. His organ felt hot in her hands, and it pulsed. Rose felt a rush of excitement herself, and for a moment, she contemplated opening her legs for him. The thought of tomorrow's ride made her reconsider. Jim's organ was rather big, and she hadn't had a man in her in over two months. The thought of being sore around her pussy and riding thirty miles the next day was too much.

"Turn away from me!" she whispered.

From behind, Rose gripped the penis with her left hand and started to stroke it slowly. The throbbing increased, and Jim's breath caught a few times. He would not take long, she thought. She scooted higher along his back and brought her mouth to his ear.

"When we're settled, you can stick that thing into me," she whispered into his ear. "Do you want to do that?"

He nodded, unable to speak.

"I'll even take it into my mouth. I like that. I'll suck you dry. I'll make you see the stars, just you wait!"

He was fighting for control, she noticed and grinned. No such luck, she thought wickedly. Her tongue snaked out and into his ear, worming its way in, and Jim shuddered. His semen shot forth while Rose held his penis and aimed it away from their blankets.

It took a while for his breath to return to normal. He turned around to face Rose again and took her face in both hands. His kiss burned on her lips, and she felt light headed when he released her. When his arms pulled her close, she snuggled against him. Her last thought, before she fell asleep, was that maybe, maybe, this whole mess in Independence had been a blessing in disguise.

They woke from the cold of the morning that crept under their blankets. The sky in the east was lighting up, and Jim started their fire. Wrapped in her blanket, Rose sat close to it while, from the sound of it, Jim watered the bushes behind a boulder. He then took his rifle and walked the half mile to the trail. Rose looked up in alarm when he came back running.

"Quick! Everybody up and get dressed! There was somebody on the trail, behind us. They passed us in the dark."

Ned was up in a second. They all dressed in a hurry while Jim stamped out the fire. While they hurried to break camp, Jim climbed up on the ridge that lined the gorge. He looked grave when he returned.

"They're camped a mile south of here. From the tracks, I counted four horses. They have a fire going. We're lucky. With the wind blowing into the gorge, they couldn't smell our fire."

"Reckon, we'll have a look at them?" Ned asked. "It sure looks fishy that they kept riding in the dark. You think they're after us?"

"Maybe so," Jim answered. "We can circle them. If we ride up the gorge a ways, there's another narrow valley that seems to lead to their camp. I reckon, we takes the horses and mules to where the two gorges meet. If there is rocky ground, we'll leave them at the fork and walk the rest of the way."

Within five minutes, they were on their way. It was getting light, and walking along the tiny creek was easy. They reached the valley fork after half an hour and hobbled the horses and mules. They all checked their weapons before they marched down the other valley. It was a little wider than the gorge were they had camped, and there was more grass and bushes. They could already smell the fire of the other camp. Ned and Jim talked briefly, and they split up. Ned and the women stayed behind a little, while Jim scouted ahead.

Rose was impressed by the stealth Jim displayed. Although she knew him to walk in front of them, she sometimes lost sight of him as he darted between the bushes. From time to time, he gave signal for them to follow.

They were approaching a bend in the valley, and by Rose's reckoning, they had to be close to the other camp. The smell of smoke was strong now. Jim signaled them to wait, and Rose saw that he went down on his hands and knees to creep forward. He was gone for almost ten minutes. When he reappeared, he made a beeline for them.

"Three men, and they're bushwhackers for sure. They have two captives, a white man and a squaw. The man is bound to a tree and seems hardly alive. The squaw is bound over a fallen tree. I reckon, they've been using her badly. She's naked and bleeding, and in this cold."

"They're sleeping?" Ned asked, a glitter in his eyes.

"Two of them are. The third is keeping watch at the trail. I reckon they know that they passed us in the dark, and they wait for us. If I plug the fellow who's keeping watch, can you take care of the sleepers?"

"Yeah, you're the best shooter. Listen up, girls! These fellers are up to no good. Prolly been a-followin' us to get their paws on you girls. We'll go in there, and soon as Jim plugs the sentry, you and me are going to shoot the sleepers. They've been a-rapin' that squaw, so don't be squeamish, savvy?"

While Mandy was clearly apprehensive, Rose nodded grimly. Just hearing that the men had raped a woman, even a squaw, made Rose's blood boil, and she pulled her Navy Colt to examine the seat of the caps one more time.

All four of them moved forward and around the bend. They crouched low, seeking shelter in the undergrowth, and proceeded cautiously. Rose saw the woman first, her face bruised and swollen, and her nearly naked body hanging limply over the fallen tree.

Ned pointed at the right hand sleeper and at his chest. Then he pointed at the other, and at Rose. She understood and raised her Colt. Suddenly, the naked woman opened her eyes and looked straight at Rose, giving her a grim nod.

Meanwhile, Jim rested the barrel of his long Enfield Rifle on a branch. With its 39 inch barrel, it was accurate at over 300 yards, and its .55 inch lead bullet could fell a bison. Rose saw the mist rise from Jim's nose as he exhaled, and next, the stillness of the morning was torn by the sharp report of the long rifle. The post at the trail was thrown on his back by the impact, just as the two sleepers sat upright, cursing. Very coolly, Rose fired three shots into the left man. At ten yards, all three shots were hits, and the man slumped back. Ned's first shot missed, but the other two hit the man, one in the chest, and one in the face. It was over.

Jim had run over to the post to examine him. He returned, dragging the dead man by his collar, and dumped him close to the fire.

Meanwhile, Ned had made sure the other two were dead. That done, he cut the bound man from the tree. The stiff body fell over to the ground, and Rose realized that he was dead, too.

Together with Mandy, she cut the straps that held the squaw, and they helped her stand. From the way she walked, Rose already knew that she had been abused badly. She shivered uncontrollably in the cold morning air. Ned hurried to build up the fire while Mandy collected a few blankets in which they wrapped the poor woman.

She was quite young, Rose thought, not more than eighteen years. She had to have a look at her wounds, and she needed warm water, to wash off the grime and other residue from the abuse. She rummaged through the camp site until she found an iron pot. She filled it with water at the small creek and put it over the fire.

Jim had walked around the site, to look for tracks, but had found none. The men conferred briefly, and then, Ned went to bring the animals.

Jim knelt before the young Indian woman.

"Can you understand me? I am Jim. What is your name?"

He spoke slowly, pronouncing each word carefully. The young squaw made a face.

"I understand you. My name is Raven Feather. Walter was my man."

She nodded at the dead man they had found, tied to the tree.

"We were traveling south, from Fort Laramie, when these men ambushed us. They bound us, and two of them took me. They beat me all the time, calling me a dirty squaw whore, and they beat up Walter, for being with me.

"They saw you on the trail from a distance and followed you. Walter and I were bound to one horse, and we could not catch up with you. They pushed on in the dark, but then they noticed that we must have passed you in the dark. They made camp here, and bound us to the trees. They took me and beat me again, and the third man beat and fucked Walter. When he was done, he rammed a stick into Walter, from behind. I think Walter died only a little while after that."

"Why did they do all that? Why did they follow us?" Jim asked.

"They saw you had two women with you, real women, they said."

"Did they hurt you badly, down there?" Rose asked, pointing at the woman's crotch.

"It hurt, but the beating was worse. The third of the men tried to stick his thing into my behind, but he could not get it hard. That's why he went after Walter. I think, he was dei'a."

The Shoshone word, meaning 'female friend', was used to describe a 'man who lives like a woman'.

"Are you Shoshone?" Jim asked.

"I am Oglala, but I cannot go back. I lived with a white man; I am dead to them."

Rose tested the water in the pot and found it warm on the brink of hot. She took the pot off the fire.

"May I call you Raven?" she asked, and the young woman nodded.

"Raven, I have warm water here. I want to clean you, to see where you are injured. Will you allow me to?"

Raven Feather nodded and gritted her teeth when Rose took a wet cloth to wipe off the young woman's face. Her right eye was swollen shut, and under her bronze skin, large bruises showed. She flinched when Rose wiped over a cut over her eyebrow.

"I'll stitch that," Rose said. "It won't heal well if I don't."

She had learned how to stitch wounds when she took care of patrons wounded in saloon brawls.

Rose next washed the woman's upper body. She really had beautiful breasts, firm and high. Her right breast, however, showed bite marks and bruising, and Rose washed the area, careful of causing hurt.

The black hair over Raven Feather's pussy was sticky with semi-dried man spunk. She could not get it out at first, and the young woman winced repeatedly as she tried to untangle the sticky hair. In the end, with a lot of soaking with warm water, Rose was able to get the pussy hair clean.

The legs came last, and Raven Feather moaned a few times when her open and bruised knees were washed. Finally, she was halfway clean.

In the meantime, Mandy had searched the saddle bags, but she found few useful things. The men had no spare clothing. In the end, Mandy decided to donate one of her own buckskin outfits. Fortunately, Ned arrived with the animals, and Mandy helped Raven Feather to dress. Rose's clothes were too small for the taller Oglala woman.

Ned and Jim searched the dead bushwhackers for useful possessions. Only their weapons and their horses were of any value. The bodies were disposed of in a small rock fissure which they filled with loose rocks afterwards.

With all this, it was past noon, and the travelers decided to stay for another night. They moved to their old campsite, though, since it had proven safe. After examining Raven, as they called her now, Rose was relieved. There was no bleeding from the inside, and little bruising around her vagina. Rose closed the cut over Raven's eyebrow with three carefully placed stitches. The young Oglala did not flinch once.

Raven had lived with her man, Walter, for a little over two years. He had traded her from her father for two gallon bottles of firewater. She did not know her age, since her people did not have counting words, nor did they care about the age of a girl. With Walter, she said, her life had been easier. He had treated her as his wife and taught her to speak English. They had a small cabin, two days along the trail, from where he ran his traps. They hardly ever saw people there.

Jim then asked her how they could help her.

"I do not know," she sighed, shaking her head. "I could live in the cabin and trap animals, but I cannot survive long. The traders will give me less money for the furs, because I'm a squaw. Where are you heading?"

"Up the South Platte River, into South Park. We dig for gold, there, and we trap." He looked at Ned, who nodded. "You could come with us. There are lots of men, diggers, and very few women. You could find a new man."

"White men don't take Lakota women for wives, and if they do, other white men will kill them. Could I stay with you? You say that you trap. I make good furs, I skin and cook. I can help with gold, too."

Jim looked at Rose, and Ned looked at Mandy. Both women nodded. They both secretly hoped that the young Lakota woman knew things that would help them in their new surroundings. Ned gave Raven a friendly smile.

"I guess, you can come along. We'll find something for you, one way or the other."

"Thank you. I will be a good woman for you," Raven said. "Could we ride by our cabin? I have clothes there, and other things we can use, like Walter's spare gun."

"Is it far off the trail?" Jim asked.

"It's a half day up Snake Creek, but it would be worth it. We have preserved food, too, and some furs. It would be a shame to let it go to waste."

Jim and Ned exchanged another glance. Ned shrugged, and Jim caught the meaning. They might as well have a look at Walter's 'estate'.

They spent the rest of the day preparing supper and assessing the horses of the dead bushwhackers. They picked the best for Raven, but the other three would fetch them at least $80 in Denver, with another twenty for the saddles.

The clear sky indicated another cold night, and they decided to stake the tents for the night. Raven offered to sleep in a blanket outside, but Rose objected. Ned and Mandy had the slightly bigger tent, but Ned looked so heartbroken at the idea of sharing the tent with Raven (and not having Mandy to himself) that a grinning Jim offered Raven to sleep with him and Rose. His motives were just a little selfish. With three people in the small tent, they would be much warmer.

They slept well, indeed. Rose was not troubled in the least over having shot one of the bushwhackers. The last weeks, first on the trek with Caplan, and now with her new husband, had awakened something in Rose that was hard to define for her. All her life, men used her for just one purpose, and she had always acquiesced. The mutiny against Caplan had been her first act of self-assertion. Now, with Jim and his friend Ned, Rose had the feeling that they saw her as more than a red-headed plaything. She felt better already with Jim than even in her best days in Independence, let alone in her miserable time in Baltimore.

She was ready enough to snuggle against Jim when his arms wrapped around her. Jim had accepted her assurance that she could use a Colt at face value, had included her into his plan of action. He had not doubted her because she was a woman. Pressed against his body, she made a resolution then. She would never lie to him, would never hurt him. He was a good man, and she would prove to him and to the world that she could be a good woman, a good wife.

Sometime during the night, Raven started to thrash in her sleep, crying 'No, no!'. Jim and Rose woke her gently and made her lie between them. They held the young woman until she calmed down.

When they awoke, Raven was still lying between them. Rose felt refreshed from a good night's sleep, and she smiled at her companions. Jim returned her smile, but Raven looked at them guiltily.

"I am sorry for waking you," she said in a small voice.

"Never mind that, Raven," Rose assured her. "I slept well. You are warm and cuddly."

That was true; Raven had a warm body to snuggle against. The young Lakota woman blushed under her bronze skin, showing her bruises even more.

"I will leave you alone and start the fire," she said.

She dressed quickly and crawled out of the tent. Jim and Rose grinned at each other.

"Do I get a Good-Morning kiss?" Rose asked.

Jim bent over her, and his lips touched hers softly. He seemed hesitant, Rose thought, as if he was afraid to hurt her.

"Jim, I may be small, but I don't break easily. Kiss me like you mean it!"

This time, he put more into his kiss, more passion, more longing, even lust. But he still seemed hesitant. Suddenly, Rose realized the reason. She was his first woman, would be his first woman. He had been engaged, but Rose knew that fiancés from fancy families did not mess around with each other. To top it off, that fiancé had betrayed him, had broken his heart. He had never known women like Rose, had probably never visited brothels. A wave of tenderness flowed over her and she felt her own responsibility. The way she treated him would largely determine his future view of women.

"Afraid we have to get going, Rose," he whispered.

Rose gave him another kiss.

"I'll get dressed then."

When they crawled out of the tent, Raven had a fire going, and the water for coffee was almost boiling.

"Ned, pull out and get dressed," Jim yelled at the other tent.

Mandy was the first to crawl from the other tent, and the look she cast at Jim was pure murder. Rose and Raven looked at each other and began to giggle. Mandy turned pink, but then a smug smile showed on her lips.

"Let's take care of things," she said archly. Looking at Rose, she added, "You're coming?"

Together, the two women disappeared behind some bushes, forty feet up the creek. Mandy pushed down her leggings and squatted low to pee. Rose followed suit, a few feet away.

"How is married life for you?" Rose asked her friend.

"Demanding!" Mandy answered with an exaggerated sigh. She giggled. "Oh, my! I thought they called him 'Gourd' on account of his nose!"

"That big?" Rose asked, grinning.

"If he gets me with child, birth will be easy. Those mules don't quite compare with Ned!"

"Well, you have my sympathy. I've had one or two like that in the past. I can't say that I miss them. Is he too rough with you?"

"No, no, he is a sweetheart, really. After the first time, I told him a few things, and now he takes his time with me. But still..."

The two friends laughed again. They stood and knelt by the creek, washing their hands and faces. Rose also washed her nether regions with the cold water, rubbing herself dry with a soft piece of suede leather.

"How do you manage being in the saddle?" Rose asked, because this was her concern.

"I'll see today. Maybe we can talk them into a short stage; after all, Raven may be hurting, too, the way those pigs abused her."

"She had a nightmare tonight, the poor thing," Rose said. "We cuddled her afterwards, to get her to sleep. She feels nice and warm."

Mandy looked at her friend.

"Listen Rose, not that this will change a thing for me, but do you have ... feelings for women?"

Rose felt her face heat slightly.

"I've messed around with women. Sometimes, when all the men I saw in a long day were pigs, I needed some tenderness for assurance."

"I can imagine, Rose. Forgive my prying. How is your married life, then?"

"Slow in coming. Jim's awfully shy. He had a fiancé once, back in England, and when he went to war, she betrayed him. I don't think he's been with any women in his life. He's sweet, though, and he can kiss. I can teach him the rest, never worry!"

"You like him?"

"I think I do. Yesterday, when we went after those bushwhackers, he trusted me to back him up. He didn't question me. He'll make a good husband. It's just ... Mandy, I don't know whether I can be a good wife. Nobody ever taught me. All I know is swiving, and that's not enough to be a good wife."

Mandy heard the doubt in Rose's voice, and she tried to lighten the mood.

"It's a good foundation, though. Men can forgive a lot in a woman, as long as those needs are taken care of."

"But that's it, Mandy! I want to be more for him, not just a woman he can swive."

"Ladies, we need to get a start!" Ned's voice was heard. "Shake those tail feathers, and git a-rollin'!"

"He's a charmer, your husband is," Rose giggled, starting back to the camp.

-------

Raven never complained, although they traveled over thirty miles that day. Mandy made grimaces a few times, but she held on, too. They found a secluded campsite, away from the trail, and under a rock overhang.

Raven was the first off her horse, and she started to collect dry wood immediately. That done, she started a fire and began to rummage for flour. Then, she went into the trees and returned with a hand full of bird eggs. In short time, she had prepared a sort of pancake, with bacon and some onion-like roots. It tasted wonderful to the starved travelers. Raven did not want to participate, at first, claiming that the men had to eat first. Jim simply ordered her to eat with them, and she did not dare to disobey.

They slept in their tents again. Raven joined Rose and Jim in theirs, but Rose suggested a different arrangement, with Jim in the middle, and the two women cuddling up to him. While they undressed, Rose could watch Raven. Except for a loin cloth, Raven slept in the nude. Jim made big eyes, too, and he turned towards Rose, to keep Raven from seeing his stiff member.

Rose snuggled her backside against Jim and enjoyed the contact, while Raven clung to Jim's back. Sometime during the night, Jim turned on his back, and he awoke with two women plastered to his body and with a raging erection. He wanted to get up, hoping that relieving his bladder would also bring down his erection, but he was pinned down by the two women.

He looked at Raven Feather, as she snored lightly, her head against his chest. Her name was apt, as her jet black hair really shone like the feathers of a raven. It was difficult to decide whether she was pretty. Her face was discolored and swollen, but Jim could detect even features. She had a strong chin and high cheeks, and he suspected her to have huge, almost black eyes, when they were not swollen shut. Her breasts were high and firm, and her narrow waist flared into healthy hips. He could understand how the dead Walter had chosen this woman, Lakota or not.

There was no question that Rose was pretty, nay, beautiful. Even in the weak light that filtered through the canvas of the tent, her reddish hair stood out. Her eyes were grey, almost green, and her skin was light. The exposure to the sun in the last weeks had produced freckles on and around her nose, and above her bosom. Even through the wool underwear, he could feel her breasts. Like Raven's, they were firm, if a bit fuller. Rose, too, had a trim waist. Her best feature, in Jim's opinion, was her behind. He had seen little of it yet, but what he had seen filled his dreams.

Jim sighed involuntarily. He knew well enough that Rose had not married him out of love, but out of fear of the Missouri prisons. He was unsure whether he should take advantage of her. She seemed to be willing to consummate their marriage, even eager, but Jim was conflicted. On the other hand, he felt a strong urge to wrap this beautiful creature into his arms, to make her his own. Perhaps, she could grow to care for him with time, if he treated her with tenderness and respect. He had noticed already that Rose craved respect. His musings were interrupted because he noticed that Rose was looking at him. She smiled.

"Good morning, Jim," she whispered.

She lifted her head and looked at the sleeping Raven. She saw how Raven's breasts were pressed against Jim's side.

"She feels nice, doesn't she?"

"Not as nice as you do, Rose," Jim answered.

"My boobs are a little bigger, but hers are beautiful. I like her skin, too. It's so soft and even." She looked down at herself. "I'm having those damned freckles all over!"

"Rose, your freckles look beautiful, just like the rest of you."

"You are a nice man, Mr. Jim Tremayne. Even though you're English."

Just then, Raven stirred and opened her eyes. Noticing the way she was draped over Jim's left side, she squealed a little and sat up. Looking at the tent wall, she groped for her clothes.

"I am sorry. I did not mean to..."

"Raven, stay!" Jim said. "Look at us!"

Obediently, Raven turned her head.

"You didn't do anything wrong or bad, Raven," Jim said persuasively.

"We know what you have gone through, Raven. I do not begrudge you a little comfort. Besides, I don't think Jim felt like complaining, with two women cuddled up to him."

"But it is wrong for me to press against another man, so shortly after Walter died."

"Raven, he's dead, and he won't mind if you find some solace. Let us go and start the fire."

They all dressed and crawled out of the tent.

-------

They followed the trail for another two days before Raven pointed at a narrow valley leading westward, into the foothills. They followed the valley for three hours until they saw a small but solidly built log cabin.

Jim and Ned dismounted and pulled their Colts before they approached the cabin cautiously. Jim circled the cabin once, to check for tracks, and then they burst through the door, guns ready. A second later, Ned waved the women to go ahead.

Raven slipped from her horse and ran inside, to check on her moderate possessions. It turned out that nothing had been touched in the four weeks of their absence, and she started a fire in the well built fireplace.

The horses and mules were hobbled and left to graze the lush mountain meadow while the humans brought their gear into the cabin. For the next hour, while Rose and Mandy were busy preparing a supper, Raven, with Jim and Ned, went over her belongings and they decided which items would be left and which would be taken along. Of course, all the tools would be taken along, and the household items, some of which were really of good quality.

There was also a mirror, with one broken corner, which the women decided they couldn't live without. Jim and Ned figured that the spare horses could carry all the items they wanted to take, and they set to the task of preparing bundles of luggage, to be loaded onto the horses.

When they were finished, the supper of venison, boiled roots, and johnnycake was ready, and they all sat at the rough-hewn table. The men complimented Mandy and Rose on the food, but Rose insisted that Mandy had done most of it. They talked about their progress and about the trail that lay ahead of them until Mandy could not stop yawning anymore. They decided to call it a day, and the men closed the shutters and barred the sturdy door.

There was only one bed in the cabin, and it did not seem to hold more than two people. Raven insisted that Rose and Jim should have it. She prepared a sleeping place for Ned and Mandy, laying out a huge, soft Grizzly pelt on the wooden floor. It still smelt of bear, but it was singularly soft and pliable.

Jim and Rose settled on the bed, and Rose snuggled close to him. Raven had prepared a makeshift bed for herself, but Rose felt bad. This was Raven's bed, and this was her last night in the home she had lived in with her man.

"Raven, come join us. We can fit you in," she told the young woman.

With a grateful look, Raven took off her clothing, and laid down on the outer side of Rose. Mandy blew out the lantern and joined Ned in the fur bed. The others heard her giggle and squeal softly, and then they heard a slap and Ned's chuckle.

To Rose, sleeping in a bed, albeit a primitive one, was like heaven. Of course, they were crowded, but the grass-stuffed mattress was soft, and the glowing embers in the fireplace kept the cabin warm. She fell asleep within a few minutes and never woke up before morning.

Raven was up before sunrise, and Rose woke from the noises made by the young Lakota woman preparing breakfast. They opened the shutters to let in the cold morning air and went to wash in the small spring-fed creek that ran by the cabin.

Loading the animals took a little longer, because of the extra items they were taking from the cabin, but soon, they were ready to go. After one last mournful look at the cabin, Raven led the way down the valley and back to the trail.

-------

When they reached Denver City five days later, there was a huge crowd in the streets. With their pack animals, they kept to the side streets and let Ned Gourd collect information. He came back, excited.

"We're a Territory! The Colorado Territory! President Buchanan signed the act in February. We're under United States law, and they will appoint a governor. Denver City is the City of Denver now."

That was indeed important news. However, with the raucous celebrations going on, they decided to continue on the trail, rather than staying. Ned and Jim both knew that traveling with three women, they would invite trouble from the drunkards who roamed the streets.

Ten miles up the South Platte River, they found a camp of settlers, ranchers from Oklahoma, who thought it a good idea to raise cattle for the hungry diggers. The group consisted of two large families, with twelve men and boys, and eight women.

They regarded Raven with doubt at first, but they invited them to stay in their camp. Jim had shot a deer in the morning, and the settlers accepted it as a welcome contribution to the supper.

After supper, they exchanged stories, and later, two of the younger men produced a guitar and a harmonica. They played a few pieces, to everyone's enjoyment. When they stopped, Rose asked rather shyly whether she might borrow the guitar. Everybody looked at her expectantly and a few of the men made humorous remarks, but when she played the first chords and started into 'Silver Dagger', a popular song of the frontier, they listened to her with open mouths.

Jim stared at his wife, hardly believing his ears. Rose was blessed with a strong, yet sweet voice, and it was obvious that she was a practiced singer. When that song ended, she started another, a sad ballad from Scotland, 'The Trees They Do Grow High'. She closed with 'Rake an' Ramblin' Boy', and she beamed with pride when the whole camp stomped their feet and clapped their hands after she finished.

"What other talents have you hidden from us?" Jim asked her later, when they lay in their blankets.

"I used to sing in the Emerald Saloon. As long as I sang, the men gave me money without ... without me going upstairs with them. The owner liked it, too, because the patrons drank more when there was music."

"I'll try to find you a guitar, next time we're in Denver City. They have grown so much, that I think we don't have to go to Fort Laramie anymore to trade our gold and pelts."

"I'd love to have a guitar and to play and sing for you," Rose said dreamily. She looked to her other side, where Raven lay bundled in her blanket. "How did you like my songs?"

"You have a good voice, but sad songs," Raven answered, after mulling the question. "Why is everybody unhappy in your songs?"

Jim chuckled. "I don't know, Raven, many songs are sad. But you are right. We should find happy songs for Rose."

He hugged Rose from behind, and his bold action made her squeal softly. He nuzzled her neck softly.

"I can't wait for us to arrive, Rose."

Editing and local color by SpikeCo



-------

Chapter 5


The Sluice Box

Tarryall, Colorado Territory, April 1861

The last leg of the journey, across Kenosha Pass, took them another eight days. This was a horse and mule trail only, forbidding for wagons which had to take the detour along Santa Fe road and a primitive road up to Ute Pass to reach South Park. The trip further solidified their closeness, and for the two couples it became clear that Raven Feather was one of them. When they made camp just past Kenosha Pass, Ned and Jim brought the topic up and offered Raven to stay with them. Giving them all a shy, grateful smile, Raven accepted.

Tarryall had grown into a small and ramshackle copy of Denver City. They rode into the town around noon and Rose saw the 'Golden Nugget' and the Mother Lode, the two saloons Tarryall could boast, and she shuddered involuntarily. Three women were standing around the entrance of the Mother Lode. They were dressed in gaily colored dresses, but nothing could hide the misery of their existence. Stuck in a mining town, beyond the end of the world, had to be the worst proposition for a saloon girl.

Jim and Ned saw something that was of great interest to them. Two gold traders had opened shop since last fall, and the blackboards told them that gold dust fetched $16 per troy ounce; nuggets went at a premium of $17. A fur trader had opened shop, too. Jim and Ned decided that they could do their trading without the tedious travel. That would give them two additional months to pan for gold and would offset the lower prices they would get for their furs.

At the livery stable, Jim and Ned made arrangements to sell the bushwhackers' horses, and they were able to get $135 for the three animals, with saddles and tack. Prices were soaring in the diggings. Jim would deliver the animals after they had unloaded them.

They rode off along Tarryall Creek until they turned into the narrow valley that constituted their claim. The log cabin was situated on a rock ledge, ten feet above a small feeder creek. This year's snow melt had deposited large amounts of silt and sand along the sides, and Jim realized that Ned's idea, to roll boulders into the creek to create a backlog, had served to increase the deposits.

The cabin was indeed roomy, Rose decided, at least twenty by twelve feet on the inside. It was also obvious that no woman had ever set foot into it. The floor boards were dirty and raw, the logwood table was in sore need of a sanding, and the two cots were not too inviting, either.

"They need women, they really do," Mandy stated grimly, echoing Rose's thoughts.

In contrast to Mandy who had been a proper housewife before her first husband's suicide, Rose was not really appalled by the state of the cabin. Ned and Jim had done the back-breaking work of gold washing and - in winter - trapping. The cabin was a means of survival in winter, nothing more, certainly not a homestead. Nevertheless, Rose had a sinking feeling. Living here would be so much different from what she was accustomed to.

In a concerted effort, all five worked together to clear the cabin of food wastes and of the worst dirt. Jim and Ned promised to build new, larger bed frames, but it was Raven who really knew how to make the cabin habitable. Of the three women, she was the only one who had lived in a log cabin before, and she brought in the items from her abandoned cabin.

When night fell, they slept on makeshift beds on piles of fresh pine twigs. Rose decided that she liked the fresh smell, and she slept surprisingly well.

As promised, Ned and Jim set out to cut two pine trees. With the use of an old saw, they cut seven foot and six foot lengths of pine wood, to form two sturdy, seven by six, bed frames, with five foot bed posts. In the meantime, the women were busy to join bison hides into eight by seven foot sheets which were then suspended over the frames, hairy side down, using leather thongs.

Using sack cloth, Rose even fashioned bed curtains to afford them a modicum of privacy in the single room cabin.

The better one of the old cots was fitted with a fresh bison hide, too, for Raven's use.

Five very tired people went to sleep that evening. Even so, Ned and Mandy soon began their nightly ritual, and soon the sounds of their coupling filled the cabin. Jim and Rose still did not have that intimacy. For once, they had shared their bedding with Raven for most of the trip. Secondly, Jim was at a loss how to initiate things with a 'real woman', one he did not have to pay first, and thirdly, Rose felt apprehensive. The thought of living in this primitive cabin in the middle of nowhere was unsettling to her. So much, in fact, that she not even tried to cuddle with Jim.

The men were off, the next morning, to examine the silt placers in the small creek. It seemed like every year some new gold was deposited, washed out from a place upstream. After they had done their chores, the women took a break to find their men.

Jim and Ned were busy working a device called a sluice box. It was an oblong wooden box, open at both ends, and subdivided by low wooden barriers. It was positioned at a place where the creek tumbled down over a ledge. The water could stream through the box.

The men dropped shovel loads of silt into the upper third of the box. In theory, the water washed away the sand and small pebbles, leaving the gold behind. In real life, the men had to swirl the water with their hands, the cold water biting into them. Every shovel load yielded perhaps two or three small flecks of gold.

It was a grueling work, Rose could see. Yet, by noon, the men had collected a half ounce of gold dust, worth $8. She made her suggestion at lunch.

"This cabin isn't big enough to keep three women busy. If we had another sluice box, Mandy and I could help."

"That's awful hard work," Ned said.

"So it is," Mandy said. "Rose is right. Even if we can't work as much as you men, we can contribute."

Ned scratched his head.

"Y'know, Jim, it can't hurt to have them try."

Thus, in the afternoon, Jim and Ned fashioned another sluice box and installed it a little upstream of the cabin. The next morning, the two couples set out to their work. Raven had agreed to tend the cabin and to have food ready for them. They had kept the weapons of the bushwhackers, and Raven said she'd try to hunt in the afternoon. She had selected a well-kept Kentucky Rifle for her use.

Panning for gold in the ice-cold water was indeed back-breaking work, Rose found. It was eased, though, by the good luck they had. She and Jim managed to recover close to an ounce of gold dust by midday, and Mandy and Ned had not fared worse. Earning $30 in one morning made up for a lot of back pain.

In their short break, they had a noon meal of beans and pemmican, prepared by Raven. She had roasted and ground some coffee beans, too, and boiled coffee for them. With aching limbs, Rose and Mandy followed Jim and Ned to the creek, after the meal, and resumed their work.

That evening, Rose barely had the energy to eat a few bites of the hare Raven had shot before she dropped onto the cot. She was dead to the world immediately, and she never noticed Jim who undressed her carefully before he joined her under the blankets.

The next morning was pure hell for Rose. Every joint hurt, every muscle protested, whenever she moved. Yet, when they tallied their wins of the day before, when she saw that they had panned almost four ounces of gold dust, she forced herself to her feet and followed Jim to their placer.

The next days and weeks became a repeating pattern of getting up to a hurried breakfast, working the sluice box until noon, wolfing down a hasty meal, returning to the work, and dropping into bed at sundown for an exhausted sleep.

By the end of June, they had recovered over sixty ounces of gold dust and a few good-sized nuggets, worth a little over $1,000. At this point, pickings became slimmer, and they had to dig deeper into the silt deposits. They were exhausted, too. Each of the small group had worked twelve and more hours each day, hard physical labor, for two months.

The Fourth of July celebrations in Tarryall provided them with an excuse to take a few days' break. They spent two days, just resting, eating, and mending their clothes. Then, on the Fourth, the two couples rode into Tarryall. Raven stayed behind. She claimed to be wary of these celebrations, and it was probably a sensible decision.

The evening began nicely enough, with music and dancing in the two saloons Tarryall could boast. For once, the few 'decent' women were also allowed into those establishments. The Town Marshall, Rory Evans, and three or four deputies kept a vigil, to put a damper on tempers.

Jim and Ned danced a number of songs with Rose and Mandy, but, on Rose's warning, both women declined the other men. Rose knew too well how easily drunk men could feel encouraged by a harmless dance. Yet, when the music took a break, Jim saw how she kept looking longingly at an abandoned guitar. He spoke to the proprietor of the 'Golden Nugget' who nodded eagerly and stepped up on the small stage.

"My Ladies and Gentlemen!" he boomed, and the crowd more or less fell quiet. "It so seems that we have among us another artist, one who is much better to look at than Roger's trio."

Some less than flattering remarks were yelled regarding Roger's trio, three diggers who occasionally played and sang in the saloons.

