by Jo Noelle
However, just having a slim chance made her stomach sparkle like sarsaparilla. The reaction was delicious and confusing. Had he even thought of it again? She certainly had—every minute she was alone.
When she pushed back the curtain around her bed and climbed down the ladder to the kitchen, Millie handed her a large basket covered with a towel. She had been baking cookies for two days, and the rewards of that labor were heavy on both women’s arms.
Callum was driving them into Creede. He already had the buckboard nearly full with boxes of quilts and tea towels to send to a merchant in Denver, and a new lectern crated up to send to a church in Kansas.
“You know I’ll worry for you” Callum spoke up s they rode through town, great concern evident in his voice. “Stay together in a place where you can be seen.” He paused. “Another woman was taken last night. Someone saw it and followed the man. There was a tussle and the woman escaped, but so did her abductor. This town isn’t safe.”
“We will, Callum,” Millie said at the same moment as Julianne promised, “We’ll be extra careful.”
Then Millie added, “There’s nothing to worry about. We’re giving out cookies and inviting people to church.”
Near the mercantile, Callum handed the ladies out of the buckboard. “I’ll have to wait for the freight company to process the charges for all this, and then get these boxes and crates settled in cargo cars before I pick you up again here in an hour or so.”
“We’ll be here.” Millie reached in the back of the wagon and pulled out the large basket before hanging the handle over her arm. Then she reached back in for a sign on a tall slender pole that said, “God is good.” That she handed to Julianne.
“Take your time,” Millie called out as Reverend Bing drove off. Julianne noted a mischievous sparkle in Millie’s eye that Julianne asked about.
“Beatrice gave me this idea in a way. She’s the telegraph operator’s wife. I’ll take you to meet her when we’re done. Anyway, she was giving out baked goods before she started selling them. We’re going to give out cookies but in exchange for souls.”
Julianne waited to see what her friend would ask of her. Millie pulled Julianne across the street to stand at the hitching post in front of the Nugget Saloon. She leaned the basket on the cross-pole of the hitching post and plucked the tea towel from the top.
The sweet smell of fresh molasses cookies wafted on the air. Julianne wasn’t at all surprised when men stopped to tip their hats and offer a good morning, but their eyes always dipped to the treats.
“Good morning to you too,” Millie interjected. “Would you like a cookie? Each one comes with a prayer.”
A man stepped forward. “Thank ye’, ma’am.” He held out his dirt-crusted hand.
“Lord, grant Thy spirit to our day.” Millie placed a cookie in his palm and turned to another man. “For you, sir?”
He nodded, and she repeated the gift, saying, “Lord, help Thou our unbelief.”
Men approached looking weary and left with a spark of joy. Soon, Julianne noticed that a tight mob began to gather around them. She wasn’t used to being in large groups or any groups of men, for that matter, and wanted to run back across the street. But she steeled her legs to resist.
Today I can help my dear, generous friend.
Millie passed cookies and blessings out with speed and precision, inviting each man to attend services in Bachelor on Sundays. When Julianne felt more at ease in the crowd, she moved the sign to lean on her shoulder and dug into the basket to dole out a cookie and invocation. “Lord, walk Thou with us.”
The men came forward to receive God’s love, or maybe just another cookie. Nevertheless, Julianne was happy to help with her friend’s little ministry. Men loitered, building a feeling of friendship and community. If any town needed this, Creede surely did. Julianne wondered what would happen this Sunday if even a portion of these men came.
When the last cookies were given out, Millie and Julianne began singing the old time hymn “Rock of Ages.” Julianne’s voice trembled as their little duet began. “Rock of ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in thee.”
A few men around them joined in with deep bass voices and lifting tenors. Chills swept across Julianne’s arms. This would be a day she would long remember. How grateful she was to have come. She was unsure if she could speak with more than a whisper as the thrill of the moment stole her breath.
“Let the water and the blood, from Thy wounded side which flowed, be of sin the double cure, save from wrath and make me pure.” She looked toward her friend. Two round cheeks, rosy with pleasure, brightened Millie’s face, giving Julianne courage.
