by Barbara Goss
Catherine smiled and took his hand. “I feel safer already.”
They ran for the river’s edge and stepped into the water.
“Oh, that feels heavenly,” Catherine said.
“It sort of makes you want to jump in all the way, doesn’t it?” Martin said. “In fact, I swim in the pond behind our barn every morning. I love swimming.”
“I’m afraid I've never learned to swim,” she said. “I’d love to learn some time. I've also never ridden a horse. Our family always used a buggy.”
“I could teach you both…someday.”
She looked up at him. “I’d really love that, Martin.”
Martin loved how Catherine enjoyed something as simple as wading in the river. She skipped and jumped in it with delight. Soon, he was following suit. At one point she squeezed his hand and said, “I love this. Thank you, Martin.”
“We should really eat our lunch soon,” Martin said. “We can always wade in again afterward.”
“All right,” she said. “Just one more run and jump, okay?”
Martin nodded.
She ran and jumped, still clutching onto Martin’s hand, and then she slipped and fell into the river, pulling Martin in with her.
He landed beside her, and instead of being scared, she laughed. The water was shallow enough that she had no fear of drowning, but she did grab onto Martin by his neck as if to be sure she wouldn’t float away.
“Oh, dear!” she said. “Now we’re soaking wet.”
She was still hanging onto Martin’s neck with both hands, her face close to his, and he simply couldn’t resist leaning in and kissing her briefly, to test the waters, so to speak. She pulled him closer and he moved in for a better kiss, seeing as she was so obliging.
When she broke off the kiss, she stared up into Martin’s eyes, “Don’t kiss me unless you mean it, Martin.”
Her statement shocked him somewhat. He wouldn’t have kissed her if he hadn’t meant it. What had she meant? He wasn’t sure how he should to reply.
Finally, he said, “I rarely do something I don’t intend to repeat,” he said, pulling her in for another kiss, but she gently pushed him away.
“I mean don’t kiss me unless you…you plan to court me.”
“Kiss me one more time and I’ll let you know my plans,” he said. He moved his lips toward her and she not only allowed it, but she fully participated in the passionate kiss. Martin held her tightly, but not indecently so. Even though he'd wanted to, he had to uphold his position as minister.
When they broke the kiss, Catherine waited for his answer.
“My plans are beyond courting, Catherine,” he said, kissing her nose. “I want to marry you. I want you to have my babies and grow old with me.” When he saw her eyes light up, he kissed her again. “I love you, Catherine.”
“I love you, too, Martin, although until today I wasn’t sure if it was appreciation I felt or love, but your kiss set me straight.”
Martin hugged her and laughed. “How will we ever explain our wet clothing to my mother?”
Chapter 18
When Eden stepped off the train in Denver, she was shocked at the size of the city. She didn’t know where she might begin to find work, and she only had enough money left for one night’s stay at a hotel. If she picked a shabby hotel, she might be lucky enough to stretch it over two nights.
She wandered around thinking how fortunate she was that now she was able to apply for jobs dressed in women’s clothing. She thought her chances would be better but soon discovered most places preferred male employees.
Having used all of her money on the hotel room and meals, she knew she had to find a job that very day. She gazed up at the saloon and sighed. Andrew would be angry if he knew but there was no way he’d ever find out. He was probably planning his wedding to Catherine right about then. She stood outside The Gold Rush Saloon for several minutes, contemplating her options, but she soon realized she had none. It was either the saloon or she really didn’t know what she might do next. She pushed one of the double doors open and walked inside.
A middle-aged woman with bright, sunset-red hair was standing behind the bar. She was wearing large earrings and a dress full of sparkling sequins. There were no other people in the place.
Eden walked up to her. “I’m looking for a job,” she blurted.
The woman looked her over carefully. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-two.”
“I have more than enough girls right now, honey. I had to turn away three girls, this week alone. Have you tried getting a job as a maid or a child-minder?” she asked.
“No, I’m not sure how to go about that.”
“You simply put an ad in the newspaper. The newspaper office is across the street and down one block,” the woman told her.
“I’d have to have money to place an ad.”
“Certainly.” The woman looked at her and her eyes widened somewhat. “You have no money at all?”
Eden shook her head sadly.
“What kind of work have you done in the past?”
The woman seemed concerned and caring, so Eden relaxed somewhat. “I’ve run a whole household: cleaning, cooking, mending and laundry.”
“Hmm.” The woman rubbed her chin. “By the way, my name’s Rebecca Colburn, but everyone calls me Becca. I just might have something for you. It’s a bit unconventional, but if you’re desperate, I may have a job for you.”
“I’m Eden Jamison, and I’ll take almost anything,” she said.
“C’mon back to my office.”
Eden followed her behind the bar and to a small office off to the side, but hidden from the barroom.
“Have a seat. I’ll be right back,” Becca said before scurrying out of the office.
Eden gazed around. By looking at the office you’d never guess it was a saloon’s office. It held just a desk, a few chairs, a large wooden cabinet, and a lot of papers of all colors.
