“Harmony. Harmony Jones.”
The woman scrutinized her closely. “Sixteen?”
“Seventeen.”
Her eyebrows arched. “Oh my! You’re all grown-up then, aren’t you?” She laughed lightly and a man boarded the coach, much to Harmony’s consternation. She wished no one had boarded. She would much rather have finished the trip alone, especially in the cramped quarters of the coach. It was obvious that Dora May Harper was going to babble all the way to Cripple Creek, and her attention turned immediately to the man, who was soon telling the woman all about himself, his eyes on her bosom more often than on her face. At least Dora May kept the man’s attentions on herself and off of Harmony. She was glad of that much.
The coach lurched forward and Harmony grasped a hand grip to steady herself. They hadn’t gone three miles before the man had practically told Dora May his life story, explaining that he was headed for Cripple Creek on behalf of a real-estate firm based in Colorado Springs, and that he hoped to see more of her when they arrived.
Dora May smiled and winked. “As much as you want, honey,” she replied.
Harmony reddened deeply, feeling sick, from Dora May’s attitude toward a complete stranger and from the motion of the coach, both of which mingled with her own excitement and fear so that her stomach actually ached. They rode for several hours, up hills, down hills, past rocky hills patched with sage and small cactus plants, around amazingly huge boulders, through canyons with walls hundreds of feet high.
Harmony soon forgot her concern over the prostitute and the realtor. She practically hung out of the window, gawking at scenery far surpassing what she had imagined. There were waterfalls and forests of pine. Always in the distance, disappearing and reappearing, were the mountains, always changing, seemingly moving, yet ever the same. To her right would be a certain snow-capped peak, then suddenly it would be behind her, on the other side of her, then to her right again. Or was it a different one? How on earth did a person find his way in this maze of rocks and canyons and forests? Yes, she would most certainly need a guide. Had she gotten in over her head? Could she really do this? Had she come to this land to be forever lost, perhaps raped and murdered and thrown over a cliff to be crushed in the fall? Would someone shoot her for her claim? Would a bear eat her, a boulder fall on her? How was she, Harmony Jones, who knew nothing about this land, to survive in it?
Dora May laughed then, and when Harmony looked at her, the man was nuzzling the prostitute’s neck, a small bottle of whiskey in his hand, which lay against her billowing bosom, partly touching the woman’s breasts. Harmony thought of the night Jimmie had dared to touch her own breast, and a chill went down her spine. How ugly! She was repulsed and mortified. She looked away again.
She would survive. Looking at Dora May made her more determined than ever. She would survive in this land and be a successful businesswoman, and she would not do so in the way Dora May was doing it. She would die first. Watching the woman gave her more determination. The memory of her terror of being helpless and alone on the docks made her even stronger. She could do it and she would. Let everyone think whatever they wanted, laugh as much as they wanted, chide her, ridicule her, dare her. She didn’t care. She’d show them all! She had property! She had gold! She had courage and strength. She was Harmony Jones, and she had made it this far. Soon she would be in Cripple Creek, and on her way to her own piece of land.
The trip took two days, and the intervening night was spent at a small stage depot deep in the mountains west of Pike’s Peak. Harmony kept to herself, sleeping on a bench in the corner, but not sleeping well. She was too aware of the distant howl of coyotes and the strange, moaning wind. She told herself she must get used to such things, for soon she would be in her own little cabin on her own property—alone amidst the animals and the elements. She would have to get used to these mountains, learn how to survive here. She suddenly wondered if there was even a cabin at her claim. Surely there was, but what if there was not? She certainly didn’t know how to build one, and she certainly did not intend to sleep outside.
The coyotes barked and howled again, and in another corner Dora May giggled and whispered with the realtor. What kind of a place had she come to? Perhaps this land was much more lawless, much more wild and dangerous than she had anticipated. Still, she was here, and there was no going back. Harmony buried her fear, her loneliness. Again the awful feeling she’d experienced as a little girl on the docks swept through her, and she wanted to cry. But she dared not. If she cried now, she’d never stop. She’d turn around and run back to St. Louis. She couldn’t do that. There was nothing there for her. All she owned, all that could keep her independent and give her security, was here in this place called Colorado.
