In the Shadow of the Mountains

by Rosanne Bittner

  The biggest problem that summer was Indians. Governor Evans and other Coloradans urged that all Colorado Indians be forced onto the small tract of land in eastern Colorado given to the southern Cheyenne under the Treaty of Fort Wise. The Ute were finally given land west of the Rockies, but the problem with the Cheyenne was not solved. The situation grew worse when word reached Denver of terrible raids and murders of whites by Sioux Indians in Minnesota.

  People began to panic. With hardly any soldiers left to guard the frontier, the Colorado Volunteers were again called into action. This time it was the Second Colorado Volunteers, under Colonel Jesse Leavenworth, who rode out to deal with Brule Sioux who were raiding along the southern Platte River. The Volunteers chased them to the upper Republican River, but that still left a problem for the southern Cheyenne. Coloradans wanted them out of their territory all together, but it had been the Sioux and northern Cheyenne who were making trouble, including cutting telegraph lines and raiding supply wagon trains and causing a constant shortage of nearly everything in Denver.

  The whole matter was a source of an almost constant rift between Kirk and Bea, since Kirk insisted the southern Cheyenne should not be blamed.

  “An Indian is an Indian,” Bea would say. “As long as they’re anywhere around, there is going to be trouble, and it’s costing us.”

  “The southern Cheyenne are staying where they belong,” Kirk would argue. “If the government would stick to its end of the bargain and get promised provisions to them when they’re supposed to, there wouldn’t be any trouble at all. The only reason they stray from the reservation is to hunt. Sometimes they steal cattle, but damn it, Bea, they’re hungry. I believe if you think hard enough, you’ll remember that feeling yourself. I know the Cheyenne, and I’m sure the ones to the south aren’t causing the trouble.”

  Their eyes met in that same, strange look Irene had seen so often. “Yes, you certainly do know them, don’t you?” Bea had answered. “Have you ever stopped to think the Indians might be a lot different now than they were when you practically lived among them?” Bea asked then. “They’re more hostile now, Kirk, and probably with good reason. But that can’t be helped. Life goes on, people progress, land gets settled. They have to adjust or leave, or Colorado and Denver will never realize their full potential.”

  The argument was always the same, with the added hard feelings over Kirk’s loan to Red McKinley. Irene wished many times that she could take her father and ride back into the mountains. There had been many nights when she heard her father ride off after everyone else was in bed, and she suspected why. It frightened and confused her, and sometimes she felt that it was somehow all her fault, even though she had no reason to think such a thing.

  Through all the turmoil Elly remained aloof and uncaring. She was concerned only with being able to move into the new house, which they finally did the second week of August. Bea immediately began laying plans for Irene’s party, inviting only Denver’s most elite, including Governor Evans. For the next three weeks Bea dragged Irene to various stores and dressmakers to find just the right material, plan just the right design for the dress Irene would wear. Irene did not mind the constant shopping, since it kept her out of the new house, which held too many poignant memories. Whenever she saw one of the Ramon’s carvings, her heart filled with a mixture of love and jealousy, the terrible pain of imagining another woman in Ramon’s bed, loving him, pleasing him. Why she could imagine doing such things with Ramon, but not with Chad, confused her.

  John had heard Ramon was back in Denver, taking on jobs, even doing some work for Red McKinley. It was three days before Irene’s party when John came to Irene’s room to tell her he had seen Ramon when he went with Kirk to visit Red’s lumber mill.

  Irene’s heart raced painfully, and she was irritated with herself for letting the very mention of his name bring such fire to her blood.

  “Did he have anything to say about leaving so suddenly?” she asked John casually.

  “Not much. He told me he was sorry, but that it was necessary. He acted real strange, as if he didn’t want to talk to me too much. He pretended he was too busy. He almost acted mad about something. I asked him if it was true he got married, and he said yes. He told me his wife is expecting a baby.”

  Irene felt a sick pain in the pit of her stomach. Ramon’s wife, having a baby! Did she really think that he had not consummated his marriage? Had he taken the woman the first night? Was it so easy, then, for a man to bed a woman, any woman?

  She slowly rose from her bed, fighting tears. “Did he…ask about me?”

  John sighed in sympathy. “No. But…Father was standing right there. He probably thought it was best not to bring up your name.”

  “Yes. I suppose.” She walked to a window. “How did he look?”

  John shrugged. “All right. I mean, he just looked like Ramon.”

  “That’s not what I meant. Did he seem happy?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t think about that. I mean, he was real busy at the time, and there wasn’t time to talk.” He swallowed before continuing, hating to see her unhappy. “He said he was working in consert with Red McKinley. Red cuts lumber for new buildings, and Red advertises for Ramon’s finishing work at the same time—gets more jobs for Ramon. Ramon is looking in turn for men to work under him. Eventually he’ll be in business on his own.”

