Rapture's Gold

by Rosanne Bittner

  Becky O’Toole fell ill that cold December. Confined to her bed with a dangerous cough, she was so weak she was unable to rise from her pillow. Harmony, remembering her promise to care for Brian’s wife, stayed home from the supply store to nurse and feed Becky. Although the woman had not been much company the last several months, for years she had been most kind to Harmony, a true friend. Indeed, she was a kind and sweet person who had not minded keeping little Harmony even when newly wed.

  Now Harmony’s old fear worsened. What if Becky died? Where did that leave Harmony if Brian did not come home? But surely he would return if something happened to Becky! Yes, he would come home and somehow legally assure Harmony of a permanent home. And of course once he got there, he would stay. He’d not found any gold, so why should he go back?

  It was the only hope Harmony had. Soon! Brian would come soon! It had been two and a half years. Even if nothing happened to Becky, he would come. He’d promised, hadn’t he? He’d said two years, and it had been more than that already. He wouldn’t break his promise the way her parents had. Not Brian. He would take care of her as he always had in the past.

  She nursed Becky faithfully, bathing her, changing her gown and bed, rubbing creams on her bed-sore skin, feeding her. The care was time consuming and tiring, and Becky did not get better. Harmony began sleeping outside the sick woman’s room on a sofa, wanting to be close by so she could hear the terrible coughing and go in to help Becky sit up. When the rocking cough tore at the poor woman’s insides, she held her until the spasms subsided and Becky lay back moaning with pain, struggling to breathe.

  It was on one such night, while Harmony lay nearly asleep on the sofa, that she was awakened by a hand on her breast. She gasped and sat up, staring wide-eyed at a grinning Jimmie, who had come home late from the store and had obviously been drinking. She yanked the blankets up to her neck.

  “What do you think you’re doing!” she hissed. “Get away from me!”

  He laughed lightly, sitting on the edge of the sofa. She curled up toward the arm, clinging to the blankets. “We hardly ever see each other anymore, Harmony,” he told her. “I miss you at the store.”

  “Why should I care! And get off this sofa!”

  He reached out to touch the lustrous blonde hair that cascaded over her shoulders, but she jerked her head back, eying him like a she-cat ready to strike.

  “Come on, Harmony. You want me and you know it. We belong together, you and me. You can be my partner. We’ll build another store, and another. We’ll be rich, you and me. The biggest suppliers this side of the Mississippi.”

  “How dare you touch me!” she almost growled. “And how dare you think I’d want to join with the likes of you! Don’t you know how much I’ve always hated you? You get away from me!”

  He snickered. “Harmony. Harmony,” he said chidingly. “You’re such a little girl. You’re just afraid, because you don’t know anything about men. You’ve never had a chance to find out. What a pity—such a wonderful body going to waste. It’s time you married and let a man use that body the way it’s supposed to be used.”

  “And who would I marry? You?” Her eyes narrowed, became hard with hatred. “You get away from me!”

  He sighed and pretended to get up, then suddenly turned and grabbed her hair, jerking her forward painfully and leaning down to kiss her, a hard, painful kiss that hurt her lips. She grasped his wrists, trying to make him let go of her hair, repulsed by his cold lips and rudely searching tongue, and horrified that someone she hated was touching her this way. He would not let go of her hair, so she reached up and scratched at his eyes, making him break the kiss and cry out.

  He quickly grabbed her wrists then, pinning down her arms and burying his face in the fullness of her breasts, mumbling that if she relaxed and let herself enjoy it, it wouldn’t be so bad. Horror engulfed her as she thought of the two men who had grabbed her on the docks. Where was Brian now? If he were here, he’d beat his brother for doing this. But there was no one to help her. Becky lay in the next room only half-conscious and too weak to help even if she were aware of the situation. Harmony recalled Brian’s words—that she must rely on her own will to survive. He was right. She could not expect anyone to help her, to protect her. Even her parents had not done that.

