Hear! Hear!”
He turned to stare at the beautiful, lonely peak, even as the Nugget’s flames rose still higher. Boys, let’s rename that summit for our very own heroine. Our grandchildren, our great-grandchildren, will see it and remember Colorado’s most beautiful lady!”
Doc,” one of the miners said, she’s not a great beauty anymore.”
Oh, yes, she is!” Doc said with such feeling that his voice shook. To those of us who knew her, she’s more beautiful than ever because of what she did. I say we rename that peak for her. Who agrees to Mt. Silver Heels?”
A roar went up from the miners as they threw their hats in the air. Yea! Hurrah for our town! Hurrah for Miss Silver! Hurrah for Mt. Silver Heels!”
Doc took out his handkerchief and wiped his eyes. Emma, let’s stay to make sure the fire doesn’t spread and not disturb our patient tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll tell her about the honor.”
Emma looked up at him. And then you’ll give her a mirror and tell her about her face, too?”
He had a sense of dread. She’s still pretty,” he argued. She needs to understand that.”
Emma linked her arm through his. Yes, she is—prettier than most. But I’m afraid it won’t be enough, John. She’ll be devastated.”
Doc sighed and his shoulders slumped. God, I wish Cherokee Evans was here. Somehow, I think it would make a difference.”
Back at Doc’s house, Silver stood petrified by the window, watching the orange and yellow flames licking against the black velvet of the night. What kind of friends were these who set fire to her saloon and then stood calmly and watched it burn? All her future income, all her hopes and dreams, were literally going up in smoke. She had to do something!
Grabbing a shawl out of the wardrobe, she staggered out into the darkness toward the fire. And even as she stumbled toward the main street in her silver shoes, the building collapsed in on itself with a roar. She was ruined! How would she ever earn a living with her saloon burned to the ground? Except for the gold nugget bracelet she wore, her jewelry was gone, her money, too. What kind of friends would do this? And they were actually cheering! She could hear their voices on the wind, see the hats tossed in the air. They were glad her saloon was gone!
She was alone, no friends, she thought in confusion. Al was the only one who had cared about her and now he was gone and the others had turned on her. She would go away. Where? Her dazed mind couldn’t put anything together. Silver turned and walked down the road that led toward Fairplay. That was supposed to be a big boomtown. Well, she had lost her saloon, but she was still pretty and she could entertain. She’d get a job in one of those big saloons and start all over again. There was no use staying here with Al dead and Cherokee never coming back.
Silver walked a long time. Finally a peddler and his rattling wagon came along the road and she waved him down and climbed on the back.
She didn’t want anyone to recognize her or ask questions, so she wrapped the shawl around her head so the peddler wouldn’t see the telltale pale hair. She hoped the ungrateful people at Buckskin Joe never found out where she’d gone.
She finally fell asleep in the back. At dawn, the driver awakened her, and gave her a sympathetic look. Miss, this is where I turn off.”
Automatically, she got out of the wagon and looked around. Where’s Fairplay?”
Just over the next rise. You want a ride there?”
Silver shook her head. She hadn’t really decided what to do,but she needed to earn some money. She wanted to get cleaned up first before she went into town. How she wished she had something to eat.
The old driver must have guessed that. I have sandwiches with me; I’ll share with you.”
She took a sandwich with a nod of thanks and watched him drive away. Then she sat down on a rock and gobbled her meal.
Her hand went to her hair and she realized how tangled and mussed it was. And the dress. She looked down at the shapeless brown calico. In the nearby meadow, she saw a pond. She would wash, comb her hair, and fix herself up as best she could. She hadn’t brought a costume, but maybe one of the other girls would lend her one. At least she had her dancing shoes.
The sun came up slowly as Silver combed her hair. There was just the slightest chill to the dawn. How could that be when it was summer? She distinctly remembered how hot it had been the day she collapsed. She looked around. Then why were all the leaves on the aspen trees turning gold? It was more of a puzzle than she could deal with. She leaned over the still water and it reflected light like a mirror. Drat it all! She wished she had a brush. She combed her hair the best she could with her fingers.
There was no soap, but at least she could splash water on her face. Silver leaned over the still surface of the pond. For a long moment, she stared, wondering who that girl was.
Oh my God! Her hands flew to her face, her flawless face. Beneath her fingers, she felt the tiny scars, the telltale marks of smallpox. Her beauty was gone forever!
For an hour, she gave herself up to hysteria. Her worst nightmare had happened. She was worthless now; she would never find a man who would love her.
But Silver was a survivor. Finally she wiped away the tears and thought about what she would do next. Where would she go? How would she make a living? She looked at her reflection again in the placid water and then examined her body. The scars were small and she was still pretty, but not a great beauty anymore. Maybe she could still get a job as an entertainer. Fairplay was a thriving boomtown; there would be saloons here where she could sing and dance.
But suppose someone from Buckskin Joe should come through town and see her? She flinched, not wanting anyone’s pity. No, she wanted to close the door on her past forever. The memories were too painful. Too bad she wasn’t in New Orleans. Down there, she had heard, they had a holiday called Mardi Gras where everyone went masked. If she could do that, no one would be the wiser.
