A determined set to her shoulders, Serena turned back to Ward.
“Put your finger here,” he said, nodding at the saddlebag he was packing.
She obeyed, and his strong hands knotted the leather thongs that held one of the voluminous pouches closed.
“Mr. Dunbar?”
“Ward. Mr. Dunbar is likely to get tedious before we get to Colorado Springs.”
Gratitude, not so much for the implied invitation to go with him as for his generosity in saving her the need to ask rose in a warm tide inside Serena. “You don’t mind if I come with you?”
His movements slowed. He turned to look at her, his green eyes level, his face relaxing into something approaching a smile. “I may not be a gentleman,” he said softly, “but I don’t leave women stranded.”
They reached the bustling town of Colorado Springs at the foot of Pikes Peak an hour before sundown. For the last few miles, Serena had ridden with her eyes on the mountain. It rose up out of the plains, a massive pile of granite, lavender-blue still with distance, its topmost reaches swathed in a soft veil of clouds. Its lower slopes were studded with pines and aspens that had the look, as the aspens began to turn, of green velvet edged with gold lace, sweeping in folds like a lady’s train down to the rocky foothills. There, where the ramparts of the mountain range began, stood the red sandstone sentinels, massive wind sculptures, formless works of art in stone that dwarfed the buildings of the town that sprawled in front of them.
The houses of Colorado Springs were of wood, one and two-story homes set in squares of parched land that could hardly be called lawns. Tall cottonwoods, elms, and maples were planted around the houses and lined the streets on which they fronted. Farther along the straight thoroughfares, on the far side of town, could be seen a few more pretentious dwellings with shingled turrets and cupolas, and wooden curlicues of gingerbreading.
The streets of the business district were spread out over a wide area, a varied collection of general, hardware, drug, and clothing stores, feed stores adjacent to livery stables, and mining-company offices, banks, restaurants, and boardinghouses. There were numerous hotels, including the baroque splendor of the famous Antlers Hotel, one of the few west of the Mississippi, according to Ward, that could boast of electric lights and hot and cold running water.
There was no lack of activity. Horses lined the rails before the stores. Buggies, surreys, and sixteen-horse-hitch freight wagons raised clouds of dust. Businessmen in tweed jackets with leather patches on the sleeves, green corduroy pants, and laced boots rubbed shoulders with miners in dust-covered will and battered hats, and with their rust-colored underwear showing at the open necks of their shirts. Ladies, their delicately printed sateens and silks buttoned to their throats and protected by dust cloaks, their faces shielded by broad-brimmed hats trimmed with plumes, bows, and veils, drove any in carriages or stepped down before the stores. The gentlemen at their sides wore dark business coats, and a few sported English bowlers with round crowns and narrow brims.
Serena, staring around her, was both enchanted and repelled by this town at the end of the long road west. There was a cool vigor about the place, a sense of thriving life and tree-spending prosperity. The setting was such to take the breath away. And yet, the countryside itself gave a feeling of harshness, and desiccation which made the memory of Louisiana’s lush and moist greenness seem akin to Eden.
“How do you like Little London?”
Serena turned to Ward, sitting his horse easily as they walked their mounts side by side down the powdered rock of the street. “Little London? You mean Colorado Springs?”
He gave a nod. “So called because of the numbers of British subjects that have been persuaded to settle here over the last twenty years. Tea and crumpets at five is a must here in the shadow of Pikes Peak, a compensation, or so the founding fathers view it, for the fact that this is a temperance town.”
Serena smiled without replying as they moved aside so that a horsecar filled with passengers could pass them. Her attention wandered to a general store, where just inside its dim, Aladdin’s-cave interior stood a man and a small boy in the round hats and dark clothing of Mormons. A thrill of dismay swept over her and receded. The man did not turn, did not seem to see her. Why she should be so affected she could not say. It was not as if she had no reason to suspect the presence of the Saints. As she and Ward had entered town they had seen a wagon train encamped along the banks of a swift-running stream that Ward had called Fountain Creek. She had been hoping they would have passed on by the time she arrived, that was all. It didn’t matter, of course it didn’t. There was no reason to think that in a town this size she would have any problem staying out of the way of Elder Greer and his followers.