"We have with us tonight Mrs. Rose Tremayne, formerly known as the Rose of Baltimore. What do you say, boys? Do we want her to sing for us?"

The move was accepted by raucous acclamation. Rose looked a little uncertain, but when Jim nodded at her, she stood up. Escorted by Jim, Ned and Mandy, she stepped on the small stage. Somebody handed her the guitar, and she strummed the chords once, to get a feel for the instrument.

A hush had settled over the saloon, except for two drunkards who shouted obscenities. These were quickly taken care of by the people around them, though, and their unconscious forms were dragged out into the street without ado.

When everybody was quiet again, Rose started. Her sweet voice filled the saloon, causing open-mouthed wonder on the part of the listeners. Taking heed to Raven's remarks, Rose started out with lively and happy songs, and after a few pieces, the crowd started singing with her on the refrains and clapping in rhythm.

More people came into the saloon, mostly from the 'Mother Lode', the other saloon, when word spread of the performance. After ten or more pieces, Rose began to feel tired, and she told the crowd that she'd sing the last song for the evening. There were some protests, but most people gave a thundering applause, before she even started. Rose put the guitar aside safely and stood in the centre of the stage, taking a deep breath.

Then, a cappella, she started into the ballad 'Wagoners's Lad'. She gave her all in this song, as everybody in the saloon felt, and when she ended, the clapping, yelling and trampling took no end. Even the owner of the 'Mother Lode' had come over, and he, at least, was grateful that Rose's performance had ended, as most of his erstwhile patrons were now standing in the 'Golden Nugget'.

Earl Golding, the owner of the 'Golden Nugget', invited Rose and Jim over to his private table, to share a bottle of his 'finest' with them. Indeed, the wine was not half bad, and it soothed Rose's throat.

"Mrs. Tremayne, this was nothing short of brilliant!" he enthused, and the other dignitaries at the table, the Marshal, the Doctor, and three merchants, nodded at that.

Golding cast a look at his bar where his keepers had a hard time now, coping with the demand.

"Would you be interested to repeat this?" he asked. "We could work something out for you, say, a split of the take at the bar."

Rose thought only briefly. Yes, her back and her joints were still hurting from the hard work of panning gold. She knew, however, that not every evening would be like this. One evening, sooner or later, a drunk or crazy man would not be content with listening to her. She could not live like that anymore. Also, she reminded herself of her vow, to be a good wife to Jim. She looked at him and gave him a smile.

"Mr. Golding, this is not how I want to earn my living anymore. I am married to a good man, and I will never cause hurt or shame for him. You know as well as I do how things would end if I sang here every evening."

Golding made a face.

"I'll make you an offer, though: I'll sing here, for free, on the Fourth of July and on Christmas Eve. All I want in exchange is a guitar."

"Done!" Golding said at once. He tilted his head. "Maybe it's for the better. The novelty would wear off soon. If you make yourself scarce, we'll have something special for the celebrations."

The Marshal and his men were nice enough to provide an escort for them when they exited the saloon, to ride home. Once the horses were warm, they set out at a brisk pace, to prevent any admirers of Rose from catching up.

That night proved to be another big change. The two days of rest, the evening in the Golden Nugget, and, not the least, Jim's consideration had given Rose a new outlook on things. True, they were living in a primitive cabin. True, she did backbreaking work (though of her own volition). However, the rewards were there. Jim cared for her, as a person. He even respected her. Mandy, Ned and Raven were wonderful companions and friends. And, not to forget, they would be well off if their luck held through another two or three seasons. There was one shortcoming to her life, though, that Rose felt had to be corrected.

When they arrived at the cabin, they heard Raven's challenge and quickly identified themselves. Raven let them in, then. She was only wearing a homespun tunic, and had clearly woken up when she heard their horses. Satisfied it was her friends, she returned to her bed, while the others took off their finery.

In the privacy of their curtained bed, Rose took off her tunic and leggings. With a grin, she shed her undies, too. Naked, she waited under the blanket for Jim to come to bed.

When he joined her, he was only wearing calico pants, his usual night time attire. In the weak light, Rose saw the ugly scars on his stomach and chest where she knew the shots had torn him open, back in that faraway war.

She smiled at him and, taking his hand, pulled him down close to her. With her other hand, she pulled down the blanket, revealing her naked body to his eyes.

"It's time you made me your wife, Jim," she said softly.

He stretched out carefully beside her.

"Rose, umh, I suppose you know more about ... men and women ... being together. I ... you know ... I haven't done this with ... It was always with ... I never did anything with a woman I cared for."

She could tell he was mortally embarrassed, but the fact that he had the courage to admit to his past endeared him to her.

"Just lie on your back, Jim! Let me take care of you. After all, it's the one thing I know how to do."

The last sentence was laced with bitterness, so much, that it pierced through Jim's embarrassment.

"That's behind you, Rose. You're my wife now, and I have grown to care for you."

"I care for you, too, Jim," Rose said softly. "You're the first man who ever treated me decently. In a way, it's the first time for me, too. The first time with a man for whom I care."

She bent over him and kissed him. He kissed her back with vigor, and she felt lightheaded. She pulled the waist string of his pants open, and pulled them down. His stiff member jumped up. Rose smiled. There was no doubt that Jim coveted her. She kissed the tip of his member, and it jumped in her hand. It was clear that she could not expect endurance from him, nor much patience. With her free hand, she tested her own sex. To her surprise, she was wet and ready herself.

"I think I'm ready for you, Jim. Just lie back and enjoy it."

Straddling his midsection, she positioned her wet opening over the tip of his member. He inhaled sharply when the tip encountered her outer lips, and a deep moan began to rise from within his chest as she impaled herself on him with excruciating slowness. Once he was seated inside her, she paused, taking time to bend down and kiss him again.

"How do you feel, Jim?"

She could see that his eyes were wide open in wonder.

"Rose, I've never felt like this before!"

"I should hope not," she gave a mock huff.

They heard Mandy's giggle from across the room, and a snort from Ned.

"You two, keep out of it!" Rose shouted. "Play 'hide the gourd', or whatever you do every night."

Ned's guffaw and Mandy's laughter filled the cabin. Even from Raven's bed, they could hear a muffled giggle.

"Don't mind them, Jim," Rose smiled.

She started to rotate her hips slightly, and again, Jim stiffened and moaned. His hips began to move against Rose's pelvis in a rhythm that came to him naturally. Surprisingly, Rose felt a tingle herself while she used her cunt to massage her husband's prick. It was clear that Jim would not last long, for she felt the urgency of his movements.

"Jim, would you like to kiss my boobies?" she asked, leaning over him.

A second later, she felt his lips on her left nipple, kissing it softly, while his hands caressed the soft flesh of her breasts. He was gentle, she liked that, and his tongue flicked over her nipple, making her squeal with delight. At the same time, she realized that this last stimulus was too much for him. Suddenly, his lips closed over her nipple, and he sucked on her, fiercely. A slight jolt of pain shot through her, but at the same time, she felt his member begin to pulse inside her.

Jim let go of her nipple to utter one long moan of release, and his hips bucked under her, trying to push as much of his member inside her as possible. A warm feeling washed over Rose, and she pressed down on him, to meet his thrusts. She felt filled, and the pulsing in her cunt vibrated through her. Before she knew it, she began to shake as a mild climax rushed over her.

She looked down at Jim's face in astonishment. It had been years since a man made her shake, and never had it been from penetration alone. Then, as she felt Jim's strong arms pulling her into a crushing embrace, his hips bucking and pushing the still turgid member deep into her core, her body shook once more in response.

Her bones turned to jelly, and she just lay on top of Jim, unable and unwilling to move. Jim was equally unable to move or talk.

"You fellers kilt each other?" Ned inquired from across the room, after a few minutes.

"Nigh on," Rose was able to answer, setting off another round of laughter.

Editing and local color by Spike CO



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Chapter 6


Samantha

Tarryall, Colorado Territory, July 1861

Rose woke up from a deep, satisfied sleep when Raven started her usual morning ruckus with pans and pots. She opened the drapes of their bed, to look out, when strong arms wrapped around her midsection and pulled her back. She looked up into Jim's eyes and smiled at him. Obviously, he took this as encouragement, and he planted a long kiss on her lips. His hands held her boobies, caressing them tenderly. When their lips parted, he kissed her forehead.

"You're a wonderful woman, Rose. Don't ever let anybody tell you differently."

A wave of emotion swept over Rose, and she said something that she thought she would never say, let alone mean.

"Jim, I think, I may love you. Isn't that strange? I didn't know you, four months ago, and now I can't see my life without you."

"You hold my heart in your hands, Rose," he replied.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, she let her hands wander to his midsection.

"Would you rather I held your staff?" she whispered.

"Whatever you want to hold is fine with me," he replied, with a gleam in his eyes.

"How 'bout she holds a shovel? There's panning to do, so get up! Ouch!" Ned shouted.

"You leave them alone, Mr. Gourd, if you know what's good for you," Mandy scolded him, but they heard laughter in her voice.

With a mutual sigh, they slipped on their tunics and pants and ambled out of bed. As usual, Jim and Ned went out first to wash in the creek. They circled the cabin, rifles ready, to make sure nobody and nothing lurked in the bushes before they did their morning fresh-up.

Mandy and Rose followed then, to repair any damage the night had done to them. Unabashedly, Rose squatted over the creek, to wash her privates. Mandy just giggled and followed suit. The mood was upbeat that morning, and Jim and Rose had to sit through a lot of banter during breakfast. Only Raven had a slightly wistful air about her.

They returned to their placer with a vengeance. The last two months, while not killing her, had greatly hardened Rose. She was stronger now, tougher, and she did not tire as easily as before. Still, it was hard work, and the return that morning was not overwhelming. A half ounce of gold dust was all they recovered.

They decided to move a little upstream to another, yet untouched sandbar, after lunch. It was good they did. Within five hours, they had panned two-and-a-half ounces, bringing up their total for the day to three, a decent return.

It was enough to have them all in good spirits when they turned in for the night. Of course, Jim wanted to practice his newly discovered skills as a lover, and Rose was more than happy to continue her tutoring. He was eager and willing to learn from her, and Rose delighted in teaching Jim ways to satisfy her. He still had to work on control, but Rose was confident that this would also get better with time and practice.

It took them another three weeks to exhaust that new placer, yielding them another forty ounces of gold dust. They planned to move further upstream, but at that time, Ned noticed worrisome signs. It was only early August, but the wild animals they saw were clearly preparing for winter, collecting food almost day and night. Many animals were growing their winter pelts already. To an experienced frontiersman, the meaning of this was clear: they were in for an early and long winter.

In response, Jim and Ned checked their supply of firewood and other necessities. They had enough wood to last a normal winter, but they were worried enough to cut down more trees, preparing stacks of green wood. They figured it would dry some before they would need it. They also rode into Tarryall to purchase provisions for the winter: beans, flour, bacon, sugar, and coffee. On Jim's insistence, they also bought a cask of pickled cabbage. It would prevent scurvy, as Jim knew from his soldier days.

They hunted, too, and they spent days to conserve meat and render fat. Using clay from a downstream deposit, they patched cracks in the cabin walls and replaced damaged shingles on the roof. They cut tall grass, on the high plain above their valley, and stored the dry hay for their horses and mules. Four sacks of oats, bought at a premium, were also tucked away safely in a lean-to behind the cabin that would shelter the animals.

By late August, they had done everything possible to prepare for a long winter, and for a few days, they returned to panning. With the shorter days of late summer, they recovered less than in spring, but they found and marked another promising placer for next spring.

The women, under Raven's teaching, prepared warm winter clothing from the skins and pelts of the animals Jim and Ned hunted, and when, in mid-September, the temperatures dropped sharply and the few snow flakes drifted in the cold wind, they were as ready for the winter as they could.

And that was what saved them. The early snowfall and the freezing temperatures caught many of their fellow diggers flatfooted and unprepared. The newcomers, in many cases, had not built adequate shelters, but even the veteran diggers suffered. By mid-October, three feet of snow covered the ground. Using snow shoes, Jim made his way into Tarryall, one morning. It was almost dark when he returned. The news he brought was not good.

"Tarryall is swamped with people. All the greenhorns are there, and even some old timers who missed the signs," he told them. "Golding and the fellow who runs the Mother Lode let them sleep in the stables, between the horses. The problem is food. Those poor saps spend all this year's winnings, just to get some bread. The merchants charge outrageously for provisions."

"Good Lord! What are they going to do?"

"The Marshal sent to Denver, asking for relief. They're still waiting for an answer. In this weather, no mules can come through anyway."

"What did you do, then?" Ned asked.

Jim grinned.

"Walked around, asking for free food. Told them, we're snowed in and in need of food. No need letting folks know we're well stocked."

Ned nodded gravely.

"Them no-good greenhorns would be here in two shakes, giving us a hard time."

"My thinking as well. Let's keep a good vigil, though. I'd hate to be killed over our provisions."

Even through this serious talk, Rose felt confidence. They were prepared, thanks mostly to their men's alertness. And if push came to shove, they were five, armed well, and in a sturdy cabin.

Their worries proved to be without substance. For the next two months, not a soul showed in their valley. Each day, either Jim and Rose or Ned and Mandy went out to check their trap lines. With the wild animals as desperate for food as the humans, trapping was great that winter. That early in winter, the animals were still fat, providing good nourishment to the humans. They all worked several hours each day, curing the pelts, and that filled the short days.

They also slept a lot, by necessity. Sex was difficult, if not impossible, in the almost freezing temperatures. The fire warmed only a small area around the fireplace, and to undress in the beds was unbearable. They cuddled a lot, though, and both couples became closer. Raven gravitated back towards Jim and Rose, out of necessity, and she was welcomed to add and share warmth. Some nights, in spite of the fire, the cabin was so cold that they all slept huddled in one bed.

Right around Christmas Day, they hit a warmer spell, or rather, a less severely cold spell. With some precautions, they could ride the horses through the snow, and they paid a visit to Tarryall.

At the Golden Nugget, they found most of the population congregated for a Christmas service. The preacher whose ordination was at best questionable delivered an inspiring sermon nonetheless. For the closing, Mr. Golding asked Rose to sing for the assembled crowd. She complied readily, as she had promised.

The men and women listened in rapt attention when Rose sang for them. This afternoon, she focussed on ballads and spiritual songs, and many of the men had tears in their eyes, listening to her. When she had finished, Rose, together with Mandy and Raven, handed out sweet biscuits which they had baked in the last few days using flour, ground nuts, and some honey from a stock of wild bees. For the starved diggers, this was almost too much.

One young fellow, a newcomer, when handed a biscuit took hold of Rose's hand.

"You shore are an angel come to earth, Mrs. Tremayne," he said reverently.

"That she is, and Mrs. Gourd, too," the Marshal spoke up. "By God, even the young Redskin lady is an angel!"

"It just proves God's power that he can use a heathen girl as a tool of His Mercy," the preacher added his penny, in a solemn voice.

Poor Raven blushed under her bronze skin, and both Rose and Mandy smiled uneasily in their embarrassment. Then, Rose saw a movement behind the wall of people who surrounded them in the hope of catching a biscuit. It was a girl, perhaps twelve or thirteen years old, and frighteningly thin.

"You Gentlemen, please," she shouted. When she had their ear, she continued. "Will you please, for the love of God, let that poor lass through?"

Embarrassed, a few of the men moved aside to admit the girl to the centre.

"Do you want a biscuit, Sweety?" Rose asked.

"Yes, Ma'am, very much so," the girl answered shyly.

Rose gave her the biggest one left.

"Here, Sweety. Sit behind us for a spell, will you, while you eat it."

The girl took cover behind the women.

"Now, you gentlemen who let her through, come forward!" Mandy smiled, handing out biscuits.

In the end, the supply was enough to give a piece to almost everybody. Inspired by the generosity, Mr. Golding had his cook brew a Christmas punch, a gesture that would earn him many loyal patrons in the next year.

Meanwhile, Rose was talking to the skinny girl.

"What's your name, Sweety?"

"Samantha, Ma'am," the girl answered. "Samantha Olsen."

"Where are your parents, dear?" Mandy added.

"My Mom died on the trek. She had a pmo-pnom ... she coughed at lot and died. My father went out to hunt for meat, I guess a month ago, and he never returned. Mr. Golding lets me sleep behind the kitchen, where I'm safe, as long as I wash dishes and such."

"But you don't get food?" Rose asked.

"There's no leftovers, these days, when we clear the plates," the girl answered sadly.

"Let me get Jim and Ned; keep her talking," Rose told Mandy.

She quickly located her husband who was talking to one of the gold buyers. Ever courteous, Jim introduced them, and Mr. Tennison - that was his name - bowed nicely, giving Rose a chance to practice her curtsey.

"You do sing beautifully, Mrs. Tremayne, and you raised spirits with what you did. I take it, you used honey and ground hazelnuts for your biscuits? My mother used to make biscuits like that."

"Yes, and what flour we had left," Rose sighed. "I'm awfully sorry, Mr. Tennison, but could I speak my husband in private for a minute? It really is urgent."

"Of course, Ma'am. We were done anyway. I hope to see more of you, once this winter is over."

Lifting his hat, he left them alone.

"Jim, dear, I'm sorry to interrupt, but did you see the girl whom we gave the biscuit?"

"Sure. What of her?"

"She's an orphan. Her parents died on the trek, and nobody looks after her. She's sleeping in a store room here, washing dishes for room, but she's starving. I'm really afraid that she'll be forced to, you know, become what I became, before long. Couldn't we take her with us, until spring? She'll work, no doubt, and she'd be out of this place. She's going to be pretty, and I hate to think what this town will do to her."

For an answer, Jim simply gave Rose a kiss.

"If this is your wish, and seeing that it's Christmas, I agree. We'll have to clear it with Ned and Mandy, though."

"I'll talk to Mandy, and she'll tell Ned," Rose laughed happily. "James Tremayne, I love you!"

She was back in the corner with Mandy and Samantha.

"Samantha, would you like to come with us? We have a cabin, a few miles south, and a good claim. We have food, too. We could take you in, say until spring. Then, if need be, we can think of something better."

Samantha made big eyes. That meant something, because the eyes in her skinny face looked huge anyway. Rose turned to Mandy.

"Can you ask Ned if he's all right with that?"

Mandy smiled. "I'll just tell him, we're taking the girl in."

She strode off and returned with Ned.

"That's the lass?" he asked, and Mandy nodded.

Ned shook his head.

"She won't last another month in Tarryall, and a shame it would be." He spoke to Samantha. "Mandy tells me you work for room here. You'll have to work with us, too, but you'll get room and board, and a share of what we'll pan next year, if you stick around."

"Thank you, Mr. Gourd. I'm a good worker, I am. I can cook, too, and sew."

"We'll best put her behind Raven, for the way home. Raven's got that fur cloak to wrap her in," Ned mused, only to be rewarded by Mandy with a big kiss that caused laughter all around.

Meanwhile, Jim cleared the whole affair with Mr. Golding who was not unhappy at this turn of events. It was one less worry for him, and he really was not into pimping girls of that age, or rather, his wife would not allow it (she had been a saloon girl like Rose in her younger years).

The dusk was approaching already when the group of friends mounted their horses again, for the ride home to their cabin. As Ned had suggested, Raven let the girl sit behind her. One of the traders had sold them a pair of boy's pants, to cover Samantha's bare legs, under the threadbare dress, and Raven wrapped the wolf skin cloak around them both.

It was dark when they arrived, but the snow reflected enough light to see the path. Jim carefully inspected the snow around the cabin for suspicious tracks, but found none. Once inside, they hurried to get the banked fire going again, and they heated yesterday's venison stew for a warming supper.

Samantha never said much that evening, but her big eyes never wavered from the stew pot. A smiling Raven gave her two helpings before she shook her head. Too much too soon would only cause an upset stomach.

Here, in the cabin and by the flickering light of the fire, Jim had his first good look at the girl. She would be damned pretty one day. Her blonde hair, though tangled and looking dirty, reached all the way down to the small of her back. She was skinny, had to be, but she looked like a girl, nonetheless. Her boobs were just starting to fill, or would have been, if she'd had anything to eat. Her face was heart shaped and dominated by huge, blue-grey eyes. She had a rather wide mouth and a set of fine teeth.

To their surprise, they learned that Samantha was already fifteen years old, and Rose was even more glad to have got her out of the Golden Nugget. Fifteen was considered the right age for marriage, and consequently, nobody would raise a fuss over a fifteen year-old whore.

Raven offered Samantha to share her bed, and the girl agreed, blushing slightly. They called it a day, then. Rose found a shirt of her own that was better than Samantha's paper thin shift and wrapped a cloak around her while she changed. She caught a short glimpse of her naked protégée then, and had to suppress an intake of breath. The girl was not pretty, she was beautiful, skinny or not.

Tired and sated, Samantha had just settled under the bear skin cover with Raven when she was already fast asleep. Rose climbed into their own bed, then, to find Jim still awake. She beamed a wide smile at him. With deft movements, she shed her clothes, shivering only slightly since the cabin was not that cold.

"You, Jim Tremayne, have a special reward coming," she said huskily.

A squeal from the other bed told them that Mandy was equally grateful. Jim and Rose looked at each other and chuckled. Jim pulled his shirt over his head and pulled Rose down into his arms. Covering them both with the heavy furs, he rolled on top of Rose, kissing her hungrily. Rose responded in kind, spreading her legs for him. The constraint of having to do the lovemaking under a fur cover curtailed their foreplay, but a few minutes of kissing and rubbing sufficed for Rose to produce lubrication.

Jim was more than ready, too, and he quickly aligned his stiff member with Rose's entrance. As always, it was a close fit, but Jim had learned to take his time when penetrating her. Once seated fully, he held still to allow Rose to adapt.

"I'm fine now. Go on!" Rose whispered.

Rose always was amazed at how patient and considerate a lover Jim had become. He started with just minuscule rotating movements, using only his abdominal muscles. Because of their size difference, they could not kiss properly while he penetrated her, but his hand caressed her face and hair, and he whispered pleasantries, telling her how good she felt to him. That alone set him apart from the humping and grunting men of her past.

In her turn, Rose encouraged him, too, with words and actions. Wrapping her legs around his hips, she steered his movements to a degree. Her hands ruffled his hair and caressed his forehead and bearded cheeks. She made sure to tell him how good he made her feel. It was a true giving and receiving for them. Not for the first time, she thanked her lucky star for the chance wedding with Jim.

Jim began to use his full length now, pulling back slowly, until only the tip of his prick nudged her nether lips, and then sinking down into her depths, making her gasp with the exquisite sensations. This was something Rose loved. Long, measured strokes, not the rabbit-like pounding most men offered. And Jim seemed to savor the feel, too, for he maintained the slow and controlled movements, until Rose's gasps turned into moans.

"So good, so good," she crooned into his ear. "Push deep, Jim! Yesss! Push deep!"

Thus encouraged, Jim sped up, still maintaining long strokes. The slurping noises of his penetration mixed with Rose's heavy breathing and moaning, and Rose's heels dug deeply in Jim's thighs, while her hands pulled him down by his shoulders.

Jim began to growl deep in his chest, and Rose knew he was getting close. With both hands, she pulled down his head.

"Now, Jim, now! I'm ready!" she whispered urgently into his ear.

Then, she stuck her pointed tongue into his ear and felt him shudder. With a strained cry, he pressed his prick deep into her, and she felt the hot member begin to pulse. With a delighted squeal, she pressed against Jim, welcoming the deep penetration. A heartbeat later, she felt the familiar feeling of heat spread over her, from her cunt.

"Yess!" she sobbed, clinging to Jim tightly, while a wave of lust washed over her. She felt his last, urgent strokes, as he emptied himself into her, and she felt a deep satisfaction, unlike anything she had ever felt with other men. This was her husband, and they had affirmed their bond. Even living in a cold cabin, hundreds of miles from civilization, this was the best Christmas of her life, and by far.

Editing and local color by Spike CO



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Chapter 7

Bonanza

Tarryall, Colorado Territory, January 1862

Around mid-January, the weather turned freezing cold again, and it stayed that way into February. At that point, they were already using the poorly dried firewood from the last August, and, during the nights, the cabin was bitter cold. The women spent most of the days in bed, huddled together under Raven's bear skin cover and any other fur they could find. Jim and Ned hardly ever ventured out, either. Even with snow shoes, it was too risky to inspect the trap lines.

It was on a day in mid-February, right around noon-time, when somebody outside hailed the cabin.

"English Jim! Ned! You all right?"

Jim peeked out and saw the Marshal and two other men. They were pulling a sled.

"Yes, we're alive!" he hollered back. "Come on over!"

The men came in, stomping the snow from legs and feet. Jim and Ned had the fire going, and the cabin was reasonably warm. Jim offered them some of the soup they'd had for lunch.

"Lordy, but it's cold!" the Marshal exclaimed, looking around. "You're not faring too bad, I see."

"We bought our supplies in time," Jim said evenly. "We're also trapping, although I'm telling you, those animals are getting awfully skinny, too."

"Listen, you folks," the Marshal said. "We have received emergency relief from Denver. The Governor sent out a number of big sleds, with food and other provisions, and they arrived yesterday. We packed some of that stuff and try to reach the outliers, to see if they're still kicking."

"That's mighty noble of you, Marshal," Ned said, meaning it. "Al and Luke, in the next valley, we haven't seen hair or tail of them for more'n a month."

"You're doing fine here? Anything you're really lacking?" the Marshall asked.

"We'll be running low on firewood if it stays this cold," Jim said. "As soon as it clears a bit, Ned and I are going to cut some more, for what it's worth. Even green wood is better than nothing."

"That's not something we can help you with," the Marshall sighed. "We've used up most of the wooden shacks in Tarryall. Them Fairplay folks are faring even worse I hear. Listen, we'd better be going. It's good to see you're faring well. We got to see the others."

"Yeah, you better," Ned agreed. "Thanks for stopping by, Marshall."

They watched the men, pulling their sled down the valley and huddled under the blankets again for the rest of the day.

Two days later, the Marshal stopped by on their return trip. The news he brought was plain bad. Their neighbors, Al and Luke, had been alive, barely, and they left food and blankets for them. But many of the other outliers were dead.

Spring took another two months to arrive, and by then, the people in the cabin were down to their last bag of beans. There had been no flour since February, and the skinny animals Jim and Ned trapped hardly gave them any nourishment.

When it did turn warmer, the snow melt was even more dangerous. For almost a day, the creek was running so high it was nibbling at the steps of their cabin. The water was still running high when Jim saddled one of their horses - one of them had not made it, either - and rode into Tarryall.

The town looked terrible. Half the buildings were gone, torn down for firewood, and the remaining ones had no furniture anymore. Jim hitched his horse in front of the Golden Nugget and went in. It seemed half of Tarryall's population were living there, staring at him with huge eyes. Golding was there, too, haggard like the rest.

"English Jim! You made it!" he exclaimed. "Are Rose and the rest of you all right?"

"That they are, starved and cold, but kicking," Jim smiled.

"Thank God!" Golding said with feeling. "I'd invite you to a drink, but there's nothing left. Lefty has taken our wagons to Denver, four days ago, to see what food and drink he can buy up."

"Won't be much there, either," Jim remarked.

"I wouldn't say that. The Governor has got the government involved, we hear. They'll be sending out wagon trains with food."

"And they'll screw us out of our last nuggets for it," a man remarked.

He was likely right, Jim mused. This was the time for traders to make big money. In the cabin, they would have to make do with what was left, until the situation normalized. With the soil thawing, Raven was already digging for edible roots to complement the lean meat of trapped animals.

When Jim returned to the cabin in the evening, the news he brought were received with good grace. They had a meager supper together and went to bed shortly after to conserve body heat. Raven and Samantha had taken to sleeping with Jim and Rose, for the same reason. Whatever the young girl had gained in weight in early winter was gone long since, and she would only be warm enough to sleep when cuddled between the adults.

A week later, the water had receded enough to contemplate panning. They were all looking forward, expecting good returns this year, after the strong flooding. Indeed, the silt placers were larger than ever where the raging creek had deposited washed out material from upstream.

The next morning marked another turning point in their lives. As usual, Raven was up first, starting the fire and making a racket with the skillet, to wake everybody else, too.

Rose slipped out of the cabin and walked down to the creek which still carried a lot of water. Looking left and right, to make sure that nobody was in the vicinity, she slipped the tunic over her head and knelt on a flat stone over the running water. With cupped hands, she splashed the icy water on her face and her bare chest. She washed her armpits carefully, washed her face again, and rinsed her mouth with the fresh water.

Bending over the running water, she suddenly stopped. Under the surface, she saw something gleaming. Reaching for it, she picked up a shiny nugget, easily the size of a bird's egg. Forgetting her tunic in the excitement, she squealed and ran for the cabin. The others looked up in alarm, in fact, Jim started for his rifle, when she barged in, bare-chested.

Her triumphant smile, however, eased their mind, and she showed them her find.

"Yep, that's a nugget," Ned confirmed. "And I thank you kindly for bringing it right away," he added, looking pointedly at her naked chest.

Rose was unfazed. Modesty be damned! She held over $50 worth of gold in her hands!

"I just found this, looking down into the creek. Do you think there may be more?"

Jim, whose eyes darted between the nugget and Rose's breasts, finally managed to contribute to the exchange.

"Possible. You'll have to show us where you found it. Ned and I will pan and try to find more while you women are busy in here."

"The hell I will!" Rose exclaimed with force. "There's gold to be found in that creek, and you expect me to keep house? Never, this side of hell!"

She was so obviously excited, that the men relented. They were excited, too. Perhaps, the snow melt had deposited an extra amount of gold during the last weeks.

After breakfast, they all went down to the creek, and Rose showed them where she'd found the nugget. With a cry of excitement, Ned reached into the water and retrieved another nugget, only slightly smaller than then one Rose had found.

"Let's do this right, Ned," Jim said, with a gleam of excitement in his eyes. "Let's get the sluice boxes ready."

Together, the two men went back to the cabin and returned with one of their sluice boxes. They placed the open end between two rocks in the creek, at a small barrier. They fixed the implement with more rocks, and soon, the water of the creek was diverted to run through the box.

The box was divided into three compartments. Jim took a shovel load of sediment from the creek, where they had found the nuggets, and dumped it into the uppermost compartment of the sluice box. The running water carried the sand and small particles over the barrier into the next compartment. Ned aided this by gently swirling his hand in the running water. It was only two or three minutes until most of the sand and pebbles had been flushed away.

Six people bent over the sluice box, and they gasped as one. Five gleaming nuggets, and a lot of gold dust was seen between the large pebbles that had remained. Lifting the head end of the box, they drained the water from it. With a grin, Jim nodded at Rose who carefully collected the nuggets and the small specks of gold in the residue. It was easier for her, due to her small hands and delicate fingers, to get hold of the small gold particles.

"That's more'n two ounces, in one shovel," Ned marveled.

"More than we'd find in a normal day," Jim added. He looked at Rose. "You sure are our Lucky Charm, Rose."

"Yep, that she is," Ned grinned.

Rose felt a flush of pride.

"I just stumbled over it." A mischievous grin split her lips. "You men would've found it earlier if you washed more often."

Ned roared with laughter, and Jim grinned, hugging her from behind. Holding her, he whispered into her ear. "I want you to keep that first nugget, Rose. I'll have it polished and a hole drilled into it, so you can wear it around your neck, for luck."

Rose turned to face him and kissed him fully. When she finished, they were both breathless.

"I'd love that," Rose smiled. Then, her smiled vanished. "What are you waiting for? Get another shovel of dirt!"

Four of them worked their sluice boxes for the whole day, until darkness set in. They quenched their thirst from the creek, but they ignored their hunger. The excitement was too great. By evening, they had washed the sand of fifteen feet of creek bed, and they had recovered over thirty-five ounces of gold, half of it as nuggets, many of them the size of bird's eggs.

Raven and Samantha had been busy, cleaning the cabin inside out and preparing a stew from a roe deer Raven had been able to shoot. The whole supper was spent with excited babble. After all, five to six days like this would yield them enough gold to realize their dream of a farm in Oregon. Raven was the only one who stayed calm - gold did not mean much to her - but she smiled at the exuberance of her friends.

Rose was ecstatic. She had found that first nugget, and she had pointed the men to the right spot. However lacking her housekeeping skills were, she had proven her worth. The washing of the gold was exciting, too. Watching a shovel of dirt disappear to leave a resin of pure gold was as wonderful as anything Rose had seen in her life. They had substantial savings already from the previous years. If their luck would hold for just a few days, they would have enough to start a respectable existence.

Nobody would ever force her again to sleep with unwashed, stinking men. Nobody would insult her, nobody would pinch her behind. All those honorable women, who looked down their noses at girls like Rose, would be envious of her, Rose Tremayne.

When Rose looked across the table, at her husband, a warm glow filled her stomach. Not once since they met had he spoken harshly with her, not once had he alluded to her past. All through the harsh winter, he had tried to ease her live.

She was torn from her euphoric thoughts when Mandy nudged her. She looked up and saw that Jim and Ned had serious looks on their faces.

"Rose, we were talking about safety. We mustn't let anybody know of our luck. There are desperate people in the diggings, now more than ever, and those folks over in Fairplay don't like us old diggers one bit. Charley Evans was killed and robbed last year when it became known that he'd had a streak of luck. We'll go armed, all the time. We'll sell five or ten ounces of dust every couple of weeks, but never nuggets. People must think that we barely make do."