Could she still do it? She had no money, but she had Cherokee’s gold nugget bracelet she could pawn. Keeping the shawl closely about her, she went into town, pawned the cherished possession, and bought fabric and a gaudy new dress. Hiding in an abandoned storage building, she fashioned a glittering mask.
Silver took a breath for courage, put on the scarlet dress, the silver shoes, and the elegant mask, went to Fairplay’s biggest saloon, and asked to see the owner.
He was a shrimp of a man wearing too much rose-scented hair oil and red sleeve garters. Who the hell are you, girlie?”
She smiled coyly behind her mask. Let’s just say my identity would surprise a lot of people. I can sing and dance; let me audition for you. Think about how the men would be intrigued by a mysterious masked lady.”
He grinned and lit a cigar. I reckon that means you are either running away from a husband or some rich family who don’t cotton to the idea of what you’re doing.”
Let’s just say I’m from east of here, and they’re looking for me, all right.”
He leaned back in his chair and studied her. You know, it just might work. I never heard of anything like it before. Tell you what, girlie, I’ll try you one night, and if the customers like you, you’re hired. What’s your name?”
She gave him a flirtatious smile, although her spirits were as low as the soles of her shoes. You can just call me the Mysterious Masked lady.”
Okay.” He stood up, taking a deep draw on his cigar. I’ll bet behind that mask, you’re a great beauty.”
She had to swallow hard at that point. There’s—there’s some who used to think so.”
We’ll see how you do tonight.”
Of course she was a great success that evening. Her flying feet and high, sweet voice were a hit with the men of Fairplay. More than that, they were intrigued by the identity behind the glittering mask.
Every night that month, there were men in the audience who yelled out, offering to pay huge sums for her to take the mask off. But Silver only smiled coyly and took another bow.
A couple of weeks passed. She re
deemed her precious bracelet and sewed a few dollars in the hem of her petticoat for an emergency. When she wasn’t on stage, she kept to herself and mingled with no one. Silver still slept with the lamp lit, but there were no mirrors. Once the silvery things had been her friends, now they were her enemies. She gave no thought to her future past the night’s performance. She slept poorly, dreaming that Cherokee decided to return for her, kissed the palm of her hand, and folded her fingers over it. Here’s a treasure for you.
Then just as she went into his arms, he looked into her face, frowned, and pushed her away. The Silver I loved was a great beauty. You’re not that girl, and that’s all you had to offer ... offer ... offer ...
She woke up sobbing and found herself alone in her little room above the Fairplay saloon. At least she had a job and she could eat. Silver’s biggest worry was that someone from Buckskin Joe would turn up, recognize her, and pity her. She’d rather be dead than pitied.
She didn’t stay at the saloon long enough for that to happen. One evening, a drunk climbed on the stage during her performance and tried to pull her mask off. In sheer desperation, Silver fought him off and ran from the stage. To be unmasked in front of a crowd, to display for everyone that she was not the great beauty she had been—the thought horrified her. That night she gathered up her things and fled from Fairplay.
Chapter Twelve
Silver fled into the night, taking the precious shoes and the bracelet with her. The gaudy dress she left behind with a note for one of the dancers at the Fairplay saloon who had been kind to her. She wore the shawl and the plain brown dress with the few dollars sewn into the petticoat.
Now what would she do? Silver paused on the outskirts of town, thinking. There were too many memories back in Buckskin Joe to return there. Besides since they had burned her saloon, they were probably glad to be rid of her.
The starlight reflected on the silver shoes and she remembered the night Cherokee had given them to her and the way she had danced on the stage before the cheering crowd. Silver Heels! Hurrah for our Silver Heels!
It seemed so long ago. When she closed her eyes, she almost felt his big arms around her, his mouth hot and gentle on hers as he taught her about love. He was gone, never to return. Her beauty was gone, too, as well as her wealth and fame. All she had left were her memories and the shoes and braclet. No one could take those away from her.
Memories. In the end, maybe they were the sum total of a person’s life. When good times and things and people are gone, you have the memories always. Even when she was a very old lady, she would remember how she had danced and sang for him, how the crowds had cheered, how he had gathered her to him and taught her to surrender to love. It had been so very brief, but so very precious.
In some ways the memories hurt. She would never again be a glamorous star with her face scarred, and the mask idea wouldn’t work; there would always be some drunk who would try to pull it off. No, better she should close the door on her past and find a new life altogether. She wanted Silver Heels remembered as she had been, not pitied for what she had fallen to.
Denver was the biggest city in the territory, as many as five or six thousand people, and thirty or forty saloons, everyone said. In a teeming place like that, it should be easy enough to blend in and lose oneself. Between walking and catching rides on wagons, she finally made it there.
The town at the junction of the Platte River and Cherry Creek was indeed a bustling boomtown. Denver sprawled on both sides of Cherry Creek, now that the little town of Auroria had become simply West Denver when the stage line chose to put its offices in Denver proper. The two had been rivals for the many prospectors and wagon trains passing thourgh or buying supplies. There were rumors that the South would try to capture Colorado Territory sooner or later to get gold and silver to finance the purchase of guns and powder. There were even rumors that both sides were recruiting the Indians to fight for them.