It was difficult to believe that she was here at last. He thoughts had been so attuned to coming to the end of her journey that she had not adequately considered what she would do when she reached her destination. Ward had recommended a boardinghouse, an economical place kept by a widow in her home. Though Serena had not mentioned the fact to Ward, it would have to be inexpensive indeed, for she did not have the price for more than two days’ accommodation. It was imperative that she look for employment at once Surely in a fast-growing town like this there was something that she could do, no matter how menial. She did not mind hard work; she was strong, stronger than she looked, and most of all, willing.
The scream of a train whistle sounded away to the west on the far edge of town. Instinctively, Serena glanced at the man beside her.
“That will be the Midland pulling in, I expect. When I left Cripple Creek in June they were laying her track from Florissant to reach the gold camps. I wonder how far they have carried her.”
“Is that the train you will be taking?”
“I doubt it. When I left, the odds were in favor of the Florence and Canon City Line out of Denver being the first to reach the town of Cripple Creek itself. The plans were for Pullman cars on a night run that would come through Colorado Springs about midnight, and right now that sounds mighty good to me.”
It was not surprising, seeing that the gambler had been in the saddle for the better part of the past three months. It was his habit, he had told her as they rode through that long day, to spend several weeks each summer in the mountains around Cripple Creek and beyond. It was not just a case of gold fever, though he did not deny being stricken by that disease; he enjoyed the peace that he found among the blue peaks and their silent mountain valleys. During the winter months spent in closed, smoky rooms, stifling with heat and the smell of unwashed humans, he built up a terrible craving for fresh air and solitude. He had been forced to cut his pack trip short this year because of a business trip he had to make to the southeast part of the country, though he careful did not say precisely where, nor for what reason. He had been returning from that trip, intending to make a loop for business purposes by Colorado Springs, when he had come upon Serena.
The gambler turned toward her, a measuring look in his green eyes. “You can still come with me to Cripple Creek, you know.”
Serena shook her head, forcing her lips to curve into a smile. She had ceased to try to convince him of her chastity. The task had seemed to be beyond her without plainer words between them than she could bring herself to use. Moreover, she had begun to suspect that if he should believe her, he might feel some misguided sense of responsibility for her. The last thing she needed was to have another man, and a gambler at that, appoint himself her guardian. Experience had already shown her where that could lead. Not that she had anything to complain of on that score. He had not attempted to touch her since she had removed herself from his bedroll the night before. Still, there was something in the way he watched her at times, in the way he helped her on and off her horse, that made her know he was aware of her as a woman. That, and her own response to his nearness, prevented her from trusting him. No, she much preferred to look after herself.
“I suppose you mean to make a play for one of the new mini
ng millionaires? I ought to warn you that the competition there is rough.”
Serena ignored his mocking tone. “I’m sure it is.”
“If that really is your game,” he said, a frown drawing his brows together, I suggest you invest in a new wardrobe as soon as possible. For all your attractions as a waif, wealthy men prefer a woman who doesn’t look as if she needs rescuing from poverty.”
“That is valuable advice, I am sure,” she said, injecting an arch tone into her voice. “Do you have anything else to recommend?”
“Yes, you might try beginning your hunt at Count Pourtales’ Broadmoor Casino and Hotel outside of town. Most men adjourn there for a drink in the evening. And see that you stay away from Colorado City down the road. Most of the red-light district is in that area. Men of means may visit the houses there, but they don’t take their mistresses from them. Why should they settle for such well-used goods when they can buy fresher merchandise elsewhere?”
Serena turned her head sharply away as the heat of a flush rose to her hairline. “Yes, of course,” she said in a smothered voice.