  Irene faced him, her eyes misty. “I’ll bet you’d like to work for him.”

  John smiled bitterly. “Can you imagine Mother letting me do that?”

  Their eyes met. “No. But maybe it’s better anyway. I might be forced to see Ramon sometimes if you worked with him, and I don’t want that.” She touched his arm. “Besides, John, I learned a lot when I went up in the mountains with Father—a lot about our responsibilities to the family. I guess until we’re older and wiser, we’ll have to do what Mother and Father think is best for us.”

  “I suppose,” he answered. He searched her eyes. “You shouldn’t get all upset over Ramon, Irene. It’s done now, and you’ve got Chad. I mean, you’ve been seeing a lot of him. You like him, don’t you?”

  How could she make him understand her feelings? What did he know of a woman’s emotions? “Yes, I like him,” she answered. But I don’t love him. She turned back to the window. “What do you think of him? You work with him every day.”

  “I like him all right. He’s real smart, and friendly. All he does is talk about you. He told me he loves you.”

  Why didn’t the words bring her the joy they had brought when Ramon had told her he loved her? Still, they brought a slight flutter; and Chad was everything a woman could want…Ramon was not only married now, but an expectant father. Again the burning pain grabbed at her middle. “He hasn’t told me yet.”

  “Well, don’t tell him I told you first. And you’d better not make him wait around too long, Irene. I’ve seen how other women look at him. Oh, I forgot. I came up here to tell you Mother wants to see you. She’s down in the sewing room.”

  Irene blinked back tears and breathed deeply. She didn’t want Bea asking her questions about her watery eyes. She turned to John. “Thanks for telling me about seeing Ramon. At least I know he must be happy.”

  She left the room and made her way down the stairs to the sewing room. She didn’t want to talk to her mother now. She wanted to cry. More than anything she just wanted to see Ramon. She was sure if she could just talk to him once alone, she could find out some hidden truth that would better explain what he had done. She wanted to hear from his own lips that it had all been for her, that she had not imagined the depth of his feelings for her.

  She hoped tears were no longer evident in her eyes when she entered the sewing room where Bea sat, still working on the flowered dresser cloth that never seemed to get finished. This new sewing room was much larger than the one at the old house, decorated with oriental rugs and Chinese vases and huge plants. Bea looked up at her daughter and told her to sit down. Irene obeyed.

&nb
sp; “Irene, I’ve decided that after your party, I’m sending you to a finishing school in Chicago,” Bea told her matter-of-factly. “You’ll have full escort all the way to Abilene, Kansas, where you can catch a train, so you don’t need to worry about Indians. Even after you board the train you’ll have both a male and a female escort.”

  Irene frowned, a tumble of emotions rushing through her. No one had mentioned this before or discussed it with her first. “But…I want to stay here,” she protested. “And what about Chad?”

  “Chad will understand. He knows these things are necessary in proper society.” Bea hated doing this, but she had heard Ramon Vallejo was back in Denver. Married or not, she thought it best to make sure Irene did not set eyes on the young man for several months, to make sure he was completely out of her system. Besides, now that she was seeing more of Chad, perhaps absence from him would make her miss him and long for him more, so that by the time she returned, she would think of no one but Chad. A winter away from home, with nothing but love letters from Chad to keep her going, ought to do the job of erasing Ramon Vallejo from her daughter’s young, too-tender heart.

  Bea set the embroidery aside. “I know this is a surprise to you, Irene, but an opening came up at a special girl’s school in Chicago, and it’s a wonderful opportunity for you. You’ve been to the mountains with Kirk. Now it’s time to polish your etiquette, study some languages, learn how to conduct yourself in high society. Why, I wish I could go myself. You’ll come back much more the refined lady than I could ever be. I came into this life with no background for it. I want more than that for my daughters.”

  She reached out and took Irene’s hands. “Chad will wait for you,” she assured her. “He loves you. Anyone can see that. He’ll be busy here working with John at Kirkland Enterprises. It’s only until April, Irene. And you’ll get to see a city much bigger and more civilized than Denver. Maybe you can bring home some new ideas for Kirk and me to help build this city.”

  Irene’s heart rushed with an aching loneliness. She would rather go back to the mountains, rather be with Ramon, but she knew one couldn’t happen for a long time, and the other was impossible now. Perhaps, if she was to take on her duties properly as a Kirkland, it was best that she go to this finishing school. At least she wouldn’t be in this house, where so much of Ramon’s spirit could be felt; and she wouldn’t have to worry about seeing him in town.

  Again came the terribly frightening feeling of being led through life with no control over her fate. She was living her mother’s dreams, not her own. Still, maybe that was the way it was supposed to be. Her mother had had a hard life. Surely she knew what was best for her daughters. One day it would be Elly’s turn to go off to finishing school. And, after all, it was a great opportunity.