Ned was dead serious, Rose could tell. The thought that somebody might try to jump their claim and steal their gold almost made Rose growl with fury, and she nodded grimly. She'd been on the loser side for too long. Anybody coming for their gold would find her ready to fight to the last drop of blood.

"All right!" Jim said at last. "It's been quite a day. Let's get some sleep."

When they were lying in bed, Rose had a mood swing. Something had come to her mind, and it unsettled her. She lay awake for the better part of the night, and come morning, she nudged Jim.

"Jim, there's something that worries me. I mean, I know that you are a gentleman and an officer and all. If we find a lot of gold, and you'll be rich, you'll be wanting to go East, or even back to England. How will I fit, then? I can read and write, sure, but I don't know how to behave. I' am a convict, too."

Jim took a few moments to gather his wits about him.

"Rose, when I returned from the war and found that my fiancé had betrayed me, I thought I would never be able to trust a woman again. You changed that. I see you, and I know you'll be true to me, come what may. How can I do less? I love you, Rose Tremayne. I'd as lief give away my arms and legs rather than lose you."

In response, Rose pulled down his face for another kiss. They were both getting into it when they heard Ned.

"Stop that kissy-face nonsense in there. We want to get rich today!"

Laughingly, Rose put on some clothes, as did Jim. Raven and Samantha were sitting at the table already, grinning at them. The sunlight streamed in from the open window, and Rose conceded once more that Raven was a very pretty young woman. Granted, her face was wider than conventional ideals prescribed, but she was attractive all the same. Most importantly, however, she was pleasant to be with, and helpful.

They rushed through the breakfast, eager to continue where they left off the day before. Raven stayed in the cabin, claiming she wanted to tidy the beds and the cooking area. Rose and Mandy however, went with the men and Samantha joined them.

When Raven called them to noon meal, they had already recovered another fifteen ounces of gold dust and nuggets, and there was a mad babble at the table. They wolfed down the food, and barely took the time to compliment Raven before they rushed back to the creek. The fruit of their day's work when the light started to fade was a total of twenty-eight ounces.

After supper, Rose pulled a more than willing Jim towards their bed while their friends made lewd comments. Raven and Samantha were banned to their own cot. That evening, Rose offered Jim her body in all her naked glory. She made sure to show him her pleasure spots and Jim once again proved to be attentive to her tutoring. So attentive, in fact, that Rose had a shuddering release from his gentle fingers before he even mounted her.

Using her mouth, she then gave Jim as much pleasure as she had received. For the first time since the last fall, Rose spoiled her husband 'french style', and if his bucking hips were a measure, he enjoyed the experience very much.

Their work pattern continued for the next three days. By Saturday evening, they had recovered almost one-hundred and fifty troy ounces of gold from the placer. Jim enforced a day off on Sunday, not because of any religious beliefs- which he did not have - but to avoid suspicion. Working a claim on Sunday was a dead giveaway that one had struck a major placer.

Over the last days, Raven Feather had sewn a number of leather pouches, with drawstring closures. Using these, she distributed the gold into nuggets of various sizes and gold dust.

There was a hollow pine tree behind their cabin, close to the place where the men relieved their bladders. Here, in the hollow trunk, they hid the nuggets.

The work free Sunday also allowed them to recover. Now that their excitement wore off a little, they noticed their aching muscles and joints. They spent most of Sunday lazing in the grass around the cabin. Ned took his rifle and went hunting. He returned with a roe buck over his shoulder, and they enjoyed a supper of venison stew.

On Monday, while Ned, Mandy, Samantha and Rose started to work the placer again, Jim rode into Tarryall with a small pouch, containing six ounces of gold dust. He received ten eagles and eight silver dollars from the trader, Albert Tennison. When questioned about the good return, he claimed that they worked their claim with five people, instead of two. That was perfectly logical, and nobody became suspicious, as far as Jim could tell.

He spent some of that money in the general store. The first trade goods were arriving in Tarryall. Coffee, sugar, beans, and flour were on his list, but he also purchased a good quality soap bar, a wash board, and a larger water kettle. He returned to the cabin with his purchases just in time for the noon meal. Ned told him that they had been lucky again in the morning recovering more than twelve ounces of gold dust and nuggets.

Later in the day, when they were working the sluice boxes again, they were alerted by a shrill whistle from Raven. Looking up, they saw a man riding up the narrow valley and approaching them, Hastily, Jim dropped a shovel of dirt into the sluice box, to cover the gold they had washed. Both men took their rifles, and the women disappeared in the cabin. A moment later, three gun barrels showed in the windows.

"Howdy, gentlemen!" the man shouted from a distance. "Would you mind if I had a word with you?"

"Sure, come on up!" Ned answered.

The man came nearer and dismounted. Tying his horse to a tree, he walked close. He was perhaps thirty-five years old, and he wore a city suit, but not a fancy one. He touched the brim of his felt hat.

"Good-day, gents! I'm Hiram Kennedy. I'm a mining engineer. I just arrived in the territory, and I would like to let you gentlemen know that I offer my expertise to anyone who is interested in hard rock mining."

"I'm Jim Tremayne, and this is my partner, Ned Gourd. Well, Mr. Kennedy, it is surely nice of you to drop by, but you see, we're panning. Our placer yields almost seven ounces per week." Jim said with fake pride.

"I see," Kennedy said. He looked around the valley, squinting his eyes. "Where's that gold coming from, though? You're pretty high up, so it must wash out close to here. I don't want to rush you, gentlemen, and I'm certainly no claim jumper. But I know mining. If you ever find hard rock deposits, and you need help with the exploitation, you'll find me in Tarryall. I also have some capital, for machines. Think it over, gents, will you?"

Ned looked at Kennedy.

"Well, in case we find a lode, we might just call upon you, Mr. Kennedy."

"You do that. I can also understand that you want to exploit the placer deposits first. It's your claim, after all. If the placer runs dry, though, think about letting me in. I'd love to explore this little gorge."

He tipped his hat again for a greeting, and turned. Jim and Ned watched him as he rode out of the gorge without another look.

"That feller knows something," Ned opined and spat.

"He may just be a good engineer," Jim answered. "Anyway, we need to speed up. Another two months, and we should be finished with the placer for this year. Who knows? Perhaps, another strong snow melt will fill the placer again next spring?"

The women came down from the hut again, and Jim told them about their visitor and his offer. The women became worried, too, and they all agreed to work hard, to recover as much gold as possible in the next days.

Later that afternoon, Jim rode over to their neighbors, John Horn and Ed McGovern, who worked the next side valley. Kennedy had visited them, too, and had offered them the same. They thought about taking him up on his offer, since they had not been very lucky in the last months. They had little to lose.

Jim was relieved. If Kennedy made his offer to all the claim owners, he did not know about their strike. Nevertheless, they all kept up their vigilance in the following days while they submitted to the back breaking work in the creek.

By the end of that month, they had worked almost the entire bed of the creek, and they had recovered another one-hundred and fifteen ounces. The last days, though, had been bad, only yielding a few grains. Ned and Jim suspected that they had exhausted their placer for this year.

Still, they had almost fifteen pounds of gold, worth over four-thousand dollars. This was enough already to realize their dream of a ranch in Oregon or in the Wyoming territory. Consequently, they took the Sunday off again, to rest and to plan.

After their noon meal, Jim and Rose took a walk up the creek, to give Ned and Mandy some privacy in the cabin. For the same reason, Raven Feather and Samantha were sitting at the creek, working on some skins.

They were just past the point where they had stopped panning, when Rose saw a stand of flowers, a little way up the rock wall. The rocks were partly covered with a fine layer of dirt and grass, and not very steep. In a few moments, Rose was up seven or eight feet above the floor of the gorge, when her foot slipped on a grassy patch. The whole patch of grass and earth came loose, and Rose fell heavily on her behind and slid down the rock wall in a small avalanche of dirt.

At first, Jim was all concern, but when it turned out that she was not seriously hurt, he began to crack jokes about how her behind would look like in a few days. Rose did not find this particularly funny and she glared at the rock wall as if it bore responsibility.

Jim followed her angry glare, but the next funny remark died on his lips.

"Rose," he whispered, "that's quartz!"

"What is?" Rose answered, not sure what he meant.

"Up there, where you slipped. The dirt came away, and there's a vein of quartz."

"And?"

"This may be the lode Kennedy was speaking of, Rose. You find a lot of gold inside quartz veins, at least that's what I heard."

"You mean, we found a lode?"

Jim grinned at her.

"You really are our Lucky Charm, Rose!"

-------

They had only one pick-axe. Therefore, Jim and Ned took turns hacking away at the unyielding quartz. They had come here alone, while the women stayed around the cabin, standing guard. It took them four hours, and their hands were full of blisters, before they were able to break open a small pocket in the quartz vein. It was worth the effort.

They recovered almost fourteen ounces from that pocket. It was clear, though, that one pick-axe was not going to help them much. They had a hard rock deposit on their claim, and if they wanted to exploit it, they needed expert help and mining equipment. Yet, before they would let in partners and share the proceeds, they would exploit their find as much as possible.

-------

Rose listened to the snoring noises coming from Jim. For over four weeks, things had been going that way. Jim and Ned would leave the cabin after sun-up and return when the darkness settled over the gorge. They would be almost too tired to eat and they would drop on the beds and start snoring.

Sure, they had opened a few more pockets, and now they had almost seventy pounds of gold, tucked away in a tree trunk. They were rich, but Rose feared that she would be a rich widow if Jim and Ned continued in the same way.

Jim stirred beside her, mumbling unintelligible words. Rose sighed. They called it gold fever, and Jim and Ned had got it bad. Mandy was worried, too. They talked about it all day, while they washed the dust for gold.

Suddenly, Rose became aware that rays of light were coming through the cracks at the door and the shutters. That was strange. Normally, Raven would be up and about, making breakfast. Rose peered through the bed curtains. Raven was sitting on her bed, working on a new moccasin. She looked up and winked at Rose.

Rose understood. The men were too tired to wake by themselves. If the women kept quiet, the men would sleep. Rose stretched out cautiously beside her snoring husband.

It must have been the hunger that finally woke the men. With an oath, Jim sat up.

"Damn, it's full daylight! Where's that... ?"

"Jim Tremayne, shut up!"

Rose's face was not six inches away from his.

"We let you sleep because you need it. If you continue like this you'll be dead in a month. You haven't had a day off in a month. There will be no mining today. You'll rest. We need to talk anyway."

"Wait a minute, what... ?"

"I said, shut up! Stay in bed and rest while we prepare breakfast."

"But..."

"There's only one butt that counts today: mine! Stay where you are and don't make me angry!"

On the other side of the room, Ned was also on the receiving end of a dressing down. Perhaps it was the knowledge, deep down, that the women were right that made Jim and Ned back down. Obediently, they stayed in bed until they were called to the table.

It was a real good breakfast, and both men secretly agreed that it did a world of good for them, to sit and eat a real breakfast.

"This can't go on," Mandy said, when they had finished eating. "You're both working yourselves to death."

"Mandy's right. What's the use of being rich when you're dead?"

Jim sighed. "What are we to do? The gold is inside the damned quartz. We need to break it open."

Rose shook her head impatiently.

"Look, we have over seventy pounds of gold at our hands. That's what? Twenty-thousand dollars? We're rich already. Why risk losing everything to get even richer? Let's strike a deal with this Kennedy person. James Buckley did, and he says Kennedy is square. They had their deal written up by a lawyer in Denver City, with seals and stamps. Buckley's claim isn't much to write home about. Imagine what Kennedy can do here, with this lode!"

Ned scratched his head.

"I think, Rose is right, Jim. Each of us has ten-thousand dollars worth of nuggets and dust already. If we take in Kennedy as third partner, he'll take a third. But I rather take a third and live to spend it."

Suddenly, and to everyone's surprise, Raven Feather spoke up.

"Gold is a poison; it kills the mind. The more white men find, the crazier they get, until they forget why they wanted to find gold. You say, you want to buy a good farm or a ranch in Oregon. You have enough for that. Why do you want more? The gold will not feed your cows."

Jim looked at his companions, and a smile broke out on his face. He pulled Rose's face close and kissed her. Then he pulled Raven close, to hug her.

"You are right. The gold has become a purpose in itself. Let's go and trade in what we've got, and then talk to Kennedy."

-------

Ned and Jim rested for another day. They cleaned up and ate, and Jim even shot a doe. They had their first decent supper in weeks, that evening. Later, they all spent some time to clean and reload their weapons.

At dawn, the next morning, they were up and ate a hearty breakfast. They saddled their horses before Jim and Raven retrieved the gold from the hiding place and distributed the pouches evenly between the saddle bags of each rider. Meanwhile, Ned, Mandy, and Rose sat guard on their horses, their rifles at the ready.

When Jim and Raven had mounted their horses, with Samantha sitting behind Raven, they rode into Tarryall, still with their weapons at the ready. A few idlers watched them curiously when they stopped their horses at Albert Tennison's trading post. Tennison was in, and he greeted Jim at the front steps.

"Hello, Jim! Have you been lucky again?"

Over the last months, Jim had traded five to ten ounces per week, and they had come to know each other quite well.

"Why, yes, Albert. We've come to trade in a bit of gold."

Tennison looked at them shrewdly. He noticed the big shot gun in Raven's arm, and the fresh oil on the Colts.

"I take it, you struck a good one?"

"Ayup!" Ned grinned. He bent forward and spoke under his breath. "Can you make us a deal for thirty pounds?"

Tennison's eyes grew big.

"You found a lode!" he whispered excitedly.

Ned showed his hands. "Hard rock deposits, damn it to hell!"

"Why don't you folks come into my back office where we'll have some privacy."

They all went into the back of the house where Tennison had an office.

"Thirty pounds, you say? That'll stretch my current reserves. I can trade twenty, if you want coin right away. My partner will be back from Denver City in a day or two, with fresh money. Then I can take the rest off your hands."

That was a reasonable offer, and both Jim and Ned were relieved that Tennison had not tried to offer them paper money for their gold. Jim cleared his throat.

"Umh, Albert, we may have a little more tucked away. You better have your partner load up with eagles."

"How much more?"

"Seventy pounds in all, by our reckoning."

"Holy Moses! You need to work that claim properly! It's a damn bonanza!"

"I'll say," Jim concurred. "What have you heard about that Kennedy fellow? Is he square?"

"He's worked hard rock mines in California, and I'd say he's square. He's got money of his own, too. Say, you wouldn't be willing to enter into a four way partnership? I mean, Kennedy is the man to organize the work, but I could handle the trading, the security. Right now, I make two dollars for myself for every ounce I trade. As a partner, those two bucks would be part of the overall earnings, and I can handle supplies and transport as well, much better than any of you."

"That's something to think about, Mr. Tennison," Ned said. "I'd like to settle our business first, though."

"Why, certainly. When my partner returns, I can trade you for the rest. Is it all dust?"

Jim grinned.

"No, I traded only dust to keep the coyotes away. I'd say, more than half is nuggets."

"Damn! Pardon my language, ladies! Those seven hundred ounces of nuggets alone are worth almost $12,000, even here, in the territory. The dust'll come up to another $11,000. It's a damn good business for me, too. When my partner arrives, we'll send him back for cash at once. We need to plan the next moves carefully. I think, you should buy up the neighboring claims, if possible."

Jim nodded. What the man said, made sense. It also made him trust Tennison more. He could have bought those claims for himself.

"Perhaps, we should talk to Kennedy and have him take a look," he opined.

Tennison sent one of his men to find Kennedy. Then he proceeded to weigh gold dust until he reached twenty pounds, his financial limit. $6,400 dollars changed hands. Jim and Ned made five piles of gold eagles, and they filled their gold dust pouches with the coins. Each of the six took a pouch, weighing them down considerably. They settled into chairs, then, and waited for Kennedy.

It was another hour spent with drinking coffee before Kennedy arrived. He recognized Jim and Ned right away.

"Does this mean what I think it does?" he asked with a broad grin.

"Ayup!" Ned answered. "We have come to a point where we need somebody who knows mining."

With gleaming eyes Kennedy settled in a chair.

"Well, we've been working the placer for all it was worth, until four weeks ago," Jim elaborated. "We worked upstream, and suddenly the placer dried up. Rose here, she climbed up a slope to the side, and the soil came off, with quartz underneath. Ned and I have been picking at the quartz ever since, but we're not making real progress."

"You have quartz deposits with gold in them?" Kennedy asked eagerly.

"Yes, we've recovered about twenty-eight pounds in four weeks."

Kennedy whistled. He looked up.

"What is Al's place in this?"

"Well, I'd like to be a partner, too. I have capital, I have the connections for the trading, I can run the supplies."

He sounded eager.

"You gentlemen are willing to include Al?" Kennedy asked next.

Jim and Ned exchanged a look between themselves. Next, Jim whispered into Rose's ear.

"What do you think? Getting the gold back East from here is not easy, and Tennison knows how to do this."

Rose had made use of the fact that neither of the other men had paid much attention to her or to Mandy and Raven, and she had watched them unobtrusively. She had seen eagerness in Tennison's eyes, of course, but she thought he could be trustworthy.

"We need to settle everything before a lawyer in Denver City, but I think Tennison could help a lot," she whispered back.

Meanwhile, Ned had conferred with Mandy. He nodded at Jim.

"We both think, Mr. Tennison should be a part of this," Jim said.

The look he received from Tennison was pure gratitude, with no hint of a smirk.

"All right!" Kennedy said, obviously satisfied. "The way our partnership looks like, Mr. Tremayne and Mr. Gourd own the claim. Mr. Tennison will handle the gold and the supplies, and I will run the mining operation. I take it, we can all contribute equally to the working capital?"

The other three men nodded.

"I propose a four-way partnership then, with each of us owning a quarter of the operation."

Ned frowned slightly. This was their claim. But then, he looked at his hands. Even if Jim and Ned worked themselves to death, there was no way they could recover one half of what a professional mine would yield. Add to that the risk that their claim would be jumped, and they were better off with the partnership as proposed.

Jim had gone through the same thought process and had arrived at the same conclusions. He nodded.

"I think it's only fair to divide evenly," Jim said. "Since both Mr. Kennedy's and Mr. Tennison's contribution is their knowledge and work, there will be no salaries paid to either of them, right?"

"That's right," Kennedy nodded. "You provide the claim, we provide the organization. We all chip in equally for capital."

"Then we should make a trip to Denver, to write up a partnership agreement before a justice," Ned said. "Right now, we're all friends, but if there is trouble, something in lawyerly writing can help us remember our agreement."

"That's only fair and proper," Tennison agreed readily, and Kennedy, too, nodded his assent.

Editing and local color by Spike CO



-------

Chapter 8


Civilization

Denver, Colorado Territory, September 1862

Denver had grown even more in the last year, they found. There were banks now, and hotels, and fine eateries. Even Jim, with his past life as an officer and gentleman, was impressed.

The ride from Tarryall, with Kennedy and Tennison had been smooth. Tennison had left his trade shop with his partner, to accompany them to Denver, and he led them to the Miners' Bank first. This was where he did most of his business, and here, Jim and Ned dropped fifty pounds of nuggets and gold dust on the counter, creating a mild sensation.

On the ride over from Tarryall, they had agreed on the principles of their partnership. Kennedy would run the mining operation, that was a given. Ned was to stay in Tarryall to oversee the operation and to hire workers. He would also make sure his and Jim's interests were observed. Tennison would organize the transports of gold and goods to and from Denver.

The partners agreed that Jim should remain in Denver, as their representative. After all, he was a learned man, an officer and gentleman, and he knew how to behave in a salon. He was to be their ears and eyes in the capital of the territory, ready to represent their interest with the appointed governor. He was also to keep close ties with the Mining Bank, essential for their operations.

The others would join them in Denver during the winter months, when the mining operation would be dormant. Ned and Jim had also decided to postpone their dream of a ranch. Oregon was out of the question now if they were running a gold mine. Instead, they had decided to look for houses in Denver. Jim would also look into opportunities to invest their gains.

However, this part of the plan had to wait. After receiving their receipts of deposit at the Miners' Bank, they all took rooms in the Palace Hotel. Neither Jim nor Ned possessed a city suit, let alone a presentable one. Mandy and Rose had their buckskins, plus a few dresses that had seen better days, and Sam had even less.

Therefore, after a referral by the bank clerk, a tailor was contracted to fit them with appropriate clothing. He came to their hotel rooms with two assistants, to take their measurements, and he promised them the first products of his efforts, used suits and dresses made to fit, for the next day.

Thus it came that they all sat to dinner in the fancy hall of the hotel wearing their buckskins. It helped that Jim and Ned had been at the receiving end of a barber's efforts. Their hair and beards were well groomed now, but the fact remained that their clothing left much to be desired.

And then, there was Raven Feather. She was undeniably Red Indian, and the six of them received many dirty looks from other patrons. Raven was ready to bolt, but Jim would not have it. They sat at their table, but no waiter came near. It was as if they were ignored on purpose. Jim and Ned waited for a quarter hour, but when they were still studiously ignored, Ned rose from the table.

"Reckon, I'll have to go into that kitchen an' rustle up something myself," he said loudly, heading for the kitchen entrance.

The waiter who tried to head him off nearly fell over his own feet in his rush.

"Please, Sir, guests are not allowed in the kitchen area!" he panted.

"Well, my friend, either send somebody over to our table, or get out of my way. I'm plenty hungry, and I don't take kindly to being starved."

"I'll see to your needs right away, Sir."

Hesitantly, Ned returned to the table. Presently, the head waiter appeared at their table, his nose in the air.

"Gentlemen, much as I regret this, we cannot serve you. Your clothing is absolutely inappropriate, even if you did not tag along that squaw."

He sniffed indignantly.

Jim looked up at the man and grinned.

"Well, the sooner we get something to eat, the sooner you'll be shot of us. We are paying guests of this hotel, and we shall eat. Have someone wait on us, and we'll be gone in three shakes flat."

"Gentlemen, I absolutely refuse..." the head waiter began, but he stopped short.

The Navy Colt that poked into his belly was cocked.

"I insist," Jim said gently. "And mark you, one more insulting remark, and we shall have to settle this outside."

Perspiration appeared on the man's forehead. Licking his lips nervously, he clapped his hands. A lesser waiter appeared.

"Take these gentlemen's orders!" he snapped.

It was a good thing that Jim and Amanda had taken the others to task over proper table manners over the past year. Rose knew some proper eating anyway, as did Samantha, but even Ned and Raven mastered the silverware and the glasses without mishaps. Suddenly, though, a voice broke their peace.

"I'll be damned if this isn't a lousy squaw here, pretending to be human," a man exclaimed, nearing their table.

Jim was up already, his hand on the butt of the Colt. The smooth, catlike movement, and the tall sinewy figure did not fail to make an impression.

"You were saying?" Jim inquired calmly.

The loud mouth was not very tall, and not muscled at all. He looked like an accountant with his pale skin and his badly fitting suit. Quite obviously, he was also unaccustomed to being faced down by frontiersmen wearing buckskins and packing Colts. He hemmed and hawed a bit, and then, he beat a hasty retreat.

Jim sat down again.

"I'm sorry, Raven. Some people have no manners at all."

"And no ballocks either!" Ned added with a chuckle and to indignant stares from around.

That caused Raven to grin, in spite of herself. She shook her head.

"With my people, that man would have to work with the women all his life."

She had spoken in a normal tone of voice, and a number of people at the other tables heard her. A bald man of undetermined age, stocky and wearing thick glasses, stood and approached them.

"Good evening, ladies and gents. My name is Abraham Linkletter. I am a reporter with the Rocky Mountain News. I would like to apologize for the uncouth reception you had to suffer here. May I ask your purpose in Denver?"

"We came here on business, to form a mining company with our partners," Ned answered. "There's no lawyer in Tarryall, and we want to do this all proper."

"I also plan to settle in Denver with my wife and our friends," Jim added. "I am James Tremayne, my wife Rose, our adopted daughter Samantha, and our companion, Raven Feather, of the Oglala tribe."

"I'm Ned Gourd, and this is my wife, Amanda," Ned added.

"I sure am pleased to meet you!" Linkletter answered nicely. "The reason of my intrusion on you ... are you sure that I am not bothering you?"

"Not at all," Jim answered automatically, inwardly amused at his still ingrained response to a polite address.

"Well, as I said, I have a reason to intrude on you. I am somewhat of an anthropologist and naturalist, and I devote my spare time to the study of the Red Indian tribes. I have had the opportunity to meet several members of the Ute people, and I try to learn about their life, their language and their beliefs."

"You want to learn about my people and my tribe?" Raven asked.

The passable English that she had learned from her late man had improved considerably under Mandy's tutorship, who was a well-groomed young lady. Linkletter looked at her with appreciation.

"I would consider it a great favor to have a few hours of your time, Miss err ... Raven Feather?"

Raven nodded.

"Yes, as I said, a few hours, in which you could answer my questions. I never had a chance yet to interview a squ ... a young lady of the Lakota. Your perspective, as a ... female would greatly enhance my understanding."

Linkletter was really making an effort to be courteous, studiously avoiding the dirty word "squaw", and Raven Feather had a friendly smile on her face.

"Yes, I think I can do that," she said.

Linkletter positively beamed.

"Thank you, thank you, Miss! I shall now leave you to your supper. Please, here is my card. Feel free to call upon me at my office once you have settled in."

He bowed to the rest of the group and returned to his own table.

"Linkletter is an apt name for a man who writes for a newspaper. He should be a typesetter, though," Jim said under his breath, and Rose and Amanda started to chuckle.

Raven's and Ned's mouths worked on the name a few times, before they, too, started to smile. Samantha visibly formed the word in her mouth a few time, then she giggled.

"Do you mind if I visit this man?" Raven asked, looking at both men.

"No, not at all," Jim answered for them. "I may come along to pick his mind, too. He must know all about Denver, seeing that he is a reporter here."

Finally, they were finished with their supper. Jim paid their tab using paper money from the small stack he had agreed to take in lieu of gold eagles. To his relief, the money was accepted without problem. They could probably conduct their purchases in Denver with the paper money, instead of heavy gold coins. However, it was also possible that the head waiter was afraid of arguing with a customer who had shown himself ready to press his viewpoints with a six-shooter.

Sleeping in a stuffy hotel room, with shuttered windows, proved to be difficult. However, the balcony running along the second floor guest rooms was an altogether too easy access for potential thieves, and thus, the windows had to remain shut.

Jim and Ned were none too well-tempered, therefore, when they walked down for breakfast. It was unfortunate that the hotel manager, Mr. Maurie, choose this moment to intercede them.

"Gentlemen," he began, his bushy mustache quivering with indignation, "I was informed of your threatening behavior towards my restaurant staff. You will have to leave this house immediately!"

"Our rooms are paid until noon," Jim replied, still composed. "That's how long we'll stay."

"No, I said immediately!" Maurie postured.

Jim did not even bother to answer the man. He just strode past him and to the breakfast room. Ned, however, stuck his enormous nose into Maurie's face.

"Listen, and listen well: don't you mess with my partner before he's had his first coffee. You keep pestering him, and he's liable to plug you."

"Then he'll hang!" Maurie answered triumphantly. "We have the law in this town."

Jim turned around at the entrance of the breakfast room.

"I have paid for my room until noon. Right now, my wife is up there. Maybe, she is just dressing. If you try to barge into that room, I'll have to assume that you plan to molest her. I'd like to see the jury that will convict me for shooting you."

Jim and Ned were still sitting at their breakfast table when a tall and broad shouldered man entered. Jim saw a smile flitter over the man's face when he took in their sight.

"Good morning, gents! I'm Police Marshal Snyder, and I uphold the law in Denver."

Jim stood and held out his hand.

"Captain James Weston Tremayne, Marshal."

Jim used his full name and military title on purpose. After all, he and Ned were rich men and future mine owners, and he had little desire to be subservient to anybody. It worked, and Snyder took the proffered hand while Ned rose as well.

"Good morning to you, Marshal. I'm Ned Trushbottom, but I rather go by my nickname, Ned Gourd."

Snyder grinned.

"Can't say as I blame you, Mr. Gourd. May I sit?"

Ned grinned.

"We may have to force those lazy rascals at gunpoint to get you some coffee, but I can try. Hey, monkey suit! A cup o' coffee for the Marshal!"

"I take it, you are diggers?"

"Yes, we did a little prospecting around Tarryall, and we struck a lode. We're in town with two partners to form a mining company," Jim volunteered.

Snyder whistled softly.

"A lode, you say? I heard that somebody dumped fifty pounds of nuggets on the counter, at the Miners' Bank. That wouldn't have been you?"

Ned face changed into a grin, making him look agreeable in an instant.

"Ayup! But that's all from before we struck the lode."

Snyder grinned as if over a secret joke.

"And the restaurant staff did not appreciate you wearing buckskins to dinner?"

"We were able to settle this dispute quite easily," Jim answered modestly. "However, it seems now that the manager wants us to vacate our rooms. We'll move out, but we paid until noon, and that's how long we'll stay."

"Can't say as I blame you here, either. I'll have a word with Maurie. If you indeed vacate those rooms 'til noon, he's got no reason to complain. Do you need another place to stay?"

"For the time being, yes. I plan to buy a house in Denver, to represent our company here, where the decisions are made."

"That's nice to hear, Captain. As for your little problem, the Widow Sloan rents out rooms, and I know she has vacancies. She's a great cook, too, and she may be more understanding of your companion. I heard somewhere that she's from the British territories up North and part Mohawk."

"That sounds great, Marshal. Where would we find her boarding house?"

"If you have the time, I could show you, right away."

However, just then, the four women made an entrance. Using bits and pieces of the clothing they had worn on the trek to Fort Laramie, Rose and Mandy had made themselves more presentable. Their hair freshly washed and open, they looked simply stunning. Raven, too, wore her best dress, made of soft roe deer skin, the seams trimmed with white ermine pelts. Her straight, jet black hair cascaded over her back, too. Only Samantha had some problems as she was too skinny to fill any of the other women's dresses.

Snyder stood up and kissed Rose's and Mandy's hands, noticing the traces of hard work.

"Denver has so much improved since your arrival, ladies," he said gallantly, nonetheless.

He even gave Raven a hand sign of greeting, recognizing her as Lakota right away.

"The Marshal came to interview us about the unpleasantness of the last evening," Jim explained. "He offered to show us a fine boarding house, so that we may leave this inhospitable place."

The manager, Maurie, stood at the door, gnashing his teeth, as several guests peeked up at Jim's words.

"That is wonderful of you," Rose chimed in, giving Snyder a beaming smile. "I'll be so glad to leave this place! The beds are just dreadful, and they smell as if they have not been aired in months!"

"You are so right, Rose, my dear!" That was Mandy. "That's what I told my husband, right this morning. Isn't it true, Ned, my dear?"

Maurie's face had assumed the color of a ripe tomato.

"Did you notice the smell from the kitchen?" Raven added her barbs. "To think they call me a dirty squaw!"

"Nobody forces you to eat here!"

Maurie stood at their table, his mustache bristling and quivering.

"And I thank you kindly for this consideration," Jim answered drily. "Calm down, Maurie. We shall leave your precious house today."

"He's right," Marshal Snyder added significantly. "You can't go about insulting your guests and expect them to swallow that. I'll find them a boarding house right away, and you keep out of their hair until noon. You savvy that?"

He drank the rest of his coffee and made a grimace.

"That coffee's a disgrace, Maurie! I ought to bring you before the Justice for it. Shall we go?" he asked.

They all stood, and Snyder led them out of the breakfast room. The bright sunlight outside made them blink.

"We shall need parasols," Mandy said absentmindedly, and Rose giggled.

"Oh my, things have changed, haven't they."

To their surprise, the Widow Sloan was barely older than Rose, and about the same age as Mandy. Her black hair, her slightly bronzed skin, and her nose indeed pointed at Red Indian ancestry. She was a strikingly pretty woman, and the way Marshal Snyder fidgeted around with his hat before his chest, it was clear that this fact had not escaped his attention.

"Your servant, Mrs. Sloan. These two gentlemen and their wives are looking for rooms. They just arrived from the South Park diggings, and they could not stock up on city clothes just yet."

"How many rooms would you need?" Mrs. Sloan asked.

"Three would be fine, Ma'am," Jim answered, lifting his hat. "I am James Tremayne; this is my wife Rose, our adopted daughter Samantha, and our companion, Raven Feather. As you will have noticed, Raven is of the Oglala Lakota. I hope this will not be a problem."

Mrs. Sloan grinned.

"If you rent three rooms, you will be guaranteed to be my only guests, and I have no problem with Miss Raven Feather. My grandmother was a Mohawk woman."

Ned stepped forward.

"They call me Ned Gourd, Ma'am, on account of my nose. My wife Amanda is beautiful enough for both of us, though."

Mandy giggled because she did not attribute his nickname to his nose at all. She composed herself, though.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Mrs. Sloan," she said nicely.

"Well, let me show you the rooms," Mrs. Sloan said, leading the way upstairs.

Two of the rooms were on the same side of the corridor and had a connecting door. Jim claimed them for himself, Rose, Samantha and Raven. Ned and Mandy took the other room, across the hallway, and adjacent to Mrs. Sloan's bedroom.

The rent, including three meals, ran to $12 per week. Jim paid in advance, using paper money from the bank again. Marshal Snyder bade his farewell, then, and they thanked him for his help.