He leaned suddenly to catch the rope that served as a rein for her horse. As she swung her startled gaze in his direction, his green eyes stared into hers. “You are blushing,” he said, puzzlement blending with the accusation in his voice.
“I — the effect of temper, I assure you,” she answered. “I don’t need you to tell me how to conduct myself.”
“No,” he said, easing back into the saddle. “More than likely, not. But you did ask.”
They did not speak again until they had come to a halt before the boardinghouse the gambler had suggested. When he had dismounted and handed her down, he unstrapped her trunk.
“Maybe we should make certain there is a room available,” Serena demurred.
“There will be one,” he said.
He was not mistaken. The widow, a plump woman with a massive bosom, gray-streaked, red hair piled on her head, and wearing a plum-colored dress with an ecru dog collar of lace that scratched her rounded chin, came hurrying from the back regions of the house at the sound of the hall bell. Her eyes lit up as she caught sight of the gambler, and she gave a cry of welcome.
“Ward! Bless me if it isn’t good to see you! Where have you been, you devil? It’s been too long since you put your feet under my table. I’d much rather it was your shoes under my bed, but I’ll settle for the one if I can’t have the other!”
A grin banished the darkness from Ward Dunbar’s face as he returned the woman’s hearty embrace. “If I only had the time I would oblige you on both counts,” he bantered. “Still, I wouldn’t insult you with a quick sampling of either.”
“Go on with you! You always were a dreadful liar, but I know you’ll do me the favor of keeping the truth behind your teeth. What brings you back?”
“You, acushla.”
“Listen to the man,” the widow said with a wink and a heavenward cast of her eyes for Serena. Stepping from the circle of his arms, she patted at her hair, a droll look in her eyes that could not quite disguise her pleasure. “And what else, you terrible man?”
“A matter of business with Nathan Benedict.”
“Well, if you’re looking for me to help, I’ll have to tell you I have nothing to do with the gold gentry, my lad. Besides, I thought Benedict was making his headquarters at Cripple Creek these days, had built a big house up there.”
“He’s supposed to be in town for a meeting of the mine owners.”
“Something to do with this union business?”
“I expect so.”
“You get an invitation to sit in with the rest of the millionaires?”
Ward smiled. “Are you trying to find out if I’ve struck it rich? Maybe you think I’m worth more than a bit of light flirting? Sorry to disappoint you. I’ve filed a few claims, sunk a few shafts, enough to qualify me for this meeting, but I have yet to strike a vein worth following.”
“Never mind,” the widow said comfortably. “You will. And then we’ll see if you can resist my blandishments! But enough now. I don’t know what this young lady must think of us, going on like a couple of zanies. Introduce us now, Ward, if you please.”
“Mrs. O’Hare, Serena Walsh. This young lady is the reason for my visit. She is in need of a room.”
The widow divided a quick glance between the two of them. “I see.”
“I doubt it,” Ward said with the lift of a dark brow. “I am not sponsoring her.”
“Ah, and of course you are not, you devil! How could you think I ever suspected such a thing for a minute?”
“Easily,” the gambler answered, but the widow ignored it.
“Come in, my dear, come in. We will see what we can do for you. I think I have a front room left. It looks like you have been a few days on the road. Just arrived, have you?”
“If you have a place to put Serena, I will leave you to settle her in. I’m sure you can prise the story of her life out of her much better without me standing around.”
The widow, leading Serena up the stairs, flung a look of mock outrage over her shoulder. “Indeed, we can do without you, if that’s what you mean. Take yourself off to your meeting, since that’s where you’re raring to go.”
Serena came to a halt and swung around, staring down at Ward Dunbar from a few steps above him. “If I don’t see you again, I would like to say how grateful I am to you for letting me travel with you, and for bringing me here. I’m not sure I would have made it without your help.”
“I enjoyed the company,” he answered, his green eyes shaded with irony and something akin to dark admiration. “But don’t be in such a hurry to make your farewells. The gold district, even this town, is not that big. There’s every chance that we will see each other again.”