  Jimmie O’Toole, slobbering over her neck, begged her to marry him, telling her what married men and women did to get babies, telling her how badly he wanted to do that to her. His breath was foul from whiskey and smoking, his grip painfully tight on her wrists. His words revolted and terrified her. He moved on top of her, and she felt a hardness against her stomach, realizing it was that with which he intended to show her what he’d been describing. It was all ugly and confusing. She could not imagine doing what he was suggesting.

  He finally released her wrists, sure he’d seduced her into submitting, and he tore away the blankets, one hand moving up under her gown. But she pulled his hair as hard as she could, and he cried out, sitting up slightly. She yanked a leg from under him and kicked out, landing her foot under his chin. In his drunken state he lost his balance and fell backward off the sofa, landing on a small table and flipping it.

  Harmony jumped up from the couch and ran to the fireplace, picking up a poker and waving it at him.

  “If you touch me again I’ll kill you!” she hissed at him. “I wouldn’t want the likes of you if you were the only man alive!” Tears began to fill her eyes—tears of humiliation and horror. Never had she felt more desperate and alone! “You get out of here!” she screamed. “Get out! Go sleep at the store…or with those bawdy women on the other side of town! Let them do whatever it is you want from me! You’ll not get it here! I’ll die first!”

  He slowly rose, panting, rubbing at a sore shoulder. There were bloody scratches over his eyes, and his hair was sticking out oddly. He stood staring at her then, fists clenched, unsure what to do, in pain with the want of her. She was beautiful. He’d touched her voluptuous body and wanted more. But the way she stood there holding the poker…there was something about her—the look of a wild animal ready to kill. He had no doubt she’d swing the poker stick if he went near her, and in her state she’d probably manage to land it right into his skull. He’d been so sure that with a couple of kisses and a man’s touch she’d submit. After all, she was just a stupid kid. Weren’t all young girls curious about boys? Weren’t they all for the taking if a man could get them excited? Not this one. Not the way she was looking at him now.

  “You cold bitch!” he growled. “It’s too bad those men didn’t have at you on the docks when you were six years old.”

  She raised the poker more and he backed away. “All right. I’m leaving.” He sneered. “But you remember one thing, Harmony Jones! You’re not only living in a borrowed house but on borrowed time! When Becky dies, and she will, I’ll be the only one left. Brian won’t come back once she’s dead! Why should he? What’s left to come back to if not Becky? He sure won’t come back for you! You don’t really think he cares about you, do you? You were just somebody to help Becky and work with him at the store, that’s all! Now he doesn’t care about either one, and there are no legal papers saying you belong to him or have a right to anything that is his. If you want to stay on here and be taken care of, you’ll have to come to my bed eventually!” He smoothed back his hair. “I can wait. Someday you’ll have no place else to turn, Harmony Jones! And you’d better not take too long deciding, because when I get tired of waiting, I’ll throw you out into the streets. Then see what happens to you! You’ll be wishing it was me moving over that pretty body of yours instead of the scum waiting for you out there! They won’t be half as kind as I’d have been!”

  His breathing was still rapid, and she moved closer, still waving the poker. “You get out of here!” she repeated, tears flowing fast now.

  “I’m going!” He walked away and then stopped. “And one more thing! When you decide to come to my bed for security and a home, don’t expect me to marry you! I w
ould have, but not now. If you want to stay here, you’ll have to start paying for it, and since you have no money, there is only one alternative! But I’ll not marry you, bitch!”

  He turned and stormed off, but she just stood for several seconds, still holding the poker, watching to be sure he wasn’t coming back. Then she dropped the stick and fell to her knees, bending over and crying, sobbing with horror and humiliation. She did not doubt he’d meant every word he’d said, and her mind raced with indecision. Why didn’t Brian come home? Perhaps he had abandoned her after all, just like her parents. Was there no one in this world who could be trusted? What was she to do at sixteen, with no family, no help, and nothing she could truly call her own?