Jim and Ned escorted Mandy and Rose back to the hotel, while Raven and Samantha stayed with Mrs. Sloan, to help her ready the rooms. The manager, Maurie, shot daggers at them, but he left them in peace. Rose and Mandy went to their rooms, to pack their clothes, while Jim and Ned met with Mr. Kennedy and Mr. Tennison.

The Marshal had given Ned and Jim the names of two lawyers who were square, as he said. The four partners found the first one's office easily, and Mr. Spencer Lorimer, Esq., Attorney at Law, as the plate on his door announced, received them right away.

Taking turns, the four men explained the nature of their proposed partnership, as they had agreed upon. Mr. Lorimer made a lot of notes, in his beautiful handwriting, and then, he asked them a bucket full of questions. Finally satisfied that Jim and Ned provided the claim, Mr. Kennedy the engineering, and Mr. Tennison the transport and sales, he promised them to have a draft contract ready by the next morning.

Before they left, Jim asked Mr. Lorimer to look for a suitable house for him to buy in Denver. Mr. Lorimer assured him that it would be his pleasure.

They arrived at the Palace Hotel at a quarter to twelve, and at twelve o'clock sharp, they left again with what little luggage they had, and followed by Rose and Mandy.

Mrs. Sloan had the rooms ready, and after they had stowed away their meagre belongings, they sat in Mrs. Sloan's salon, for their first lunch. The food left nothing to desire, and they chatted easily all during the meal. Against Mrs. Sloan's protests, the women helped to clear the table, before they all sat on the porch, enjoying a strong coffee.

The first batch of new clothes was ready to be picked up in the afternoon. Even Raven was fitted for a few blouses and skirts. For her, the hardest was walking in boots, instead of the soft leather moccasin she knew.

Rose had also submitted to Mandy's guidance, acknowledging that her upbringing and previous field of work had not provided her with the tastes of a proper lady. Consequently, she felt like masquerading when they walked back to their lodgings, in their new outfits.

Jim and Ned cleaned up nicely, too, Rose thought. Jim, in particular, was an imposing figure, with his new, dark-grey suit and broad-brimmed felt hat. They certainly received their share of interested looks as they strolled back.

Samantha was beaming with pride. Her parents had never been well off, and all she'd had to wear as a girl had been hand-me-downs from neighbor girls. The dresses Mandy had picked for her were simple but well made, and they were women's dresses, not girls' attire. She walked tall on the way back to their lodging.

It seemed strange and unreal to them, to sit on Mrs. Sloan's porch in the bright afternoon with no work to do. They sipped some tea and Mrs. Sloan offered homemade biscuits while people stopped by to be introduced.

Mr. Lorimer dropped by as well, asking Jim about his preferences and the price range for a house. Jim made clear that he wanted a representative house, with room for servants and with a stable. Ned added that he, too, wanted a nice house, preferably close to Jim's home. When he left, Mr. Lorimer was positive that Captain James Tremayne and his partner were clients worth keeping.

Other people dropped by, and by way of polite conversation, the people from the isolated South Park diggings learned about the recent developments in the war against the Confederacy. Apparently, a few months ago, the Colorado Infantry had repelled an attempt of Confederate forces to invade New Mexico, rebuking them in the Battle of the Glorieta Pass. Col. Slough had commanded the Union troops, but another officer, Major Chivington, had caused controversy for his failure to initiate an attack of the Confederate troops' flank.

The air became decidedly nippy when the sun began to disappear behind the roofs. It reminded them that fall was approaching. Rose cuddled against Jim.

"I can't believe we don't have to spend another winter on the claim," she said.

Mandy nodded.

"It seems only yesterday that we all squeezed into one bed. Yet, it was good, too. We have become real friends."

Jim had a new thought.

"Now that we are back in the civilization, we need to decide on Samantha's future." Samantha looked up in alarm, and Jim tried to placate her. "Don't worry, Sweety. What I mean is, there is a justice in Denver, and we could adopt you as our daughter. The Marshal wrote up a letter for us, stating that your father went missing nine months ago and that your mother died earlier. It is up to you now whether you want to be our daughter."

Rose stood up and hugged the sitting Samantha from behind.

"What do you say, Sweety?"

Samantha's eyes were brimming with tears.

"You folks have been so good to me," she said with a trembling voice. "I'll never forget my parents, but I'll be a good daughter to you, I promise!"

"It's settled, then. Let's visit the Justice tomorrow."

Mandy had watched the interplay. Now she smiled.

"Oh dear, I had hoped to be the first to have a child, and now you beat us."

Rose rose her eyebrows.

"You are with child?"

Mandy nodded.

"I've been missing my monthlies twice, and I feel different. I guess, with all the work and the cold, I hadn't been able to conceive before."

Ned beamed with pride, but then he turned serious.

"Jim, Rose, I don't feel that Amanda should return to Tarryall with me. Not if she's with child. Would you mind taking her in until I return here in late fall?"

Jim reached out with his hand.

"Don't worry, Partner. We'll take such good care of your wife, she'll refuse to go back to you."

"You had better not wager any money on that, Jim Tremayne," Mandy snorted.

Editing and local color by Spike CO



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Chapter 9


Making a Home

Denver, Colorado Territory, September 1862

Two weeks later, Ned, Al Tennison, and Hiram Kennedy left Denver for Tarryall, with a train of five wagons, carrying the supplies Kennedy needed. Ned and Mandy had an emotional farewell, leaving her depressed for days.

They were still lodging with Mrs. Sloan, but Jim and Rose had been viewing a few houses already. This afternoon, they were to see another one. It had been built for a wealthy investor from Boston who had come to Denver with a hoard of money. He had bought up claim after claim, but none of them proved productive. In the end, he owed money to the Miner's Bank and had to leave his house to satisfy the debt. He returned to Boston, from what they heard.

Jim and Rose met the bank clerk who was to show them around on the property. The house, or rather mansion, was grand enough to make Rose self-conscious. Even Jim was impressed. His father, a well to-do Berkshire landowner, had a manor house, too, but not as big as this one. The ground floor was build of masonry, with a grand dining room, and spacious kitchen. A second floor was made of cedar wood and housed five bedrooms and even a luxurious bathroom.

"Damn it, Jim, I feel like I don't belong in here," Rose whispered to Jim in a moment when the clerk left them alone briefly. "They had houses like this in Independence, and I remember that one woman who was looking out from a floor window. Her look at me said everything. 'Look all you want, you hussy, you'll never get inside this place'. Can we afford it at all?"

Jim kissed her forehead. It was a reassuring gesture that he often used when Rose's past caught up with her and flustered her.

"Once we buy it, you will belong in here. It's that simple, Rose. It's just a house. It's bigger than most, more solidly built, likely more expensive, but it's a house. You buy it and it's yours to live in." He smiled down at her upturned face. "You'll be the lady looking out of the window, and knowing you, you will not show disdain to those less fortunate than we are."

"What will they ask for it?"

"The last I heard was $4,000, but they've asked that for a while. Rose, honestly, wouldn't you love to live in this house? We can have a housekeeper and a groom for the stable. Hell, why not have a maidservant, too, to look after your needs? You can entertain in that tea room downstairs."

Rose snorted. "Entertain? I? Who will even come?"

"I'm getting friendly with a number of the important men in town. I imagine that there will be dinner invitations soon. It would be helpful to be able to issue counter-invitations, and this place would certainly be fit to make a good impression. Remember, I am posted here to get on the friendly side of the territorial government."

"You think we should buy this? I admit that it's almost like a dream. It's only ... Jim, what if I ever wake up? What if people learn of my past?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I'm a convicted whore."

Jim shook his head and took her face in both his hands.

"Rose, you are Mrs. Tremayne, the wife of one of the richest men in town. This is the West. There are no 'old families' here. Justice Pilkins' wife was born as an Ohio farmer's daughter; at least that's what I heard. You and Mandy will fit in here."

Taking a deep breath, Rose nodded.

"I'll have to try. Perhaps, Mandy can teach me more of good behavior."

"Your behavior is just fine, Rose. Remember, I know of such things. You'll see, people will like you. They liked you fine in Tarryall, and Denver is just a bigger Tarryall."

Just then, the clerk returned, and Jim asked him a number of pointed questions. He was pleased to learn that there were decent servant quarters on the third floor, under the rafters. Since the house stood on a hill overlooking Cherry Creek, there was a dry cellar under the kitchen, and the property was safe against any flooding, too.

In the afternoon, Jim went to the Miners' Bank to express his interest and to start the price negotiations. The bank was asking $4,000, but nobody had been able or willing to pay that price in the six months it had been on the market. Jim's counter offer of $2,000 was rejected with proper indignation. In the end, they settled on $2,700 in the bank's own paper money. The house was fully furnished, if dusty, and Jim expected that they could move in within a week.

They hired a couple, Pat and Martha McGuinn, for the household. He was a former sergeant of the Kentucky militia. They had come to Colorado like many others, to find gold, but their hopes did not materialize. Thus, Martha McGuinn became the Tremaynes' housekeeper while her husband Pat tended the horses and acted as driver of a four seat buckboard Jim had purchased. The McGuinns helped Rose, Mandy, Raven, and Samantha with the initial cleaning and scrubbing, and it was less than a week when they could move in their scarce belongings.

Mrs. Sloan received a two-week severance payment from Jim since they could not give proper notice, and they parted from their landlady on good terms.

For the next days, Rose roamed the rooms in a state of daze. This grand mansion now was hers. She, Rose Donegal, saloon girl and whore, was living in this imposing home. There was even a piano in the salon, and carpets covered the floors and dampened the steps.

The icing on the cake was that Rose missed her bleeding that month. She was not sure yet, but she felt she might be with child. This should not have been surprising. If anything, it was surprising that she had not conceived much earlier, the way Jim eagerly worshipped her body. However, Rose had the nagging worry that she had been left barren when the proprietor of the Baltimore establishment had her have an abortion when she was eighteen. It had been a butcher's job, done by a drunken midwife, and she'd bled for days afterwards. She had just assumed that this had damaged her too much to have children.

Unlike the last year, the winter had not yet arrived, but Jim had made sure they had enough firewood for the cast iron ovens of which there were five in the house; even two of the bedrooms could be heated.

Mandy had a room down the hallway from Jim and Rose. Her mood had improved, and she was happy to live in a real house, happy to expect her first child, happy to be with her friends, and happy with the prospect of Ned's impending return.

Raven, meanwhile, was feeling more and more like a fifth wheel. With Martha McGuinn in charge of the household, there was little she could contribute. Her skills were not in demand anymore, and she spent her days keeping Rose and Mandy company. She hardly ventured out, and when she did, the looks and comments directed at her were often downright hostile. She had given Mr. Linkletter an interview, in his office, but the article in which Linkletter described her as "astonishingly cultivated young Red lady" reached only the literate part of Denver's population.

One afternoon in early November, Raven was returning from visiting Mrs. Sloan, and she had to pass the saloon. As bad luck would have it, a group of diggers were standing on the sidewalk in front of the saloon. They were an ill-tempered lot after losing their gold at the cards table and more than a little drunk. Seeing Raven, the lot of them rushed her. Raven tried to run, but the stupid white woman's skirt hindered her movement. The men were all over her in an instant, pulling her into a narrow alley.

She managed a few cries for help before one of the rascals silenced her by sitting on her face. Rough hands tore at her skirt and blouse as she lay immobilized under her attackers' weight.

Her cries had been heard, however, and bald, bespectacled Abraham Linkletter came running. With a courage he did not know he possessed, he attacked the men with a wooden fence post that had been lying in the alley. With luck, he hit two of the men on their heads before they could ready themselves. The fellow who sat on Raven's face tried to get up but caught the blunt end of the fence post in his face and went down, too.

Two attackers were left, and they made to go after their guns, getting up and ignoring Raven altogether. That was a mistake, for Raven managed to reach a razor sharp skinning knife which she kept in her boot, and she slashed the knee tendons of the man next to her. He slumped down, crying in pain and surprise. Another swipe of the knife over his wrist, and he dropped his gun.

The last of the attackers managed to clear the holster with his gun just before Linkletter's hand clamped of his wrist. A single shot sounded, but it only raised dust, and the two men were locked in a silent struggle for control of the gun.

Then, Marshal Snyder came running, and seeing a torn and bruised Raven sitting on her backside in the muddy alley, he caught on immediately. The butt of his gun crashed on the last attacker's head, knocking the man out cold.

"What happened?" Snyder asked nobody in particular.

"We was just havin' fun wit' dat squaw when dis idiot beat us up," the man with the cut tendons whined.

Snyder looked down on the man with eyes of stone while he offered his hand to pull Raven up. He noticed the torn garments and scratched skin.

"Edwards, go and get English Jim! Tell him Miss Raven was attacked and he should bring a blanket."

One of the bystanders took off. Snyder looked at the newsman with an amused smile.

"I never knew you were a fighter, Linkletter."

The man blushed all the way to his bald scalp.

"I couldn't let them hurt Miss Raven," he mumbled.

Raven put her hand on his arm.

"You are a brave man," she said. Then she remembered their first meeting. "You would be a great warrior and a good provider with my people."

Nothing she could have said would have made Linkletter more proud, and he seemed to grow another two inches while an amused Marshal Snyder watched the interplay.

Now, Jim came running, with blankets in his arm and murder in his eyes. Snyder caught him before he could do anything stupid and explained what had happened. Jim calmed down, learning that Raven had not been hurt. He approached the newsman with his hand stretched out.

"Mr. Linkletter, I thank you for helping our dear friend. If there is anything we can do for you, let us know."

"I did not do more than what every decent man would have done," Linkletter said modestly. "I admire Miss Raven greatly, and I was glad to be of help."

Raven quietly appraised the ruffled writer.

"I am very grateful, nevertheless," she answered, giving him a friendly smile.

The men surrounding them took sharp breaths. Raven did not smile often, at least not in public. When she did, however, she was a sight to behold, in spite of her disheveled hair and soiled dress.

"Why don't you visit us for lunch on Sunday, Mr. Linkletter," Jim offered. "It's the least we can offer in recognition."

"That is very friendly of you, Mr. Tremayne. I should feel honored."

"It's settled then. We eat at one o'clock. Now, if you gentlemen will excuse us, I need to get Miss Raven back home."

Jim escorted Raven home where both Rose and Mandy fussed over her. Raven submitted to their joint efforts to help her clean up, but she wore a little smile on her lips for all of the next days.

Abraham Linkletter had spruced up his appearance for the occasion, and he looked quite impressive in his black suit and flower pattern vest. He greeted the women politely, presenting small boxes of sugared sweets to each of them.

He was clearly impressed with the Tremaynes' house, and Rose delighted to show him around. At table, he was a charming guest, entertaining them with the latest gossip his numerous sources provided him with.

Raven meanwhile watched the man with unwavering interest. There was no blushing, no coyness with her. She just kept her eyes fixated on him, waiting for Linkletter to make the next move.

At one point, Linkletter caught her look and turned silent in an instant. They locked eyes for most of a minute. In the end, he shook his head in wonder.

"Is this really how you feel?"

The others were at a loss, when Raven nodded her affirmation. She turned to Jim, then.

"May I keep my horse and weapons?"

Finally, the others understood. Jim swallowed once before a delighted grin split his face.

"Only, if I'm allowed to give you away," he answered.

Once again, a beautiful smile showed on Raven's face.

"You are a good man for a pale face, Jim Tremayne."

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Ned returned from Tarryall a week later, in time to attend the wedding of Abraham Linkletter and Raven Feather in Denver's Methodist chapel. Raven had received instructions and a baptism as a prerequisite for being married, and the Reverend Ellington had noted with astonishment that Raven had more than rudimentary knowledge of reading and writing, thanks to Mandy's relentless efforts.

The delay gave Jim the chance to clear things with his partner, and when the wedding party sat in their house, after the ceremony, Jim and Ned gave Raven a wedding present of three hundred gold eagles. She may not have worked the sluice boxes with them, but for almost two years, she had cooked for them and kept their clothes clean and in repair. She had also shared in guard duty and hunted for them, and both men agreed that three thousand dollars were a fair share.

Neither Raven nor Linkletter had expected that, and they sat in stunned silence for a minute. Jim grinned in delight.

"Just make sure to treat her well. She's like a sister to us."

"B-but what are we to do with such a sum?" Linkletter stuttered.

"For one thing, a reporter with the Rocky Mountain News should have a better office," Jim suggested. "A salon for your wife to entertain visitors would also help with the flow of gossip. I know Raven does not talk much, but she is an excellent listener."

Linkletter's current accommodations were modest, just two rooms atop the offices of the Rocky Mountain News. Nevertheless, Raven moved in with her husband. Rose and Amanda helped her to make those upstairs rooms more habitable while Abraham Linkletter looked to find a better property.

Raven still visited her friends regularly, and Samantha often visited in turn. For the young girl, Raven was like an older sister. Over the harsh winter, they had huddled together in their bed, shared warmth and comfort.

In the meantime, Ned and Amanda had found a home for themselves. It was a little smaller than Jim and Rose's, but comfortable enough, and they moved in right after Raven's wedding. Amanda was five months along in her pregnancy, and she showed. Rose was certain now that she was with child, too. She was two months behind Amanda, but it was still comforting for the two friends to be in the same situation. They had already identified a midwife in Denver who would look after them, and they visited each other on a daily basis.

Ned had brought good news from Tarryall. Kennedy had been able to set up mining operations to the point that they had already recovered the first one-hundred ounces of gold dust, leaving them the first profit. Winter would slow the work down, but they expected the mine to turn a tidy profit come the spring.

Kennedy had explored the claim thoroughly, and he claimed that the quartz vein went all the way through the mountain. Acting quickly, the partners had bought the adjacent land to either side, using the first profits. They were set up perfectly for the coming years.

Tennison had secured sufficient provisions to keep the workers fed over the winter, and they had built new bunk houses for them. Now, all that they could do was wait for the next spring.

Editing and local color, SpikeCO



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Chapter 10


Respectable Woman

Denver, Colorado Territory, December 1862

Around Denver, work in the diggings came to an end, too. The diggers moved into town, mostly bunking in primitive huts. This presented a problem for the poorest in the city. A group of women, the widows or wives of the hapless among the diggers had used those bunk houses over the summer with their children. Now, the influx of paying lodgers displaced them from their shelters.

One day in early December, Rose and Amanda had visited with the wife of Justice Pilkins, the undisputed alpha female in Denver. After returning Amanda to her home, Rose had McGuinn stop the buckboard when she saw a woman and two children, sitting in front of a canvas lean-to, perched against an adobe brick wall. They had a small, smoking fire going and were roasting a rat on a spit. Neither the woman nor the children had shoes, and their feet were blue with the cold.

Dressed in her new sheepskin coat and wearing warm fur boots, Rose felt bad looking at the miserable group. The woman looked up at her, and her eyes showed a flicker of hope.

"Have you no other home?" Rose asked.

"No, Madam. My husband drowned on the trek. I've tried to work in the saloon, but I ... I can't do what they expect of me. You wouldn't have a piece of bread, would you?"

"Not with me, but we have more than enough bread at home. Mr. McGuinn, please help the children up. They can spend the night in the tack room, can't they?"

Pat McGuinn knew better than to raise objections. The position with the Tremaynes had been a singular piece of luck for him. Good food, light work, and warm servant quarters under the roof were as close to paradise as he had ever come. He jumped from the driver's seat and helped the two kids up to sit on the tail end. The woman climbed up to sit next to him. She smelled badly, Pat noticed. She had to, when he regarded her soiled and torn dress.

"I shall have Mrs. McGuinn ready a bath for all of you," Rose announced from the back seat as Pat clucked his tongue to start the buckboard. Within a few minutes, the wagon stopped in front of the Tremayne residence. Rose climbed down from her seat. She looked at the woman.

"What is your name?"

"Mary O'Connor, Madam," the woman answered.

"Well, Mary O'Connor. Pat will show you a place to sleep. I shall send food for you, and our housekeeper will ready a bath. We'll try to find some clothes for you and your children, too. I don't have to tell you not to try and abuse our hospitality?"

"Lord, no! Madam, we're right grateful. Will you really give us food? We had nothing but rats and boiled nettles for days."

"I'll see to it. First, you have to clean up, though. Then you'll eat, and after that, we can decide what to do about you and your children. How old are they?"

"Tim is twelve, Madam, and Emily is ten."

"I see. Go in and help Mr. McGuinn with the horses until the bath is ready."

Rose was adamant about the three putting in some work and cleaning up before they received food. She went inside. She quickly instructed their housekeeper, Mrs. McGuinn, before she found Jim in the study.

"Jim, dear, I have picked up a widow with her two children on the way back from the Pilkins'. Do you think we can feed them for a few days? The woman has no idea how to survive."

Jim thought about it.

"Rose, there's quite a few families like those. Picking those three to help them is quite arbitrary, isn't it?"

"Yes, I know, but it's better than doing nothing at all."

Jim nodded, obviously acknowledging Rose's viewpoint. When he spoke again, Rose was surprised.

"I have spoken with Justice Pilkins about that. Well, not us two alone, the Marshal was there, too, and Mr. Bolton, from the Miners' Bank. There are a lot of displaced people roaming the streets, a lot of them completely desperate. Petty theft is on the rise, the Marshal says. We were thinking, would you and Amanda want to organize some sort shelter for those without home? Justice Pilkins said that Prudence Pilkins would help, too.

"Benson's livery stable had to close, and the Miners' Bank owns the house and the stables. Bolton says that we can rent it for small money and set it up for the women and children needing shelter. It will need some cleaning and partitioning, but it could provide the room for close to thirty people.

"Somebody needs to organize it and run it, though. We thought that you, Mandy, and Prudence Pilkins could form a committee. Are you interested?"

Rose stared at her husband, fighting a smile.

"You mean, I should be involved in a charity? I?"

"Why not? You get along with Prudence Pilkins, don't you?"

"Yes, but thinking of myself as being involved in a charity is so outlandish! The women in Independence would not even acknowledge my existence."

"Yes, Rose," Jim laughed, "you are becoming a respectable woman. I haven't met one person yet who does not like you."

"Maurie?"

"Oh yes, Maurie. He hates all of us. He won't be around much longer, though. Bolton told me he defaulted on a loan. The Bank will take over soon."

Now that was a juicy piece of gossip! Rose could not help feeling a certain glee. She suppressed a smug grin and refocussed on Jim's proposal.

"What about the running costs for such a shelter?"

"The Mayor has promised some money, to help get these people off his streets. That should pay the rent. I talked to Ned; he and I will foot the bills for food. The boarders will have to organize the cooking and cleaning among themselves."

"We could organize tea afternoons to raise support, too," Rose mused. "We'll need donations of clothes and such, if Mary O'Donnell and her children are an indicator. Shoes, too. Do you really think I can do this?"

Jim stood quickly and took Rose in his arms.

"Rose, I think the world of you, and I want others to learn what a wonderful woman you are. You have to get involved with the other women here in Denver, and this will be a perfect opportunity. It's like giving out biscuits, only more regular. You already picked up that hapless family to help them. Helping people comes to you naturally."

"I guess I like to help," Rose conceded. "Will you be there for me, if I need advice?"

"Rose, I'll always be there for you. For advice or whatever else you need or want."

Rose snuggled close to Jim's chest.

"Jim Tremayne, you are the best husband a woman can dream of. I don't deserve you."

"Oh yes, Rose, you do. You are the best that ever happened to me in my life. I'd give away all that gold we found rather than giving you up. With you at my side, I feel whole."

"You sure say the nicest things, Jim Tremayne, you darling man," Rose purred in his arms. With an effort, she disengaged herself from his embrace. "Let me check whether Mrs. McGuinn needs help. I love you!"

With that, she left the study. She was almost dancing along the hallway to the kitchen where she found their housekeeper. Mrs. McGuinn showed her exasperation.

"Oh, there you are, Madam! What am I supposed to do with these people? They're filthy, there's no other word for it. And their clothes!"

Rose held up her hand.

"Mrs. McGuinn, we'll clean them up and put them into some better clothes. Get soap, brush and brimstone. You will look after the woman and the girl, and your husband sees to it that the boy cleans up. When they are done with their bath, they get food. Nothing fancy, but filling. After supper, the mother and the girl can help with the clean up while the boy will help your husband."

A half hour later, Rose returned from Harper's General Store, a dozen houses down the street. The shop assistant, another of those abundant orphan boys in town, carried her purchases, used dresses, pants and shirts, and three wool blankets. When she arrived, she let the shop helper carry the items to the door of the laundry room in the back, before she sent him away with a silver dime for his trouble.

Entering the laundry room, she saw Mrs. McGuinn and Samantha assist the woman and the girl with the cleaning. Samantha had bound up her hair and rolled up her sleeves while she applied a brush and soap to the girl's back. The woman, Mary O'Donnell, was finished already and sat huddled in an old but clean blanket while Mrs. McGuinn none-to-gently pulled a comb through the tangled, wet hair. With the grime washed off, Mary O'Donnell proved to be a pretty-faced woman, even if her eyes were sunken deep into her head. Rose wandered when these people had had their last decent meal.

"Thank you for helping out, Sweety," she smiled at Samantha.

The girl blushed.

"I haven't forgotten where I came from," she said.

Rose hugged her from behind.

"Still, I appreciate your help," she whispered into Samantha's ear. She raised her voice then. "So, you're Emily?"

The girl nodded shyly. She was frightfully thin, even thinner than Samantha had been last winter.

"I brought you some warm clothes. They're outside. Just let Samantha here scrub you clean and then dress. As soon as you are done, we'll get some food into your tummy."

Mrs. McGuinn was finished with Mary's hair and she helped the emaciated woman to braid it. The housekeeper shook her head in dismay over the skinny bodies that emerged when the grime washed off.

"I started a beef stew, Mrs. Tremayne. Could you take over while I look after it?"

"Yes, of course. Thank you, Mrs. McGuinn. I'll bring them to the kitchen when they are dressed."

She watched as the rotund behind of the housekeeper disappeared through the door to the kitchen. Emily was clean now, too, and sat huddled in a blanket, like her mother.

"Samantha, will you bring in my purchases? They are just outside."

"Of course," Sam smiled and quickly fetched the clothes Rose had bought.

Rose had the woman dress first. It would take some time before she would fill out that dress, Rose thought. Once the woman was clothed, Rose put her to the task of combing and braiding her daughter's hair. With shaky hands, Mary O'Donnell completed that task while Samantha and Rose picked a dress and other items for the girl. They all helped Emily to dress, and Rose assessed the change with satisfaction.

They led their charges into the kitchen where Mrs. McGuinn had a steaming beef stew ready. The boy was already waiting at the table, staring longingly at the stew pot. Mr. McGuinn had done a credible cleaning job, too. The boy's skin had a rosy hue from the excessive scrubbing. Obviously, Mr. McGuinn had decided to shear off the boy's hair rather than trying to untangle it, and the boy sported an almost bald head.

With the family united at the kitchen table, Mrs. McGuinn ladled out stew for them. Suddenly, Rose remembered something.

"Don't give them too much at a time, Mrs. McGuinn. Their stomachs aren't used to food anymore. Let them have a second helping before they go to bed."

Mrs. McGuinn looked at her without comprehension. Rose realized that the housekeeper had no practical experience with hunger, let alone starvation. Samantha, though, had intimate knowledge of that.

"Their stomachs have shrunk. If they eat too much, they'll get real sick."

Mrs. McGuinn nodded reluctantly. Rose focussed on the mother and her children.

"You will get more to eat, later. It is dangerous to eat too much after starving for so long."

Mary O'Donnell caught on immediately.

"I'm feeling stuffed already," she said. "This is so good! We better stop, though. Perhaps, if I may prepare some porridge, later?"

Rose translated that to 'oatmeal' and nodded, relieved that the woman had sense enough. She sat at the table, opposite Mary.

"Tell me about yourself," she said.

Mary O'Donnell nodded and took a deep breath. She started haltingly, but once the first words were out, a dam broke, and she told them everything. Born in 1832 as Mary O'Reilly in Kildare County, Ireland, her family emigrated to America in 1848, in the aftermath of the Great Famine. She met Garth O'Donnell, a lad of eighteen, on the boat to New York. At some point during the passage, in a hidden spot in the hold of the ship, Timothy O'Donnell was conceived. As soon as they landed in New York, Mary's irate father had them marry. Six months later, the boy was born.

They lived with Mary's family for the next two years. Mary's husband and her father both found work in a warehouse. Garth was a hard worker, and he quickly learned the principles of trading. They were able to save some money, too, and in 1851, after Emily's birth, Garth and Mary moved west to St. Louis where Garth started a small hardware store. Things went well for a while, but by 1860, the competition grew too strong for their small store.

Hearing about the Pikes Peak gold rush, they decided that trading shovels and pans in the diggings might be their ticket to prosperity. Selling the store and storing their belongings and a load of merchandise in three mule wagons, they set out westward and joined a wagon train in Independence, in the spring of 1861. They were full of hope about their prospects. They had wagons full of merchandise that was needed in Colorado. Things would work out for them, at last.

Those hopes were squashed cruelly. They lost one wagon early on, when its axle broke. The entire train was in a gold fever, and they did not allow for the time to fix the wagon. The O'Donnels packed whatever possible on the remaining wagons, walking alongside, to reduce the load. They were to cross a river, and their wagons were fifth and sixth in line. The current was swift, and in the middle of the crossing, the left wheels of their family wagon suddenly sunk into the river bed. The extra load inside the wagon bed shifted to increase the list. Ropes were cast by the horsemen to stabilize and secure the overloaded wagon, but to no avail. The current was too strong. The wagon capsized.

Mary and her children were picked up by escorting horsemen almost immediately, but Garth was entangled with the reins and other tack. It took almost an hour before they were able to get him free, and of course, by that time he was drowned.

With her husband dead, one more wagon destroyed, and most of the merchandise and their personal possessions lost, all that remained were twelve mules and one wagon. This was not a wagon train of settlers. The people on the train were bound for the gold fields, and they brooked no delay nor did they spare a thought of the widow and her children. Mary had to drive her remaining wagon, but to get food, she had to trade merchandise. They arrived in Denver with the clothes on their backs and only a small part of their merchandise.

As had to be expected, the widow was screwed out of her remaining possessions for little money. Soon, they were destitute. Over the summer, a trader allowed them to sleep in a storage shed, in return for sweeping the warehouse. They even received some food for extra work. Come the cold season, however, the shed was rented out to diggers for solid gold. Mary was told she could earn her rent on her back or leave. She seriously considered whoring. By the time she made up her mind, however, there was too much competition already, even for whoring. When Rose found them, they'd had three rats to eat in a week between them.

Mary O'Donnell ended her narrative and looked at Rose.

"Madam, could we perhaps help in your household, at least over the winter?"

Rose sighed. Their needs were met by Mrs. McGuinn who was an excellent cook and by Mr. McGuinn who took care of the stable and horses. They would need more help once the child was born, but that was not before spring. Amanda, too, had a housekeeper she was content with. Yet, Rose could not envision to drive the family out into the cold again.

"We do not really need help, do we, Mrs. McGuinn?" she asked the housekeeper for her opinion.

Mrs. McGuinn was conflicted. She took pride in running the household all by herself. Nevertheless, with the increasing number of visitors the Tremayne's entertained, she sometimes felt hard pressed to stay on top of things. Rose saw the conflict.

"Perhaps it would help to have a few more hands, for cleaning and laundry. Or for serving when you and Mr. Tremayne are entertaining," Mrs. McGuinn conceded grudgingly.

"Let us not forget the additional laundry once my child is born," Rose added. "It would also allow you to take a day off, once in a while, or to shop for food without hurry."

"So true, Mrs. Tremayne." Mrs. McGuinn began to see the advantages.

"Of course, if you were to oversee additional staff, we should raise your pay. It would only be fair. It would also be neighborly, to help a family in distress."

That cinched it.

"If you put it this way, Mrs. Tremayne, I can hardly object."

"I shall speak with Mr. Tremayne," Rose closed officiously. "It is his decision, after all."

Mrs. McGuinn could not hide her smile. The sky would fall before James Tremayne denied his wife a wish. Nevertheless, the housekeeper nodded solemnly. Rose turned to the O'Donnells.

"I don't think you should sleep in the tack room, over the stable. There are some free chambers under the roof. Mrs. McGuinn will show you one later. Until then, you can help her with chores. Later, you may prepare some oatmeal, I mean porridge, for your children and yourself, before you turn in for sleep."

With that, Rose left the kitchen to join Jim in the salon. He looked up with an amused smile.

"Have you taken care of them, dear?" he asked.

"For the time being, yes. I was thinking, and Mrs. McGuinn is not averse to the idea, to hire the woman as help. She could help Mrs. McGuinn with the laundry and with serving when we have guests. The girl could help with cleaning the rooms."

Jim nodded.

"It cannot hurt much. We'll try them out, and if they work well, they can stay. I imagine, there will be more laundry come the spring," he ended, smiling at Rose.

Rose gave him a smile of her own in return.

"Do you think the boy may help in the stable?"

"I can ask McGuinn. By the way, did you think about the idea, the shelter?"

Rose blushed a little. Jim had agreed readily to her ideas, how could she refuse his proposal?

"I'll give it a try," she answered. "I'll speak to Mandy and to Prudence Pilkins tomorrow."

-------

Indeed, Prudence Pilkins agreed to organize the alms house together with Rose and Mandy. Within two weeks, the former stable building was converted for the use as emergency housing, with the help of Mr. Rawling, the carpenter. Jim and Ned donated the money for the necessary building materials and the work while the Miners' Bank let the charity have the building for a symbolic lease.