Morning finally came, and she raised her aching body, sore from lying all night on the hard bench. She boarded the coach, saying nothing to Dora May and the realtor, who both had red eyes and seemed to be suffering from headaches. They slept most of the way the next day, and when the coach rattled into Cripple Creek, only Harmony was awake to watch. The muddy main street was thronged with men, but she couldn’t see a woman anywhere. The coach clattered by a sign that said Assayer’s Office, and she made a mental note of its location as they headed farther down the street, stopping in front of the stage station.
Harmony put a hand to her chest. She was here. She was really in Cripple Creek! The driver walked around and opened the door, and she ducked her head and stepped out. Several men went thundering by on horseback, mud flying; and she could hear the tinkle of piano music from a nearby saloon.
Chapter Four
Cripple Creek was bigger than Harmony had imagined it would be. Movement and noise abounded, and the muddy main street was lined with saloons, banks, smithies, supply stores, carpenters’ shops, real-estate offices, food stores, liveries, everything imaginable. Harmony thought it would be easy for someone to get rich in a place like this just by supplying miners. Already her business mind was whirling. If she could make a success of Brian’s claim and get enough money from it, she would not only have a gold mine, she would go into the supply business, something she already knew well. Yes! She was more sure than ever that she was going to make it. Someday Harmony Jones would have all the money she needed to be secure. She turned to the driver, assuming the air of a confident woman.
“Where is the best hotel?” she asked. “One I can stay in and count on not being disturbed?”
The man eyed her closely. “Young lady, you’ll have trouble not being disturbed. But you can try the Lone Pine Inn, just up the street a ways.”
“Fine. Take my luggage there and I’ll pay you as soon as I come back. Would you do that for me? I have to go to the assayer’s office right away.”
He nodded. “Whatever. Watch your step now.”
She turned, lifting her skirts away from the mud and stepping onto a boardwalk. She walked quickly toward the assayer’s office, looking at no one but feeling eyes on her. It seemed to take an eternity to reach the door of the assayer’s building, but she finally went through it, glad to be out of the street. She approached a well-suited man who sat behind a counter. His eyebrows arched when he saw her, but his eyes shone with pleasure and she knew he was hoping she was a new prostitute come to town.
“Jonathan C. Humes?” she asked.
“That’s me,” he answered, rising. “What can I do for you, ma’am?”
“I am Harmony Jones. I’ve come to take over the gold claim awarded me by Brian O’Toole, as stated in your letter to me.”
His eyes moved over her, and he laughed lightly. “You serious?”
Her own eyes narrowed. “I am very serious, Mister Humes. Do I need to sign anything?”
The man’s smile turned to a scowl. “Yes. I have a claim form for you to sign.” He pulled out a form from a file, scanning it briefly. “I had this ready but I didn’t think I’d ever use it.” He laid it out on the counter for her signature, handing her a pen. “You’d better go tell Wade Tillis
you’ve come to claim O’Toole’s property. He’s put his own claim on it, pending your not showing up.”
“Wade Tillis?” She frowned. She’d heard the name.
“Over at the Mother Lode,” the man said slyly, “if a girl like you dares to walk in there.”
Harmony’s eyes grew colder. She was feeling more determined as each second passed. “You mean Wade Tillis, the man who owns half the town?”
He looked surprised that she would know. “He’s the one.”
She signed the paper. “Fine. I shall go notify Mr. Tillis that I am here. If he has any men on my property I shall tell him to get them off, and if he has taken any gold from it, he’d better make restitution. I’m not afraid of a gambling man who sits in a saloon all day and sleeps with whores at night.” She handed him the claim form. “There. Is there anything else?”
The man looked shocked. “No, ma’am.” He knitted his eyebrows in close scrutiny of her. “You sure you know what you’re doing, little girl?”
