The Gold Miner’s Wife;
A Young Woman’s Story of Romance, Passion and Murder
by Amethyst Creek
Copyright 2014 by Dorothy J. Turner
Acknowledgements
A special thank you to my husband Charles for his thoughtful suggestions and savvy editing advice and to my son Andrew for assisting with computer problems. Thank you to my many supportive friends including Judy, Elaine, Lynn, Susie, Sonjia, Joanne, Kay, Linda, Kenda, Mindee, Cid, Anita, and Catharine. You encouraged me to follow my dreams! Thank you also to Emily Anderson of Pikes Peak Library District for the many historical newspaper articles on gold mining in early Colorado that were so useful to my research. Thanks, sis.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Apache Blessing
May the sun
Bring you new energy by day
May the moon
Softly restore you by night
May the rain
Wash away your worries
May the breeze
Blow new strength into your being
May you walk
Gently through the world and know its beauty
All the days of your life.
Chapter One
Spring, 1873
If one thing can be said about adventures, it is that they’re not always good ones. In 1873, Miss Susannah Carlyle celebrated her 22nd birthday and shortly thereafter set out on an adventure that changed her life irreversibly and irrevocably. When Susannah bid her sweet grandmother an affectionate farewell in the drawing room of her Mayfair mansion, her aim had not been to escape a society that celebrated conformity, but rather to seek inspiration for her considerable artistic talent. She had no notion that this decision would take her away for more than a few months’ time, nor that it would fundamentally change her life forever. Her grandmother, Lady Alice Carlyle, could not bring herself to accept that Susannah’s desire to travel all the way from England to the Rocky Mountains to paint landscapes and wildflowers, was a well-reasoned choice. Her strongly-worded protests of risky, ill-advised, daft, addled, reckless along with countless other adjectives she put forward had no effect.
Her granddaughter had always been too independent by nature, and this idea was as unconventional as it was impractical. What type of society would Susannah find when she got there? Would she become the victim of some wretched swindler or scoundrel? How would she live day-to-day? What kind of attire would be needed? Would she get lost in the wilderness? Would the Indians kidnap her? Who would care for her if she fell ill? What was the weather like? Had she thought about these things?
In the end, it was her questioning grandmother, the woman who had come closest to showing her maternal concern and unconditional love for so many years, who reluctantly let her go. Susannah was an heiress in her own right and had come into her majority. Lady Alice’s misgivings were assuaged to some degree when Susannah’s former governess, Miss Parker, was enticed to accompany her on an ‘educational excursion’. Therefore, letters of introduction were prepared and it was soon arranged that Susannah and Miss Parker would call on Professor and Mrs. Robert Purfield once they reached Denver, to stay on for three months as their houseguests. The Purfields were the esteemed friends of Lady Alice’s cousin, Lord Morris. Purfield, a chemistry professor, was called to Denver to lend his expertise in building smelters that eventually would extract pure silver and gold. He and his wife, Ella, had rented a home on Lawrence Street.
“Grandmamma, you must not worry so. I plan to take every precaution,” Susannah promised. “I will not let you down.”
“You could never let me down, my child. I am sure you know you mean more to me than anyone,” her grandmother professed with high emotion. “When your parents died, I lost my only son and daughter-in-law. I was heartbroken, but you have filled the empty place in my heart.”
Her grandmother had been her rock in the years since Susannah, at age ten, lost her parents so tragically in a boating accident. Lady Alice had tirelessly provided unwavering support along with the deepest expressions of love to her orphaned granddaughter. At their country estate, Larkspur, Miss Parker had tutored Susannah in reading, writing and sums as well as the finer things ladies were expected to excel in such as embroidery and playing the pianoforte. The introduction of art lessons soon revealed that Susannah had a natural ability and painting emerged as an enjoyable pastime. She loved nature and the outdoors and Larkspur afforded such a peaceful environment, her years spent there were happy ones. Susannah transformed from a heartbroken and sullen little girl, into a self-assured, confident and accomplished young woman. Susannah was an elegant young lady, slender, of medium height and with a sweet smile, one that reached her eyes. She possessed a cheerful disposition and when you met her, you knew unmistakably that you were in the presence of goodness.
“I will correspond faithfully,” she further promised, “and will send some sketches. Do not worry. We will return from our adventure in a few months’ time with many interesting stories to tell.”
The easels, canvases, brushes and art supplies were crated, the trunks were packed and on May 4th, the steamship departed. For Susannah, it was not until she was halfway across the Atlantic and seasickness overcame her, that the enormity of what she was doing settled around her. Green apples and hot tea along with brisk walks around the deck soon restored her equilibrium. Miss Parker kept her spirits up by challenging Susannah to compose humorous light ditties which they then read aloud to each other.