She marveled at the change she felt toward this town. Hope. When she had first arrived, she saw a town ripe with iniquity.
While many men approached that establishment, few of them entered. Julianne noticed even the women above stairs leaning out their windows to watch the gathering. Her heart expanded. Her mind marveled on the calling her friend had taken up. If Millie could bring Christ to this forsaken town to save even one of them from this life, it would be worth the whole afternoon and then some.
Three rugged men rode their horses into their crowd like Moses parting the waters. Julianne and Millie stepped back toward the saloon. The singing faltered and stopped as those men divided the group.
The tall skinny one leaned forward on his horse, over the saddle horn and chided, “Look here. We got ourselves a revival, Dougal.”
Dougal, a huge bear of a man, pushed his hat up on his head and spat tobacco into the dirt near Millie’s foot. With brown spittle sliding down the red beard on his chin, he said, “And two pretty preacher ladies, Wade. Which one do you want?”
Julianne felt Millie’s hand tighten in her own as they stepped closer together. Otherwise, Millie ignored the men, and her voice, like a single bird in a quiet forest, began the second verse. She hooked her elbow with Julianne’s.
From a second-story window, directly above their heads, a buxom woman wearing very little yelled in a shrill falsetto, “Get on up here, Dougal. And bring your boys too. We’ve been waitin’ all day for comp’ny. These do-gooders are robbin’ us blind.”
Millie took a few more shuffling steps back toward the saloon doors, pulling Julianne along with her, blocking the entrance and singing all the louder. The group of men began pushing—some trying to get closer to the door, some trying to knock others away, and a very few appearing to protect Julianne and Millie.
Julianne felt the change in the air. The camaraderie was gone, and agitation quickly took its place. She looked around for an escape, but the crowd had collapsed into a tight group.
Another woman leaned out a window, letting the strap of her shift fall from her shoulder. “Come up here, boys. I’ll make you sing.” She shook her shoulders, and the front of her top barely contained her...self.
Julianne wondered if Millie’s little crusade was the right thing to do—handing out the cookies seemed okay but blocking the saloon didn’t. It seemed to her that people had a right to go in. She looked to her friend, “Shall we scoot over a bit?”
Millie’s face showed a determination to not be moved. Her other hand was holding the side of the doorframe, her fingers white with the grip.
The violence around them was increasing, and bodies began to tussle Julianne from all sides. She wasn’t sure how it began, but she thought Dougal started it, and soon the gathered crowd was embroiled in a fierce fight. Man turned on man, throwing punches, ducking and dodging. Fear flashed from Julianne’s head to her feet. It was hard for her to understand the violence she was witnessing, yet she couldn’t move away.
The men were thick as ticks on sheep, all flailing fists or kicking another’s stomach. She couldn’t see any escape until one man pulled another over on himself and both tumbled to the dirt. Julianne thought to run through the gap and tugged on Millie’s arm, but another man leaped from his horse into that very spot, blocking their way. Her heart sank, and her pulse quicken
ed.
The women huddled together. Any hope Julianne had felt for this town minutes ago burst amid the blood and cursing all around her.
Chapter 13
Hugh Fontaine
Hugh’s eyelids seemed weighted with anvils, burning when he forced them to reopen. He shook his head. He’d been up all night but still he’d had to retrieve Willie to help him with his order from the train before it left town. Then, he might come home and sleep half the day.
Talk around his saloon had been disturbing the night before, and he had to try to help. Another woman had gone missing. He couldn’t remember the number that made—three or four for sure. Something had to be done. That’s what all the men said as they sat nursing their drinks.
He was the first to admit this was a town full of bachelors with little regard for personal grooming, table manners, and wholesome ideals. Everywhere he went, the language was foul and the men’s odor was fouler, but a string of unsolved crimes against women seemed lower than a rattler’s belly to him.