Silver kept her shawl bundled around her as she walked down the street. Denver was a wide-open boomtown all right, soldiers everywhere, drunken miners fighting on the sidewalks, wagons and people hurrying about.
Her money wouldn’t last forever. She must get a job. Doing what? She rented a cheap room, and bought the local paper, the Rocky Mountain News. For several days she read the ads, not sure what to do. There weren’t many jobs for women. They were either housewives, saloon whores, or servants. Most of the openings wanted references and Silver didn’t have any. While she was a good cook from her days on a farm, she was turned down because she didn’t look like what a cook was expected to look like, and she had no references. What to do? As high as expenses were in a boomtown, her little hoard of cash wouldn’t last very long.
What kind of job could she get without references that didn’t entail working in a saloon? The day she spent her last dollar, she saw an ad that appealed to her:
Wanted: Governess for small girl. Good pay, room and board. Apply in person, the Duchess’s Palace.
She hadn’t known there was any nobility in Colorado Territory. A long time ago, when she was a schoolgirl, she had once dreamed of being a teacher. And she loved children. Could she possibly qualify for this position? Silver looked down at herself. Yes, the brown calico dress was perfect, but she needed some plain, no-nonsense shoes and she must do something about this mane of silver hair.
With regret, she pawned the gold bracelet again, bought some shoes, some drab dye for her hair, and had herself fitted for horn-rimmed spectacles. This seemed to puzzle the shop owner, especially when she had them made with plain window glass. As she started to leave, she turned back. Oh, where would I find the Duchess’s Palace?”
The short man looked at her over the top of his own spectacles. Now what would a prim thing like you be wanting in that hellhole?”
I beg your pardon?”
It’s a saloon, ma’am, one of the toughest in town. The owner claims she’s a Spanish Duchess.”
Her hopes fell. I suppose it’s a mistake then. I saw an advertisement about a governess position.”
Oh, that,” he said. I might have known that’s what you were—a governess. I think the Duchess has been trying to hire someone for quite a while with no takers. It’s not the kind of place a prim school teacher would work.”
Silver listened with wide eyes while he told her of the Palace’s bad reputation and its location down near McGaa Street, the tough area of saloons and bordellos in Denver. Take my advice, ma’am, and stay away from the Palace. It’s not a place for a respectable girl like yourself.”
She nodded and thanked him, went back to her room, and thought about it. What would a child be doing in a saloon? The Palace sounded like the kind of place Silver was trying to avoid. Still, if the Duchess was not having any luck filling the position, she might not be too choosy or insist on references.
Silver was desperate enough to try anything. She dyed her hair a drab brown, did it up in a bun on the back of her head, and put on the prim spectacles and the sensible shoes. When she forced herself to look at her reflection in a passing store window, she decided she looked like people might expect a governess to look.
On the bustling street, men didn’t turn and stare at her as they used to in Buckskin Joe, and when one bumped into her, he gave her a respectful bow and stepped out of her path. Why, I’m respectable-looking, she thought in awe. There were only two kinds of women in the West. I look like the other kind of woman now. She had traded her beauty for respectability. It was almost ironic.
McGaa Street looked like a rough place, all right. She found out it had been named for an early prospector. The area around McGaa and Blake Streets was home to the rougher element of Denver. Silver continued along the street, remembering to walk in the prim manner that a governess might assume.
The Duchess’ Palace was several blocks away—an imposing two-story frame building. Was she out of her mind to try this? She’d never get away with it. On the other hand, there was a little girl in this terrible place who nee
ded someone to care about her and it might be a peaceful retreat for Silver to lose herself from all her memories.
The inside was elegant, all red velvet and ornate tables. A carved rosewood bar with a huge mirror ran down the length of one wall. Everywhere she looked were poker table and faro setups. The place smelled of whiskey and cigar smoke and cheap perfume. It was empty this early in the morning, one lone black boy sweeping up.
Silver looked around at the piano, the stage. The Palace was much fancier than the Nugget. A few months ago, Silver could have come here and been the star performer; now she was applying for a drab position behind the scenes.
She asked to see the Duchess, and the boy yawned and pointed up the ornate stairway that began in the center of the huge saloon.
Could she possibly convince anyone she was a respectable governess or would they see through her and realize that she was only a scarred saloon girl looking for a refuge from the world?
With heart beating hard, she hesitated before the door at the top of the stairs with an OFFICE sign on it. She needed this job. If nothing else, she had spunk. She rapped on the door.
Come in.”
Silver said a little prayer and entered. The office was done in an overly ornate Victorian style as if someone with more money than taste had decorated it. The woman in the low-cut yellow dress sitting behind the big desk was dark and pretty in a vulgar, overblown way. Her black hair was done up in an elaborate hairdo and she wore a great deal of expensive jewelry.
Silver wished immediately that she had not come. The woman’s dark eyes were as hard as obsidian. She might have been Spanish, or Mexican, or Indian. But she was older than Silver. I—I’ve come about the governess position.”
Quicksilver Passion Page 18
