“Of course,” said Mrs. Purfield, as she mentally flogged herself for such a lapse in her knowledge of cooking at a high altitude.
“You may be interested to know that not all the miners in our employ take their meals here,” Jack informed them.
“Oh,” said Mrs. Purfield, “and why is that?”
“Some men do not like other men’s cooking. They insist on finding a boarding house in nearby Pine Creek which employs a female cook.” This observation was followed by more silence. The ladies were not ignorant of the other reasons which might entice lonely men to visit Pine Creek.
Then, without warning, there was an unexpected and very loud boom which caused Miss Parker, who had already experienced more than her share of nerve-rattling moments, to jump straight out of her chair with an involuntary yelp. “Not to worry, Miss Parker,” Jack said reassuringly. “The miners are blasting some of the ore loose.”
“How frequent are these explosions?” asked Susannah.
“A good question,” said Jack. “The miners drill blasting holes using hand-powered augers. Drilling a hole into solid stone with such a tool may take a few hours. Progress is slow. We have not yet exhausted our exploration of the shallowest parts of the veins. I can show you some rock samples if you like,” he said hopefully. Examining samples of gold ore was an activity the ladies did not find the least bit tedious.
“You know,” said Jack, “back home you have a very fine museum with extensive geologic displays.”
“Yes,” Susannah answered. “The Natural History Museum in South Kensington is the one I think you mean.”
“Indeed, on Exhibition Road,” Jack affirmed.
“You have been there, Mr. Simmons?” asked Mrs. Purfield.
“I have,” he said enthusiastically. “And I was very impressed. I learned a great deal at your museum.”
“It is a small world, is it not, Mr. Simmons?” said Susannah.
The ladies became deeply engrossed in looking for the glittery gold in each little specimen that was passed around. The rest of their time with Mr. Simmons was spent most agreeably.
“Thank you for sharing your expertise with us, Mr. Simmons,” said Susannah with a smile. “I think we all enjoyed our first lesson in gold mining today.” A blush crested her cheeks and they both knew that a friendship had been formed. Jack stared longer than he should have at the whorls of dust left by the departing buggy. Thomas had met this lovely English rose first.
Before Susannah returned to the train depot and left the mountains that day, Thomas briefly spirited her away and she watched as he carved their initials into the bark of a sturdy aspen tree. He gathered her into his arms, his gaze lingering on her lips for only a moment. Then Thomas kissed her thoroughly, possessively, tenderly. Thinking became impossible for Susannah. Her every sense tingled with awareness. They were both absorbed in the quiet sounds of passion. Thomas had won her heart. In 1874 they were married.
Chapter Four
July 1876 - Denver
Monday was always wash day, no matter what the weather. A large tub, a scrubbing board, Sapolio soap, strong arms and a plunger to give the clothes a good pounding, were all that one needed. It was a warm, sunny day with a clear, uncluttered sky when Catori, who had left her employment with the Purfield’s to become the Sprague’s housekeeper, pinned the last garment to the line. The linens billowed in the soft breeze; they would be dry soon enough. Meowing pitifully, Fluffy Lucero was rubbing against the back door; he was making the neighborhood rounds again. The ever-bountiful cook, Mrs. Sheppard appeared with a scrap of breakfast sausage. She gave the cat an affectionate rumple before disappearing back inside.
A hummingbird trilled past Catori, darting from flower to flower in its frenzied quest for nectar. The majestic mountains to the west hung suspended against the sky. Catori glimpsed their lofty, white-capped peaks. It was a scene that was peaceful and familiar and made the heart swell up. She wiped her brow. She had many responsibilities. Catori took care of the gardening and did much of the canning and churning. She had already put in what seemed like a full-day’s work washing the linens and it was yet only morning. However, this was a pleasant tiredness due to the anticipation everyone felt for the days of celebration ahead. Very soon, Colorado Territory would become the 38th state. A scant 75 years had passed since Lewis and Clark were the first white men to explore the western wilderness. Things would never be the same again and Catori sensed the excitement of it. Dignitaries and tourists were already converging here in Denver in great numbers to share in the celebration.