He wasn’t alone in that conclusion. When a small posse had gathered last night and set out to investigate, Hugh joined them, looking for who-knew-what—anything suspicious. He’d traveled the road westward toward Lake City, then back again. As far as Hugh knew, there were no leads discovered by any of the men.
It left deepening doubts about building his future in this town. He scrubbed his hand over his face. Those sparks of doubt snapped like lightning when he thought that Julianne planned to make her home here as well.
The sun had been over the mountain ridge for a good hour or more as he rattled his way to the southern edge of town. He dropped his next order off with Arthur Jameson at the telegraph office, and then picked up his current order at the train station.
Dynamite wasn’t the only kind of explosion that rocked Creede, Colorado. Paydays often detonated skirmishes around the town’s saloons for days.
After retrieving his order, Hugh drove up the main street with his buckboard full of kegs and boxes. Willie sat in the back, stabilizing the load. In front of Mr. Anders’ place the Nugget Saloon, he slowed his team and watched a brawl boiling out into the street. Something unusual was going on here for a fistfight to break out at this time of the day, and even the size of this one was unprecedented.
It might be a good idea to park a ways away until this nonsense plays out.
Something brought this large group together with disastrous results. Truly, it was a little comical seeing the men blow off steam from the long days and weeks of toiling in the mines. Hugh chuckled when two men picked up another and dumped him in the horse trough. Water whooshed over the sides, turning the dusty street into a muddy puddle.
He felt a twinge of shame that the way he made his living brought out the worst in men—both gambling and alcohol. They were especially volatile when taken together.
A man jumped down from the boardwalk and stood near Hugh’s wagon, ducking and bobbing while watching the sport. Hugh acknowledged his presence with a nod when the man looked in his direction.
“We got ourselves quite the tussle goin’ on. If I were younger, I might jump in myself.” He laughed heartily. After a moment, the man called out to Hugh, “They’s two purdy temp’rance ladies that got this all mixed up. Whoo-hoo. What a brawl.”
At that moment, Hugh was fully awake. He stood on the footboards of his wagon and saw a bright yellow dress between the shuffling bodies pushed to and fro near the doorway. His gut clenched. He wanted to deny what he suspected.
Surely Julianne has more sense than to go anywhere near that saloon.
He clearly saw a woman he knew—Millie—next to the one with the bright blue hat—Julianne.
Hugh’s body flashed cold as a lizard in an ice storm until scalding fear for Julianne threw him into action. “Take these,” he called to Willie, tossing the reins over his shoulder, and bolting across the narrow street, throwing himself into the fray. He began some hard-fisted tunneling toward where the women stood.
One particularly large man swung his fist at Hugh, who ducked, leaving another man behind him to catch the blow. Two more fists swung his way. He blocked one with his forearm and the other with his chin, unfortunately. His head snapped far to the left as he swayed on his feet, tasting blood in his mouth. He righted himself to get his bearings on where to go.
The crowd pushed and grappled and churned, giving Hugh glimpses of the women beneath a window. He had a ways to go to reach Julianne—he sucked in a deep breath and tucked his chin. The pathway in front of Hugh had closed, but he pushed forward, giving back exactly what he was taking as he battled through the swarming men.
Hugh finally reached the top of the wooden steps leading up to the saloon’s swinging doors and looked for Julianne. She and Millie huddled together a few feet away. Almost there. From his side, a fist slammed into Hugh’s cheek, rocking him backward and down the two steps. He landed between the hitching bar and the boardwalk, his cheek grinding across the gravel.
Flashes of light narrowed his vision, and he shook his head to clear it. He reached deep within himself and willed his body to find the strength to get up. He pushed to his hands and knees while blood pounded in his ears and his breath gasped in and out.
Chapter 14
Julianne Parker
Julianne begged for an end, repeating “Gentlemen, please stop this uproar,” to those who moved around her, but her voice drifted under the grunts and shouts of the men.
