Rapture's Gold

by Rosanne Bittner

  But he couldn’t be too careful. He worked his way even farther down, then hoisted himself up and hastily crawled into an alley. He was chilled, quivering. He wondered if he would die of pneumonia after all he’d gone through to be free again. He moved quietly through the alley and into a back street. He heard voices and music in the distance, but he had no money and was wearing only his trousers. He could think of only one kind of person that just might help him. He hurried down the street toward the booming piano music and the mixture of men’s and women’s voices shouting and laughing.

  Buck awoke to soft sheets, thinking at first he must be dreaming. He rolled onto his back and stretched, rubbing his eyes and opening them to view gaudy wallpaper, pink with red roses. He curled his nose and blinked, then allowed his tired eyes to meet the brilliant wallpaper again. Finally he glanced around the room, which held only the bed and a dresser, and a few flashy dresses that hung on hooks on the walls.

  He ran a hand through his hair, sitting up slightly and trying to remember where he might be. This was certainly not the hold of a ship. Even the scent of cheap perfume in the air smelled wonderful. He moved his aching legs back and forth against the wonderfully soft sheets, then realized he was naked. He looked down at himself in surprise, seeing also that he was very clean. Someone had bathed him. He felt his face, and it was shaved smooth, without even a cut.

  He settled back and smiled. Whatever this was, it was certainly not a prison. Tears came to his eyes at the realization that he must be free. It was glorious to awaken to a clean body and clean sheets and a real room on land! This room did not sway and lean. It did not stink. A breeze came through the open window then, carrying with it the scent of the sea and creating momentary panic in him. He was starting to rise, to go to the window and make sure he was on land, when the door opened and a young girl with raven black hair entered. She was wearing a silk robe that was obviously her only covering. The points of her large breasts were clearly visible beneath the cloth as she came closer.

  “Hello,” she said with a soft smile.

  He nodded, and she sat down on the edge of the bed. “How do you feel?”

  “I…I’m not sure yet,” he replied, looking her over. She wasn’t really very pretty, yet after his long imprisonment he supposed she was the most beautiful thing he’d seen in a long time. She had an Oriental look about her, but she wasn’t a full-blood. “Where am I?”

  Her smile widened and she put a hand to his face. “You’re at Madam Lucy’s saloon and boardinghouse,” she replied. “Don’t you remember coming here?”

  He blinked. “I remember…a door…a woman opening it and smiling and telling me I was the sorriest-looking thing she’d seen in a long time. I remember following someone…up some stairs…some remark about how maybe I’d not be a bad trick…if I was clean.”

  The girl laughed. “That was Madam Lucy.” She ran a hand over his chest. “We all took turns bathing you,” she added seductively. “From what we saw, there’s quite a man dwelling in that too-thin frame. We all decided to fatten you up and see what we’d end up with. That was two days ago.”

  He grinned, looking around the room. “Is this real?”

  His eyes moved back to her as she opened the robe, letting it fall to her waist and revealing a huge bosom. “It’s real,” she answered, leaning toward him and kissing his chest. He grasped her arms.

  “Wait. Look at me.”

  She frowned and met his eyes. “Is this some kind of trick?” he asked. “I may be a wanted man.”

  She giggled. “You’re wanted, all right. We drew straws. I won.”

  He sighed. “You don’t understand. I have to be careful. Am I still in San Francisco?”

  She leaned over him again, resting her weight on an elbow. “Of course. We knew you might be in some kind of trouble. Who could miss the scars on your back and legs. We bathed you, remember?” She took his hand. “Look, mister, we aren’t stupid. We’ve worked these docks for a long time. We know a shanghaied sailor when we see one. It isn’t our business how you got away. We’re glad you did, that’s all. We’ve helped men in trouble before. Madam Lucy doesn’t mind. All we ask is that you stay around a little while, work off whatever you feel you owe us”—she smiled then, kissing his chest again—“and…service those of us who find you irresistible.”

  She kissed him lightly, but he only frowned. “Look, I’m pretty weak. I don’t feel so good. I think I need to eat something.”

  She sighed and sat up. Looking disappointed, she retied her robe. He grasped her arm as she rose.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Tillie.”

  “Mine’s Buck.”