Eleven women, with fifteen children, ranging from a few months to fifteen years of age, initially found room in the former stable boxes. From the first day, the three trustees, Rose, Mandy and Prudence, detailed the women and older children for the chores involved in running the shelter.

Kitchen and cleaning duties were assigned in turn, and a laundry was built where the inhabitants of the shelter washed clothes and beddings. After a few days, Prudence Pilkin found a hotel owner who had his laundry done in the shelter, allowing the inhabitants to earn some extra money with their work.

The kitchen prepared a surplus of food, and that was given out to the needy men on Denver's streets, such as hapless diggers and other stranded men. Over the winter, many people depended on the shelter for at least one hot meal every day, and soon the poor people of Denver held the three women in charge in very high regard.

The availability of food for the poor also reduced petty theft to a minimum, something the merchants were grateful for, and a growing number of them began to support the shelter. Those who did mostly dealt with Rose, for Mandy was too advanced in her pregnancy to pay visits anymore. Prudence Pilkin rather tended to organize the inner workings of the shelter and to enforce the house rules, and thus, to most citizens of Denver, Rose represented the shelter. In the course of a few months, Rose Tremayne indeed became a woman much respected throughout the city.

Editing and local color by SpikeCO



-------

Chapter 11


Parenthood

Denver, Colorado Territory, 1863

Mandy had her child, a little boy named Orville, in late February. Ned was beside himself when he came to announce the birth of his son, and a week later, a huge celebration was held in Ned and Amanda's house for Orville's baptism. After some soul searching, Ned had agreed to drop his assumed name, Gourd. Instead, he clipped off the 'bottom' from his native name Thrushbottom and thus became Ned Thrush. Mrs. Amanda Thrush liked her name much better than Mrs. Amanda Gourd had, and that cinched it for Ned.

Three weeks later, Ned had to leave Denver and his family, for the work in the mine was to resume. In the meantime, Jim became more involved in the social life of the growing city. He met with the other prominent citizens regularly, namely the Justice, the Marshal, Mr. Linkletter, and the Doctor. A few of the more wealthy merchants were part of this group, too, and Jim became more and more involved with local politics. He was leery, though, of the appointed governor and his cronies, feeling instinctive distrust of their motives. Instead, he restricted his involvement to local matters.

When Rose's pregnancy neared its term, he cut down on his own outside activities to spend more time with her. Rose carried herself well, in spite of her growing bulge. The two years in the diggings had hardened her, and she joked that the minor discomforts she felt were nothing compared to the aching muscles and joints after working the sluice box for a week.

The O'Donnells also settled in and became familiar with their tasks. Mary O'Donnell was a hard worker, eager to carry her weight in the household, and the children helped out, too, to their abilities. On Jim's insistence, both children visited the Sunday School, to learn their letters and numbers.

In late March, Samantha turned seventeen. She was growing into a tall, blonde beauty, as everybody saw. She befriended the daughter of Justice Pilkins, Garnet, and Jim arranged with the Justice that she shared the lessons Garnet had with a house teacher. Given her beauty and her stepfather's newly acquired wealth, Samantha was already inciting interest in Denver's young and not-so-young men. Jim was determined that she had the right schooling before she even met any men socially.

In late March, news arrived from Washington D.C ... President Lincoln had signed the Proclamation of Emancipation, ostensibly as a measure of warfare against the Confederate States. However, it was seen by the public as a prelude to a general emancipation and the abolition of slavery. Thus, the measure was discussed heatedly, even though slavery was prohibited in the Colorado Territory.

Then, on April 4, Rose went into labour. The midwife was summoned, and for Jim, seven hours of anxious waiting began. In was late afternoon when the first cry of the baby was heard and Jim bounded upstairs where the midwife proudly presented him with a baby boy. Rose was resting against her pillows, thoroughly exhausted but with a blissfull smile on her pale lips. After viewing the baby boy, Jim knelt down at his wife's side.

"Rose, my darling woman, we have a child, a boy," he babbled, pressing her hand and kissing her forehead. "I'm so proud of you!"

"Oh Jim, I'm so happy, too! This is a dream come true for me. The baby, you, the house, it all seems like a dream, but it's true."

"Yes it is, Rose, and you made it happen! Just remember, it was you who brought us luck."

"You say the nicest things to me, Jim," she smiled, but then she turned wistful. "It took a good man like you, Jim, to bring out my good side. But for you, but for your trust in me and your honest respect, I'd still be serving drinks in a run-down saloon."

"Thank you, Rose. Let us just agree that we are both lucky to have each other, right?"

"That, I can agree on. Jim, have you thought of a name for our son?"

"My father's name is Robert, but I don't know if my older brother has a son named after him already. My older brother is named Edward, after my great-grandfather, but I never liked the name. Then again, I may never see my family again. Why not Robert, then? What was your father's name, Rose?"

"Timothy," Rose sighed. "His name was Timothy Donegal, from Derry."

"Robert Timothy Tremayne," Jim said. "That doesn't sound bad, does it?"

Rose pressed his hand.

"James Tremayne, I love you with all my heart!"

Little Bobby, as he was instantly rechristened by the women in the bedroom, then had his first taste of mother's milk, from Rose's now ample bosom, and he learned to appreciate it quickly. Jim watched in awe as Rose fed their firstborn. He and Rose had been close before, having gone through hardships side by side, but never had Jim felt such overwhelming love for his wife as in this moment.

Later, after Rose had fallen into exhausted sleep and the baby boy was sleeping too, Jim sent the O'Donnell boy to the goldsmith's shop. When Mr. Carlisle, the goldsmith, showed up, Jim questioned him for a long time, to find out what that worthy man had in store. Money would not be an issue. The first, heavily guarded wagon from their gold mine had arrived, two days ago, carrying no less than seventy-three pounds of gold dust and nuggets, worth over $27,000. If they worked the mine eight months a year, as Kennedy anticipated, they could expect a return of over $100,000. Even after deduction of wages and investments, this would yield him the princely sum of $21,000. He could afford to be generous.

In the presence of all of Denver's dignitaries, Robert Timothy Tremayne was baptized a week later. Rose was up and about by then, and she wore her beautiful new, emerald studded necklace for the occasion, raising excited 'Oh's and 'Ah's among the female guests. She reveled in the recognition she received. Among the well wishers, there was a group of women from the shelter. They did not have much, but they had sewn baby clothing. It was symbolic gift, but it was heartwarming for Rose, nonetheless.

Bobby was a healthy baby, and he raised his voice in protest when the parson performed the baptism. Orville Thrush, Mandy's son, lent his vocal support, and it was a quite noisy but joyous occasion for all involved.

The birth of his son and the discussion of his name had awakened the memories of his family in Jim, along with a bad conscience for not writing any letters in eight years. With regular mail service now established between Denver and the East, Jim sat down on the evening of Bobby's baptism, to compose a letter to his family, back in Berkshire.



Tremayne Mansion

Jefferson St., City of Denver, Colorado Territory April 12, 1863

To Robert Tremayne, Esq.,

Hamden Gardens, Berkshire, England

My Dearest Father,

Having finally found my peace of mind and personal happiness, and with a mail service now operating to which I can entrust this letter, I endeavour to write to you and bid you my filial greetings.

I beg forgiveness for the long years in which I did not write, years in which you, no doubt, despaired of my being alive, and which must have caused you grief and anxiety. My excuse for that, if something like that can be excused, is that in all those years, I never came close to an opportunity to send or receive written mail. Such is the circumstance in the vast western half of America that huge territories are without reliable connection to the outside world.

First and foremost, let me tell you that after years of despairing of the female gender, I have finally found the woman who healed my soul and made me feel the sweetness of love again. Her name is Rose, she is of Irish stock out of Baltimore, and she is the sweetest and most loyal wife a man may hope for (Edward may disagree on that, seeing that he found a gem of a woman in his Penelope, and I trust they are healthy and well). I met Rose at a place called Fort Laramie in the State of Kansas, and we married after a rather short courtship.



Here, Jim chuckled to himself, thinking of their "short" courtship. It had been twenty minutes to a half hour, including the auctioning.



At that time, I was prospecting a claim in the South Park, Colorado, gold fields, with my partner Ned Thrush. Initially, I had worked on the wagon trains from Missouri to Oregon, but after three years, we heard the news of the gold finds along the Platte River, and we decided to try our luck.

Now, three years later, I am the proud co-owner of a gold mine. Through those last years, my Rose stood with me through harsh times and hard work, proving to be a lucky charm for us all. It was Rose who found the first nugget of gold in the creek, in the spring of 1862, and it was her who stumbled upon the solid gold deposits in the summer of that year which we now exploit with our new mining company. The proceeds from our hard work and our luck have far exceeded any dreams we had, and I am set to become a wealthy man in the near future.

Now, a week ago, my Rose has given birth to a healthy son whom we named Robert Timothy Tremayne, in honour of his two grandfathers. We also adopted a daughter, an orphan who lost her family in the terrible winter of 1861-62, a winter we barely survived ourselves. Samantha is now seventeen years of age and a true treasure. The only regret we have is that, given her age and her natural beauty, she may soon leave us to make some young man undeservedly happy.

Such is the state of my life. With the first returns from our gold mine coming in, I am now charged with the task of investing our gains wisely. In this regard, I am rather conservative. We earned our gold with back breaking work, and we shall spread our investments wide to ensure their safety. I am blessed with a number of true friends here in Denver on whose advice and friendship I can rely.

I believe I have written enough of me and my family for now. I want to express my fervent wish that this letter will find all of you healthy and in good spirits. Please give Mother my loving regards. I implore all of you to forgive my long absence, the lack of letters, and the grief I must have caused you.

I have been able to leave the disappointments and the anger of my younger years behind me. If you or Edward still have contact with the Bywater family, please send a note to Priscilla Marsden-Smith (I presume that she married the man) and tell her that I have entirely forgiven her. But for her actions, I would have never come into this astonishing land, and I would have never met the exceptional woman who was destined by a benevolent fate to be my loving wife.

You may count on frequent letters from me henceforth, as I am now settled as a prominent citizen of Denver, the capital of the Colorado Territory.

I remain with love and affection

your obedient son

James Weston Tremayne

Postscriptum

I have added to this letter a photographic print on albumen paper, prepared the day before yesterday and showing Rose and myself with Samantha who is holding little Robert.



Indeed, a daguerreotypist had opened shop in Denver, and the Tremaynes had their image taken on a collodion plate. Jim had ordered a dozen prints from that plate, and he included one of them in his letter. He also showed the letter to Rose, and she asked for his permission to add her own postscript.

Dear Mister and Misses Tremayne, 

It feels strange to enter your lives by writing a postscript, but I do not want to miss this opportunity to thank you for raising the wonderful man James is. James has sung my undeserved praises in his letter, but I would rush to point out that it is his strong character, his loyalty, and yes, his love for me, that have given me the strength to become a person worthy of his affection. Please be assured that I love your son with every fibre of my heart. I pray that one day I shall have a chance to meet you and his brother. Until that time, I wish you God's blessing, health and happiness.

Annabelle Rose Tremayne

On the next morning, he entrusted the letter, wrapped in a heavy, tarred linen envelope, to the courier service. For $16, he was ensured of the letter being transported all the way to England. It would likely take four to six months for it to arrive, but at least he had made steps to contact his family again.

Rose's postscript had also acquainted him with the fact that Rose was his wife's second given name. Asked about it, Rose admitted that she had only recently remembered it herself. She had been named 'Annabelle' after her aunt, Annabelle Fourtnoy, of Boston. However, the brothel owner in Baltimore had deemed Annabelle too fancy a name for a whore, calling her 'Rose' instead. The proprietor of the Emerald Isle had then derived her nom de plume, 'Baltimore Rose', from that. After a while, she had entirely forgotten her first name.

"Well, Annabelle Rose, whatever your name is, I love you," Jim had answered to that, earning himself a loving kiss.

A few days later, Albert Tennison rode into Denver with another load of gold dust. After depositing the gold at the Miners' Bank, he spent the evening with Jim and Rose. He was vibrating with good news. Kennedy had cracked a major quartz vein, and they were pulling out up to four pounds of gold each day. Jim's eyes grew wide at that, but Tennison had a damper, too.

"Hiram thinks we may exhaust the claim within two years. A quick kill, he calls it. The major quartz veins are big, but there are only a few of them. He estimates we may recover two or three tons of gold in those two years, though."

"Tons?" Jim asked. A ton of gold equalled $800,000, or $200,000 per partner. Two tons would mean twice that, an incredible sum.

"Impressive, isn't it," Tennison laughed. "We'll be able to retire, all of us. Today's load alone was over one hundred pounds. Think where you'd stand with your pick-axe today!"

Jim laughed at that. It was true. They could retire within another year or two and be rich for the rest of their days. This opened up a lot of possibilities. They were not tied to Denver and to Colorado beyond those two years. A vague idea formed in Jim's head. A Manor House in Berkshire, with lands around it to create income, the life of a country gentleman, all this was within reach. Would Rose be happy as the Squire's Wife, though? It would be quite a challenge for her, and the least he wished for was to give her discomfort.

For now, Jim called for Mary O'Donnell to bring another bottle of wine, to drink on the excellent news. Tennison had planned to stay at a hotel, but with the Palace Hotel closed down until a new owner could be found, the options were not good. He gratefully accepted Jim's offer of hospitality. Mary O'Donnell had volunteered to stay up and tend to their needs, and she readied one of the guest rooms for Tennison.

"That's one pretty woman, Jim," Tennison remarked with a grin when Mary O'Donnell left after serving the wine. "Wherever do you find them?"

"Rose found her. She came out on a trek with her husband, a trader, but he drowned during a river crossing and she arrived here completely destitute. She was living on the streets with her two children when Rose found them."

"Children, huh? Small ones?"

"The boy is twelve, and the girl is ten. They're good kids, too. They help in the household during the day."

"Damn! She doesn't look like she has children that age. Well, it's a good thing you're helping them. I hear that your wife has quite a reputation as a charity person?"

"Yes, it's good for her. She's met a lot of friends that way. Who knows what good this will do for us."

"You're right. Now, how are you getting along with Governor Evans?"

Jim sighed.

"I can respect him personally, but some of the people around him I cannot stomach. Like this pompous Chivington. I mean, seriously, he charged a Confederate supply train, defended by maybe thirty soldiers with four hundred men of his own, and they make him a hero? From what I hear, he didn't even want to attack. Then, here in Denver, he's this great church man, elder of the Methodists, but once he's beyond the city limits, he drinks and swears with the best of them."

"Yeah, I heard the same, but Evans believes in him. Listen, Hiram, Ned and I have been discussing this, Jim. If this is only a two year thing, maybe it's wiser to get our gold out of the territory and somewhere back East, where we can make good investments."

Jim nodded sagely.

"That would appear advisable, at least with parts of our funds. We still need some presence here, to be heard when we need somebody's ear. You are right, though, with the need to make better investments than buying land around here. I'd wait a little while longer, though, until the situation in the East becomes clearer."

Jim meant the Civil War, of course. The news they received were sketchy at best, and not much had happened over the winter, but now, with the weather again allowing large scale troop movements, the apex of the fighting was getting closer.

"Yes, that's true, too. Hiram and I are also worried about the future of the Miners' Bank here. Once the gold rush abates, how will they cope? Why don't you sound out Bolton what his plans are beyond exchanging gold dust for eagles?"

Jim took note of that.

"That is a valid point. I don't think they handle their other businesses that expertly. Since I'm on the board of directors now, I shall raise that question at the next meeting."

"You do that. We could start to transfer some funds to Independence or even St. Paul, to spread the risk."

Here, Jim smiled.

"I already thought about that. Not in Independence, but Bolton has recommended a St. Louis bank; actually it's a branch of a Philadelphia bank house that dates back to colonial times. The advantage would be that we'd have funds and solid advice readily available should we decide to move back East."

"That sounds good. We can postpone it a little until we have assets worth the effort, but we should not wait until next year."

"I agree. I was thinking to make the trip at some time in late summer. If I take spare horses, I can be back before the first snow falls. Bolton runs a heavily guarded wagon train to St. Louis, three times a year, to get all of the gold back east. I thought to join the August train and I shall need some power-of-attorney from all of you, to act in your interest."

Tennison looked relieved.

"I may come with you, but it's a great idea. Most of the payload in those wagons will be ours anyway."

Rose was asleep when Jim joined her in their bedroom, but she woke early, to feed Bobby. Jim sat with her and related the news Tennison had brought. When he mentioned the possibility to invest their earnings back in the East, she looked up.

"You think we might move back to the East?" she asked with what could only be longing in her voice.

"Baltimore?" Jim asked back, his eyebrows lifted.

"Baltimore, or Philadelphia, or even New York. Just some place where we could see a real theatre show. Nothing against the Apollo Hall, but it's just not the same. As a girl, I would look at those theatre houses and imagine I'd be one of those wonderfully dressed women who walked in at the arm of a gentleman."

She laughed self-consciously, but Jim saw her eyes shine at the memory. He took her free hand.

"Rose, I promise you, that you will be one of those women, a year or two from now. I may even still pass for a gentleman, barring close inspection."

Rose shifted little Bobby to her other breast, before she continued.

"Jim, honestly, do you believe I can fit in there? I learned things from Mandy, and from Pru, but there is a world between those people and me."

Jim gave her an encouraging smile.

"Rose, we'll be so filthy rich, they'll accept you even if you swear like a mule driver. It all boils down to money. They may put up their noses, but in the end, they'll kiss your arse. Besides, there is this fellow Beaumont. He offers dancing classes and teaches French. He's from Charleston. Not that there is much business for him yet. You want to hire him for a few lessons? I could use a brush-up in dancing, myself."

Rose's eyes lighted up.

"Oh, could we, Jim? He could teach me French, too. I'll bet that will make a good impression, too."

"Fellow's almost starved," Jim laughed. "For one of Mrs. McGuinn's meals, he'll teach you all you want. Sam should take those lessons, too."

-------

The French lessons and the dancing teas under Mr. Beaumont's tutorship proved a necessary distraction for Rose. With the warm weather of spring coming, work for the shelter was reduced dramatically. Many of its occupants found work now, enabling them to feed themselves. The next winter would be a different story again, but for now, there was little to do for the support committee.

Every second week, a wagon arrived with the yields of the mine. Sometimes, Ned would ride with the wagon, and Mandy lived for those days. On those days, they would all get together for an evening, reliving their days in the cabin on Tarryall creek. Ned filled them in on the progress of their work. Kennedy was a skillful and restless mining operator. The entire side of the valley had been torn up already, for his exploratory digs. Twice a day, explosive charges shook the ground, and then the miners would shovel the loose quartz gravel into rail wagons. It was a very efficient way to exploit the claim.

All around their claim, diggers were giving up by now, their placers dried up. The smart ones had taken work with Kennedy early on, and by late summer, they would have earned enough to make their way back home with some savings. Kennedy had examined each of the deserted claims, but none had the potential for another major lode.

By late June, they had shipped close to eight hundred pounds of gold to Denver, and the biweekly deposits at the Miners' Bank drew spectators. Consequently, Ned and Albert Tennison had the transports guarded by no less than fifteen well armed men, to discourage any attempts on their gold. By mid-August, their take had risen to thirteen hundred pounds, and Jim made ready for his planned trip to St. Louis. Of course, Rose would stay behind. Ned would come back from Tarryall, to provide the necessary protection for the women while Jim was traveling.

Editing and local color by SpikeCO



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Chapter 12


An Unpleasant Encounter

August 1863 - Denver, St. Louis, Independence

The mule wagon train from the bank left on August 24, a Monday. Jim and Albert Tennison rode with the detachment of Colorado Militia that guarded the transport. For the trip, Jim had once again changed into buckskins. His old Enfield Rifle was in a scabbard by his side, but he had also come into possession of one of the first Henry Repeating Rifles that found its way west. One of the purposes of this trip was to get more ammunition for this rare gun, as it fired 0.44 caliber rimfire cartridges that could not be found in Colorado. He only had thirty rounds for it, and its tube magazine housed sixteen rounds. If they got into any fighting, the Henry could be his life saver, but he needed more ammunition to practice with the weapon.

They ran a chuck wagon along for the trip and the militia had their standard issue tents. Jim and Albert led pack horses along, carrying their own gear, but they partook of the food doled out from the chuck wagon.

Of course, once they were on their way, Jim could not resist straying from the trail and doing some hunting. Here, his trusted Enfield still did him good service, and the militia men were grateful for the addition of venison to their food.

They took a direct route towards Independence, one Jim was not familiar with. It was a big trail, though, carved into the soil by the countless wheels of the wagon trains that had brought the diggers to the Colorado territory. There was some unrest among the Indians along the trail, Jim knew. Young Cheyenne and Arapaho braves were dissatisfied with their peace minded chiefs and went on raids under their own guidance. The three-wagon train guarded by almost twenty well armed men went unmolested, though, and they reached Independence by mid-September.

Jim had known Independence from before the gold rush, but the city had almost doubled in size since then. Given the value of their cargo, they did not stop, but pressed ahead. It took almost another three weeks to reach St. Louis. Here, the bullion was finally unloaded. Jim and Albert found hotel rooms and changed into their city suits. They did not risk keeping their precious Bills of Exchange for longer than necessary, and they quickly sought out the bank house recommended to them.

The First Philadelphia occupied the ground floor of a tall building in the center of the city. The mere mention that they had Bills of Exchange to the sum of over five-hundred thousand dollars was enough for the General Manager to receive them in his own, plush office. Of course, the First Philadelphia would be of service. Of course, they could have access to their funds from any of the numerous branches. Could they expect more payments in the future?

The general manager helped them set up four accounts, one for each partner. Jim set us his own account with Rose as co-signee which raised some eyebrows. He also deposited another three thousand dollars in gold eagles, bringing his account to an awe-inspiring $132,000 or £18,000, as he translated mentally. He was assured of a 4.3% interest on his account, and he smiled, thinking that the money would earn him almost $5,500 each year, a sum he could live on in luxury.

Both men tried to make the most of their two days stay in St. Louis, making all the purchases they thought necessary. Jim bought a load of books, mostly for Rose and Sam, to further their education. A three-volume encyclopedia from 1861 was packed in wax paper, and so were a number of treatises on courteous conduct and a French textbook.

He also found a gunsmith who sighted in both Jim's rifles and provided Jim with three hundred rounds for his Henry rifle. The gunsmith also had the relatively new Colt Army revolver, in .44 caliber. This was a far more powerful weapon than the Navy Colt. Jim bought four of them, at $22 apiece, for his own and Ned's use. He was also able to buy .44 caliber paper cartridges that would greatly speed up reloading. He was $220 poorer when he left the gunsmith's shop, but he was not sorry for it. With two Army Colts and his Henry, he had up to 28 rounds to fire should the need arise.

Jim also bought a load of toiletry articles off of a list the women had written. The wagon master made use of the empty wagons to bring goods to Denver on the return trip, but Jim had bartered with the man to stow most of his own buys on the wagon. Therefore, he could afford to buy as much as they expected to need over the next year.

They started on the return trip after three days. The wagons carried quite a load, and progress was not faster than on the eastward journey. They made a stop in Independence this time, allowing them two nights of comfort in a hotel. The men of the Militia were happy to spend their evenings drinking and gambling. Drink loosened their tongues, too, and one or two of them blabbed about Jim and Albert and the tremendous wealth they were reaping from their mining operation. While most people hardly believed the drunk babble, one man listened up when he heard Jim's name.

Jim was sitting at breakfast with Albert Tennison when a florid faced man in his thirties approached them. Jim took an instinctive dislike to the man whose features bespoke debauchery. This was enforced by the eyepatch the man wore over his left eye socket. In a flash, Jim knew who this man was. Very carefully, he unlatched the Army Colt in its holster.

"You James Tremayne?" the man asked without preamble.

Jim looked the man in his single eye.

"Who wants to know?" he answered brusquely.

"I'm Landon Bunion."

"Well," Jim drawled, "what can I do for you, Mr. Bunion?"

"That Caplan fellow claims you bought that bitch, Rose Donegal, in Fort Laramie and married her."

"I am indeed married to the former Rose Donegal, and I should be grateful if you maintained a civil tongue."

"That damned slut tore my eye out!" Bunion snarled.

"Yes, she told me the story. That is what a man risks when he tries to force a woman," Jim answered coldly.

"She's a fucking whore! I paid her."

"Well, even so, you should have picked a male consort for the kind of activity you planned," Jim spat, disdain in his voice.

"You!" Bunion growled. "I want restitution for my eye. She's your wife, and you're rich. I want a thousand dollars!"

"As I understand, you were awarded restitution from my wife's forfeited possessions. Anyway, that case was tried over three years ago, and you'll get nothing out of me. Now, if you were to leave us alone, we are having breakfast."

"You sure wouldn't want me to show up in Denver, telling everybody that your precious wife is a stinking whore!" Bunion threatened.

Jim had difficulties by now to keep his hand off the handle of the Colt.

"Mr. Bunion, you have repeatedly insulted my wife. If you were a gentleman, I should have to demand satisfaction from you. Seeing that you are nothing but a drunk lout, a philanderer, and a butt-fucker, I shall rather respond like this."

Like a striking snake, Jim was up from his chair, and he gripped Bunions lapels. Bunion tried to reach for his gun, but Jim gave him a powerful head-butt, breaking the man's nose and sending him reeling backwards until he crashed into another table. He stalked over to the sprawled man, placed his boot on Bunion's gun hand and bent over him.

"If I ever see you in the streets of Denver, I'll shoot you like the dog you are. If you spread any lies about my wife, I shall come after you with a bull whip, and you will find that all your family's money can't buy you a new skin. You savvy that, skunk?"

Bunion stared at him with hatred in his yellow eye, but also with fear. He was having difficulties with breathing, with his swelling nose, and he panted though his mouth.

"I'll get even with you," he snarled.

Jim shrugged his shoulders.

"Good to know. Mind that I'll shoot you on sight, so you better keep away from me."

"My cousin is the Sheriff. I'll see you in jail for this!"

"I don't think you will," Jim grinned.

A second later, his fist crashed under Bunion's chin, and the man was out cold. Jim turned to the waiter.

"Let's bring him into an empty room. Quick! I'll pay for it."

The burly waiter grinned and picked up Bunions upper body. Jim took his feet, and they carried him along the corridor and into an unoccupied room.

"Get me a bottle of whiskey," Jim ordered and gave the man two gold eagles.

Again, the waiter grinned and ran downstairs. After dowsing Bunion's front with whiskey, Jim made the slowly waking man swallow more of the firewater. Satisfied that Bunion looked like a slob sleeping off his drunk, he gave the waiter another gold eagle.

"Wait two hours before you call the Sheriff. Then tell him he showed up drunk and insulted a guest who decked him. I suppose things like that happened to this lout before?"

The waiter made a face.

"Only once or twice a month. Used to be more, but his uncle cut him off. Doesn't have the money anymore. Listen, Mr. Tremayne, you married Baltimore Rose?"

"Yes, do you know my wife?"

"Only from work. I worked in the Emerald Saloon, before I got the position here. She was the sweetest girl, always tipping us from her takings. It was a shame what they did to her. I'm sure glad she found somebody. Would you please tell her, Andy sends his greetings?"

"Thank you, Andy, I'll do just that. You take care, and if you get in trouble, come to Denver. There is always a need for good waiters, and I know most of the business people."

"I'll think about is, Sir."

Jim dug out another two eagles, feeling magnanimous.

"Here, that should give you some reserves."

A half hour later saw the small wagon train on its way out of Independence. Jim rode with Albert Tennison when they cleared the city boundaries. Tennison was silent and clearly not at ease.

"Speak up, Al. What's bothering you?" Jim asked after a while.

"Well, you see, I kinda figured something like that, I mean about your wife's past. Seeing how she played and sang in the Golden Nugget, I could tell she was used to singing in a saloon. From there, it wasn't a far stretch. Listen, Jim, all I want to say is, I had a hunch. Now that I know my hunch was dead center, it doesn't change how I feel about you and your wife. She's still a great woman in my mind, and I still think you're a lucky fellow to have found her. Out here, in the West, things like that are not what counts. The woman has a heart of gold, no matter what she did to earn her living."

"Thanks, Al. I kinda feel lucky, too. And you have to remember, she found the lode."

"Yup! She's our Million Dollar Woman," Tennison laughed with relief.

Over the next days and weeks, Jim caught many strange looks from the Militia men, though, and he began to suspect that Bunion had spread the poison already. He felt a strong urge to return to Independence, to finish what he had started, but common sense prevailed. Now, more than ever, Rose would need him and his support.

During the last week of the trip, the weather turned really cold. Jim was grateful for the bearskin he had taken with him on one of the pack horses. Rolled into it, he barely felt the cold around him, but the other men shivered badly and had to sit around the fire, for most of the night. The men were miserable by the time they reached Denver in mid-November. Jim and Albert had spoken about some measures to induce the men to keep quiet, and on the last evening, Jim spoke to the Militia men.

"You men have been performing your duty very well, although I would have wished for some of you to have kept your mouths shut about me and my wife, back in Independence." He could see that the men were uncomfortable at that. "Mr. Tennison and I still plan to show our appreciation, by giving out a premium for your good services."

The sergeant took off his hat and collected his courage.

"Mr. Tremayne, Sir, we've heard some stuff about yore wife an' how she had to leave Indie. The boys an' I want ya ter know, we all have great respect fer Mrs. Tremayne. We'll never hurt her, spreading bad things about her. Lord knows, even a good girl, when she's got no parents ter look out fer her, can end up in a bad place. We'll keep mum, Sir."

"I appreciate your views, Sergeant. I guess, there is more than one person in these parts who'd like to keep his past a secret, right?"

"That's true, Sir. Can't say there ain't a few states in the Union where I'd rather not show my mug."

That one caused chuckles among the men, chuckles that turned into broad grins when Jim doled out two gold eagles to each of the soldiers.

"I ain't heard nuthin', Suh, but I shore ain't gonna tell nuthin' ayether," one of the wagon drivers grinned.

"Let me, Jim," Albert chuckled, handing eagles to the three drivers. "You folks keep your mouths shut about our trips, and there's more of that, next spring."

Twenty dollars on top of their pay was a good incentive to keep a lid on things, but Jim had a hope that the men would keep the secret for other reasons, too. Nevertheless, when they reached Denver by early afternoon the next day, and after the first stormy welcome, Jim led Rose into his study.

"Rose, on the way back, in Independence, I met that Bunion character. He had somehow got my name from that weasel, Caplan, and he confronted me, asking compensation for his lost eye."

Rose turned ghostly pale.

"Oh Jim, I'm sorry! This is terrible. What did you do?"

Jim smiled at Rose.

"I gave him a solid head butt, broke his nose, and told him if he ever shows his ugly face in Denver, I'll plug him for good."

"You ... You beat him up?"

"He'll have some trouble breathing for some time," Jim answered grimly. "I hoped he'd go for his gun, but he was too yellow for that, the weasel. Rose, he threatened to spread the word about your past here in Denver. It's possible I scared him off, but we can't be sure."

Rose closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them, there was resignation in her look.

"Jim, should I just leave? You don't deserve to be caught in this. Our son shouldn't grow up with this. I could go on to California, or maybe some place else."

In a flash, Jim was standing behind her, holding her in a firm hug.

"Do not even think such thoughts! Rose, how could I live without you? You are my lucky charm. I need you like the air that I breathe. If the rumors spread in Denver, we'll face them together. And if any of these city suits dares to badmouth you, he'll have a face full of fist."

"But this is no life for us and our son!"

"Rose, we can always leave. Even if we stay until Kennedy stops operations, it'll be only one more year, in all likelihood. Ned and Mandy will stand by you. The McGuinns will think no less of you. Albert already told me that it doesn't matter to him."

"Well, that only leaves the rest of the town."

"It's their loss, Rose. Listen, I've been thinking a lot about our future. If push comes to shove, we could take a ship to England. With the money we have already, we could buy a country home and be set for life. Nobody would ever know about Baltimore Rose, let alone connect her to Mrs. Annabelle Tremayne."

"You would take me back to England? You would let me meet your parents?"

"But of course! Rose, you are my wife. You gave birth to my son. I will never give you up. I am proud of you."

"There's really not much of a chance for anyone from Independence to ever show up in England, is there?"

Jim shook his head, smiling.

"England sounds good," she said, smiling back. Then she sobered. "I'll need somebody to teach me how to behave, the English way."

"Oh, that's quite easy. Never smile, never show emotions outwardly, always speak as if you're bored. In fact, don't speak full sentences. When spoken to, reply in single words, such as 'Quite!' or 'Smashing!'. That'll cover most dinner conversations."

"You are making fun of me, aren't you?"

"Quite!"

His 'Ooof!' when her elbow hit him could be heard through the house.

True to their word, the Militia men and the wagon drivers never talked about what they had heard in Independence. Instead, Rose received demonstrative bows from the soldiers wherever she saw them in the streets. Not that she went out much these days, as the winter again held Denver in its firm grip.

Mining operations in Tarryall had shut down by mid-November, and the four partners spent the winter in Denver. The Tremaynes often hosted their partners for dinner as they had the biggest house. Kennedy had his wife in St. Francisco, and he lived in the newly re-opened Palace Hotel over the winter. Albert Tennison had bought a small house where he lived with an elderly housekeeper when he was in Denver. After the return from St. Louis, he was a frequent visitor at the Tremaynes' house.

