“I’ll bet.” The conductor handed back the ticket, after first studying the name on it. “Raymond Hanner. Glad to meet you, Mister Hanner.”
“Just call me Buck. That’s the only name I go by.”
The conductor grinned. “Well, you have a good trip, Buck. And I hope you get the horses safely to Cripple Creek.”
Buck nodded. “Thank you.”
As the conductor walked farther down the aisle, Harmony stole another glimpse of the stranger called Buck Hanner. What was it about him that attracted her? It wasn’t just his rough, powerful frame and the different way he dressed, or the ruggedly handsome face and intriguing blue eyes. There was a sureness about him, a power, the air of a man who controlled his own life. She wished she could be a man, be one like Buck Hanner, a man who did what he pleased, went where he wanted, took orders from no one. If she were a man, life could be so different for her. She wouldn’t have to be afraid of everything and pretend that she was not. Perhaps that was why most women thought they needed a man, to be all the things they could not be—to do the protecting, to be in control. But not her. She would be different. She needed no man. She would control her own life.
Buck Hanner glanced at her again, flashing that handsome smile and nodding. “Afternoon, ma’am,” he said.
Her face went crimson again. She knew it would be polite to answer, but she must not do it! What would he think! She quickly looked away again, then moved to the seat opposite her so that her back would be to him and she would not accidentally meet his eyes again. Doing so meant she couldn’t watch the mountains looming on the horizon, but that didn’t matter. It was better than feeling his eyes on her, better than not being able to look up without seeing him. She was glad he was getting off at River Bend. That was the next stop. Buck Hanner would be gone then. She would go on by train to Denver, then come down to Cripple Creek on the Denver & Rio Grande, for there was no other easy way to get there, unless one was a horse-riding cowboy like Buck Hanner.
Horse riding! She just then realized she couldn’t even ride a horse. Surely everyone at a place like Cripple Creek knew how to ride. How would she get around? She suddenly felt like crying. She didn’t know anything about the place to which she was going, knew nothing about riding, nothing about mining. What had made her think she could do this? She breathed deeply. She must not falter now. She must not let negative thoughts overtake her. She owned property in Colorado—gold! She would go there and she would learn what she needed to know. Anyone could learn, and she was smarter than most people. She had learned other things. She would learn to ride, learn about panning for gold; and she would be all right.
She sighed deeply, imagining herself falling into that abyss that had swallowed others who had come to this land. How she wished she had one friend—just one! And what about Buck Hanner? He was going to Cripple Creek too. What if she saw him there? What would she say or do, after so rudely turning her back on him? She’d had no reason in the world not to give him a nod or a good afternoon. He seemed nice enough, and what harm could any stranger do her on a train full of passengers? If she had answered him, she might have struck up a conversation and discovered some things about Cripple Creek. Surely he could have told her anything she needed to know.
But it was too late now. She had ruined her chance, but it was probably just as well. If she had conversed with him, he’d have thought less of her, and then if he saw her in Cripple Creek, he’d think he had a right to talk to her. Perhaps he would approach her rudely or try to attack her as Jimmie had done, just because she had spoken to him. No. It was better this way. This way he knew she was a proper lady.
The train rumbled on for two more hours, then came to a stop for lunch. Harmony did not get off. She couldn’t eat. She was too nervous now, too excited. In a few more hours she would be in Denver, a city that was a mystery to her, although she’d heard many things about it. It was difficult to believe there could be such a thing as a big, thriving city in this desolate, endless land. She would not believe it until she saw it for herself.
Several minutes later she saw him—Buck Hanner. The wide-brimmed hat was on his head, and he led a saddled horse. A rifle rested in a boot at the side of the saddle. He tied the horse at a hitching post, then left, returning a few minutes later with two grand-looking horses, one a deep brown, the other a reddish color. He mounted the saddled horse with such ease it was obvious that riding was as familiar to him as walking. Then picking up the lead ropes that were tied to the bridles of the other two horses, he took the reins of his own horse and turned it.