“I know exactly what I am doing.” She turned and marched out. She wanted nothing more than to go to her room and soak in a hot tub, and then run right back to St. Louis. But she was here now, and there were things to be done. She walked briskly back up the street, stopping in front of three men languishing on the boardwalk with a bottle of whiskey.
“Excuse me,” she said boldly. “Would you please tell me where I can find the Mother Lode saloon?”
One of them grinned. “You gonna’ be workin’ there, honey?”
“I am not!” she replied sternly, her face hard and cold. “I have business with a Mr. Wade Tillis.”
Another rose and came closer. “Yeah? What kind of business might that be, pretty little girl?”
She pulled out her small revolver and pointed it at him. “My business, that’s what kind. And I am not what you think, so get away from me or I’ll use this.”
The man’s eyes bulged, and he backed up. “Relax, lady. We won’t do you any harm. The Mother Lode is up a ways, just past the stage depot, same side of the street.”
She put the gun back into her purse, then turned and headed for the saloon. The three men quickly followed, interested to see what was going to happen, and behind them the assayer also followed, his curiosity compelling him to go and watch a confrontation between little Miss Harmony Jones and the powerful Wade Tillis.
Inside Harmony was screaming with fear, but she would be damned if she was going to show it. She intended to earn respect and cooperation right away. The sooner she did this, the fewer problems she would have later with people who doubted her bravery or determination. And what did she have to lose now? Nothing. She had only herself. No one who cared about her or depended on her. She reached the swinging doors of the Mother Lode, and without hesitation she walked through them, into a room full of smoke and talk and several tables ringed with men playing cards. Peanut shells and cigar and cigarette butts lay strewn on the floor of the otherwise elaborate saloon, which sported an elegant mahogany bar, gaslight chandeliers, and red wallpaper with velvet designs. Someone played a racy song on a piano, but within moments the playing stopped, as did most of the talking, for nearly everyone had turned to look at the beautiful young lady attired in very elegant Eastern clothing, who had just entered. She did not have the look of a prostitute. Even more enticing was the fact that she looked just the opposite—a young innocent, probably still a virgin. Why on earth had she walked into this place?
Harmony’s heart pounded furiously, and she felt her cheeks flushing under the stares of what seemed a thousand eyes. She looked around the room, seeing no familiar faces, not even Dora May, who was probably already upstairs in her room with the real-estate man.
“I am looking for Mr. Wade Tillis,” she announced.
Nearly all heads turned then, focusing on a tall, dark man who stood at the bar. The man flashed a handsome smile, but something about him, an air of evil perhaps, took away from his handsomeness. He wore an expensive suit with a satin vest from which hung a gold watch chain. His nearly black hair was slicked back, and Harmony guessed him to be roughly in his late thirties. He came closer, his dark eyes running over her and making her feel naked, as Jimmie had sometimes made her feel. Already she did not like this man, which only gave her more gumption. He would not control her any more than Jimmie had. He towered over her then, standing no more than four feet from her so that she had to look up at him, making her seem even smaller and younger.
“I’m Wade Tillis, little girl. What can I do for you?”
“I am here to tell you that I am Harmony Jones, ward of Brian O’Toole and sole inheritor of his gold claim. I have come to legally take what is mine and I will be going there soon to work the claim myself. I am told it’s possible you have men up there, taking what belongs to someone else. I want them removed immediately, and if you have stolen any gold from me, it should be returned.”
He stared at her quietly for a moment, then began to snicker. Soon he was laughing loudly. The others joined him. The picture of a young slip of a girl standing before them and making demands on Wade Tillis was too amusing to permit them to keep silent, although most of them were already taking the side of the helpless little girl who was so bold and brave. They were laughing at her but also rooting for her. She stared boldly at Tillis, unflinching, not moving back an inch.
Tillis’ laughter finally subsided and his smile faded. He stepped closer, reaching out and pulling on a blonde curl. She jerked her head back and pulled out her little revolver.