Catori also thought about ‘statehood’ with a conflicting sense of bewilderment. She was half Navajo, granddaughter of High Elk. Her Navajo mother and American frontiersman father had imparted to Catori the customs of the whites, but also ‘the old ways’ of the native tribes. She was a member of the Dine, or ‘the people’, what may be called the Navajo tribe of Native Americans. Among the Indians, earth was a shared asset, like sun and water. You did not own the land; you borrowed it briefly from your children and grandchildren, and you lived in harmony with it.
Peals of laughter came from the carriage house. This was the last art lesson the girls would be receiving for a while. Catori’s mistress, Susannah Sprague, was an accomplished artist and a portion of the carriage house had been converted into her studio. She was currently instructing her students in tinsel painting. As beginners, the students’ artwork consisted mostly of pictures of birds and flowers to be displayed perhaps in a parlor or hallway, but a few had also painted chess and checker game boards. Susannah was suspending the lessons for now in order to help Catori and the others prepare for their houseguests. On Wednesday they would be arriving on the two o’clock train. There was much that yet needed to be done. Catori was content to have found a place in the Sprague’s household. She liked them both.
A lone raven croaked menacingly overhead, its black plumage and harsh sounding call, unmistakable. The bird kept circling, its gaze focused, as if searching, seeking. Catori observed it for several moments. Considered a bird of ill omen, she wondered if the appearance of the raven was a sign, and if so, what it might portend for the future.
Chapter Five
July 1876 - Denver
Mrs. Susannah Sprague had arrived at the train station early and with great enthusiasm, anxious to welcome her guests properly after their long journey. This day, she was stylishly dressed in a split skirt effect blue charmeuse satin and wore an attractive bonnet, graceful blonde ringlets framing her face. Susannah impatiently walked the length of the wooden platform several times with her housekeeper Catori in tow. Her gloved hands were busy strangling her reticule as she watched and listened like a nervous Nellie for any signs of the Denver Pacific locomotive. Catori knew her mistress well, and while she could not contain Susannah’s nervous excitement, she conceded it was always better to exhaust oneself due to a happy occasion.
Amid the enjoyment of Colorado statehood celebrations, Susannah was this day expecting her grandmother’s friends and neighbors who had traveled all the way from England. Edward Mansfield and his sister Charlotte had been her own friends and neighbors as well during those years when she lived with grandmother at Larkspur. The Mansfield’s owned the very substantial neighboring estate, High Park, and raised sheep. Susannah had last seen them two years before, when she briefly returned to England with her American fiancé, Thomas Sprague, for their nuptials.
The Mansfield’s had been traveling now for nearly a month. The ocean voyage from Liverpool to New York and then on to Denver by train, usually took a total of 17 days. However, their first stop was to visit the Centennial Exhibition in Philadelphia. As the Mansfield’s had long expressed an interest in seeing the West, acclaimed the ‘Switzerland of America’, and with statehood festivities at hand, it seemed to Susannah the perfect opportunity to arrange a visit.
For nearly fifty years, curious and wealthy British aristocrats had been lured to the American West to view the enchanting landscape, ob
serve the Indians and hunt big game including elk, bear and bison. They returned home with fantastic tales, beaver hats, deerskin trousers and bragging rights, inspiring others to follow in their footsteps. Initially, the journey into this wild and untamed terrain had been no place for gently-bred women. But even four years earlier, in 1872, Denver was an established crossing point for five railway lines. Although the city still boasted drinking saloons for miners and ranch hands, it was losing its frontier rawness and was a bustling place with good shops and fair hotels. Rhapsodic accounts were published about the features that made the territory so attractive – the spectacular sunrises and sunsets, the brilliancy of the stars at night, the alpine meadows blanketed with flowers, and hummingbirds whirring among the shrubs. Tourists arrived by rail from the East and overseas, but more importantly, the railroad brought 100 new residents to Denver every day.
As the Denver Pacific locomotive labored on toward the city at a remarkable 25 miles per hour, the faint outline of blue, snow-capped peaks became visible far in the distance. Edward Mansfield and his sister Charlotte had spent a week visiting the Centennial Exhibition. It had been entertaining and impressive but left them rumpled and exhausted.