Becca returned with a middle-aged man who had dark hair and eyes. He wore a mustache, and though he was extremely thin, he was quite handsome.
“Miss Jamison, I’d like you to meet Emil Hazard.”
“Hello,” Eden murmured.
Emil nodded and looked her over carefully before saying, “When can you start?”
“Today, if necessary,” Eden said.
The man looked at Becca and nodded. “She’s perfect,” he told her. He turned back to Eden and said, “Come with me. My assistant will get you ready for our next show.”
Show? What had she gotten herself into? She followed the man to a colorful wagon on the outskirts of town where an elderly lady pulled her in and dressed her for the show. The woman introduced herself as Emil’s mother, Rosella. She looked ancient, with wrinkled skin and only a few teeth showing.
Rosella dressed her in a black dress and put a hat with a veil attached to it on top of her head. Eden had grown a bit suspicious by then, but had no choice but to do as she was told. Why did she have to wear a hat and veil? Her only relief was that she knew no one in town and no one knew her. She could do this—although she still didn’t know exactly what that was.
Rosella pushed her gently toward a small divan, indicated she should sit, and said, “Here is what you are to do: my nephew will play music, and a crowd will gather. You do nothing else—my son, Emil, will take it from there.”
“That’s it?” she asked. “How much will I earn?”
“Two dollars,” Rosella said. “Now we put on the makeup.”
Eden was pleased. Two dollars for just watching a show dressed in black? She could do this. She did, however, become a bit leery when Rosella applied thick, lumpy makeup to her face, but only in certain places. It was curious, but she needed the money.
The wagon moved, and Eden grabbed hold of the divan to prevent her falling over. When the wagon stopped, Rosella said, “It’s almost time.”
She soon heard banjo music and singing out in front of the wagon. Rosella kept peeking through t
he small window until she finally said, “You go now. Try to get in first or second row of crowd.”
Eden was practically pushed from the rear of the wagon and escorted the long way around to blend in with the crowd before Rosella left her.
The music was upbeat, and people were tapping their toes and clapping their hands. When the music stopped, Emil came out and spoke to the crowd that had gathered.
“That’s Tomas on the banjo. He’s a master on the instrument, and he’ll come back and play another tune in a few minutes, but first I want your attention,” Emil said as he stood in front of the wagon. “I’ve come across a cactus in the desert that will improve any woman or man’s complexion, even if it's blotchy or riddled with pox. This cream will also prevent wrinkles and make anyone of you look twenty years younger. I've harvested as much of this type of cactus as I could and squeezed out all the valuable juice. Here, ladies and gentleman, is that potion. It’s available for only one dollar a bottle.”
As Emil scanned the crowd, Eden had a sick feeling as to what he'd planned to do.
“You,” he said, pointing to her, “come here, please.”
Eden stepped forward.
“Are you in mourning?” he asked. He then whispered “say no.”
“No.” Eden replied.
“Why are you wearing that veil?” Emil asked he lifted the veil as he spoke, and the crowd gasped.
“I thought as much,” Emil said. “Someone informed me before the show that a resident of this city had this affliction—was it the pox?”
At his prompt, she nodded.
“This is as good a time as any to try out my Cactus Elixir. May I try to remove those ugly scars?”
He nudged her, and she again nodded.
He moved her to a seat that had miraculously appeared, stood in front of her, and made a big show of wiping her face with the elixir, which Eden thought was probably nothing more than just water. When he’d finished, he stepped aside and she heard gasps from the crowd.
“She’s beautiful once more,” Emil said.
The people were knocking each other over to get to the wagon and buy the elixir, Rosella pushed Eden behind the wagon and inside the small doorway, where they watched from the tiny window as Tomas started playing the banjo again while Emil sold the elixir.
Eden knew she’d been part of a swindle, and she couldn’t do it again. She planned to take her two dollars and leave.
After the music had died down, she felt the wagon moving and looked up at Rosella. “Where are we going?”
“Not far,” she said. “Just away from the city for the night.”
“When will I get paid?” Eden asked.
Emil will pay you as soon as we park the wagon.
Shortly after the wagon had stopped, Emil came in and handed her the two dollars. “You did well,” he said.
“I need a ride back to town,” she said.
“Would you be interested in making five dollars tomorrow?” he asked.
“No,” she said shaking her head. “You’re cheating people, and I cannot be a part of your cheating people.”
“It’s not cheating people. The elixir really does work. It contains a juice called aloe, which softens the skin and it works wonders on burns. It isn’t a scam.”
Eden looked at Rosella. She wanted to ask him why his mother didn’t use it, but she couldn’t hurt the poor old woman’s feelings.
“What exactly would I have to do for you to pay me five dollars?”
“Dance.”
“Dance?” she asked.
“Yes. Tomas will play the banjo and you will dance. It'll attract many men for a lotion I have that will regrow the hair on their heads. I need a pretty woman to dance to bring the men to my wagon.”
“Does the potion work?” Eden asked.
“Look!” he turned around a few times so she could see his thick, wavy head of hair. “It works.”
“All right, I’ll do it, but I want to be paid while we’re still in town so I can leave. I need to get a hotel room.”