“Touch me again and I’ll kill you!” she said calmly. The room went silent, and men grinned at each other, rooting even more for the spunky little girl. Harmony knew this was a drastic move, but she was desperate. She must make her stand immediately and firmly. If she showed one ounce of fear, it was all over for her. In the background, standing in a corner where she had not seen him when she’d come in, stood a tall, handsome man wearing a blue scarf at his neck, his blue eyes watching the show with interest. So, that was the girl’s name. Harmony Jones. Buck Hanner watched her with intense desire. He liked her spunk, which only enhanced her beauty. And he knew the kind of man Wade Tillis was. Nothing was going to happen to Harmony Jones if he could help it. He put a hand on his gun, quietly moving closer.
Tillis’ eyebrows arched in near shock, and he put on a nervous grin. “Well, now, aren’t we bold?” He stepped back a little. “I suppose you know I could get that gun out of your hand faster than you could fire it, and that I have a lot of men in this saloon who could come up behind you and carry you off—right back to the stagecoach to send you back where you came from…or up to my room.”
She cocked the pistol. “Try it. Do you want to risk dying just to see if you can grab me first? They told me this gun might be little, but it makes big holes.”
His smile faded again, and she relaxed, suddenly sensing support from several people in the room. It gave her more courage.
“I might remind you, Mr. Tillis, that claim jumping can be a hanging offense. That much I know. There is a code among miners about jumping, and about stealing someone else’s gold. So get your men off my property. Send someone up today if you have to. I am told the claim yields roughly five dollars a day in gold. Brian O’Toole died last March fifteenth. It is now June eighteenth. That is three months. Three months times thirty days is ninety days. And ninety times five is four hundred and fifty dollars, Mr. Tillis. Figuring the time it took to get men up there and all, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and will expect only four hundred dollars. I would prefer cash.”
There were several snickers from the crowd, and Tillis flashed them a look of dark anger. He turned his eyes back to Harmony. “What the hell are you talking about!” he hissed.
“I’m saying you owe me four hundred dollars. I have no doubt that you have been sifting gold from my claim over these past three months, since I’ve had no one there to work it. That is a hanging offense. I think most of the men in this saloon would agree you’
d better pay me or be guilty of stealing someone else’s diggings.”
Buck Hanner grinned. She had him. The crazy little girl had him, and she knew she had a good share of the people there already on her side. She was not only beautiful and brave, but clever and intelligent. She still held the gun on Tillis, whose face was almost black with rage. The man reached into an inner coat pocket, and Buck’s hand gripped his gun tighter, but Tillis brought out a wallet. He deliberately let Harmony see that it was stuffed with money. He took out a wad of it and fanned out four hundred-dollar bills.
Harmony snatched the money from him as though she thought his hand might bite her. She backed up then. “Send someone up right away to get your men off my property,” she told him again.
Tillis assumed a smile again, pretending not to be too upset, pretending he thought this was all very funny and that he hadn’t really lost at all. “Sure, honey,” he answered. “I’ll send someone up today. Besides, the claim will end up mine. You’ll give up soon enough, unless a grizzly gets you first—or the cold or loneliness or some drifter who decides to have you for dessert.” His eyes roved her body again. “You could make a lot more money right here in town, if you had any sense.” He grinned. “In fact, if you moved in upstairs, you’d be a wealthy woman in no time at all—and you’d have saved yourself all that hard work.”
Her eyes hardened, and her cheeks became crimson, but she still held the gun. “I like hard work, Mr. Tillis. I like it just fine. I’d rather work my fingers to the bone twenty-four hours a day than make my money the way you’re suggesting. And I’ll do it! There is nothing you can do to frighten me or threaten me. That claim is mine, free and clear, and I’ll kill any man who steps foot on it without my permission!”
She finally lowered the gun, slipping it and the money into her handbag. Then she quickly turned to leave.
“Miss Jones!” Tillis called out. She stopped but did not turn around. “Good luck, Miss Jones,” he said with a sneer. “You’re going to need it.”
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