A week before Christmas, a red faced Mary O'Donnell interrupted Jim and Rose's breakfast.

"Mr. and Mrs. Tremayne, may I have a word with you?" she asked.

"Why yes, Mary, speak up!" Jim answered in good mood.

"Well, it's like this, Sir ... Ma'am. Mr. Tennison has spoken to me on many occasions in the last weeks. He is easy to talk to, and friendly. I thought nothing of it at first, but I will admit that I felt good talking to him. Well, yesterday, we met again as I was doing the shopping for Mrs. McGuinn. He invited me to a tea, and we talked for some time. It felt good, too, talking. Well, he ... I mean, after a while of talking, he asked me what my plans were, for the future, I mean. And I asked him why. And then he said, would I consider marrying him."

She ended, looking guiltily at her employers. Jim raised his eyebrows.

"Well? I certainly hope that you were smart enough to consent, weren't you?"

Mary nodded, her face bent down. When she continued, she almost whispered.

"I said yes. But I want you to know, it's not because he's a rich man. It's because I have grown to like him. I think he's a good man, too, and he said he'd look after my Tim and my Emily, too."

"That is certainly good news for all involved," Rose opined with a smile. "Mrs. McGuinn will be saddened, but that cannot be helped. We never regretted taking you in, Mary, but I am happy for you, nonetheless."

"Thank you, Ma'am, that means a lot to me, it does."

Meanwhile, Jim looked Mary over. With regular food, she had filled out since the last winter, and she was a fine looking woman of thirty years. Tennison was in his early forties, and although healthy, he could hardly find a better woman in Denver. He certainly did not need to marry rich, with what they already had. With the last transport from Tarryall, they had already surpassed the first ton on gold, and Kennedy was now optimistic that they would exceed two tons at the least before the claim would run dry. It was a comfortable thought, to own more than two-hundred-thousand dollars. Rose's voice broke into his musings.

"Have you two set a date yet?"

"We plan to marry on New Year's Day, Ma'am, if that is all right with you."

"But of course! Why would we stand in your way? He'll be over for dinner today, and we'll talk things over."

"Thank you, Ma'am. I thank both of you from my heart. I don't want to think what may have become of me and my children without your kindness."

"Never mind, Mary. You have proven yourself worthy of our help, and that is a reward in itself."

After Mary had left, Jim pressed Rose's hand.

"You did a good thing."

"I did, didn't I? We'll have to find a replacement, though. Maybe one of the women from the shelter? I will ask Prudence for advice. She knows them better."

"It cannot hurt to look there," Jim admitted. "Make sure to involve Mrs. McGuinn in the selection."

Rose lost no time. She was invited to tea that afternoon at Judge Pilkins' house, for one of their meetings to discuss the running of the shelter. With the return of winter, the shelter was filled to capacity again, and it was a good thing that both Rose and Mandy were able to help again. When the current issues were resolved, Rose brought up her personal problem. All three women then launched into a discussion of the current shelter population.

The selection boiled down to one woman in particular, one Nell Pickwith. Both Rose and Mandy knew her and found her the most promising candidate. Prudence Pilkins sighed deeply.

"In principle, I agree that Nell would be the obvious choice. Rose, there is one thing you should know. I shouldn't talk about it, but I see you as my friend, and I wouldn't want you to feel that I held back on something important."

Rose tilted her head.

"Pray, what is it?"

"Well, I know for a fact that Nell was a convict. She was sentenced to a year in prison, back in New York, but she came free when her husband paid her fine and married her. She was a good wife to him, and she's a caring mother to her children. It should not make a difference, but I think you should know."

Rose took a deep breath.

"What is your personal opinion, Pru? Should we hold it against her?"

Prudence Pilkins shook her head.

"Everybody can stray once. My husband says it, too. People make stupid mistakes, especially when they're young. Nell redeemed herself since then. I think you should give her a chance."

Rose had tears in her eyes now. She stood quickly and hugged the surprised Prudence Pilkins. The older woman raised her eyebrows.

"There is a story behind that hug, isn't there?"

Rose made a decision. At long last, her story would leak out anyway. At least, she would not mislead her friend.

"Mandy knows it anyway, Pru. I was a convict, too."

"You, Rose? Why? You are the kindest and friendliest person I know."

"I grew up in Baltimore. My father died when I was ten, and my mother four years later. When I was fifteen, the man I worked for came into my room and took me. After that, he made me work in his saloon.

"Four years later, a customer lured me to Independence, promising me marriage. Of course, when I arrived there, I had to work in another saloon, the Emerald Isle. I felt better there, because the owner was kind to us, and we kept a cut of what we earned. I learned to sing and to play the guitar, too, and I felt good when the people in the common room cheered me. I was even able to put some money aside, for a day when I would end that life.

"Then, almost four years ago, Landon Bunion came into the Emerald Isle and into my life. He ordered drinks for me and paid for the night, but when we went up to my room, he ... He demanded something I couldn't do. He wanted to force me, but I fought him hard. I got my nails into his left eye, and he screamed and let go, and I kicked him and beat him until he crawled from my room."

By this time, Mandy held her hand in support. Rose gave her friend a grateful smile, before she continued.

"The next morning, the Sheriff, another Bunion, arrested me on charges of assault. I wasn't even given a chance to defend myself. I was led into the courtroom, the prosecutor had his say and then the Jury pronounced me guilty. They took all my possessions, and I was sentenced to seven years in the work house. Fortunately, a man named Caplan paid my fine and brought me to Fort Laramie. Jim paid the price there and I married him. That's my story, and if you feel that I have to leave, I'll do it."

That last sentence was rather unnecessary. Prudence Pilkins was on her feet and pulled Rose up from her chair to engulf her in a violent hug. Then she held her at arms length.

"Rose Tremayne, whatever you did to that swine of a man, it was well done! Whatever immoral men forced you to do in your youth, you have redeemed yourself long since. But why are you telling me this now?"

"Things will come out, I fear. Jim met that Bunion character in Independence, and he threatened to expose me if Jim didn't pay him."

"Oh, let him come!" Prudence spat. "Let him come and make demands. I'll tell Porter. Your Mr. Bunion will find out what it's like to work in a chain gang. Extortion, that's what he tried."

"You're not thinking badly about me?" Rose asked, still worried.

"I'm a bit sad you didn't tell me earlier. Then we could have done away with those fears much earlier, " Prudence smiled.

At this, tears shot into Rose's eyes, and she began to bawl in earnest. Mandy held her close while she did her best to cry her eyes out. Prudence kept stroking Rose's head all the while, soothing her with words.

"Let it out, my child, let it all out. You've been through a lot, but that's behind you now. You have a wonderful husband, and you have your friends, come what may."

It took a while for Rose to calm down again, and when she did, she felt embarrassment.

"Pru, I'm sorry for this drama, and I'm sorry for not telling you earlier. It is hard for me to talk about it."

"Never mind, my dear. Now, should that despicable man ever show up here, I want you to let me know, and we shall deal with him."

"Thank you, Pru. It means a lot to me to have real friends. And I'll give Nell Pickwith a chance."

Editing and local color, SpikeCO



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Chapter 13


Death of a Friend

Winter 1863-1864, Denver Territory and Missouri

The Tremaynes had a quiet Christmas in their home. They attended Christmas Service in the Assembly Hall. The thing that marred the evening for Jim was the log-winded sermon by that pompous ass John Chivington who droned on and on, and he was more than relieved when the closing prayers were spoken.

On the next morning, after breakfast, they exchanged gifts. Everybody in the household was included, and for once, they all sat together at the table for a festive meal at noontime. Albert Tennison was invited, and he sat with Mary O'Donnell and her children. In the afternoon, Ned and Mandy came to visit, as did Hiram Kennedy. Abraham Linkletter and Raven came, too, for the first time in weeks.

The extended group stayed for dinner. The Pilkins also visited, and they all toasted the excellent year they had enjoyed. The evening was made memorable by Raven Feather's announcement that she was expecting a child. There were hugs between the women, and as far as Rose was concerned, it was their best evening yet in Denver.

A week later, Justice Pilkins conducted the civil wedding of Albert Tennison and Mary O'Donnell. The subsequent banquet in the Apollo Hall saw over sixty guests, and it lasted until well after midnight. Albert had music playing, and Rose got to practice the steps she had learned under Beaumont's tutoring in the summer.

The winter that year was relatively mild, and Kennedy planned to resume mining activities in March. In their long discussions, the partners agreed to hire more people that year. Kennedy was confident that they could increase their production significantly if he was able to blast another mine into the rock, at an angle to the first one. He also corrected his estimate of the total yields they could expect. They had found two more quartz veins, late in the fall, which promised sizable returns. Kennedy now expected to run the mine for at least two, possibly three more years. As a consequence, he would move his family to Denver, in the spring.

Jim listened to all this with mixed feelings. He certainly appreciated the additional riches they would gain, but it would also delay the move to the East and possibly to England. On the other hand, he could not simply leave, having Ned handling all their work. He had not been that effective for their business, anyway. Sure, he had built up goodwill within Denver's social elite, but so far, his stationing at the capital had not really been necessary or even helpful. Of course, his position on the Board of Directors of the Miners' Bank had made him privy to information that had helped them, but still, for an active man, his role had been less than satisfying.

They also planned another trip to St. Louis, in spring. Tennison would be busy organizing the supply for the mine, and the partners decided to let Jim handle the business alone. This time, Jim planned not to accompany the wagon train. If Bunion waited for him in or around Independence, he would wait for the wagons to show. Jim was familiar enough with the land around Independence to be able to skirt Jackson County entirely, thus staying out of that Sheriff's bailiwick. He felt he was enough of a frontiersman to make it on his own.

The winter kept its grip on the land until mid-March. Hiram Kennedy and Ned then started out for Tarryall again, to resume the mining operations. Albert Tennison would follow a week later, with the first supply train. Jim stayed behind and readied himself for the trip, training two new horses for riding. He also obtained a brand new tent for bad weather and had Mrs. McGuinn prepare travel food for him. He planned on hunting as little as possible and rather would rely on what he kept in his saddle bags.

He celebrated Bobby's first birthday with his family, and it was right on that day when the first load of gold dust arrived from their mine. He received additional Letters of Exchange from the Bank for the latest delivery, and he set out for St. Louis on March 7. The farewell from Rose was taxing, but she kept her composure and she gave him a farewell night which left him thoroughly satisfied and drained.

Once on the trail, Jim pressed forth, making twenty-seven miles the first day, switching horses every two hours. He made another twenty-six miles on the next day by his estimate. He did not meet any people on the trail before the fifth day when he encountered three westbound supply wagons, headed for Denver. Rotating his horses, he was able to maintain the brisk pace for another two weeks, and then he was already close to Independence.

He encountered more westbound travelers and wagons now, and he spent an evening in a camp of settlers, enjoying the hot meal to which he was invited. He learned from their scout that things in Independence had changed after Sheriff Ebenezer Bunion had been shot by a gambler. The gambler claimed self-defense, arguing that the Sheriff had tried to shake him down for his day's winnings. For once, Justice Albert had shown spine, and the jury had handed back a not-guilty verdict.

Enraged, Landon Bunion tried to shoot the gambler outside the courthouse. Being drunk and one-eyed, he only wounded him, but the new Sheriff was sober, and he shot Bunion straight through the heart. With the patriarch of the Bunion family felled by a stroke in the fall of 1863, the family's hold on the city was broken for good.

Jim felt nothing but relief. With just a little luck, Rose would be spared any rumors now. Nevertheless, he stuck to his plan to skirt Independence, but he did not avoid Jackson County altogether, but rather passed the city in the early morning hours.

A mere ten days later saw him in St. Louis where he deposited and divided up the Letters of Exchange to the four accounts with the First Philadelphia branch. His savings with the First Philadelphia now ran to an impressive $205,000 or £29,000. He left the interest for the first seven months in the account, withdrawing only $500 for possible travel expenses.

He did not stay for more than two days since he had no purchases to make. He spent those days resting in his hotel room and enjoying regular meals and a hot bath. Both his horses could rest, too, and he saw to it that they were fed good quality oats. He also loaded up on travel food for himself before he took the saddle again for the return trip. This time, he planned to stop in Independence after he had confirmed the information about Bunion's death from the St. Louis rumor mill.

He chose the same hotel as during his stay in October, and the same waiter was serving breakfast, grinning at him broadly. Jim learned that Bunion had not raised much of a fuss after he woke from his fist- and booze-induced sleep. It seemed then that he did not remember all that much from the altercation. That was certainly good news, and Jim made sure he tipped the man generously, also relaying Rose's greetings.

There were a number of wagon trains readying for the Oregon trail, and a few heading for Denver. One of them consisted of five mule wagons, carrying among other items several pieces of equipment ordered for their mine. The wagoners were accompanied by the wagon master, the cargo superintendent, a scout and a trail cook who drove his own, smaller chuck wagon. Their problem was that the scout had been thrown from his horse on the way to Independence, and he still had a hard time keeping his saddle. Another scout worth his salt was hard to find with all the wagon trains assembling.

Jim thought only briefly. They needed the parts at the mine, and any delay would be felt badly. He therefore offered to act as scout on the way out to Denver. The wagonmaster agreed after Jim added the information that he had worked the Oregon trail for three years. They would leave two days later. Jim also heard that a stagecoach line was to be opened that year and relay stations were being built along the trail. This would ease his future trips considerably, he expected.

Once they had started on their way, his scouting kept Jim free to roam the country around the trail, and he enjoyed this part of the business. He knew the trail well enough to plan for the next stops from memory, and he explored the terrain ahead with great care. Almost every day, they overtook one or more settler trains, usually consisting of huge Conestoga prairie wagons, pulled by three or four yokes of oxen. They exchanged news then, and Jim managed to pick the brains of their scouts for information.

After ten days, Jim saw the first Indians. He was riding two miles ahead of the wagons, scanning the land to both sides, when he saw a band of twenty or more braves appearing from the left. They came closer, and Jim readied his weapons. In particular, he pulled the Henry Rifle from its scabbard as he waited. When they were perhaps two hundred paces away, one of the braves left the group and came closer.

He held some sort of hooked, wooden staff, akin to a shepherd's staff, and from that, Jim guessed him to be Cheyenne. The staff, known as coup stick, was used in fighting to touch an enemy, and such a deed was considered the ultimate bravery. The man was as tall as Jim and held himself upright. He was a leader if Jim had ever seen one. On his head, he wore a war bonnet of feathers and buffalo horns.

Jim was fairly fluent in sign language, and he greeted the brave with the sign of peace. The warrior, a well built man of Jim's age, raised his own hand in greeting.

"I greet you, warrior of the Human Beings," Jim shouted, knowing the way the Cheyenne referred to themselves. He used the mangled mix of English, Cheyenne, Lakota, and Arapaho words that was commonly understood.

"Greetings, Man of the White People!" the brave replied with dignity, scanning Jim's appearance, his horse and his weapons carefully. "What is it that makes you travel through our hunting grounds?"

"I guide a train of wagons, to a place in Ute lands, called Denver. We bring tools and other goods for the needs of the dirt diggers."

"Are you a soldier?"

"No, I was a soldier once, but in faraway hunting grounds. I was never a soldier in this land."

"What do you offer for the right to travel our land?"

Now, the brave was talking business. Jim had a few things in his saddle bags for this purpose, things that did not take much room but had true value.

"I would offer you five hunting knives, made from good steel. I have them with me."

"Can you show me?"

Jim bent to the side warily, fishing for one of the wrapped knives in his saddle bag. He found it and tossed it to the Indian who caught it with dexterity, unwrapped it and tested the sharpness. He nodded and smiled.

"It is good knife. Five, you say?"

Jim nodded. "Five, and the one you already hold."

"Is good price. We tell other Human Beings to let you travel in peace. How are you called?"

"They call me English Jim," Jim replied, feeling that 'Tremayne' would be too hard to remember.

"I am Hook Nose, but the Pale Faces call me Roman Nose."

That was a surprise. Jim had heard of the man before. He was one of the Cheyenne Dog Soldiers, young warriors who defied the elder chiefs and stood for a more aggressive stance against the Whites. Jim nodded.

"I have heard of you, your name is known to the White People."

The man nodded, obviously pleased. Jim nudged his horse closer. He was wary, but a sixth sense told him he could trust the man. He handed over five more knives. The Cheyenne opened the bundles and examined the blades. He nodded with satisfaction. After stowing the loot away, he nestled with a pouch on his drawstring, extricating a small piece of tanned leather with intricate symbols on it.

"This is sign of Hook Nose. When you meet Human Beings, show them my sign. They will know you are a good man among the Pale Ones. Safe travels, English Jim."

"Good hunting, Hook Nose," Jim replied. "It lifts my heart that a great leader of the Human Beings sees me worthy of his sign."

The man wheeled his horse and trotted back to his band, oblivious to the fact that Jim held his rifle across his lap. When he joined his men, he distributed the knives among them. Other things were handed around, too, and Jim assumed that those who did not receive knives got other things for compensation. Then the whole band turned their horses and rode in northern direction, away from the trail.

After watching the Indians disappear over the next hill top, Jim turned his horse and rode to meet the wagon train. He told the wagon master about the encounter, and they agreed to press on until dark, to put as much distance as possible between the Indians and themselves.

Indeed, the sun was already going down when they stopped for the day. Their rest place was a grassy patch on the side of a small creek. They circled the wagons and used a small, smokeless fire to prepare the evening meal. The tired men went to sleep in their boots, their weapons beside them, while two men stood guard. With eight men on the train, they could divide the guard duty between four watches. Jim volunteered for the fourth watch, from three o'clock to dawn, the time most likely to see an Indian attack. All stayed calm, however. After dawn, Jim circled the camp site in a wide arc, but he did not see any signs of Indians in the vicinity. After a hearty breakfast, they were back on the trail.

With the mule wagons, they could travel twenty miles a day, a pace slower than the one Jim could do on his horses. The few rivers they had to cross were manageable and did not carry too much water. All in all, the trip from Independence to Denver took thirty-one days, including a one day stopover they needed to rest the animals. The second half of the trek went without any hitch, and in mid-June, the five-wagon train reached the approaches to Denver. At this point, Jim bade his farewell to the wagonmaster and his drivers and rode ahead.

As he rode through the outskirts of Denver, he felt a sense of foreboding. Something felt wrong. Without thinking, he spurred his horse into a canter. Along Cherry Creek, he saw collapsed houses, half buried in silt. He had a sinking feeling when he realized that the tall building of the Rocky Mountain News was among the collapsed structures. The bridge was gone, too, replaced by a makeshift pontoon crossing.

He had to pay a Dime to cross, to ride up the hill to their house. As he came to a stop in front of the entrance and climbed off his mount, he breathed a first sigh of relief, because Rose stood on top of the steps, with little Bobby standing at her side on wobbly feet. He rushed up the steps, and then Rose was in his arms.

"Oh Jim, you're back."

He felt her body shake with sobs as he held her.

"Rose, love, what happened down there? Please, tell me!"

"Abe Linkletter is dead!" Rose was able to exclaim, before the sobs started again.

An icy feeling ran down Jim's spine.

"And Raven? What happened to Raven?"

"She's with us. She's distraught, the poor woman, but she's safe," Rose answered with a trembling voice. "She was visiting late while Abe was at the News, getting the latest issue ready. Then we heard the rumble and the rush of the water. The whole building collapsed, and Abe was trapped inside."

Jim looked around. This was no place to have a conversation.

"Where's McGuinn? I need him to take care of my horses."

But McGuinn was already coming from the stable.

"Welcome back, Mr. Tremayne! Let me take care of your horses!"

"Thank you, Mc Guinn. Put them both on oats for a day or two, if you please. And kindly bring in my sleeping roll and saddle bags."

"I'll do that, never worry, Sir!" the old sergeant answered, already leading both horses to the stable.

Jim bent down and picked up his son.

"Hello, Bobby! Have you been a good boy?"

"Mommy!" the kid babbled.

"He is a sweet boy, our Bobby, never worry," Rose said. "Let's go in, Jim. I'll tell you more."

Once inside, Rose pulled the bell rope, and their new housemaid came from the kitchen.

"Nell, please let a bath for Mr. Tremayne and tell us when it's ready."

Nell curtseyed somewhat awkwardly.

"Welcome back, Mr. Tremayne," she mumbled before she headed upstairs in a hurry.

Mrs. Mc Guinn stood in the kitchen door.

"You must be starved, Mr. Tremayne. I have some leftover roast and mashed potatoes. You want me to heat that for you?"

"That would be very helpful, Mrs. McGuinn," Jim answered. "The bath can wait a little, but I must change out of my buckskins."

He strode upstairs, to his dressing room and undressed quickly. It was fairly warm, and Jim dressed in a pair of cotton pants and threw over his dressing gown before he went back downstairs. He needed information now. In the living room, he found Rose, Samantha and a pregnant Raven who wore a black dress. Jim quickly hugged his adopted daughter before he took Raven's hands.

"I just heard, Raven, and I'm deeply sorry. He was the first friendly person we met here in Denver. Without him, the City is not the same for me."

Raven nodded.

"He was a good man and a brave man. His memory will live with me and with his child."

"Raven, whatever happens, you and your child will always have a home with us."

"Yes, Rose said the same, and it makes me proud that you are my friends."

"How did it happen?" Jim asked.

"Abe was in his office, working on the next issue. It had been raining the whole day, but not that strongly. Up in the mountains, the clouds were thick, though. Rose and I were sitting and reading when we heard cries on the streets, and then the terrible crashes. The water tore down all the buildings along Cherry Creek. The News printing house collapsed after a while, and there was nothing anybody could do to help the people inside."

Jim hugged Raven tightly.

"All your belongings are gone?"

"No, no, Abe and I had moved into a small house near Larimer. It's just, after Abe died..."

Rose put her hand on Raven's arm.

"When Abe was not there anymore, people began to give her bad names. They told her to go back to where she belonged; one night a window was smashed in. That's when I asked her to move in with us."

"What happens with the house?"

"I wanted to sell it, but nobody offered a fair price. I suppose they hope that I'll just leave, and the can take it for free."

"What did Abe pay for it?"

"Almost $1,300," Raven answered, her head now tilted. "Why?"

"Sell it to me! They won't try to cheat me, and you'll get what it's worth."

"You don't have to do that, Jim," Raven said earnestly.

"Why not? It's a simple investment, and it'll help you. Think it over. For now, your home is with us again."

-------

For the next weeks, groups of volunteers worked hard to clear the rubble of the flood. Eventually, the bodies of the newspeople were found under the collapsed beams of the News building. Their decay was already far along, and they could identify Abe only by his wedding band.

Jim organized the burial. A great number of people showed, for Abraham Linkletter had been a fixture of Denver's life for over five years. Again, the resentment against Raven showed strongly when people attending the burial did not offer condolences to her. The Reverend who conducted the burial was polite, but another figure also clad in a frock made no bones about his resentment.

"It's bad enough he married a squaw, but to have her at a Christian burial is an outrage!"

It was the Reverend Chivington, freshly appointed colonel and commander of the 1st Colorado Volunteers. Jim had a dislike for the man anyway, but his words gave him extra reason to act.

"I must ask you to leave, Reverend," he told him flatly. "This is our friend's burial, and I will not see his widow insulted at his open grave."

"What's it to you, Tremayne? Are you a squaw lover, too?" Chivington sneered.

Jim squinted at him. Could it be that the man was more than a little drunk?

"I don't know how much liquor you had, but for the sake of peace, I'll attribute your behavior to drunkenness," Jim answered with well-calculated malice.

Chivington turned red.

"That's an insult, Tremayne! If you were a soldier, I'd challenge you for sure!"

"I'll be at your service. I am Captain James Weston Tremayne, formerly of the 13th Light Dragoons of Her Majesty Queen Victoria of Great Britain and Ireland. I believe my military credentials easily match yours. I shall expect your friend or your apology for your tactless conduct."

Chivington turned pale. From the corners of his eyes, Jim saw several men smirk openly. Chivington's popularity did not extend beyond the Governor's mansion. Without paying any more attention to him, Jim returned to Raven's side.

"I am most sorry about this unpleasantness, Mrs. Linkletter," he said in a clear voice.

The service went on, and finally all prayers had been said, and the undertaker and his helpers filled the grave. Jim and Rose led Raven away, only to be confronted by Chivington.

"Listen here, Tremayne..." he began, but Jim gave him no chance, turning abruptly

"Good God, the man has no idea of gentlemanly conduct!" he said to Rose. He turned to Justice Pilkins then. "Will you kindly explain the rules of engagement to the Reverend?"

The Justice nodded gravely.

"Reverend, you claim to be insulted and you demand satisfaction. For the matter to be resolved, you must send your seconds to Mr. Tremayne who, in turn, will acquaint your friends with his own seconds. Those gentlemen will then discuss the manner in which the matter will be resolved. Until then, the combatants are not to see each other socially."

Chivington's mouth moved silently at first before he found words.

"This is ridiculous! A duel over a damned squaw?"

Pilkins shook his head.

"Get sober before you say any more words to get you into trouble."

"Who the hell are you to..."

"Brother Chivington, I must really ask you to refrain from swearing on this holy site," the Reverend who had conducted the burial interrupted his fellow preacher. "Mrs. Linkletter is an active member of my flock. I shall have to inform the Elders of your conduct. Leave now!"

Faced down by his own ilk, Chivington finally beat a retreat. The Tremaynes, with Raven, Amanda, Mary Tennison and the Pilkins had a luncheon in Abe's honor before they returned to their house. Here, Jim found a billet from Governor Evans, asking him to visit "at his earliest convenience" to "resolve an embarrassing situation". Jim thought a lot of the Governor in most matters and it would be unwise to snub him. Still, he sent a note to Justice Pilkins, asking him to accompany Jim to the meeting.

Together, the two men had themselves announced at Evan's house, and they were led in immediately. Evans was surprised to see the Justice and he made no effort to hide his irritation.

"I cannot recall asking you to this little talk among gentlemen," he said with indignation.

"Captain Tremayne is a friend, and he asked me to accompany him," Pilkins answered blithely.

Evans looked at Jim.

"Cannot we talk alone, Tremayne?"

"Is it about the duel, Governor?" Jim asked pointedly.

"Yes, indeed."

"Then, I cannot exclude the Justice, I fear. He already agreed to act on my behalf. It would be poor conduct to discuss the affair without him."

"Hrhm, all right then. I asked you to come, to discuss a way to settle this embarrassing affair between you and the Colonel," Evans said with noticeable exasperation.

"Are you acting for him, Governor?" Pilkins asked.

"No, I'm not. I am merely trying to prevent a deadly outcome. Colonel Chivington already regrets his ill-advised remarks. He and a few of his officers had been celebrating the night before, and I fear he was still under the effects of some over-imbibing."

"Well, if the Colonel feels regret, he should write an apology to the Widow Linkletter, acknowledging the ill-advised nature of his remarks, and asking her forgiveness. That accomplished, I shall not hesitate to offer an apology myself," Jim answered smoothly.

"You expect him to apologize to..." Evans caught himself in time.

"Indeed I do. Seeing that Mrs. Linkletter's husband perished, I take it upon me to defend her and her honor."

Jim could see the struggle the Governor fought internally. At last, he swallowed.

"I see. In the interest of peace I shall speak the Colonel. Perhaps I can convince him."

"If not, let him know that Justice Pilkins will act for me," Jim answered genially. "I believe, this concludes our business?"

Evans nodded darkly.

"Then, let me wish you a good day, Sir. I hope we can settle this without the need for me to inflict injury upon Mr. Chivington."

Evans shot him a glance.

"What makes you so confident?" he asked.

"Mr. Chivington does not strike me as particularly adept in fencing," Jim replied, still smiling.

"Fencing?" Evans expostulated.

"He carries a sword, and he's an officer."

"And you... ?"

"I have been known in the past to settle matters of honor at sword point," Jim replied modestly.

"I ... err ... understand. Thank you for coming, Mr. Tremayne; and you, too, Justice."

-------

Indeed, around noon time on the following day, a soldier delivered a letter for Raven. She opened it quietly and read it, softly shaking her head. Then she looked up.

"Whoever wrote that letter apologized for his 'ill-advised remarks during Mr. Linkletter's burial'," she stated. "The Governor's secretary has a good way with words."

"Did Chivington sign it?" Jim asked.

"There is some scrawling at the bottom; it is hardly legible. The letter bears Chivington's letter heading, though, so I suppose we should be content."

"That is your call, Raven."

"What good can come out of a further altercation?" Raven asked gently.

Jim smiled. She was right, but the letter was certainly not satisfactory.

"I suppose I should write a conciliatory note then."

He sat down at his desk and began to compose a short letter.

June 28, AD 1864

To the

Reverend Chivington, 

Colonel (brevet), 1st Colorado Volunteers



Reverend,

On the assumption that the note of apology delivered to the Widow Linkletter was written over your signature and with your knowledge, I would like to express my regret over alluding to your state of drunkenness on the occasion of Mr. Linkletter's burial. I shall henceforth undertake to refrain from pointing out in language any such facts.

Your servant

James Weston Tremayne



Captain (ret.), 13th Light Dragoons

"Is that wise, Jim?" Rose asked, after leaning over his shoulder and reading the short epistle.

He wrote the address on the sealed letter and looked up.

"He was offering a half-assed apology to Raven, and he will get one in return."

"I can see that you have a tendency to be hard-headed," Rose sighed. "How do you think that Chivington will respond?"

"He'll claim that I wrote an apology. That will get him out of the pressure to pursue his challenge. I admit that I am basing this conjecture on the assumption that Chivington is a coward, but then again, I have no reason to question that underlying assumption."

"Better watch your back when you're out, Jim. People like Chivington come from behind."

"That is indeed good advice," Jim sighed. "I am afraid that the same applies to you and Raven. Perhaps I shall better accompany you when you visit the town."

Editing and local color, SpikeCO



-------

Chapter 14: A Well-mannered Savage


Summer 1864 - Denver

A few days after the exchange with Governor Evans, Jim went home for the noon meal, coming from a board meeting at the Miners' Bank. He was watchful as he walked along the sidewalks, scanning the side alleys carefully, and keeping his right hand close to the hip all the time. Nothing untoward happened, though, much like in the past days. As soon as he entered the house, Rose came to greet him, waving as big envelope made of wax paper.

"This just arrived, Jim, from England!" she told him excitedly.

Jim's heart beat faster, realizing the meaning of her words. Mail from home! He was sorely tempted to tear open the envelope there and then, but he reconsidered.

"This letter has been on its way for maybe four or five months. What's another hour? Let's have our meal first."

Rose tilted her head.

"You really want to wait?"

Jim smiled and nodded. He had recognized his father's handwriting on the envelope; that meant his father was well. Besides, what difference would an hour make. He was a half year of travel away, after all.

If anything, Rose was impatient, ordering Mrs. McGuinn to serve the meal earlier. Rose felt uneasy because deep inside she worried how Jim's parents would react to the news of their marriage and to her. She rushed the family through the meal.

Jim relented after the main course. He led Rose into their study and opened the letter while Mrs. McGuinn served them coffee. The letter was in his father's handwriting, too, as he saw. There were three sheets of paper, written in his old-fashioned style.



Hamden Gardens, January 17, A.D .1864

Berkshire, England

Mr. James Weston Tremayne

City of Denver, Colorado Territory

The United States of America

My Dearest Son!

It was with an overwhelming feeling of joy that we received your letter and the wonderful news it conveyed. The photographic print you sent shows a few water stains now, from the tears your mother wept, after seeing her youngest grandchild. We are awed by the obvious beauty of your young wife and the strong character that shows in her fine features.

We are overjoyed, too, over your good fortune. We have read newspaper articles, of course, about those gold fevers, and it seems quite outlandish to imagine that one can pick up lumps of pure gold from a riverbed! Mr. Beckwith of Cumberland Hall told us recently of his friend, Mr. Aberdeen, who was present during the famed California Gold Rush and who carried away a fortune of almost ten thousand pounds. We hope and pray that you will have similarly good fortune.

Enough of gold for now. Your letter could not have come at a better time. Your dear mother has been ailing for quite a while, causing worries for all of us, but the news from you have revived her. We hope now that this may put her on a permanent path to health, although our Doctor Claxton warns us of too much optimism. She developed breathing trouble, two years back, and she cannot walk far or walk at all in cold weather.

Your brother Edward is in fine health, and he has taken over the running of the estate, much to my relief. He has excellent success, too, and we have been able to add some lands in the past years, using our surplus, always in the hope that you would some day come back to us and we might offer you some lands of your own to settle down. As you correctly assumed, Edward married Penelope Prendergast, and a finer match we could never hope for! They have three children. James, the oldest and named after his uncle, is seven years old and a fine young boy. Paulina is five, and she takes after Penelope and her mother. The youngest, Gwendolyn, is only two. Her birth was hard on Penelope, and we fear that she may not be able to have more children.

You may also want to hear that there is a brevet promotion waiting for you at the headquarters of your old regiment. When they returned from the Crimea theatre, Colonel Payden made Marsden-Smith resign his commission. Lt.Col. Caldwell had to retire, for his poor handling of the affair, and if you had been here, you could have been sure of a major's commission. You were promoted to brevet-major in absentia, for your courageous leadership at Balaclava, and they would love for you to accept the insignia should you ever find your way back home.

Your saviour, Lance Sergeant Malone, was awarded the Victoria Cross after the war. This new medal was chartered to honour the bravest of our soldiers for unselfish acts of valour. He is now a riding master with the 6th Dragoons. I am to convey his felicitations on account of your marriage and your good fortune.