The Exhibition’s motto was well known – “1776 with three million people on a strip of seacoast; 1876 with forty million people from ocean to ocean”. There was a great deal for a visitor to take in. No one could hope to see everything in less than two weeks, spending every day at the Exhibition. They found the Horticultural Hall to be a paradise of flowers, tall palm trees and tropical plants. The ride on the glass-enclosed circular elevator which rose 185 feet, gave them a bird’s-eye view of the whole Centennial from Sawyer Observatory. They sampled the new ‘Hires Root Beer’ and watched ladies dance outrageously at the ‘Can Can Palace’. They glimpsed the largest opal in the world, said to be worth $25,000 and heard The Star-Spangled Banner played more times than they cared to count! The stories of their trip would be further embroidered as time went on.
It was good to escape from the sweltering July heat of Philadelphia. Mansfield had economic reasons for ending his visit there as well. All this flitting about the countryside was costing a fortune. Adding to his troubles, he had foolishly gambled a large sum of money in Philadelphia and lost. As it happened, an international regatta was being held on the Schuylkill River which included a four-man crew from Trinity College. While at Cambridge, Mansfield had done a bit of rowing himself and was a member of the University Boat Club. He was confident in the superior ability of the Cambridge team and they did win their first race. The next day however, several crew suffered an unexpected bout of dysentery, brought on by contaminated drinking water, and it was severe enough to force the Cambridge team to stop rowing in the middle of the race. A sure thing had become a costly mistake.
Mansfield had not yet run out of funds, but his financial situation was precarious and the clock was ticking. He had no business making foolish bets. Back home, a bad market, sickness in the flocks, blighted crops and new taxes had all taken their toll. Charlotte was blissfully ignorant of their troubles and never gave any thought as to the origin of her generous monthly allowance. She never inquired about the state of her brother’s finances. It was considered vulgar; she was a lady.
Mansfield looked up from the book he was reading. Train travel had grown tedious. He had come into contact with ‘the other half’ on every portion of this journey, having rubbed elbows with the poor, with country rubes and even with scruffy backwoodsmen wearing leather jackets and moccasins. These people are so provincial, he thought.
The train slowed; Mansfield gathered his hat, gloves and walking stick and went to look for the others. Their traveling party also included his valet, Mr. Warren and his sister’s personal maid, Miss Prescott, as well as his bodyguard, a beefy Irishman named Brophy. The swell of passengers departed the train. The station platform soon became more crowded than a duchess’ drawing room. Within minutes his welcoming committee consisting of Susannah and her housekeeper Catori stepped forward.
“At last!” Susannah exclaimed with genuine affection as she grasped Charlotte’s hands. “You are here safe and sound,” she continued brightly, giving Mansfield a chaste hug. Introductions were then made all around. “I am sorry Thomas could not be here with me to welcome you. He is due back from the mine later this afternoon.”
Edward Mansfield had always cut an imposing figure. Fresh-faced and handsome, he had expressive brown eyes, a high forehead, brown, curly hair, and a thin mustache. Tall, confident and articulate, he was accustomed to being treated with deference wherever he went.
Catori quietly observed as her mistress exchanged pleasantries with their guests, giving her ample time to take his measure. Even the most powerful first impressions could mask a different truth. To Catori, Mansfield seemed to possess a prim hardness and an excessive self-regard.
“You must be weary after such a long journey,” said Susannah. “I know I would be.”
“It feels quite good to stretch one’s legs,” Mansfield replied. “The passenger coaches were stuffy.”
“We have had quite an adventure and I admit to being tired,” agreed Charlotte. “A cup of tea and a hot bath would be just the thing.”
“We will have you comfortably settled as soon as may be,” Susannah assured her. “Our home is but three miles. I am anxious to hear all about the Philadelphia Exhibition and also how Grandmamma was when you last called on her. I last visited her in March.”
“You shall have a full report. Is that snow I see on those mountains in the distance?” asked Charlotte. “Surely the calendar says it is July.”