  She nodded. “All right, Buck. I’ll get you some food.”

  He continued to hold her arm. “I’m sorry, Tillie, but you don’t know what I’ve been through. And it’s been…it’s been about two years since I was…with a woman. Do you understand? I need some time. And I need to get my strength back.”

  She sat back down, putting a hand to his hair. “I understand. Don’t worry about it. Just promise you’ll stay a little while after you’re stronger, and promise you’ll pick me when you’re ready for a woman.”

  He grinned, and even the loss of weight could not hide his handsomeness. “I promise. But I can only stay long enough to work off my debt, and maybe earn a little extra to get me to Colorado.”

  “Colorado?” She studied him closely. “A woman, I suppose.”

  His eyes teared with a mixture of great relief and joy. He’d done it! He was free, and in time he’d be strong enough to head for the Rockies—and Harmony! “Yes,” he answered in a near whisper. He swallowed in an attempt to regain control of his emotions, and even the whore Tillie was touched. She leaned over and kissed him again.

  “Well then, we’ll help you get strong enough to go to her. In the meantime, you can get practice on how to handle a woman again, with me. I’m sure it will all come back to you with no trouble.”

  She expected him to laugh, but he suddenly pulled her close, clinging to her. “Stay a while,” he whispered. “Just stay a while and hold me.”

  She wrapped her arms around him and kissed his hair. “Sure, honey. Everything will be all right. You’ll see.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Harmony stayed in St. Louis long enough to organize the rebuilding of the supply store and to hire the best men she could find to manage the enterprise once it opened. She did not attend Jimmie O’Toole’s funeral, and since he had no family left, only a few of his acquaintances attended. Harmony was not concerned. She merely reflected that there was no problem with the distribution of his property, for he had none left to distribute. Everything now belonged to Harmony Jones Tillis. She surmised that Wade Tillis would get a good laugh out of how it had all worked out. Unlike Buck, Tillis had shown no particular concern or sympathy when she’d explained what Jimmie had done to her. He’d only laughed, and told her if it would humor her to go to St. Louis to see if she could buy out Jimmie O’Toole, she was free to go. To her delight, she’d discovered Jimmie was already losing the business. The rest had been easy.

  Now she would go back to Cripple Creek, and as she had promised herself, she would be a better wife to Wade. She truly did feel like celebrating. She boarded the Kansas Pacific in elegant attire, riding in a private compartment. It was late July, 1899, and the compartment was warm, but comfortable. The train lurched forward and was off; Harmony was headed back to Cripple Creek.

  She glanced out the window, thinking how different things were now. On her first trip to Colorado, she had been so young and stupid, so innocent and determined. She’d had no money, but she had made up her mind that her claim would make her rich. It had all worked out just as she’d planned, and she was even married to the very man who had tried to stop her, the man she had boldly faced down on her arrival at Cripple Creek. Things couldn’t have turned out better for the naïve woman-child who’d had nothing to go on but courage. Only one thing had gone wro
ng…Buck Hanner.

  She watched the scenery fly past. Buck Hanner…where was he now? Was he happy? And why did she care whether he was or not? He certainly didn’t care about how she was, or he never would have deserted her. Yet there were times when she remembered vividly the feel of his arms around her, the sweetness of his kiss, her happiness at hearing his whispered words of love. It had all been so beautiful. Why had he crushed her so cruelly? That had happened over two years ago, and she was just beginning to get over him.

  Yes, she was getting over him. Of that she was certain. She actually was looking forward to going home to Wade. She was different now, much different from the Harmony Jones who’d first come west. She was older, wiser, more hardened, hardened the way a businesswoman had to be hardened. Living on the mountain had hardened her physically, and Buck Hanner’s desertion had hardened her emotionally. Perhaps she should thank Buck for throwing reality into her face. Because of Buck Hanner no one could ever hurt her again, because she would never allow that to happen…and because she would never love again. Love was dangerous to those who wanted only wealth and power. Wade understood that. Harmony was now beginning to understand it herself. Love only complicated matters. It made people stray from their true goals, stray from what was really important.