  She slowly got to her feet, getting a handkerchief and blowing her nose and wiping her eyes. She thought again about the fact that she really had no one but herself. Then she walked to a mirror and stared at her image. She was pretty. Of that there was no doubt. But she was small, only five feet, two inches, and barely a hundred pounds. She was only sixteen and had no family or property. She had nothing to start with, but she was certain she would not make her way through life by letting men use her body the way Jimmie O’Toole had suggested. In fact, after the horror of his touch and his remarks, she was even more convinced that no man would use her that way, no matter what. The only experience she had had with that side of men had been ugly and horrifying. She wanted nothing to do with it. Then a little voice told her that surely it was sometimes pleasurable. Brian and Becky had been blissfully happy when first married. But at the moment she could not imagine enjoying any man’s touch.

  That left her with only her instincts, her strength, and her determination to survive. A coldness crept into her soul. Yes. She would survive, in spite of parents who’d abandoned her, in spite of a guardian who had deserted her, in spite of men like Jimmie O’Toole, in spite of her age and sex. The keys were pride, cleverness, and determination, as well as property and money. She had the first things. Somehow she would get property and money, if she had to dig ditches or scratch the earth to get it! She would ensure that nothing—no one—could defeat her or make her helpless again! Men like Jimmie could never threaten her! She wouldn’t need them, nor did she need him now!

  Her lips were tight, her tears had dried. She would not cry again. She would not beg, and she would not be afraid. She picked up the poker stick and the blankets. She would sleep with Becky in the big bed. Jimmie O’Toole wouldn’t dare come in there and attack her! It was a start—not much, but a start. At least she was thinking about survival. Her next step would be to confront Jimmie, to surprise him by showing no fear. She would go to the store in the morning and get to work. She’d hire a woman to care for Becky, for Becky was so far gone most of the time that Harmony’s presence no longer seemed to matter to her. She’d march down to the store in the morning and go to work. She smiled.

  And she intended to tell Jimmie that she would write to Brian about what he had done. That would bring Brian back, and Jimmie O’Toole would wish he’d never even looked at Harmony Jones!

  The next day, Jimmie looked up in shock when Harmony did indeed walk into the supply store, slamming the door behind her and heading directly to the office in back. He stared at her, then followed, finding her already getting to work on the account books. His voice would not come when she looked up at him with cold green eyes.

  “Why haven’t you kept things up to date?” she asked sternly. “I’ve been away from here for three weeks and everything is a mess!”

  He swallowed. “I…haven’t had time.”

  “You have time to drink and attack innocent girls.”

  He reddened, putting a hand to his aching head. She was pleased to see scabbed scratch marks over his eyes. “I…I’m sorry, Harmony…about last night.”

  She turned away and picked up a quill pen. “Sorry isn’t enough. Have you ordered the seeds as I asked you to do before I left?”

  He sighed deeply. “I forgot. Look Harmony—”

  “Forgot!” She favored him with a scathing look. “You’re as worthless as a pig! You know we always order seeds early so there are plenty on hand for the farmers come spring. And we were nearly out of picks and tin plates and cups down at the warehouse a month ago. There are still plenty of men coming through here wanting mining supplies. Have you restocked those things?”

  He was visibly shaken, and he rubbed at his neck. “I…I’m not sure. Harmony, I really am sorry. I didn’t mean what I did…what I said.”

  “Of course you did. You’ve never liked me, any more than I like you. I’m smarter than you and you know it. Brian knew it too, and that irritated you. I don’t blame you. He’s your brother. But if it weren’t for him, you’d be worthless today. You used him to make something of yourself, and you want to use me to keep this place in business. I’ll not be used. I’ll help you, Jimmie, but I want to be paid for it. And if you ever touch me again, I’ll write Brian and tell him what you’ve been up to. No matter what you say, I know he loves me like a daughter, and if he knows you’re threatening me, he’ll make sure you have no part of this store. You know he’ll do it. In the meantime, I made him a promise to care for Becky and for this store until he returns, and I intend to do just that. It’s already obvious I have to be present here for things to be handled correctly, so I’ve hired a woman to stay with Becky. I’m going to write Brian and let him know she is ill, and I have no doubt he’ll come home to see her. He wouldn’t want Becky to die before he saw her again. And when he gets back, I won’t tell him what you did to me if you don’t touch me from here on and if you cease all talk of marriage. I’d slit my own throat before I’d marry you.”