He stood gazing up at her long moments, almost as if testing the truth of his own words in his mind, then he gave a curt nod and was gone. Serena stood staring after him until the widow reclaimed her attention with a merry comment and led her on up the stairs.
The front room was pleasant, with scrubbed wood floors covered with woven rag rugs, an iron bedstead with a quilt thrown over the thick, fluffy mattress, and horizontal wood siding walls hung with sepia prints. Serena signified her complete satisfaction with her accommodations, then turned to the widow with a resolute angle to her chin.
“I won’t mislead you, Mrs. O’Hare. My circumstances are such that I can’t pay for more than a day or two with you at most, unless I find some means of earning a wage.”
“There, my dear,” the woman said with a motherly pat on Serena’s shoulder, “don’t worry your head about it. Any friend of Ward Dunbar’s will always have credit with me.”
“I don’t wish to be beholden in any way to Mr. Dunbar.”
“Well, now, I don’t doubt that’s wise of you, a pretty young thing like you are, but if you are worried that he will take an unfair advantage, I have to tell you that I think you misjudge him. Oh, I know I talk a lot of nonsense, but I would sooner trust Ward than any man alive. Why, I could tell you things — but I won’t. I’ll just say that if it wasn’t for Ward Dunbar, I would have been scrubbing floors somewhere these two years since my Owen, rest his soul, got himself killed in a blasting accident at the Commodore Lode. We talk a fine tale, me and him, though we both know he could have his pick of women younger and prettier than me, still I know, too, that he could have made this house into something more than a boarding hall. If he had wanted, he could have brought in women and liquor, set me over them, asked for part of the take. He never thought of such a thing! No, he paid out his money, and instead of raking off the profits, he lets me pay for the building out of them.”
“Perhaps he knew you would refuse such a position?”
“Bless you, child! What makes you think so? I would have had no choice, none at all. Oh, I might have kicked about it, but in the end, I would have agreed. There’s no comfort in virtue when a body is starving to death.”
There wa
s something in the woman’s forthright way of speaking that appealed to Serena. She found her lips curving into a smile of sympathy and wry recognition of an essential truth. “He — is a strange man.”
“He has reason to be. I nursed him through pneumonia his first winter in the mountains — me and O’Hare were living at Cripple Creek then. You learn a lot about a person when he’s down. He’s a fine man, Ward Dunbar, a man who sometimes likes to forget all the things that make him what he is, a man who hates what he sees himself becoming so much that he sometimes sets out to prove he is worse than he really is, if that makes sense. No, I can see that it doesn’t. Let it go. Sometimes I don’t make sense to myself.”
Serena lowered her gaze. “About work, Mrs. O’Hare?”
“Now that is something else. I’m not sure there is such a thing now. The few positions that a woman might could take are filled; there’s many a miner’s wife helping out by doing laundry, working as cook, cleaning woman, and such like. I hear that in the East young women are working in offices and behind the counters in stores, but there are more than enough young men out here, men who found out hard-rock mining is rougher than they expected, to take the jobs like that.”
“I would be glad to cook and clean. I’m not afraid of work.”
“Your best bet,” the older woman said with a quick laugh, “might be to stay here with me until one of these strong young miners notices you and asks you to marry him. It won’t take long, I’m sure. Ladies are scarce just now, the marrying kind, that is. There are plenty of fancy women all too ready to take a man’s wages.”
It was gratifying to be classed among the former, despite the way she was dressed. “I will have to keep that in mind,” Serena answered with a smile.
“There’s no hurry, at any rate. Now, I hope you will make yourself comfortable. I expect you will be glad of a chance to rinse off the dust; I’ll send up hot water to the bathroom at the end of the hall. After that, you may want to eat a bite. I don’t usually allow boarders in the dining room before mealtime, but in this case I think I can bend the rules.”
Love and Adventure Collection - Part 2 Page 92