“Tomas will take you back to town on his horse,” Emil said.
Just after noon the following day, when the town was full of men who’d just eaten or been drinking in the saloons, Emil parked the wagon in the center of the main street. Rosella had dressed Eden in an indecent outfit with a colorful, flaring skirt and a blouse cut so low and tight, her breasts were pushed up above the neckline. Eden felt embarrassed to wear the costume, but she did need the money. No one she knew would see her. To be sure she wasn’t recognized from the day before, she was outfitted with a long, black wig. Emil put a tambourine into her hands, and when the music started, she danced, thankful once again that she knew none of these people that had gathered on the street. This would be her last job for Emil.
When Andrew stepped off the train in Denver, he had no idea where to begin looking for Eden. He checked into a hotel and started to ask around. It was all he could think to do. He tried to remember all of the places she’d gone for a job in Great Bend and visited similar places there, but he had absolutely no luck at all.
Knowing Eden was a Christian, he visited all of the churches in Denver, regardless of the denomination. When he was done, he went into a little restaurant and grabbed a bowl of soup. While he ate, he thought about where he might look next.
He heard music and looked out the restaurant window to see a colorful wagon standing in the middle of the street, playing banjo music. He wondered what it was all about, so he wandered outside to see for himself.
A black-haired woman was dancing while a man who looked like a gypsy strummed a banjo. Something about the woman drew his attention. Her skin was much too fair to be a gypsy. He walked closer to the wagon and noticed she had bright blue eyes, blue like the ocean—it was Eden!
Chapter 19
Andrew stood frozen in place, watching Eden swing her hips provocatively while slapping a tambourine. She was good, but he’d seen real gypsies dance in Hunter’s Grove once, and they moved with a lot more skill. Still, she sure looked good to him.
What was she doing in a medicine show?
As he stood and watched, he moved as close as he could get. He could tell the instant she recognized him because her face turned beet red, and she turned away from him.
When the music stopped, he saw Eden duck into the wagon, and the older man of the two came forward, holding a bottle of snake oil or something. Andrew didn’t waste time finding out what the man’s spiel was—he had to get to the wagon’s back door before Eden did.
Eden threw herself onto the divan, sitting there, stunned.
Rosella asked, “What’s wrong now?”
“I saw someone I know!”
“Here’s your money,” she said, tossing the coins at Eden. “My son would like you to travel to the next town with us. Are you willing? Five dollars for each dance.”
“No, thank you,” she said. She had enough money to get on another train and maybe get closer to Oregon or California. Even so, her heart raced from having seen Andrew. Would he berate her for dancing, or take her into his arms and tell her he loved her?
Why was Andrew in Denver in the first place? She thought he’d be married by then. Was it possible he'd come there looking for her? She put her hand over her heart…if only. Why else would he be there? And if he really loved her enough to come this far to find her, why would he be angry with her for dancing in a medicine show?
She peeked out the window over the back door of the wagon. There stood Andrew, his arms over his chest, waiting for her. She was finally prepared to go out and get the answers to her questions.
“Hey, missy,” Rosella called out, “you can’t leave with those clothes. You’ll have to put your own back on. We’ll need them for the act.”
Eden looked down at her clothes. She’d forgotten she was still wearing them. She went behind the curtain and changed back into her clothes, a modest blue dress with a white collar. When she was dressed, she hesitated, peeked through the window
again, and opened the door.
“Goodbye, Rosella,” she said. The woman grunted in response.
She stepped down the two stairs to the ground and stood there, looking at the love of her life. How she yearned to run into his arms. He looked so handsome standing there, staring at her. She couldn’t tell by the look on his face if he were happy or angry, and she didn't know what to do, if she should walk away, or walk to him. When he put his arms out, Eden didn’t hesitate. She ran into his arms and he squeezed her to him tightly.
Eden cried. She’d never thought she'd ever feel Andrew’s arms around her again, yet there she was, so close to him she could hear the thumping of his heart.
He squeezed her tighter. “Stop crying,” he whispered. “It’s over. We’ll never be apart again.”
She pulled away from him to see his face. “Really? What about Catherine?”
“Cross my heart,” he said, staring at her lips before diving in for another passionate kiss; Eden was in heaven. After the breath-taking kiss, he said, “I finally did what I should have done that first day—I told her the truth, that we would never suit.
“Will you do one thing for me after we’re married?” he asked.
“Was that supposed to be a proposal?”
“Yes, it was, but there's something I want you to do,” he whispered into her ear, giving her goose bumps.
“What?”
“Dance for me, like you did tonight.”
She looked up and saw his eyes sparkling with humor. “Once we’re married, we can dance together,” she said.
“Hmm,” he said, pulling her close again. “Just the thought of us doing the dance God created for married couples makes me want to do it right now.” He kissed her passionately again.
When he broke off the kiss he said, “I can wait, though, because we’ll get married right away. Wait,” he looked at her intently, “you never did say you’d marry me.”
“You never really asked,” she answered.
“Will you be my wife, sleep by my side each night, and bear my children?” he asked.