  She smiled at the thought of Jimmie O’Toole, remembering the look on his face when she’d pulled the store out from under him, thinking it ironic that he’d been caught in the fire he’d set to get revenge. Jimmie O’Toole had lived to regret trying to rape Harmony Jones. Now she would like Buck Hanner to know she’d married Wade Tillis, and if she ever learned where he was, she’d find a way to destroy him. That left her parents. She’d probably never locate them, never be able to tell them what she thought of them for abandoning her on the docks, but to her dying day she’d remember that feeling, that night. It haunted her. Sometimes she still woke up screaming.

  She settled back in her seat, which folded out into a bed for sleeping. This train was faster than the first one she’d taken, making fewer stops and rumbling on right through the night. By the third day of her journey she’d be in Colorado; then she’d take the Denver & Rio Grande to Colorado Springs, and again travel by stage to Cripple Creek. It would be the same old journey, but not the same old Harmony.

  On the third day, as the train clattered through the Colorado plains, more tender thoughts of Buck Hanner disturbed Harmony. Occasionally she spotted one or two men riding on the golden, rolling hills, herding a few cattle ahead of them. Buck had once been such a man, a cowboy. At first glance it seemed every man she spotted on a horse was Buck Hanner. She recalled his easy manner in the saddle—he might have been born on a horse—and she thought about Indian and Pepper. She missed them. Pepper had been sold when she’d purchased Jack Leads’s supply store, because Harmony could not bear to look at the animal. The little mare had made her think of Buck. Indian had not been seen again, nor had his owner, Buck Hanner. The disappearance of the horse had coincided with that of the man, and to Harmony that was a good reason to believe Buck had run off. If he’d been attacked, Indian would probably have shown up sooner or later. But then, he might have been stolen.

  She scowled, feeling like kicking herself. It was ridiculous to be looking for an excuse for Buck Hanner. He was gone, yet her mind had strayed to thoughts of him. Her heart had fluttered at the mere sight of cowboys in the hills. What was wrong with her? One moment she was strong and sure, the next weakened by memories. It was a constant merry-go-round. If only Buck Hanner’s memory were not so powerful…if only he’d been uglier, perhaps cruel to her…If the memory of being with him was not so beautiful, it would not stir passions long buried. She had been foolish to allow herself to fall in love with him.

  Life was so full of irony. She’d been determined never to love or trust, yet she’d quickly fallen for sky-blue eyes and a tanned, handsome face, the security of powerful arms and the sweet words that had made her trust him so explicitly. Then he had turned on her. Her greatest fear had been realized. She had had a cruel lesson in not trusting. It was probably as much her fault as Buck’s. She’d been weak. She had allowed the softer side of her to show. The love that Harmony had been unable to show for her parents as a little girl had come out through loving a man, and it had been spurned as her love for her parents had been.

  She disembarked in Denver, and pampered herself by staying at the finest hotel and eating a sinfully expensive meal. She knew Wade wouldn’t care. He’d want her to live high. The next morning she boarded the Denver & Rio Grande and was off again, the train’s whistle and the clattering wheels echoing back from the nearby mountains. She gazed at peak after snowy peak, remembering another time, another mountain. It was quiet up there, and one could pretend there was no world down below, no people, no civilization, no pain and sorrow, no heartache, no tears. A mountain stood fast despite adversity, oblivious to human emotion. She wished she could be like that.

  Perhaps she should go back into the mountains, where she could think quietly. But then she would remember…another time, another Harmony, and a man. It was a different Harmony who had lived in the mountains. Sometimes it seemed that time had never really happened. Perhaps if Buck hadn’t been her first man…if she hadn’t given herself to him in such trust…

  She gritted her teeth. She was doing it again. This had to stop. The memory of Buck Hanner, of the grave up there in the mountains—the tiny grave that held all that remained of the love affair between Buck Hanner and Harmony Jones—she must erase them from her mind. She’d never spoken to anyone about that affair, except Wade, and she’d seldom mentioned it to him. Yet she knew others talked about it. She was aware of their whispers, of their remarks: “It’s too bad” or “How sad.” Once she had even heard a man singing of her love on a corner. He’d strummed a guitar, and the words of his song told about “the lady on the mountain,” with the “golden hair” and the “cowboy who’d loved her and had gone who knows where.” “Oh, where is the cowboy, who left his true love?” the song had asked. Harmony had not lingered to listen, but deep inside she had felt the ballad was incomplete. It would never be complete until she discovered what had happened to Buck Hanner, and gotten her revenge for his cruel trick that destroyed her trust, her most precious possession, and for stealing her virginity…and her gold.