Your rival, Lucius Marsden-Smith, did not fare well. Being cold-shouldered by all the officers of the 13th, he saw no option but to give up his commission and accept a major's rank with a native, Indian regiment based at Lucknow, in Uttar Pradesh.

He returned four years ago with his honour in tatters. He was stationed in Uttar Pradesh where most of the fighting occurred when the Sepoy soldiers rose against The East India Company, but it would seem he fell victim to the bottle before he could ever slay an enemy. It is said that he was thrown off his horse while drunk. He broke his back, and he is now confined to a wheelchair. Old Marsden-Smith died not long after, a broken man from all accounts, after the truth came out about his son.

Reading in your letter that you have forgiven Priscilla Marsden-Smith not only confirmed me in my belief in the goodness of your heart, it also makes it easier for me to give you the next piece of news. From what transpired, Mr. Bywater owed old Marsden-Smith a considerable debt, mostly due to an improper infatuation with an actress of dubious repute. As it seems, old Marsden-Smith offered to forgive the debt if Priscilla agreed to marry Lucius. Hard-pressed by her desperate father and thinking that you would not marry a penniless girl in the first place, she finally relented. When the news of Balaclava arrived, she pleaded old Marsden-Smith to be released from the promise, but in vain. I am afraid that during her last visit with you, my anger and prejudice made it impossible for her to explain herself, and your own brusque rejection did the rest.

Things came to a head after Marsden-Smith missed his chance to renew his challenge against you. Priscilla then broke the engagement, making it known that she would not marry a man so lacking in gentlemanly traits. Old Marsden-Smith then demanded satisfaction of the debts, and Alfred Bywater landed in jail. That forced poor Priscilla to marry Lucius Marsden-Smith, and she is suffering greatly for it.

It should satisfy my desire for revenge, after what the Marsden-Smiths and the Bywaters did to you, that all of them are either dead or living in dire conditions, but I feel sorry for the poor girl who was caught between a stupid, spineless father and her ruthless, cowardly suitor.

In other news, the famed writer Mr. Thackeray just died two days before Christmas, leaving his numerous readers in utter despair. The Queen has not yet emerged from her mourning, after the Prince Albert's deplorable death in 1861 of which you undoubtedly heard. Henry Ruiz-Costa (you remember him perhaps as being two years behind you in school) had returned from the Crimea with honour, and five years ago, he received promotion to Commander, a promotion long overdue, as even Penelope's father says. This finally allowed him to marry Moira Palmer, the oldest granddaughter of Lord Brougham. That young woman may even match your Rose in beauty; besides, she is one of the most pleasantly disposed young women I know.

As you will see, all your age mates have settled down, and most of them found success and happiness. When the news spread of your letter and the good fortune you enjoy, many of your old acquaintances asked to convey their regards. They all hope that you will return one day, a wish that is certainly shared by your family. Chief of all, your mother fervently wishes to see you, your wife, and your son while there is still time. As I mentioned, her health has been declining, and she hopes against hope that she may yet hold her youngest grandson in her arms and that she will be granted the chance to meet your wife, whom, of course, we all will love to meet one day.

It is on this note that I want to end. Please, James, consider to return. There may be gold left that you have not picked up yet, riches you have not yet acquired, but gold cannot give you back chances missed and loved ones gone. Please convey our love and affection to your dear wife Rose and assure her of a heartfelt hug from this old man should I ever have a chance to meet her.

Your loving father

Robert Tremayne

Postscript:

The photographic print we included with this letter shows your mother and me, Edward, Penelope and their children.



Jim picked up the photograph and looked at the faces of his parents, his brother and his brother's family. Rose was looking over his shoulder now, and he pressed her hand.

"Rose, this is my mother, this my father, this is Edward and his Penelope, and this is my nephew James. The girls are Paulina and Gwendolyn," he explained. "Do you want to read the letter? There are no secrets in it."

"If I may, I would like to," Rose answered.

She took the sheets and sat down by the table. It took her a few minutes to finish, and then she re-read part of the letter. When she looked up, she gave Jim a smile.

"You want to return to England, don't you?"

Exhaling deeply, Jim nodded.

"It's not just because of my mother. I see the faces on the photograph, and I realize that they are part of what made me, of who I am. I also want you to meet them, and I want them to meet you, to see what a wonderful woman you are."

"How long would the travel be?"

"We'd have to start out in spring or early summer. I would hazard the guess that it takes forty to forty-five days to reach St. Louis, traveling with Bobby and Sam. From St. Louis to Dayton, Ohio, is another 400 miles, or twenty days. We may pick up a railroad service somewhere in Northern Ohio for the last part of the journey, to New York. Count on another two or three weeks. I'd say, we can reach New York in three months' time. From there, we'd have to see. I came over on a clipper ship, but from what I gather from the newspapers, it's all steamships today."

"That's five months, right?"

"Yes. That means, if we leave in April, we'd be in England by September."

"What about the mine? It's still producing."

"I'll have to talk to the others. Maybe they'll buy me out. Maybe somebody else will buy my share. We'll have over $500,000 by next April, maybe even more. Let's say my share fetches another $100,000, and we'll be set comfortably. That's probably almost £65,000, a fortune. Even at a 4% interest, we'll earn £2,600 a year, enough to live comfortably."

Rose nodded.

"You and I would go, with Bobby and Sam?"

"Of course. We must ask Raven, too. Let's face it - life here will become untenable for her once we leave. She'll have her baby soon. She needs us."

"It'll be hard leaving Amanda behind," Rose sighed. "Pru is a good friend, too. I can see though how you need to see your family again."

"Rose, is there anybody in Baltimore you may wish to visit? We could detour."

Rose shook her head.

"My parents are dead. There's nobody I could visit. Could we stay in New York for a week or two? I always dreamt of New York, the Park Avenue, the big theaters, and the fashion houses."

"New York it is, then," Jim laughed. "Just wait until you'll see London! Hell, we may just as well visit Paris, too! You'll get to practice your French yet."

Rose looked around the room and made a face.

"I suppose we'll have to leave everything behind?"

Jim nodded.

"It would not be practical to take anything with us, but some clothes and maybe our weapons. The house will fetch a better price, too, if it's furnished."

"Jim, I really love this house. Living here is like a dream for me."

"Don't worry. Once we're in England, I'll find us some land, perhaps on the River Thames, and I'll have a house built for us, just like this."

"Oh, and I thought we'd live in a castle. I saw an etching once, showing a castle."

Jim laughed.

"No, no castle. Castles are old, moist and cold. We may find a pretty manor house, though, and change it to our needs. We'll have a town house in London, too. We'll go to concerts and to the theaters during the winter season."

Rose scrunched her nose.

"Jim, I sometimes fear that I'll wake up, and all this has been a dream."

"As long as you're with me when we wake up, I'll still count myself lucky," Jim answered, giving Rose a long kiss.

Rose looked at him with a hunger in her green eyes.

"Trust me, you'll always wake up with me at your side if I have any say in it!"

-------

It was a week later when Hiram Kennedy's family arrived from California. Kennedy was in Tarryall, but Jim and Rose were there to receive them. From the first moment, Jim and Rose had a very good idea why Kennedy had come to Colorado alone. Scarlet Kennedy was not used to life on the frontier. She had two daughters, aged sixteen and fourteen, who appeared fragile and shy. The Tremaynes offered them the hospitality of their house, and Mrs. Kennedy accepted.

Nell prepared two guest rooms for them, but when they came downstairs for the offered refreshments, they found Rose with Raven. Raven was very close to term and most of her body was hidden under the bulky widow's dress, but there was no mistaking her for a 'White' woman.

"My dear Mrs. Tremayne!" Scarlet Kennedy expostulated. "You do not expect me to have tea in the presence of savages, do you?"

Raven, voracious reader that she had become, still put down the book she was reading and looked around. Sweetly, she answered.

"For a moment, you had me scared, Mrs. Kennedy. The thought of savages in our living room! I must ask you to refrain from such jests for the near future. As you can see, I am expecting, and a scare might easily induce a premature delivery."

There was a vast difference between the English Raven had spoken when they had found her and the cultivated speech she affected those days. Living with Abraham Linkletter, it had been impossible not to be engaged in constant discussion over some matter, and his house was filled with books. He also subscribed to a number of periodicals, which arrived belatedly, but nevertheless afforded Raven with a source of knowledge that she kept devouring. Her rebuke, in what could pass for flawless English, made the Kennedy woman blush hotly.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, but with your hair and complexion, I mistook you for a squaw at first. Again, my apologies."

"You were not mistaken. I was born an Oglala Lakota woman, although I resent the term 'squaw'. This is not how my people call their women."

"Mrs. Kennedy, Raven Linkletter is a very dear friend," Rose stated firmly. "She is further the widow of another friend, the late Mr. Linkletter, a reporter for the Rocky Mountain News. After his death, my husband and I have offered her a home with us. If you hold intercourse with her, you will undoubtedly find any prejudice based on her ancestry as unfounded and untrue. I would wager that Raven can put many a learned man to shame with her knowledge of books and writers. I may also add that she is an active member of the Methodist Church."

"I should hope that there is a Catholic Church in Denver?" Mrs. Kennedy said, almost in panic.

Rose nodded and smiled.

"There is enough Irish folk around, don't worry."

"That is a relief. I shudder to think what may become of my daughters without the guidance of our Holy Church."

Rose caught the brief smirk passed from the younger Kennedy girl to her sister and she suppressed a grin.

Samantha chose this moment to enter, coming home from her private lessons in the Pilkin's house. Rose introduced her to their guests and mentioned the private tuition Sam received. Mrs. Kennedy gave Sam a disapproving look. Sam wore her straw-colored hair braided, but without cover, and her dress was cut to display her slender but nubile forms to advantage.

Sam gave the two younger girls a smile.

"Let me know if you need things. I have some fashion magazines my father brought from St. Louis."

The girls perked up at this.

"We have a piano, too," Rose remarked. "None of us plays it, though. It was here when we bought the house."

"That would be wonderful. Both Mildred and Millicent are avid players."

Rose could sense the silent groan from the girls.

"I have a guitar, too. Perhaps, we can play together," she offered.

The older girl, Mildred, gasped.

"You can play the guitar?"

"I have been known to play before an audience," Rose smiled. "Christmas and 4th of July, I played in the Golden Nugget, in Tarryall, for the prospectors and their families."

"My husband, in his letters, mentioned that you have an excellent singing voice, Mrs. Tremayne," Scarlet Kennedy interceded. "Did you learn in a Choir?"

Rose shook her head.

"No, I was born with that voice. At some point, people noticed it and asked me to sing. I taught myself the guitar, to accompany my singing. I enjoy it. As a matter of fact, I shall sing tomorrow, at the 4th of July celebrations. I trust you will join the celebrations?"

Mrs. Kennedy had a forced smile on her lips when she answered.

"I haven't made plans, yet, but it would seem impolite to refuse, wouldn't it?"

-------

The 4th of July celebrations were slightly subdued. The gold finds around Denver were slowly decreasing, and the local business people were worrying about the future. True, gold was still shipped in from the outlying diggings, and the mine of Jim and his partners was even increasing the monthly turnout. However, it was becoming clear that other venues of income had to come to Denver for the community to survive in the long run.

Nevertheless, the Apollo Hall was filled to capacity in the evening, and there were music and dance acts, and a lot of Red, White and Blue decorations. Rose had missed last year's celebrations as little Bobby had been just born then, but this year, the organizers had given her a prime spot in the array of performers. Mr. Roberts, the new proprietor of the Palace Hotel, who was in charge of the evening, had recruited a banjo player who accompanied Rose and her guitar. He was good, and his play brought out Rose's vocal abilities to their utmost advantage. Her five song act was received with roaring applause.

When the evening closed, she went up on the stage once more, to join the other performers for the Star Spangled Banner. Even with professional performers, Rose was holding her own, as everybody agreed, and she beamed with happiness when Mr. Roberts presented her with a large bouquet of flowers.

She was still brimming with excitement when they walked home, with Mrs. Kennedy, Albert Tennison and Mary Tennison. Mary Tennison could not stop gushing over Rose's singing, and even the urbane Mrs. Kennedy was clearly impressed.

Once at home and in their bedroom, Jim and Rose came together like opposing magnetic poles. After kissing fiercely, Rose fairly ripped off her husband's coat and shirt, and he lost two buttons on his trousers as they were torn down by his eager wife. Rose's dress suffered a similar fate; buttons flew as she opened her corsage, and one of her stockings suffered a tear.

Then they were naked and tumbled over to their bed, kissing fiercely. There was no time or need for any foreplay. Rose just hooked her feet behind Jim's back, her sex open and moist, and Jim penetrated in a single stroke.

"Oh Mercy!" she gasped when he was seated completely. "Oh dear! Oh God!"

By their normal standards, Jim's performance was pathetic. He came within thirty or forty strokes. With the long build-up over the evening, however, Rose was ready to go right from the start. When Jim's frantic strokes propelled him into a blindingly intense climax, Rose was right with him, shrieking once before she collapsed into a human puddle under him.

"Oh dear, how I needed this!" she exhaled after a short while.

"I'm sorry I was so fast," Jim apologized. "It was so intense."

"Yes it was, wasn't it?" Rose giggled. "Oh my wonderful man, there is no need for apology. I had my peak, too, couldn't you tell?"

"You certainly sounded that way," Jim smiled back. "Poor Mrs. Kennedy, and Hiram is still in Tarryall!"

Rose blushed.

"Oh my, I didn't even think of her! There goes her good opinion of me."

"Don't worry too much about other people's opinion, Rose. If things go by plan, we'll be gone before nine months are over."

Rose nodded sagely.

"You are right, Jim. I guess I have to contain that urge to please everybody."

A few days later, on July 9, Raven gave birth to a girl. The tiny human being came out with black hair covering her head, and she seemed healthy and strong already. A week later, she was baptized Julie Rose Linkletter. Rose and Amanda served as godmothers. There was an audible sniffle among the churchgoers over this baptism of a half-breed girl, but the friends just ignored the bigots. Jim's partners were in Tarryall, but Amanda, Mary Tennison, and even Scarlett Kennedy attended the subsequent feast in the Tremayne's house.

Editing and local color, SpikeCO



-------

Chapter 15


True Friends

Summer 1864 - Denver City

By late July, a delivery of gold dust from Tarryall brought their total yield to over two tons. With additional workers and a new mine driven into the mountain side, the turnout had almost doubled, and when Jim prepared for his second trip of the year to St. Louis, he carried Letters of Exchange to the amount of $822,000 with him, a truly incredible sum. Even so, $40,000 had been set aside for the running expenses of the mine, wages, wood for supports, rails, and other things. Ned had also bought up two more claims, for $2,000 each, not for their prospects but to prevent somebody else to drive a mine into their quartz deposits.

Jim set a new record, completing the return trip to St. Louis in just three days over two months. He had another meeting with the Cheyenne leader Roman Nose on the way back. This time, the brave was alone, and they sat at an impromptu fire, sharing a noon meal. Tensions were growing between the Cheyenne and the White diggers and settlers, and Jim wanted to win the friendship of the man, if only for the next spring when he would travel back east with his family. He mentioned his plans to return to the east and beyond, and the Cheyenne nodded, obviously satisfied. With a smirk, he told him that they rarely attacked eastbound trains, knowing from experience that those were comprised of desperate people who had failed to find their luck. With all the friendliness, Jim still made a mental note to hire a strong troop of men to cover their journey east. Nevertheless, Jim gave him a a well-woven blanket as parting gift.

He arrived in Denver City before the first snow, and he found the City buzzing with the latest raids of Cheyenne Dog Soldiers on outlying farms and wagon trains. There was talk that Chivington would take the 1st Colorado Volunteer Cavalry to the field in the spring, for a punitive action against the Cheyenne.

A week after his return, the other partners returned to Denver for the winter. Mrs. Kennedy had been awaiting her husband with impatience. She had taken residence in a pension, claiming that she had intruded too much on Rose, but Rose had told Jim that the woman still was uncomfortable with Raven's presence.

Just three days after the partners' return, they had a regular meeting. At first, Hiram Kennedy gave an optimistic outlook. He now believed that their total return would surpass four tons, and they might run the mine for another two years. Jim gave his partners their account statements from the First Philadelphia Bank. They each had over $400,000 in their accounts. With the 1,200 pounds of gold that were still resting in the Miners' Bank vault, they each had earned over $500,000 to date.

Jim used the meeting to announce his plans to return to England with Rose and the rest of his family. The partners were baffled at first, trying to talk him out of his plans. He told them, however, that he had already sent a letter from St. Louis to England, advising his family of his return home, and after some more attempts to coax him to reconsider, they relented. Ned was the last to give in.

"Jim, we have a great partnership, and I see you almost as a brother. I sure hate to see you go, but if your heart tells you to return to your home, you have to do it."

"What about your share in the mine, then?" Albert inquired. "It may be quite difficult to arrange for your share to be forwarded all the way to England."

There were nods all around.

"I was thinking to offer my share for sale. You'll have preference, of course. I doubt you want some stranger as partner."

"That's right. But for how much?"

"I was thinking, with the mine operating for at least two more years, how about you give me what I would earn in one year for my share? Then the second year would add to your own profits."

"$300,000?" Tennison asked. "One-hundred for each of us, which we can recoup within next year. That sounds like a sweet deal to me. Are you sure, Jim? You and Ned, you let me in as partner, and you made me rich beyond my dreams. I'll not take advantage of you that way."

Kennedy nodded to that.

"If you trust us, we can get your shares to St. Louis, and those blasted bank tellers can see your money over to England."

"I appreciate the sentiment, Gentlemen, but I won't be able to contribute, and that feels wrong to me."

"You can say what you want, Jim, but we won't drop you from our partnership," Ned answered to that.

Tennison spoke up again.

"Say, how about that: you pick up the running costs for the mine from your share as your contribution? $40,000 off your share. That'll still see you as partner, and you'll keep earning for another two or three years."

"That's a grand idea," Kennedy chimed in. "I'm all for it. You'll get a share, too, when we sell the claim for final exploitation."

Jim cleared his throat.

"If this is what you all want, I will accept with humble gratitude. I realize now that again, Amanda and Rose set us on the path to fortune. They insisted to call in you, Hiram, and they maintained that we should add you, Albert, to the partnership. I feel that we have become more than partners. Gentlemen, I propose a solemn toast: to our dear wives, the conscience of our partnership, and to our friendship, the rock bottom foundation of our success!"

He raised his glass, and they all drank the toast. After that, they settled a few minor things. Tennison would take Jim's place in Denver City, running supplies from there. It was after the meeting broke up that Hiram Kennedy approached Jim.

"Jim, I'm glad we could settle this in a way that keeps you in the partnership. I want to tell you that I'm sorry about the way Scarlett repaid your hospitality. She is a bit prejudiced, you know. Her father owned a plantation in Georgia, and she cannot quite shake the ideas she was brought up with."

"I heard no complaints about her, so it mustn't have been noticeable.

"Your wife is too kind a person to say anything, and Mrs. Linkletter is too noble to lose a word over it. I am trying to set her straight. Listen, what are you planning with your house when you leave?"

Jim smiled.

"I want to put it on the market. Are you interested?"

"What are you asking?"

"I got it for under $3.000, and I put in a few amenities. Does $3,500 sound too much?"

Kennedy smiled broadly.

"We have a deal. Scarlett really fell in love with your house, and she speaks highly of your Mrs. McGuinn and her husband. Do you think they may stay on?"

"I would guess so, but you'll have to ask them. I plan to offer them a sizable severance pay, but they might still want to stay. Let's face it, they lead a comfortable life."

"I'd say. The girls have come to like Denver. They are even talking of visiting me out there, in Tarryall, next summer. It's an uphill battle against Scarlett, but knowing the girls, I guess they'll persevere."

Kennedy bade his farewell then, and Jim rushed to see Rose and tell her of the deal they had struck. He found her in their bedroom, sitting in front of her dresser. When he ended his short summary, Rose hugged him.

"I spoke Raven yesterday, to get a feel for her mind. I think she will come with us. Denver has soured for her after Abe's death, and she is of your mind with regards to the treatment she'll get after we leave. Add to that that her little girl is a bone of contention already."

"Chivington?" Jim asked sharply.

"No, he seems to keep his peace. There are others, though."

"Imbeciles!" Jim exclaimed, exasperated. "Is there no end to bigotry? Perhaps, it is for the best if we leave. Not that there is no bigotry in England, but we can be insulated from it."

"I hope you are right. Poor Raven has been feeling subdued lately. She is feeling like a fifth wheel on a wagon."

"That's too bad. Perhaps, she needs more purpose? A task? I know! We'll need travel clothes, new ones. Our old buckskins are rather worn, and we never replaced them. Cured buck leather can be traded for from some of the Cheyenne villages. There is this fellow, Andrews, who trades with them. I'll talk to him. We'll put Raven in charge of the travel preparations."

"Jim, Raven is also missing out in other regards. She's been without a man for half a year, and it would seem that Abe left nothing to be desired in that regard. She's lonely and she has urges which are left unsatisfied."

Jim sighed.

"I hardly see how we can help her in that regard. It takes a brave man to woe her in the present climate."

Rose put her hand on his arm.

"Jim, at least she should not be so alone. Remember the first year? We often had her in our bed. In fact, we only stopped after Sam joined us. I rather enjoyed the cuddling with her when it was cold."

"You want us to have Raven sleep with us again?"

"Would that be so bad? You used to like it and Raven used to like it. Just two friends helping poor Raven to regain her balance."

Jim felt mixed emotions. He had become used to being with Rose only, and his upbringing told him it was wrong to have another woman in their bed. Yet, he vividly remembered the winters in Tarryall, when Raven would share her warmth with them.

"Have you talked to her yet?"

Rose shook her head.

"No, Jim. I wanted to ask you first. Please, give it a thought. She shared her warmth with us, in that cold winter, and she was like family for us."

Jim thought about it. He cared a lot for Raven. She had always been there with them and for them, and he had been overjoyed for her when Abe Linkletter had proposed. He could not see her finding any man in Colorado, and he would fear for her safety if she went living with her own people, given the orders Chivington had received. Yet, living devoid of human companionship was cruel on her. He sighed.

"It was nice to cuddle with her."

Rose gave him a spontaneous kiss.

"Thank you, Jim! I'll talk to her in the next days and sound her out."

Jim smiled.

"Do I detect some selfish interest, Rose?"

Rose blushed only lightly.

"You know that I can have feelings for women, Jim. They will never rival what I feel for you. On the contrary, sharing caresses with a woman I like stokes my desire for you, because only you can really quench the fire inside of me."

"I seem to remember," Jim smiled. "You are an astonishing woman, Rose. I have realized for some time that I could never have been truly happy with a different woman."

Rose pushed Jim backwards until he had to sit on the bed, and then she straddled his legs. She kissed him hard while her hands were in his hair. Then she looked into his eyes.

"Jim, if all the hardships, the hurts and humiliations of my young years were the price to pay for finding you, I have no regrets about my youth. I love you. I never thought I would ever say these words, let alone to a man, when I lived in Baltimore and in Independence. You have made my life worth living and you continue to fill it with happiness."

Jim was moved by her words and his throat constricted slightly. He made an effort to lighten the mood.

"May I fill you with something else, too?" he asked, affecting a leer.

Rose stopped to move in his lap and affected a contemplative expression on her face.

"Why, I think I can fit you in, even on such short notice," she answered before her face broke out in a smile. "Undress me already, Jim Tremayne. I need you!"

-------

Over the months on November and December, Rose brought Mary Tennison to engage herself in the running of the shelter. Amanda and Prudence accepted her in their circle without ado, and she contributed her trading experience to their efforts. Rose brought Mary in contact with the benefactors, collecting the contributions, while Amanda took over the hosting of their teas and other charity events.

In turn, Rose spent more time with Raven, and soon, the distance that had built up in the recent year shrunk. Rose would often come to Raven's room in the mornings when the Oglalla woman was feeding her baby daughter. She would bring Bobby who was almost weaned and only suckled twice a day and for comfort. The two women talked about the plans for their future.

The most important issue, Raven's plans for the next year, were resolved quickly. Raven had come to the realization that once Jim and Rose would leave, her acceptance would drop to the point that she had to fear for her and her daughter's well-being. In consequence, she accepted Rose's invitation to accompany the Tremayne's to that faraway land, England. Her trust in Rose's friendship, and in Jim's protection were greater than her fears of the unknown.

When the weather took a turn for the worse and freezing temperatures prevailed, Raven accepted Rose and Jim's invitation to move in Julie's crib with Bobby's bed, in the small nursery that connected to the Tremayne's bedroom, one of the rooms that held a cast iron wood oven. She snuggled into the bed with her friends, once again framing Jim between herself and Rose. Jim had to admit that sleeping with two women through cold winter nights was nothing bad in itself, and he contented himself with enjoying the warmth and comfort.

Their Christmas in Denver City, their third, had sad undertones for it was clear to all their friends that is was the last for a long time. This was reflected in the quality and quantity of gifts exchanged, and in the tearful hugs the women exchanged. Rose received a special gift from the partners, a beautiful, massive gold guitar-shaped pendant on a heavy gold chain. It was a true artisan's work, done on special order by a gold smith back in St. Louis, as Albert Tennison proudly explained. It was a bitter sweet gift for Rose as they had decided that her guitar would have to stay in Denver City.

During those days, Jim was already preparing for the long journey. He had purchased a sprung coach, with sturdy wheels and axles, and a closed cabin that would double as sleeping space for the women. He was also able to procure a number of bearskins, for their sleeping comfort, for they expected the nights to be cold. They would travel to St. Louis with the bullion train of the Denver banks, escorted by no less than thirty militia, under a grizzled lieutenant. Jim was relieved that Chivington and his assorted jackasses would be on their own campaign, avoiding tensions that would have arisen with certainty.

Samantha was suffering some heart ache at that time. She was being courted by a young man of what had to pass for a good family in Denver City. He was several years her senior, though, and from the information Jim gleaned from the Miners' Bank, it was to be feared that he had set his aims on Sam's expected dowry rather than her developing charms. Nevertheless, Sam in her naivety took a liking to him, if only because he was the first man to court her. Therefore, Jim and Rose were quite content that their impending departure would put an end to the man's wooing.

The elaborate New Year's Ball at the Palace Hotel gave a last opportunity for Rose to display her singing skills to Denver's society. It was a festive evening, and even Gov. Evans came to ask Rose for a dance. The Governor was happy to keep the hatchet buried until Jim left. Rose and Sam enjoyed themselves exceedingly, as did the other women. For Mary Tennison it was the first such occasion, but she had enlisted the help of Mr. Beaumont over the fall, and she made it through the evening with grace.

Editing and local color by SpikeCO



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Chapter 16

Rehabilitation

Spring 1865 - Denver City to New York City

As the days of winter passed with increasing and alarming tempo, Rose's circle of female friends hovered around the Tremayne's house almost constantly. Time and again, Rose and Amanda made plans for future visits. Ned, too, was not averse to seeing 'something of the world' once their mining operation came to an end, and Rose made sure to give them contact addresses.

In a way, Mary Tennison was even more attached to Rose whom she justifiably regarded as her savior. Amanda promised to take Mary under her own wings. Both women suspected that they were with child again, and this would strengthen their relationship.

With Scarlett Kennedy, Rose never developed a strong friendship. The two women were too different, both in their background and in their perspective. Things were different between Rose and Mildred Kennedy, the older of the Kennedy sisters. That young girl adored Rose. She felt stifled by her mother, and Rose's tales of the early prospecting days in Tarryall filled Mildred with an admiration that bounded on envy. They often played music together, Mildred on the piano she loved and Rose on her guitar. Millicent, the younger daughter would join them, and then Mildred would try her hand at Rose's guitar with which she became increasingly comfortable.

In the waning days of February, on a Sunday after church service, they had a small ceremony at the shelter where Rose passed her stewardship over to Mary Tennison. She gave out presents to the families, and in turn, the women gifted her a very well made quilt, to keep her warm on her impending travels. It was an emotional occasion, and even Prudence Pilkins was weeping openly.

In early March, Ned and Hiram Kennedy started out for Tarryall, to start mining operations for the year. They started with bleary eyes because of the farewell drink they had shared with Jim and Albert. For once, Jim abandoned his usual restraints, and the evening in the Belle Isabelle saloon turned out merry indeed. In spite of his raging hangover, Jim saw his friends and partners off on the next morning, but it took him two days to recover fully.

By mid-March, they turned over their house to the Kennedy family. The McGuinns received a severance pay from Jim, but for the time being, they decided to stay on and work for Mrs. Kennedy. Jim had rented rooms with Mrs. Sloan for the remainder of their stay, and it was fitting that they stayed with their first landlady again before their departure. Mrs. Sloan still received regular visits from Marshal Thomas, but she had resisted his courting so far, asking him to give up his office first. She did not want to be widowed a second time.

On April 3 1865, six bullion wagons, one chuck wagon, thirty militia, and the Tremayne's coach wagon formed a train and left for St. Louis. Both Rose and Raven insisted on riding part of the time, but Sam was happy enough to stay in the coach. She was a second mother to Bobby anyway, and she had never developed an affinity to horseback riding as strong as Rose's. Rose would wear her buckskin outfit most of the time, to the astonished looks of the militia men, and she carried her Navy Colt and her rifle at all times.

Free of the restrictions of city life for a few precious weeks, Rose enjoyed the travel thoroughly, riding at Jim's side in the mornings, accompanied by Raven. Raven had to restrict her time in the saddle, because her breasts, heavy with milk, began to hurt after a while. Nevertheless, she, too, drank in the clean morning air and seemed truly at ease for the first time in a year.

They averaged eighteen to twenty-two miles on the rough trail, encountering oncoming wagon trains at almost daily intervals. When they reached Cheyenne country, Jim and Rose would ride with their scout in the mornings. On one particular morning, seventeen days out of Denver City, they were ahead of the wagon train by a mile, riding with the scout. Raven was with them. They were cresting a small rise in the trail when they came face-to-face with a small band of Cheyenne. They were all warriors, no women or old people, but Jim spotted Roman Nose right away.

"Do you want to meet my friend?" he asked Rose and Raven, urging his mount forward.

"I may as well, it may be my last chance," Rose smiled. Raven just nodded.

Roman Nose must have recognized Jim, too, for he approached him alone. Jim raised his right hand.

"I greet you," he signaled.

"Greetings, English Jim! I see you return to your own hunting grounds?"

"I do."

"Are these your women?"

"The fire hair is my woman; the other is our friend Raven Feather. She is a daughter of the Oglala."

Roman Nose let his eyes rest on Raven for a heartbeat.

"She has no mate? She looks healthy."

"She is. Her mate was killed a year ago. We have known her for many seasons, and I offered her my lodge to stay."

"A pity. She should keep a warrior warm and comfortable. English Jim, we are not friendly with the Pale Faces."

"I have seen this. Does that hurt our friendship?"

Roman Nose shook his head emphatically.

"I gave you my sign; you are a friend. Continue your way in peace and return to the land of your fathers. Would all the people of your tribe do that, we could hunt the buffalo in peace again."

"I brought you a gift and a warning, my friend," Jim answered, feeling relief.

He reached for his saddle bag and retrieved a collapsible brass telescope, handing it over. Roman Nose looked it over.

"A looking glass?"

"Yes, you can see things from afar with it. Be careful and do not look into the sun with it, or it will burn your eye."

"This is a powerful gift, and you give me great standing with it! I must give you something in kind."

With that, he took off a necklace and handed it to Jim. The leather thong was threaded through a complete set of bear claws. It must have been one of Roman Nose' most prized possessions.

"Your gift bestows great honor to me. I shall wear it proudly and tell my son of our friendship in years to come."

Their hands clasped.

"What warning then?" Roman Nose asked.

"The Long Knives will roam these lands in great force. Their chief is dumb, but there are many of them. They will go to the South, and you and your people can evade them easily."

"They are not your friends?"

"Some are. I do not wish for my friends to kill each other."

"I shall tell my brothers. Some of them believe in the promises of the Hairy Faces. But my own band will follow me to the North. We may hunt with the Lakota this summer."

Jim smiled.

"This is a relief to me."

Roman Nose nodded.

"Safe travels, English Jim!"

"Safe travels and good hunting!" Jim returned.

Roman Nose rejoined his band and together they headed away from the trail and to the South. Jim fervently hoped they would be smart enough to avoid Chivington's Volunteer Cavalry.

"He really is your friend," Raven remarked. "He honored you with his gift. These are the claws of a great bear of the mountains. They are complete. He has killed it all by himself. What a hunter!"

"Yes, the thought came to me, too. I will keep this as a cherished possession."

The scout had not said a word, but now he chuckled.

"That fellow was Roman Nose. Can't say I'm not happy to see him leave us alone. He's a cunning fellow. Why'd you warn him of Chivington?"

"Chivington's a jackass, and I don't mind you telling him I said so. I hate to think what would happen if that idiot had to fight Roman Nose and his men."

"True enough. I scouted for the man once, and there wasn't a day that he did not start by drinking spirits. Well, let's wait for the wagons and tell them that Injuns are about."

For the next days, they warned all oncoming wagon trains of the Cheyenne. Much as he saw Roman Nose as a friend and kindred soul, Jim did not want any of the innocent settlers to be his victims.