From New York, the ladies journeyed by train to St. Louis and then on to Kansas City before reaching Denver. Their odyssey took them through many cities and towns which soon gave way to rural farms and thick forests. At night, fireflies winked in the distance as they passed quiet lakes bathed in the luminosity of the faded moonlight. Eventually, they crossed the high plains, when, for hour after hour there was nothing to be seen but isolated groups of cattle feeding or roaming in the immense landscape. The many strangers they met along the way were civil and obliging. All in all, the ladies deemed it to be a pleasant journey.
It sometimes happens that once you have decided to strike out on a new course of action, events often transpire to help you. Susannah and Miss Parker had found such assistance in their new friends, the Purfields when they were warmly welcomed into their comfortable home. Professor Purfield was a short, stocky man with a white mustache and sideburns. He was intellectual, spoke with an economy of words and regarded his wife with lively affection. Mrs. Purfield was rotund, jolly and loquacious. Her eyes smiled, even when the
rest of her face didn’t. The Purfields fussed over them, introduced them to others, became their chaperones, shared their knowledge of the area, and accompanied them on outings into the nearby mountains.
It was equally true that the Purfield’s pleasant and accommodating housemaid, Catori, would not only help Susannah get settled in her new surroundings, but would enrich her life in unexpected ways by eventually becoming a significant friend. Catori was half Navajo, tall and slender, with brown eyes and long brown hair that was plaited and tied with a strip of leather. She sometimes wore the native dress of her mother’s people, elaborately decorated with seed beads and pretty glass beads of many colors. But Catori belonged to both worlds and she also had muslin dresses trimmed with lace. At 25, she was older than Susannah, was intelligent, observant, and possessed knowledge that was entirely unrelated to Susannah’s worldly experience. The painted miniatures of Susannah’s mother, father and grandmother had no sooner been unpacked, when Catori inquired about them.
“Are these people your family?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Susannah gazing at them wistfully. “I always carry their portraits with me. When I was but ten, my mother and father died in an accident. It was my grandmother, Lady Alice, who raised me,” she explained as she handed the miniature to Catori.
“I am very sorry to hear it,” she said sympathetically. “To lose one’s parents as a child is heartbreaking. Your grandmother was a special blessing in your life.”
“You are right,” Susannah agreed. “For a long time I was very troubled. I could not accept what had happened. I had bad dreams. I was afraid. My grandmother was always there for me.”
It was a few days later that Catori went looking for Susannah, finding her in the garden.
“I want you to have something,” she began, placing the object in Susannah’s hand. “The Navajo call it a gmunka which means ‘spun by a spider’. To some it is called the dream snare; others call it the dream catcher. Starting today, you must hang this above your bed. It will bring you only good dreams.” It was made of a willow hoop, covered with a net of sinew, and a string of feathers hung underneath. “The Navajo believe bad dreams are trapped in the web and will perish in the light of dawn. Good dreams pass through the center hole and slide down the feathers to the sleeping person.”
“Spun by a spider,” Susannah repeated, “to catch my bad dreams. It is lovely. Thank you, Catori. I wish we might have met each other sooner.”
“Sometimes we need help in overcoming the things we are afraid of,” Catori answered. “We believe the Spirit World of Mother Earth offers a pathway to understanding. The Navajo have a saying, ‘fear makes the wolf seem bigger’.”
Very soon Susannah and Miss Parker were comfortably settled and well rested. They found the city of Denver to be a bustling place. Streets were crowded with a mix of men of the Plains with belts and revolvers, horsemen in fur caps, rich English sporting tourists and many Indians on their small ponies. The climate was invigorating.
Susannah’s early letters sent home to her grandmother conveyed enthusiasm and passion. She was encouraged upon reading some of the excerpts which described the natural beauty of the area.
June 1st – Grandmamma, The grandeur of the Front Range is unsurpassed. It is not a savage wilderness. Love, Susannah
June 3rd – Grandmamma, We had a wonderful adventure today. The ‘narrow gauge’ train, as it is called, slowly carried us westward into the high terrain. Professor Purfield explained that the tracks are built only three feet wide. We went as far as Black Hawk. Beautiful scenery. Wildflowers and cobalt blue skies. I sketched for two hours. Love, Susannah
June 7th – Grandmamma, It is so pleasant to gaze with idle pleasure and complete contentment at the grand and varied scenery which surrounds me. The majestic mountain peaks, cliffs, alpine meadows and valleys are constantly changing with light and shade. All nature is active and exuberant with life. I feel exceptionally blessed. Love, Susannah
However, it soon became clear to Lady Alice, that Susannah was as enthralled with her new surroundings as Miss Parker was disenchanted. A few of her comments revealed the unvarnished truth about what the young ladies were experiencing with greater accuracy.
June 4th – Lady Alice, We are settled in and the Purfield’s have been most gracious hosts. The water supply comes from the South Platte River. The faucets here are fitted with strainers to catch the small fish that come squirming through. Yours faithfully, Miss Parker
June 5th – Grandmamma, The Purfield’s housemaid is named Catori. Her mother was a Navajo. She wears a beaded necklace with animal fetishes carved from turquoise. She believes they will protect her from evil spirits. The chosen totem of her clan is the bear. I know we will become friends. Love, Susannah.