  For four days after his awakening at Madam Lucy’s, Buck lay abed, sleeping away the time between the huge meals that were brought to him on trays. He had not eaten such wonderful food in two years, and he ate everything in sight. He was determined to get his strength back as quickly as possible.

  In the quiet moments when he was awake and alone, he would sometimes just stare at the gaudy flowered wallpaper in the room, appreciating its colors in spite of its ugliness. At least this place and its women represented softness and caring and gentleness, things he had not known for a long time, and the women here had been good to him. Somehow he’d find a way to pay them back, but first he had to get his strength back so he could go to Colorado and find Harmony—and kill Wade Tillis. He did not doubt that he must do it, no matter what the consequences. But the tired face and the thin arms he saw in the full-length mirror beside the bed told him he must be patient. He looked like a skeleton, and now that he’d had a chance to rest, he wondered how he had survived the rigors of the ship, how he had escaped. Even now, when he tried to stand he felt so weak and dizzy he crawled right back into bed.

  He sighed and closed his eyes. Harmony. She had kept him going—kept him alive. Sweet, beautiful Harmony Jones. Now that he was safe and knew he could return to her, his survival instinct had surrendered to extreme exhaustion and malnourishment. He could afford to relax now, to give in to his body’s need to rest and rebuild itself. He no longer had to force himself to get up and work for fear of a brutal whipping. He didn’t have to force down slop instead of food, because it might keep him alive. Now he could go back to Colorado in time, so he allowed himself to think about Harmony and the winter he’d spent wit
h her. On the ship, he hadn’t let his thoughts dwell on that time, for it hurt too much to remember it. Now he was free to dream, and to remember. He could allow himself to visualize Harmony’s emerald green eyes, her thick blonde hair, and her soft curves. He could remember the feel of her full, young breasts, the sweet taste of them, the softness of her lips, the glory of surging inside her. On a ship full of men with no hope of escape or even survival, a man learned to turn his mind from such things, or he might go mad. After two years of such a life, he wondered if he could be a man again. He had wanted to try with Tillie, but it had been so long that he’d felt maybe he couldn’t do it right anymore. She’d been very understanding though, assuring him that he was just too weak and exhausted. He could only hope she was right.

  After twelve days at the saloon it was obvious that Buck was regaining strength at a rapid pace. He dressed and walked around, helping in the kitchen and eating everything he could lay his hands on. Madam Lucy, a pleasant older woman with graying red hair and a painted face, told him he was costing her a fortune in food, but she said it was worth the cost just to look at him and to help give him baths those first few days. When the other women laughed at her comments, Buck would smile sheepishly, but he was beginning to feel long-buried urges slowly surfacing.

  Sixteen days after his arrival, Buck was lifting boxes of supplies, partly to pay back Madam Lucy by working and partly to help strengthen his muscles. He ran errands, helped move furniture, carried wood, and spent most of his nights watching over the saloon, checking the gambling tables and helping to keep things in order. In public he used the name John Hanover, for he was afraid some customer might know the name of the man who’d escaped from the Chinese freighter. After what he had been through, it was difficult to trust anyone. He was suspicious of every man who came through the door. He practiced drawing his gun over and over, practiced shooting it behind the saloon during the day, determined that no one would waylay him and force him back onto a ship. But after three weeks at Madam Lucy’s, his fears began to fade, and his savings for the trip back to Colorado had grown. Madam Lucy paid him ridiculously high wages. He knew she was just being kind. He’d mentioned that he needed train fare to get back to Colorado Springs, where he could work at a couple of odd jobs to earn enough money to buy a horse and ride to Cripple Creek. What happened after that depended on whether or not he could find Harmony, and on what had happened to her. Then, of course, there was the matter of Wade Tillis. If he managed to keep from being hanged for taking his revenge, and if he could find Harmony and get back to living again, he’d find a way to pay back Madam Lucy for the extra wages he knew she was paying him.