“Your eyes do not deceive you,” was Susannah’s answer. “The highest peaks are capped with snow all year round.”
They made their way through the throng to the waiting buggy. The Sprague’s driver, Mr. Lawson, helped load the trunks onto a hired wagon and very soon both conveyances were on their way. Susannah pointed out some of the more interesting features of the young city. They glimpsed many horse-drawn street cars and passed the ‘American House’ – a new, three story hotel which boasted a bathroom on every floor.
The Capitol Hill area stood in contrast to Denver’s generally flat terrain. It was the most fashionable neighborhood. Those seeking to flaunt their affluence wished to live ‘above’ the rest of Denver and Capitol Hill was the ideal location. The architecture of the palatial mansions was varied and those who flocked to the area demanded their homes stand out. Many of the stately classical edifices featured towers, turrets and gables. They glimpsed peacocks strolling the landscaped grounds of one mansion.
The Sprague’s lovely home at fifty-six Grant Street was nestled among a group of impressive two-story brick mansions. It was built of Colorado rhyolite and sandstone. The mansion had a Romanesque design and contained fifteen spacious rooms. They walked up several wide granite steps and noted the elegant etched glass windows above the main entrance. They were beautifully decorated with Columbines, Forget-me-nots, Indian Paintbrush, and other native flowers. Susannah led her guests into a spacious foyer of highly polished oak paneling and parquet floors where a rosewood pier table displayed an elegant porcelain Chinese vase. Two maids stood ready to help them and politely curtsied.
Mansfield surveyed his new surroundings with envious eyes. It was clear to him that gold had created Denver and many people, including Susannah, possessed it. Susannah Carlyle (now Sprague) had first come into his field of vision years earlier when she lived on the neighboring estate with her protective grandmother. When Susannah came into her inheritance, Mansfield had been set to court her, but his intentions had been confounded when the unexpected news came of her trip to America. He was here now, and so was she. She was as alluring as gold to a miser. The landscape before him seemed ripe with possibilities.
Chapter Six
Jack Simmons stood before the mirror beside his wardrobe and surveyed his appearance. This evening he would be dining at the home of the Sprague’s. They wer
e hosting some friends of Susannah’s who were visiting from England, and there was to be a large dinner party. Jack looked very gentlemanly in a white linen shirt, black waistcoat and brown trousers. His brown hair was neatly combed and his mustache and sideburns trimmed. As he dressed and groomed himself, Jack’s mind wandered and he recollected the unlikely odyssey that had led him to this moment.
When Jack Simmons had established himself in Denver in 1869, he knew he had come home. It was exciting to be part of a thriving young city in the midst of an economic boom. Denver offered an intriguing mix of characters, all newcomers like himself, from many walks of life and nearly every corner of the globe. It was a place of commerce and trade and business opportunities on the untamed western frontier, but without the dust and stench of a cow town.
College educated and from a well-connected, affluent Connecticut family, Jack could easily have comfortably lived out his life in New Haven or Hartford or Greenwich. But he sought adventure, wanted to try new things, and much like Susannah, was lured west by the endlessly breathtaking scenery. With an inheritance from his grandfather and the reluctant approval of his family, Jack headed west. Shortly after settling in Denver, he was presented with an opportunity to invest in a cattle ranch. The plan was to take one hundred shorthorn Durham bulls to run with the existing herd to improve the breed. This yielded an impressive return once the steers went to market. The demand for beef was growing, the market expanding. Jack reinvested his profit the following year with similar results.
As a financial backer, his role did not require him to do any of the grunt work associated with his investment, such as calving, roping and branding, driving the herd or recovering mavericks. But he wanted to learn all aspects of the business first-hand and frequently joined the cowboys on the open range. This was where Jack had found some of his most contented moments: sitting around the fire with the men and listening to their stories while the blue smoke curled upward, watching the sun setting over the mountains, sleeping under the stars or joining in a friendly game of cards. It was the sort of life that fostered independence and self-reliance. For the cowboys, a good gun, a good horse and a good woman waiting back home were all that one needed to achieve happiness.
The Gold Miner's Wife: A Young Woman's Story of Romance, Passion and Murder Page 3