She grabbed one man by the shoulder. He turned, socking her in the eye before he even faced her. She fell back against Millie, who again pulled her toward the wall. Her eye flashed with scalding pain. Her nose watered. Or was it blood? Her hand cupped over her injured eye to protect it and to keep the light out. Pain radiated into her cheek and her forehead. Julianne swiped tears from her other eye.
“We’ll get out of this, Julianne. Of course we will,” Millie murmured into Julianne’s ear. Julianne wondered who she was trying to convince.
Like a knight coming to her rescue, Hugh pushed between the bodies in front of Julianne. She was never so relieved to see a person in all her days—and not just anyone. Hugh. The anxiety that had gripped her moments ago was displaced with relief. They were still in the throes of chaos, but she knew Hugh would lead her and Millie to safety.
Deep in her heart, she knew that he was special and apart from all other people, like he was made for her, and she for him. For many years, she had prayed that her husband would be prepared for her and that she would recognize him. She wondered if those prayers were being answered, in the most unlikely of places, and she hardly knew what to do about it. Looking into his face, she was assured that he was that man. As he reached for her, a man grabbed his collar and pulled him backward. Julianne swung her sign and knocked the man senseless.
Hugh crawled back their way and stood in front of them, when a flood of beer dumped over Julianne’s head from behind. Her blue hat sagged around her ears, and ran in rivulets over its bent edges and down her yellow dress.
“Miss Parker, I…I didn’t know…you were here…that it was you. I’m so sorry—I just…”
Julianne wiped the beer from her eyes and turned to see Archibald Grady and another man standing behind her holding the now-empty keg above her head. She threw back her shoulders and shook the alcohol from her distorted hat.
“Apology not accepted.” She shook with fury. Although she should probably be thankful that the keg hadn’t been full in the first place, she wasn’t. She swung her sign again, clobbering Archie across the temple. The pole cracked, and he sank to the boardwalk.
Gunshots rang out until the whole group came to a standstill. The sheriff and a deputy stood in the street. “Break it up and head on home.”
Men grumbled all around them, but did as they were asked. Hugh reached into his coat pocket and raised a handkerchief to Julianne’s face, lightly brushing blood from her lips and nose. His gentle ministrations relieved her suffering more than any doctor could have manage
d. His face bled from the cheek, chin, and lip, yet his attention was on her.
The crowd parted in front of the trio.
Halfway across the street, Julianne froze in mid-step. Callum’s buckboard stood in the street directly in front of them, but three more people were beside him. She knew immediately who was with him, and wished there was some way to hide.
“Daddy? Mama?” Julianne’s hand lifted to her sagging bonnet. How long have they been watching? That was the moment that the sign in Julianne’s clutches splintered and it dropped to the dirt between them.
The serious stare from her father and the way her mother’s eyes didn’t lift from gazing at the ground told Julianne they’d been there long enough. The smell of the incident clung to Julianne, as evidenced by a handkerchief covering her mother’s nose.
Julianne could feel the warmth of shame coloring her cheeks and neck. She couldn’t look at them for long, and it took all her strength not to turn away and cry. She’d left Chicago with grand dreams, and now she stood before them with a swelling eye from involving herself in street brawls. She gave and received a wooden hug from each as they tried to avoid her beer-drenched dress. Then she stepped back beside Millie and Hugh.
Callum cleared his throat and spoke to Julianne. “I saw your folks get off the train and offered them a ride.” His hand touched her father’s shoulder, and Julianne noticed a slight squeeze. Still, the corners of his lips tugged upward. That man found the humor in the most humiliating circumstances. “They thought to surprise you,” he said.
Well, they’d certainly done that. And likely, Julianne had surprised them more than a bit too.
Beside her mother was the pinch-faced junior pastor, Eugene Theodore. Though others might think he was looking her in the eye, Julianne noticed that his focus seemed to be on her wounded eye, his lips turning down with disgust. Finally, his gaze traveled from her eye, but only to evaluate her hair—which, by his expression, was equally repulsive. The last thing she needed was judgment from him. She decided to ignore his presence.