When they came closer to Independence, Jim and Rose debated over visiting the city. Rose was conflicted. She feared discovery and the shame associate with it. Jim, however, had a different idea, and finally, he was able to convince Rose.

-------

Justice Jeremiah Alberts was enjoying a quiet day in his chambers. Ever since the Bunions had met their ends, his life and his work had been so much easier. He still had a bad conscience over some of the verdicts he had handed down under the Bunions' pressure: farmers he had deprived of their lands, merchants he had denied their rightful claims, and people sent to prison for the unforgivable sin of opposing one of the Bunions. When he heard the knock on the door, he absentmindedly called, "Come in!"

The woman who entered was wearing a costly travel dress and was obviously of considerable means, yet he did not recognize her. There was something familiar about her, though, something that tugged at his conscience. She was accompanied by a tall man in a black travel suit who carried a magnificent pair of silver-plated Army Colts.

"Ma'am, how can I help you?"

"You really don't recognize me, you old goat?" the woman asked, her head tilted.

He saw the red hair then, tied in a braid, and he made the connection.

"Baltimore Rose!"

"That's right. I came for justice."

Alberts cast a nervous glance at the man and his Colts.

"You ... Y-you know I had no choice, Rose!" he squeaked. "The Bunions were pressing me, and I arranged for your escape, didn't I?"

"Well, that's another chapter entirely, but let's stay with the Bunion business. I want a fair retrial. I want my witnesses heard. I want to give evidence on my behalf. I want an acquittal, for I did nothing but defend myself."

"I have retained Mr. Chalmers to represent my wife," the man cut in with a cultivated voice. "We have located three material witnesses who were excluded from testifying during that earlier mock trial. Are you prepared to assemble a jury?"

Justice Albert was still staring at the two Colts when he nodded.

The members of the jury were assembled in haste and herded into the courtroom. A flustered state attorney went hurriedly over the original charges. Barring the testimony of Bunion himself who was dead there was no evidence against Rose, except for the doctor who testified to the injuries the man had sustained. This time under cross-examination, he had to concede that the injuries were rather consistent with a woman fighting against a violation.

Andy the waiter testified for the defense. He told the jury how he had heard Rose cry for help and beg Bunion to leave her alone before Bunion had shrieked in pain and rage. One of the girls from the Emerald Isle told how Bunion had forced her to perform 'unnatural acts', telling her she'd end in the Work House just like Rose if she refused.

Mr. Chalmers, Rose's attorney, then rehashed the story of how the Bunions had met their end as common criminals, and the jury was sent out for deliberations. They returned within a few moments, handing down a no-guilty verdict, and Justice Alberts solemnly acquitted Rose of all charges and renounced his original ruling as a grave error that he was glad to correct.

Rose was not a convict anymore! After Justice Alberts banged the gavel one last time, she fell into Jim's arms, crying with relief. There was the option to retrace some of Rose's original possessions. Jim wanted to buy them back from the people who had bought them at auction, but Rose refused, saying that those items represented a past she was not eager to relive.

Mr. Adams, the owner of the Emerald Isle saloon met them outside the court house and he congratulated Rose on her good fortune, telling Jim over and over how Rose had been the light of the saloon and a joy to those who knew her. Rose felt no little embarrassment at being reminded of her past profession in Jim's presence, but Jim pressed her arm encouragingly all through the encounter while maintaining the he was well aware of his luck.

In the end, after politely refusing the offer to celebrate in the saloon, they were able to shake off Mr. Adams and they met their friends at their hotel. Talk in the common room was filled with exciting news. General Lee had capitulated at Appomattox, in effect ending the Civil War. The last clusters of resistance were being mopped up, and finally, the country would enjoy peace again. Jim immediately felt an urgency to press on. Soon, soldiers would be released from their units, and to meet bands of victorious ex-soldiers while traveling with three women could be a dangerous proposition.

Their wagon train left Independence for St. Louis with a Rose who was riding on a cloud of bliss. She had not realized how much her conviction, so many years ago, had still weighed on her until that weight fell off. The following nights on the trail she eschewed the comfort of the coach wagon at night, instead cuddling to Jim under his blankets. She made sure to convey her gratitude and love in a way that kept the men around them awake and listening, and she received many longing stares during the days.

St. Louis, Gateway to the West, was quite an experience for the women. For one last time, Jim visited the First Philadelphia Bank to unload another Letter of Exchange, this time over $442,000. He had now $647,000 in his account, and he made arrangements for the immediate transfer of these funds to the New York City branch of the bank. The manager was indeed very helpful, communicating with his counterpart in New York by telegraph. He assured Jim of the immediate availability of his funds once he arrived in New York. Jim made further arrangements for the future transfer of his shares to New York, and once again, the manager told him not to worry.

They were ferried across the river on June 2nd, for the next leg of their journey, to Dayton, Ohio. The last fighting of the Civil War occurred far to the south, but barring a certain shortage of men, nothing along their travel route indicated that the country had been engaged in a bitter internal strive. They were now traveling alone with just their driver and a scout hired in St. Louis. They spent the nights in roadside ordinaries, for they were traveling through populated country. Raven caught a few nasty looks during suppers, but nobody said a word.

By the end of June, they arrived in Dayton. Jim was able to secure a private compartment in a luxury car that was scheduled all the way to New York City. They would leave on July 2, and Jim spent the remainder of the days in Dayton selling off their horses, mules and wagon. The only things they kept were their clothes, weapons, and two bear skins.

The travel by railroad was a first for all of them except Jim who had already ridden trains in his younger years, back in England. The luxury of the state car was new even to him. There were only six compartments and one large common room which doubled as dinner hall. This time, there was trouble over Raven. On the very first evening, a heavy set man in his late thirties complained loudly as soon as the Tremaynes showed in the common room.

"What's all this?" he demanded loudly, raising from his chair and confronting Jim. "I'll be damned if I eat with a dirty squaw!"

"I suggest you step out of my way, Mister," Jim answered coldly. "My companion has purchased accommodation for this car. If you disagree with her presence, I suggest you move to another car."

"I, move to another car? Take that dirty..."

He did not finish. The cocked Army Colt pressing into his belly was no inducement for him to speak his mind.

"You were saying?"

"T-take that gun away! I'll complain. Conductor!"

The conductor wisely kept out of it.

"This seems like some gentlemanly dispute, Sir. Nothing for me to meddle."

Jim pressed the muzzle deeper into the soft belly.

"Any objections to the presence of my friend?"

The man turned pale and shook his head.

"Git!"

The man scrambled to pick up his valise and left the state car in undignified haste. There were no further vocal objections against Raven's presence from this point onward.

Tipped generously by Jim, the conductor shrugged the incident off. Nevertheless, the climate at dinner was frosty, and nobody felt comfortable, least of all Raven. She spent the majority of travel time in their compartment and only entered the common room for the meals.

It was a good thing that they made excellent headway. With the long days of early summer, they could cover an astonishing one-hundred-twenty miles per day and more and sometimes, when the track was straight they traveled at over twenty miles per hour. This was of course compensated with stops for coaling and watering the engine, but they still averaged ten miles for the hour. They traveled along Lake Erie and then through Pennsylvania and finally, New York state. Ten days after their start, their train entered Pennsylvania station, and the Tremaynes alighted from the car for the last time.

Hotel rooms were at a premium in New York, but with the help of the railroad agent, Jim was able to secure a suite of three rooms at the newly opened Brunswick Hotel. Here, they rested for a day, giving the hotel staff the time to wash and press their clothes. A tailor visited them to take orders for suits and dresses, not only for their crossing but possibly for their first appearance in British society.

Jim's funds had arrived in New York, creating a small sensation at the New York branch of the bank, and he was now faced with the need to convert his Dollars into Pounds Sterling. In this, he was aided by an almost incredible coincidence. Leaving the bank branch, he bumped into another gentleman whom he remembered as living in the Brunswick, too.

"I beg your pardon, Sir," he offered, standing back.

"Oh, no, it was my fault, really," the man answered politely. "Aren't you staying at the Brunswick, too, Sir?"

"Indeed, I am. I thought I'd recognized you. Are you heading back? I have a coach waiting."

"That is exceedingly kind of you. Indeed, I am somewhat in a rush. My wife is waiting for my return."

Jim led the way to the rented cab, waiting in front of the bank. They climbed in, and the driver left the curb.

"James Tremayne," Jim introduced himself.

"A pleasure, Sir. I am Sir Anthony Carter, of Woodbridge Manor, near Maidenhead."

Jim gaped at the man. He knew him, had known him. Maidenhead was only a short way from his father's home. Sir Anthony looked at him, too, recognition dawning.

"James Tremayne?" he asked incredulously. "Of the Berkshire Tremaynes?"

"More recently of Denver City, Colorado, but yes," Jim answered. "You were a year ahead of me, at Eton."

"That's right. What a strange coincidence! We must dine together. I shall send you a billet this afternoon. I am staying here with my wife; we just recently married and this is something like a honeymoon for us. Are you married?"

"Yes, indeed I am, for the last four years anyway. My wife and I plan to return to England. Well, it's a return for me. My wife was born in Baltimore."

"Please, Mr. Tremayne, keep this evening free. We can have dinner in the Brunswick. The cuisine is quite adequate."

Jim laughed.

"I have to accept your word. I spent most of the last ten years west of the Mississippi River, and I ate what I managed to shoot."

"That sounds like an exciting life! Oh, here we are. Are we on for dinner?"

"Certainly, Sir Anthony. You will have to excuse our utilitarian clothing, though. Our new wardrobe is not finished yet."

They bade their farewell in the foyer of the Astoria, and Jim went upstairs to warn the women of the changed dinner plans. This set off a flurry of activity. While the women were busy with preparations for Rose, Jim went over his memories, trying to recall what he knew of Carter. He was the grandson of Admiral Sir Anthony Carter who had won distinction in the Great War against Napoleon and who had served as Jim's "friend" in the duel. Carter's father was quite a figure, too. Richard Lord Lambert was a politician and financier of renown who owned a bank house in London. Jim recalled Lord Lambert and his beautiful wife. They had led quite an adventurous life themselves, and Lady Lambert was a personal friend of the Queen. If Rose had to meet English High Society, this was starting it with a bang!

With a pang of remorse, Jim also remembered that Anthony Carter was the brother-in-law of Major Pryce, Jim's squadron commander at Balaclava. Pryce had fallen in the charge, leaving behind his young wife Siobhan, Anthony Carter's sister.

Something had not matched his memory. Carter had said that he had recently married. Yet, from what Jim remembered, the young Carter had married the granddaughter of millionaire financier Robert Norton. It had been quite a big wedding. He shrugged. He would learn the truth this very evening.

Rose was not entirely happy with the prospect, Jim could tell. She hated the thought of meeting nobility in her travel dress. The only dinner dress she had fitted into her trunk had been made by a tailor in Denver City, and she could already tell that she would never wear it again. It had been fine for Denver, but in New York City she would look like the country bumpkin she was.

Her rescue was close, though. The tailor came by in the afternoon with a first batch of clothes, and a simple dinner dress she had ordered was in it. The billet sent up by Sir Anthony invited them for 7 p.m., and they entered the dinner hall just when the last chime of the wall clock died. Sir Anthony and Lady Carter were sitting at one of the best tables already and they rose when the Tremaynes entered.

Lady Carter was a pretty woman in her mid-thirties, with a wholesome look and a womanly figure, dressed in a dream of burgundy silk. There was a palpable affection between her and her tall husband. Sir Anthony, too, was dressed immaculately, as befitted a dining gentleman.

Jim affected the introductions first.

"Sir Anthony, Lady Carter, please meet my wife, Mrs. Annabelle Rose Tremayne."

"Enchanted," Sir Anthony answered, kissing Rose's hand with obvious appreciation.

"Mr. and Mrs. Tremayne, this is my wife, Sarah."

"It is an honor, Lady Carter," Jim answered dutifully, kissing the outstretched hand.

Then it was Rose's turn and she smiled.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Carter," she said nicely, mindful of her wording.

"The pleasure is all mine, Mrs. Tremayne," the buxom blonde answered with a smile the exuded good will and friendliness.

They sat down and the appearance of a waiter interrupted the conversation until the orders were placed.

"So, if I may ask, what did you do all these years in America, Mr. Tremayne, oh hell, Jim? I mean, we went to school together, right?"

"Thank you, Tony," Jim smiled. "I worked the Oregon Trail for three years, as wagon driver, scout, hunter, whatever. Then, from '59 to '62, I panned for gold in the Colorado Territory. We had a good claim, my partner and I, and we were reasonably well off already, but then Rose literally stumbled over a quartz deposit. Solid deposits. I've been a mine owner since."

"A gold mine?" Anthony Carter asked his eyebrows up.

"Yes, are there any others?" Jim grinned. "We have a four-way partnership to run it, but even divided by four, over $2,000,000 dollars are quite satisfactory."

"I'll say," Anthony Carter replied, his balance regained. "Your share would be £80,000 Sterling, right?"

Jim nodded.

"That is quite a sum. And now you plan to return to England?"

Jim turned serious.

"My father wrote that my mother is ailing. I have to return."

Sally Carter had her own thoughts.

"And you found the gold, Mrs. Tremayne? How?"

Rose laughed.

"We were taking a rest day, it was a Sunday. Jim and I wandered up the bed of the creek, and I saw a stand of pretty flowers on a ledge above the valley ground. I climbed up, but then the soil gave way. I landed on my behind, and bruised it was let me tell you. And this lout of a husband, instead of commiserating with me, exclaims, 'Look, there's a quartz vein underneath!'. I didn't even know what that was."

Jim grinned outrageously and whispered in her ear.

"You certainly have a million-dollar behind, my dear."

Rose glared at him, and Jim continued the tale.

"Right from our first meeting, Rose has been my Lucky Charm. She also found the first gold nugget in the creek in '62."

"This is an amazing story," Anthony Carter acknowledged. "You'll be the talk of the winter season, no doubt. You and your charming wife. You must come and visit us in London. I am sure that my parents would delight in meeting you, all of you, of course. All in good time, though. Which steamer are you traveling in?"

"I found one, leaving in ten days. My wife asked me for two weeks to see all of New York."

"Oh, you are also sailing in the Scotia? I booked a cabin in her, for our return."

"That is a fortunate coincident," Jim acknowledged. "Of course, we need more than one cabin. We are traveling with our children and the widow of a friend from Denver City."

"She is a comfortable ship, and Cunard places great value in the safety of his passengers. She's a paddle-wheeler, too; that makes for a little less noise than aboard a screw steamer."

"I returned from the Crimea in the Andes, one of Cunard's screw steamers. As an officer, I shared a cabin aft. The noise was infernal," Jim concurred.

"Did you ever travel in a steamship, dear?" Lady Carter asked Rose.

Rose made a face and nodded her head.

"Just once, on the Mississippi River, from Cape Girardeau to St. Louis. I suppose one cannot compare those riverboats with oceangoing ships."

"Indeed not, although from my limited geographical knowledge, the Mississippi River is quite a big river."

Talk turned to other issues, such as theatre plays to watch in New York, and Rose listened with attention to the advice Sir Anthony gave them. She found it surprisingly easy to converse with the nobleman and his wife, but she was mindful not to offer any opening for questions into her own past, at least her early years in Baltimore and Independence.

When the party finally broke up, Lady Carter surprised Rose.

"Perhaps we can shop together in the next days, Mrs. Tremayne? My husband has a few business related appointments, and I would certainly enjoy your company."

"I would love that, Lady Carter," Rose answered, genuinely pleased. "In my experience, shopping with men is worse than having a tooth pulled."

"That perception, my dear, goes both ways," Jim laughed, and Sir Anthony nodded emphatically.

While the Carters went upstairs to their suite, Jim asked for messages at the reception before they too went up. Nothing had arrived, and Jim offered his arm to Rose as they ascended the stairs.

"The Carters are truly nice," Rose commented. "You never told me that you went to school with noble people."

"Well, there was nothing to it, really. If you think they are different from us, you're wrong. One of Anthony's cousins, Henry Ruiz de Costa, was the worst troublemaker one could imagine. He was two classes below me and a terror for the teachers. His grandfather was a Spanish Grande of the highest rank, a regular Royal Governor somewhere in South America, and yet he would stoop to the lowest levels to play pranks. He once put a small pinch of gunpowder in the tobacco pipe of the headmaster while he was serving a detention. It took a year for the powder grains to grow out of the headmaster's skin."

"Oh dear! What happened to him?"

"Nothing! The headmaster could not admit that he had fallen fast asleep, and Henry got off with another detention for speaking out of turn."

"Oh dear! What does he do now?"

Jim laughed.

"He joined the Royal Navy, of all things. He adored his maternal grandfather who was one of the naval heroes of the Great War, and he was hell-bent to follow in his footsteps. He served in the Crimean War, too. I met him once there. He was third lieutenant in the Sea Lion. I hear he is now a commander."

They let themselves into their suite. They found the children fast asleep. Samantha was softly snoring, too, from her small sleeping chamber off the salon, but Raven was reading in bed by the soft light of an oil lamp. Jim and Rose quickly undressed to join her. Rose retold a few of the things they had learned, but soon, Jim fell asleep between the soft bodies of Rose and Raven.

Rose lay awake for some time. The first contact with English nobility had gone well, far better than she had feared. Still, there was a nagging worry that things would not always be so pleasant in England. To Jim, they were returning home, but to Rose, it was like jumping into cold water, not even knowing its depth. It seemed preposterous to think that she could be the wife of an English gentleman. Yet, she was committed. There was nothing she could do now, save for abandoning Jim and Robert. She made a mental note to learn as much as possible from Lady Carter who seemed friendly and open. Perhaps, just perhaps, she could complete the transition from Baltimore Rose Donegal, whore and part time singer, to Mrs. Tremayne, respectable mine owner's wife and mother. Only time would tell.

End of Book 1

Editing and local color by SpikeCO

Teaser: From Book 2, Chapter 2: Being Catty

Approximately half of Book 2, A Victorian Age Lady, exists as advanced draft, but it will take until after Christmas to finish. Here is a little teaser to give you an idea what to expect.

It was four o' clock now, and Priscilla walked downstairs, satisfied with her appearance. Julius was already in the hall, in his wheelchair, and for once, he had shown the consideration to reduce his laudanum intake to the point that he was clear in his head. Their remaining man-servant and coachman wheeled his master to their converted coach. It opened in the back, and Julius could be pulled in over a ramp, using a pulley system. Priscilla sat with her back to the driver, as usual, and the coach lurched forward.

The ride to High Matcham took an hour, and that hour was spent in silence. The Marsden-Smiths had long ago run out of topics to talk about. Most conversations eventually ended in verbal sparring anyway, and so they wisely refrained from speaking at all.

The sight of High Matcham woke pleasant memories in Priscilla. Here, she had debuted in society, fifteen years ago. Here, she had met her first fiancé, James Tremayne, now lost in the Americas. She could still remember old Admiral Carter, Lord Lambert's father, tall, erect, and with a commanding presence. Lord Lambert was more conciliatory and a gracious host, as became evident when Julius and Priscilla entered the entrance hall.

"Ah, Marsden-Smith, how good of you to come," his Lordship greeted them. "Mrs. Marsden-Smith, always a pleasure to see you!"

"Hello, my dear," came the greeting of Lady Lambert, who pointedly ignored Julius, as she had done for almost ten years.

A man-servant showed up to be of service to Julius, pushing him about and freeing Priscilla of the necessity to stay with him all the time. Priscilla knew the man from the last years. He would see to it that Julius would disappear in a side room if he over-imbibed.

Together, they were greeted by Sir Anthony Carter, Lord Lambert's only son, and his new wife. Priscilla could not help but feel superior for a brief moment. Lady Carter had been Sarah Turner, the illicit daughter of a London merchant's son and a chambermaid. The maidservant ended up as wetnurse for Lady Lambert's son Anthony, and when she died in India, Esra Turner, the father of Sarah, adopted his illegitimate daughter. In effect, Sir Anthony had married the daughter of his wetnurse. Now, here was a mesalliance if ever there was one, even if the Carters were considered upstarts themselves.

Fortunately, Julius saw an acquaintance, and Priscilla was able to escape. She wandered through the hall, greeting the people she knew when suddenly she stopped cold. Her heart began to hammer, and her ears felt like they were burning. There, in a throng of people, stood her former fiancé James Tremayne, tall, erect, and dressed to perfection in a black swallowtail suit. He sported a bushy moustache and side whiskers, and he exuded wealth and dignity. His face looked slightly weather-beaten, with traces of a deep tan, much like Navy officers looked like, but there was no denying that he was easily one of the most attractive men present.

His eyes fell on her and his eyebrows rose for a split second, as if in amusement. He sauntered over, a beautiful, red-haired lady at his side.

"My dear Priscilla, what a pleasant surprise," he said, turning to the lady at his side. "I mentioned Priscilla Bywater, didn't I?"

"I think you did, dear," the woman answered, looking Priscilla up and down.

"Is it Mrs. Marsden-Smith?" James asked Priscilla.

She could only nod.

"Priscilla Marsden-Smith; my wife, Annabelle Rose Tremayne."

"Enchanté!" Rose Tremayne said, and Priscilla answered in kind.

She looked at her erstwhile fiancé.

"I had no idea you returned to England."

"We only arrived two months ago, but we spent most of that time in London, settling financial matters. Well, it has been good seeing you again. We shall see each other more often, I expect. I wish you a pleasant evening."

With another bow, James turned and left her standing with her face burning at the cavalier treatment. Margot Tinsdale, one of the worst gossipers for miles around, suddenly stood beside her.

"You didn't know he was back? Isn't it amazing, him returning after ten years and with a fortune in gold? They say he's worth almost ninety thousand pounds, with more to come, and he owns a gold mine, imagine that! One would have thought that he should have been more selective with the wife he chose, her being an American and not even from a good family, always assuming they do have good families there. They say he found her in the wilderness. You couldn't tell now, with that Wilkins creation she's wearing, but I heard they shovelled dirt together, looking for gold. Not a dignified occupation, if you ask me."

"He found a fortune?" Priscilla asked weakly.

"Oh yes. Lord Lambert himself handles his financial matters, and that should tell you enough! They say he may buy Thornfield Abbey for his use, imagine that! It's been on the market for years, but nobody had the means to purchase it. Old Mr. Masters tells me it'll be a blessing for the county, seeing how much money will be spent when he starts to rebuild the old abbey."

Meanwhile, Priscilla's thoughts had drifted further. The fact that James had married some woman of dubious background should be exploited, she thought. It was infuriating how he had left her standing. Even his lack of hostility had been insulting, as if he was indifferent to her and to the fact that she had left him in favour of Julius. After a few words to Mrs. Tinsdale, Priscilla set out to corner James' wife. She found her with Sarah Carter, of all people, and with Siobhan Pryce, Lord Lambert's widowed daughter.

Smiling sweetly, she joined the women.

"We did not have the chance to get acquainted, Mrs. Tremayne," she started. "You may know that your husband and I were engaged once. I really liked him well, but I had to break up the engagement when my present husband declared for me. James just didn't have the prospects."

The petite woman tilted her head slightly and unashamedly put a soothing hand on Priscilla's arm.

"You should not fret over that error of judgement anymore," she said with faux sympathy. "You must have been frightfully young, and the young are apt to make mistakes."

The redheaded colonist affected a cultivated speech although nobody would mistake her for being English. Her words were condescending, though, and Priscilla blanched. Anger fuelled her next words.

"I assure you that I never regretted choosing my husband over James Tremayne."

"Really?" Rose Tremayne asked sweetly, the single word conveying an abyss of mocking disbelief. She shrugged and smiled beatifically. "If you say so, I suppose it must be true."

"Well, I do, and it is!"

Siobhan Pryce cut sharply into the sparring.

"My dear Rose, you can be more than proud of your husband. Unlike others I could name, he displayed a gentlemanly conduct and all the bravery one could expect when he fought at my Reginald's side! Even badly wounded himself, he conveyed Reginald's last greeting to me. A finer man you could never find, not here, and not in the Americas."

Priscilla flinched at Siobhan Pryce's stinging words. In her anger, she had forgotten that Major Reginald Pryce had fallen at Balaclava, riding the same charge that had left James Tremayne wounded, all the while Julius had stayed with the depot troops in England.

"I-I never meant to assail the brave soldierly conduct of James Tremayne," she hastened to say. "But I assure you that my husband was deeply dismayed when he was ordered to stay at the regimental quarters. He would have been happy and proud to serve alongside his comrades."

"Oh, certainly," Siobhan Pryce answered with hard eyes.

Priscilla felt defensive. Siobhan Pryce had been married but for two months when her husband had to leave for the Crimea. She could not forget, nor could she forgive those who had been more lucky than her husband. That she was friendly even with James Tremayne's wife was astonishing.

"I really did not mean to sound condescending," Priscilla tried to placate the other women.

"Yet, you do, Priscilla," Siobhan Pryce retorted. "How can you stand here and maintain the superiority of Julius over a man like James Tremayne, or any man? Don't you see that people know how Julius came by his injury? Don't you realise that your servants talk and gossip? We know how he berates you when he is under the influence of his laudanum. We know the sorry state of your lands. We still see you as one of us, though, and we sympathise with you; yet you make it hard for us when you sit on your high horse."

Priscilla flared up, deeply hurt.

"What do you expect me to do, then? Renounce my husband? I gave my vows to stand by him, whatever the reasons were. How would you think of me if I spoke ill of him in society?"

"She has a point here, I believe," Rose Tremayne said. "Look, Mrs. Marsden-Smith, since you seem to have an issue with me, why don't we speak in private? I am sure, Sarah and Siobhan will excuse us."

Surprised, Priscilla let the stunning redhead lead her into an adjacent study.

"It is hard, isn't it, to see the man you spurned return as a rich man? All the more, since the man you married instead turned out to be inferior in all respects and unlucky to boot. I can relate to your feelings, my dear Mrs. Marsden-Smith, but they are unhealthy. How would it help you in your daily struggles if Jim had returned alone and broken? How does it better your lot in life if you showed me up as the uncouth American woman? That's what you aimed at, wasn't it?

"The whole issue is moot, anyway. Who knows what sort of man James would have become, here in England and married to you? He certainly would not be a rich man. That could only happen because he left England and his preordained path in life. He might have become an unhappy man, stuck in his rank and married to a wife who would constantly remind him of the opportunities she gave up for him. He would have to serve under a superior officer who unsuccessfully tried to woo you. By breaking up with James, you set him free to find happiness."

"How can you say I would have made his life unhappy?"

"Because it is true. Can you honestly tell me you that would have been content being the wife of a mere major, or perhaps even just a captain who was stuck in his rank? James didn't have the prospects you expected of a husband, as you just said yourself. You handled the break-up badly, but you did the right thing. You were right. James was not the right man for you. However, you were not the right woman for him, either."

"I take it, you are the right woman for him?" Priscilla snapped, getting angry again.

"It would certainly seem so. I believe he is happy with me. He tells me so, and he proves it on a regular basis."

The simple, self-assured statement baffled Priscilla, and the hidden innuendo made her blush, even more so since she had gone without the physical aspects of married life for over eight years. Rose Tremayne smiled again.

"We don't have to keep treating each other with snide remarks. I have no quarrel with you. Even James has long forgiven you. He knows full well that his present good fortune is owed to those events, a decade ago."

Priscilla fought an inner battle. What the woman had said was true, highly embarrassing but true. What had she to gain by putting down Rose Tremayne? With sudden insight, she realised that she might even lose her last remaining social contacts. Rose Tremayne was the wife of a rich man, a well-respected man. If people had to choose between Rose Tremayne and Priscilla Marsden-Smith, wife of a disgraced former officer, there was little doubt about the outcome. This was how things worked. She sighed.

"I suppose you are right. I acted out of petty jealousy, and I regret my words. It is true. It hurts me to have my wrong decisions rubbed into my face. However, I strongly resent the notion that I would not have been a good wife to James. I am not as shallow as you seem to think me. There were ... I was not free in my decision, back then."

"Then I apologise for jumping to conclusions," Rose Tremayne answered amiably. "I will readily admit to my own jealousy, and it may have clouded my perception and opinions."

"Jealousy?"

Rose Tremayne bowed her head.

"But for your breaking up with Jim, I could have never met him or be his wife. You were his first choice. Cannot you see how that can cause feelings of inadequacy, even jealousy?"

"Oh, and I even harped on that," Priscilla conceded. "I'm sorry. Can we just start from the beginning?"

Rose Tremayne's smile reached her eyes now, and Priscilla briefly held her breath. She was not immune to female charms, in fact, she had found transient comfort in a dalliance with a cousin, until that cousin had moved to Manchester with her husband. Rose Tremayne struck a chord in Priscilla that had long been silent. Her voice had a soft, soothing quality, too.

"I would like that. Let us join the others again and ease their concerns."

Together, they left the study and found their way back to the dinner hall. Lady Lambert found them.

"Oh, good, here you are. I trust you resolved your issues?"

"I believe we did," Rose answered, and Priscilla nodded.

"Splendid. My dear Priscilla, may I trouble you to look after your husband? I'm afraid he's had too much of his medicine, and our servant has problems keeping him from making a scene."

Priscilla felt the blood rush into her face. Why now? Why here?

"I shall go at once," she said, dejection in her voice.

Now that she was warned, she could easily hear Julius' voice over the din of conversation. She headed for the far corner and found her worst fears materialised. Julius was arguing heatedly with James Tremayne. Lord Lambert was there, too, trying to calm Julius, to no avail.

"I say you evaded my challenge. Now you come back, and you think it's all forgotten?"

"I stood your challenge as attested by all the gentlemen involved. It was you who refused a second rendezvous, after defaulting the rules during the first engagement, I may add."

"My ankle was hurt, damn you!"

"My ship was sailing, damn you, too!" James Tremayne answered hotly.

"Gentlemen, please!" Lord Lambert pleaded. "This is a ten years-old quarrel. Cannot you find it possible to reach an amiable settlement, please?"

Priscilla saw James Tremayne start a hot reply, but Rose Tremayne stood with him now and had her hand on his arm. He calmed himself with an effort.

"Very well then. What his Lordship says is true. This affair is truly dated. Are you open to an apology for my remarks, Mr. Marsden-Smith?"

"That is indeed a most welcome offer, isn't it?" Lord Lambert said, before Julius could say a word. Priscilla caught the implied warning in his Lordship's voice. Even Julius seemed to understand.

"A proper apology should settle the affair," he grumbled.

"Very well then. I spoke in haste, back then, and my hurt pride dictated my words. I regret my words and I wish I had never spoken them. After all, you have since, with your conduct in India, shown the true extent of your valour. Whatever I said to you cannot touch your well-earned reputation."

Priscilla felt the blood leave her face. With his apology, James Tremayne had heaped even greater insult on Julius, yet Julius did not even seem to notice. He nodded, obviously satisfied.

"Well, I guess, after ten years, we can let bygones be by ... Blast you, Tremayne! What's that supposed to mean? That's a new outrage!"

"What do you mean by that? I only recognised that I cannot maintain my old accusations in the face of the fact that you returned from India severely wounded. The word is, you were thrown by your wounded horse in the midst of a battle against a superior number of foes? How can I question your valour then?"

Around them, men and women had a hard time maintaining their composure. That was the story Julius had spread, after their return from India. Of course, all the people knew better, knew that he had fallen off his horse, heading for a brothel, as his fellow officers had been happy to tell, once they, too, had returned to England. Julius recognised the trap, but he was in a bad position now.

"Oh, I umh, I think I overreacted. People been telling rumours, unfounded rumours, and for a moment I thought you were referring to them. My fault, really. Of course, with your apology, the affair can be seen as settled."

"What a wonderful conclusion, Gentlemen!" Lord Lambert exclaimed. "Let us celebrate the end of a decade-old feud. More wine, please! Gentlemen, I salute your prudence!"

In the ensuing babble, Priscilla could hear more than one snide remark against Julius. She closed her eyes for a second, letting the despair wash over her. She could not even blame James Tremayne. Julius had started the battle of wits, and he was severely overmatched. Now, those stories would make the rounds again, and people would be uneasy around her. Deep resentment against her husband filled her. She almost flinched when she felt a hand on her arm. Opening her eyes, she saw Rose Tremayne, a sympathetic smile on her lips.

"I suppose, with our husbands on speaking terms again, we can deepen our acquaintance without a breach of etiquette."

Her wink told Priscilla that she was not overly concerned with etiquette.

"Your husband has a quick wit and a sharp tongue, but I'm afraid Julius invited that," Priscilla sighed.

"I'll have a word with James. It was not necessary to bait your husband as he did."

"Try as I might, I cannot begrudge him that small satisfaction after all those years. Still, I appreciate your concern."

"Your husband seems to take quite a lot of that opium tincture. Is he suffering that badly?"

"He claims pains, but laudanum is habit forming, too. It's a costly habit, too."

"I imagine that your life is not as you dreamed it to be. I'm sorry for that."

Priscilla looked into the eyes of Rose Tremayne. They were open and guileless. She meant what she said. Priscilla forced a smile on her face.

"I believe that, having you for his wife, James' life has exceeded his dreams." She straightened her shoulders. "I had better keep an eye on my husband. He may yet understand what transpired earlier."

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For the rest, you'll have to wait a bit. Thanks for staying with Jim and Rose, and thanks to my editor and adviser, SpikeCO, and to the many readers who, with their feedback, helped and encouraged me.

November AD 2010

Argon


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The End
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Posted:  2010-09-21
Last Modified: 2010-11-10 / 09:06:23 pm
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