For a brief moment he glanced up and caught her at the window, watching him. He smiled and nodded again, and she turned away. Why, oh why, did she feel so drawn to him? Why was she so fascinated? Surely it was just that his rugged manliness was what she’d pictured men in these places to be like. And it was all the more reason for her to be alert. Such men were probably as rude and demanding as Jimmie—surely much worse! After all, they were men who took charge of their own lives, and she was going to a place where young ladies were a rare sight. She must be very, very careful.
After several minutes she dared to glance out the window again, but Buck Hanner was gone. Why did that disappoint her? Never had she felt so confused by her own feelings. She rose from her seat, walking out to the platform and leaning out to try to see him. Far in the distance she spied a little cloud of dust. She could see three horses and barely make out one rider. Surely it was him. Why did she have a ridiculous urge to call him back? Never in her whole life had she felt or acted so foolishly.
She went back to her seat. Soon the train would be off again, heading north toward Denver. Buck Hanner was heading directly west and would probably get to Cripple Creek before she did. It felt strange to think that when she got to that town, there would actually be one person there that she knew. Yet she didn’t know him at all—had not even spoken to him. He did not even know her name. But she knew his. Buck. Buck Hanner. It had a nice ring to it, a solid sound.
She sighed disgustedly then, angry with herself. Solid? He’d said himself he didn’t like being in one place for too long. He was a drifter, a loner, that was sure. He probably had a woman in every town. And what if he did? Why did she care? She didn’t. She was simply curious about that strange creature called a cowboy. Until now she had only read about them. And she was fascinated by the fact that he, too, was on his way to Cripple Creek. But a character like Buck Hanner would probably already be gone by the time she got there. That was just as well. She totally ignored and denied the truth, for it was too ridiculous and inexcusable to be acknowledged. Nonetheless, it lay deep inside her, creating disturbing new feelings in her young body and mind. She’d been attracted to him, something that had never happened to her, something she did not want to happen. She determined that she would not let it happen again. She would remember her purpose—to go to Cripple Creek, get a map of Brian’s claim, and get supplies. Then she would seek out the claim and pan for gold. She would become wealthy, and forever after she would be in charge of her own life.
She settled back as the train rumbled toward Denver. But every time she closed her eyes to rest, she saw a handsome, tanned face with unusually blue eyes. It angered her. She moved to the other side of the car, where the windows faced the mountains now. She watched the peaks, allowing her thoughts to be lost in the great Rockies so she would forget about a man she would probably never see again.
Denver was bigger than Harmony had thought it would be—a sprawling raw city, booming with growth, but lacking the quiet refinement of St. Louis. In the short time she was there, Harmony could tell that although Denver had its large buildings, its theaters and schools and museums, it did not have the flavor and warmth of a city that had aged. It reminded her of a child not yet fully wise and mature. But there was no doubt that Denver was well established, a city that would not die off as she’d heard many western towns had, especially the mining towns. Denver was the center of all mining activity. It had banks
, investors, and mining company headquarters. Even though mining towns came and went with the rising and setting of the sun, this city would remain the central point for the mining business, for gold or silver or copper or any new mineral that might be found in the vast expanse of the Rocky Mountains.
She boarded a Denver & Rio Grande coach, proud of how well she had so far accomplished her journey. She had spoken to few people and had made her way by asking questions and keeping to herself. She had spent most of her journey reading the books on mining she had purchased, but reading explanations and studying diagrams couldn’t possibly be as helpful as physically panning for gold. Much as she hated to admit it, someone would have to show her how, and she didn’t like the idea of having to rely on anyone to do that. But she would worry about that when she got to Cripple Creek.