June 10th – Lady Alice, Rough frontiersmen are always in evidence. I do not enjoy living in a country where every man thinks it is safe to carry a loaded pistol. Yours faithfully, Miss Parker
June 11th – Grandmamma, I glimpsed my first hummingbird today – they are tiny creatures and constantly in flight. They dart about so quickly, I am frustrated in my feeble efforts to sketch one. Love, Susannah
June 14th – Grandmamma, Today Catori made us all a special treat called Indian Fry Bread. It is very light, is served warm and dipped in honey. Heavenly! We are in a very different world here. Love, Susannah
June 18th – Lady Alice, I was awakened from my peaceful slumber by a great howling. Professor Purfield says we heard coyotes. They are wild dogs who roam the prairies at night like a band of viscous troublemakers looking for something to pounce upon. Where do the wretched fiends go in the daytime? I need more information. Yours faithfully, Miss Parker
In reading between the lines of further correspondence, Lady Alice became aware of Susannah’s evolving interests.
June 20th – Grandmamma, I want to share my knowledge with others. Otherwise, what is the point of having it? Love, Susannah
Soon afterward, Susannah began tutoring the daughters of several prominent Denver families in drawing and painting. She accompanied them on outings to sketch and paint from nature. Excerpts from other letters persuaded Lady Alice that her granddaughter and Miss Parker were adjusting to their new environment.
June 23rd – Lady Alice, We attended church with the Purfield’s today. A lady in the choir, Miss Mason, sang ‘I will not pass this way again’ giving obvious pleasure to the congregation. Yours faithfully, Miss Parker
However, Lady Alice took note of additional titbits which reminded her of how vulnerable they were, and how grateful she was for Professor Purfield.
July 2nd – Lady Alice, A frightful experience! My nerves are tattered. We were walking along the path, returning to the train, having spent the afternoon sketching, when we glimpsed a Black Bear in the shrubbery. Professor Purfield advised us not to scream or run from the beast, but we moved along as quickly as we could until we reached safety. Loose scree hindered a more hasty exit. A good long sleep will allow this unpleasantness to recede into the past. Yours faithfully, Miss Parker
July 7th – Lady Alice, On today’s outing we glimpsed a prairie dog colony for the first time. They are furry, brown creatures with short tails and pop up from their burrows most comically. They stand on their hind legs and call to each other with a soft bark. Professor Purfield says not to go near their burrows as rattlesnakes frequently investigate them! Yours faithfully, Miss Parker
Further correspondence from Miss Parker hinted at very un-British weather.
July 13th – Lady Alice, A storm of Biblical proportions today! We were beset with heavy rain and large hail in the early afternoon. The locals call it a ‘gully washer’. We remained safely indoors – the hailstones could knock a man senseless. Most of Mrs. Purfield’s garden took a sound beating. A man never knows at what moment his buildings, crop and stock may all be dashed to pieces. Seeing a storm coming is anxious work. Yours faithfully, Miss Parker
It was not long before another letter of an even
more alarming nature reached Lady Alice. The particular excerpt she found troubling read as follows:
July 16th – Grandmamma, The most exciting news! I have met a wonderful gentleman. He rescued us from an uncertain fate and replaced the broken axle in Professor Purfield’s buggy. We were returning from an outing, traveling on a rough country road when misfortune befell us. If Mr. Sprague had not happened along, I cannot imagine what might have become of us all. He was ever so kind. He is so gallant. The Purfield’s were much obliged and Mrs. Purfield invited him to call on us this Saturday. Love, Susannah
Chapter Two
In 1870, Thomas Sprague was working as a gunman for the Rio Grande Railroad, having come to Colorado Territory in 1868 on the Overland Trail. It could be argued that his fortunes had been on the ascendancy so steadily in the years since then, some would consider him one of the luckiest persons ever to breathe air. While this was possibly true, Sprague was also shrewd enough to recognize opportunities when they presented themselves.
His first break came in the spring of 1870 in the form of one Whiskers McGee, a scruffy, old, weather beaten prospector. When Sprague chanced to sit next to him at the bar in a Denver saloon, McGee had already been partaking in ‘the cup that cheers’ for quite some time. A jaw-jacker by nature, his embellished ramblings about gold found in the nearby mountains and references to an area known as Russell Gulch sounded at first like an improbable fairy tale. Then McGee produced a small poke sack from beneath his belt and dumped five little nuggets on the bar. Sprague was suddenly following the story with keener interest.
“My little beauties,” McGee said quietly as he gently fingered each one. “Everything frittered away, the years I spent, and all for you.” He turned to Sprague. “Should have stuck with farming,” he said gruffly. “It’s what I know.” Then he asked, “You read the papers?”
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