  Her voice was cool and determined. She was changed, and Jimmie suddenly felt as though someone had punched him in the nose. It was he who felt like the child, like the one being threatened. She had a sureness about her, and somehow he thought she just might be able to destroy him, as long as Brian was alive anyway. She was right about the favoritism, right that Brian would come back to see Becky. Jimmie was furious with himself. He had intended to woo her the right way, to be good to her and carefully talk her into marrying him, for he truly wanted to bed her and he needed her business knowledge. He had chased her away and would probably never get her back. Not that he loved her. But it would have been a wonderful revenge on his brother’s favoritism if he could have made her his wife and taken her virginity…and then made her life miserable. Unfortunately she’d seen him for what he really was. She probably had all along.

  The look she gave him now almost frightened him. She had not reacted the night before the way he’d thought she would, and she did not cower now. For the time being, he had no choice but to play the game her way.

  “I’ll order the seeds…and the mining supplies,” he told her.

  “Fine,” she replied, turning back to the books. “I’ll spend the day getting these figures in order.”

  He stood there for several more seconds, but she did not look up again and he left. As soon as he was gone Harmony breathed a deep sigh of relief. It had worked! Showing determination and authority had worked! He needed her help and he knew it, but by God, he’d not get his way! Inside she was shaking like a leaf, yet she had refused to show it. She had something on him now, and she’d not let him forget it. As long as Brian was alive, even far away, she had a hold over Jimmie. And once she wrote to tell Brian about Becky’s health, he’d come home; then everything would be fine. She was almost glad now for Jimmie’s behavior the night before. Dealing with it had given her courage and had cleared the air between them. Now each knew where the other stood. Jimmie needed the store—it was his security—but he was incapable of running it without her business sense. He needed her. She would work there for a salary and save her money, and if Brian did not return, she’d use that money to start a business of her own so that she wouldn’t need anyone but herself!

  Harmony was pleased with her new power, but before she could write to Brian about Becky
’s health, Becky died of pneumonia, just two days after Jimmie and Harmony’s confrontation. The woman’s death threw Harmony into despair. Again someone she loved had left her. If people did not deliberately leave her, death took them from her. It seemed she was determined never to keep those she loved. A letter was quickly dispatched to Brian, no one knowing how long it would be before he received it at his remote mining site, but immediately after the funeral Jimmie’s attitude changed somewhat. Harmony could see her power slipping slightly, see the old haughty attitude coming back to him.

  “Brian will never come back now,” Jimmie told her the next day at the store. He seemed little affected by Becky’s death, but because of her own sorrow Harmony went to work the very next day. She wanted to keep busy. She did not want to weep. She had promised herself she would not weep or be afraid or give in to her terrors ever again.

  “He’ll come back,” she replied quietly, as she ran a feather duster over some dishes. “As soon as he finds out, reads my pleas to come back for a while, he’ll come.”

  “Becky is the only reason he’d have come. He won’t come for you. I’ll bet he’ll write and say the store is mine and I’m to let you work here and live in the house.” He grinned. “I’ll let you—if you’re nice to me.”

  She cast him a dark look that wiped the smile from his face. “If that happens, I’ll manage on my own. I don’t need you or this store, but I’ll remind you that you need me—and I come a lot cheaper than a professional accountant.”

  “So, you think you can make it on your own, do you? No woman makes it on her own, let alone a sixteen-year-old kid.”

  “I’ll be seventeen soon. And a lot of women make it on their own.”

  “You need a man.”

  “I need no one but myself. And if you want this store to keep running at a profit, you’re the one who’d better be nice to me, Jimmie O’Toole!” She abruptly turned and walked to the office, fully realizing that her position was now precarious but still one in which she could exert reasonable control. She would have to be on the alert now though, constantly on guard against his remarks. She must not falter.