Steam hissed from the black engine of the narrow gauge railroad, and they were underway. Now she had a grand view of the blue and purple mountains, their snow-covered peaks fascinating her. She felt a little light-headed, and realized that was because she was not accustomed to the altitude. Or was it simply her excitement? She wondered how far the range of mountains stretched. And how had man managed to get across them? Now he not only crossed them, but railroads had been built over them. Men even lived among the peaks, mining for gold, silver, lead, copper, and all sorts of mineral wealth. And she was going to be a part of all this. It was a wonderful, exciting feeling. She would belong to a special place, own a little piece of land, be her own person. She was no longer dependent and helpless, no longer lost. She knew exactly where she was going, and so far she’d done a good job of getting there. She would ride the D&RG south to Colorado Springs, where she would board a stagecoach that would take her to Cripple Creek. There she would see the assayer and announce her arrival, after which she would buy the necessary supplies, find a trustworthy guide, and go to Brian’s claim.
Brian. Her heart fell a little. She had been so busy and excited, she had not thought of him for a while. It hit her with sudden agony that she would never see him again. Her throat ached, her eyes filled with tears. The kind man with the red hair and brown eyes who had fought off the men at the pier was dead. His lovely Becky, whom he’d been so happy to marry, was dead. Both had been kind to her, had given her a home. If only Brian hadn’t left, if only Becky could have had a baby, things might have been so different. She’d be cozy and warm and safe in St. Louis. She wouldn’t be out here in this wild, strange land, walking among strangers, depending on strangers to help her. She would miss Brian O’Toole, the only father she had ever had. She would even miss the store. She’d gladly have worked there forever if Brian had been there to run it.
But Brian O’Toole was dead—nothing could change that—and it felt good to be away from Jimmie’s evil stares and the constant fear of another attack. She didn’t care what happened to him; she even hoped his business went bankrupt. It would serve him right. Without Brian the store meant nothing to her; St. Louis meant nothing to her. She had learned not to trust others, not to depend too heavily on any one person. Her experiences there had hardened her, trained her for what was now to come, made her independent. She now had stamina and determination. She would rely on her own know-how and judgment. She had decided that she could do anything she set her mind to, and there was no more wonderful feeling than believing that she could, that she would be successful on her own terms, paying her way with good hard work and intelligence and no other way. She knew that she must never show fear in front of others. She must always appear determined, sure, stubborn. She must be proud and forward, demanding and fighting for what belonged to Harmony Jones.
It seemed only a short time until she disembarked from the D&RG and her luggage was being tied onto the top of a stagecoach into which she climbed, settling into a creaky leather seat. Moments later a heavily painted woman climbed into the coach, feathers dancing in her hat, her large bosom billowing over the low neckline of her dress. Harmony could not help but stare wide-eyed at her, for judging by the woman’s shadowed eyes, brightly painted lips, and her garish attire, she was certain this was one of the many prostitutes who came west to make a living off the cowboys and miners.
The painted woman met her stare with kind brown eyes, and she smiled. “Hi, honey. Where you headed?”
Harmony could not find her voice at first, and the woman frowned, looking outside.
“Where’s your ma and pa?” she asked.
Harmony straightened. Was it proper to speak to such a woman? How could any woman take money to be with a man, doing the ugly things Jimmie had once described to her during his vicious attack? She shuddered, and her stomach felt uneasy. She had no choice but to answer the woman, who looked genuinely concerned, and she could not deny that her fellow passenger’s eyes were truly kind.
“I…I have no parents,” she replied. “I’m traveling alone.” She held up her chin, feeling more grown-up with every word. It was time to start being strong and unafraid. “I’m traveling to Cripple Creek, to take over a gold claim my stepfather left me. He’s dead, and—”
“Cripple Creek! You?” The woman laughed lightly, running knowing eyes over Harmony’s prim attire, studying the youthful face and sensing the fear that lay beneath the proud eyes. “You’re just a kid, and a female besides. How do you think you’re going to fare in a place like Cripple Creek, and what do you know about mining for gold?”
Harmony held the woman’s eyes steadily. “I can learn all I need to know, and I will do just fine. I do not intend to stay in town for long. I will leave for Pike’s Peak right away. The claim is mine, and I intend to keep it that way.”
The woman frowned. “Well, I gotta admire your courage, kid. But there’s a lot more enjoyable way to get rich at Cripple Creek. I can attest to that. I’ve just been to Denver and made some big investments, all with…uh…hard-earned money, if you know what I mean.”
Harmony reddened, and the woman chuckled.
“I guess that sounds pretty terrible to the likes of you, but out here it’s considered quite a legitimate way of making a living. Why, one of my best customers is Wade Tillis, the richest man in Cripple Creek. Owns half the town. And he’s a handsome cuss to boot. The only problem is, more and more wives are coming out every year, making a fuss about women like me, wanting to chase us out of town. But they haven’t been able to yet. We have a right to be there. There’s no law against it—yet.” She grinned. “Say, honey, if you have problems or anybody gives you trouble, you come to me. I don’t bite. I’d see that you was safe and sound and well took care of. I live with some other girls in rooms above the Mother Lode, one of the fanciest saloons in Cripple Creek. Wade owns it. If anybody gives you trouble, I’ll send them hopping.”
Harmony reddened, believing the woman was sincere, but she was too kind to tell her she wouldn’t be caught dead running to a whore for help. Everyone might think that she was “one of the girls.”
“Thank you,” she said aloud. “You’re very kind.”
“That’s okay. I was once an innocent thing like you, till my old man up and ran off to the gold fields, leaving me with big debts to pay. Me, I was never very smart, didn’t have any skills. I did the only thing I knew would pay off the debts and keep me from going to prison. Then I came out here. Never heard from my old man again, but I swore I’d never be poor again either. By God, I haven’t been. I’m good at what I do, and I don’t care who knows it.”
Harmony fingered the strings of her purse nervously. “Do you…do you know a man named Buck Hanner?”
“Buck? Sure. He’s about the best-looking drifter that ever landed in Cripple Creek. I’d like to get that one between my sheets, but I’ve never had the honor. Far as I know, neither have the other girls. Buck’s the quiet type, kind of mysterious, you know. He just sort of appeared one day, works at a supply store. He comes over and gambles once in a while, but he don’t drink much, and he don’t say much. He’s well liked, far as I know, but nobody knows much about him. Say, you
know Buck Hanner?”
Harmony shook her head. “No, I…I saw him on a train…overheard him tell a porter he was headed for Cripple Creek. I was just curious, since I know no one there.”
The woman laughed lightly. “I don’t suppose you’re curious because he’s the best-looking hunk of man in these parts, are you?”
Harmony frowned. “I don’t think of men that way,” she answered tartly. “He just seemed like an interesting person.” She scowled and looked out the window of the coach at what someone had told her was Pike’s Peak. It was difficult to tell how far away it was. She had learned already that in this land something that appeared to be twenty miles away could be a hundred miles off, and vice versa. This truly was a strange land, full of strange people.
“Well, maybe you don’t look at men that way, but someday you will, honey; and you’ll find out what you’ve been missing. I’ve got to say, you’re sure pretty. You’d better be careful. ’Course, the men in mining towns have a lot of respect for us women, even the ones like me. Women are a rare sight, although, like I said, more and more wives are coming out now. But there’s a certain code out here that says any man who’d violate or hurt a nice young girl, or even a favored prostitute, ought to be hung for a yellow-bellied coward. I’ve seen it happen. You just keep up that pride and properness, and you’ll be all right. But you’d better be prepared for a lot of remarks and a hell of a lot of stares. You’ll be a tempting sight, I’ll say that.”
Harmony held her chin proudly, folding her arms. “The last thing I care about is men. I just want to get to my claim and be left alone. I intend to be totally independent for the rest of my life.”
A wry grin passed over the woman’s face. “Sure. By the way, my name is Dora May Harper. What’s yours?”
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