  “What about Sierra? He’s used to seeing me every day. He’ll be heartbroken.”

  “He’s only a horse, Irene. Your father will see to Sierra. He knows how much the animal means to you.”

  She didn’t want to be a baby, didn’t want to disappoint her mother, especially after Bea had allowed her to go the mountains. It had been such a wonderful trip, one she would never forget. She would never be that happy again. It all seemed more and more like a dream.

  “All right,” she answered. “If it’s what you want, I’ll go,” she told her mother.

  “I knew you’d understand how important it is. The more you think about it, the more excited you’ll be, Irene. And Chad will wait for you. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know.”

  Irene wondered at the statement. Kirk’s absences didn’t seem to make her mother’s heart grow fonder for the poor man.

  A maid came to the doorway, carrying a letter. Bea had hired three more servants since moving into the new house: two Spanish women, Isabelle Valdez and Esther Sanchez, and a young, homeless woman named Jenny Porter. It was Isabelle who brought the message, and every time Irene looked at the pretty young Spanish woman, she wondered what Ramon’s wife was like.

  “A letter for you, Señora Kirkland,” the woman said, bringing it to Bea.

  The woman left, and Bea looked at the envelope. “It’s from my cousin Cynthia,” she said, looking suddenly as excited as a schoolgirl. “Maybe she’s finally coming to visit! I invited her to your party.”

  She tore open the envelope and quickly read the short letter. Irene watched the woman’s joy leave her, watched her cheeks color slightly. To Irene’s dismay, Bea’s eyes suddenly teared. “Mother? Is she all right?”

  Bea stiffened, folding the letter and shoving it into a pocket of her dress. “She’s fine,” she answered. She swallowed and blinked rapidly. “She, uh, she’s not coming. Family responsibilities, something like that.”

  “I’m sorry, Mother. I know it meant a lot to you.”

  Bea met her eyes, the old, hard Bea back again. “You’ll never know, Irene, and I wouldn’t want you to know. I would never want you to hurt like that.”

  But I am hurting, Mother.

  Bea rose. “Well, maybe another time. You’d best get upstairs to bed now, Irene. I’ll be along to say good night soon.”

  Irene touched her arm. “Good night, Mother.” She leaned up and kissed the woman’s cheek, then turned to leave. At the doorway she looked back just before exiting to see her mother turned away. The woman had her head in her hands, and her shoulders were shaking as she sobbed quietly. Irene considered going back and trying to comfort her, but she suspected her mother would rather be alone.

  She left the room, thinking how certain sorrows simply could not be shared with anyone else. They were just there to torment and tear at a person’s heart, and only that person knew the true ache of it. That was how it would be for her forever, whenever she thought about Ramon Vallejo.

  Chapter Fourteen

  In the third-floor ballroom the men of the small orchestra began tuning their instruments, while extra maids and a butler on the main floor scurried about making sure party food and drinks were ready and everything in the grand new Kirkland home was properly prepared for guests, who would include the new governor of Colorado Territory.

  Bea, wearing a deep blue taffeta ball dress cut low off the shoulders, now fussed with Irene, with the help of two young girls she had hired as personal servants, one girl straining to button the last in a row of forty tiny buttons at the back of Irene’s dress. Bea’s dark hair was twisted tightly at the back and decorated with a diamond-studded comb. Expensive rings decorated her plump, work-worn hands, which would never again be soft and slender; and a diamond necklace graced her neck. She was not a woman to wear much color, but she insisted Irene wear lovely, soft colors that enhanced her beauty.

  Irene’s dress was secured, and Bea stepped back, literally gasping at what she saw. “Oh, Irene, I have never been more proud.”

  Irene felt almost embarrassed. She never cared for flaunting her beauty, which she felt was the only reason for this coming-out party. She would much rather be riding Sierra, exploring the mountains with her father. She glanced in the mirror, and her only wish was that Ramon could be here to see her, that he could be her escort tonight. How handsome they would look together!

  She reminded herself then that she must no longer give any thought to Ramon. Chad was going to be here tonight. Chad had been good to her. He had told John that he loved her. He had saved her father’s life. He was a wonderfully handsome, intelligent man, and tonight he would be her escort.

  “Mother, I’m nervous. I feel silly making the grand entrance you want me to make.”

  “Nonsense. That’s what this is all about. As soon as all the guests arrive and are assembled in the great room, you will come down the stairs and they’ll all meet our beautiful daughter. Then we will dine and go upstairs to the ballroom for dancing.”

  The woman breathed deeply and with pride, rechecking Irene’s hair. The golden tresses were swept up into a tumble of curls, a diamond tiara nestled into the crown of her head. Tiny ruby earrings decorated Irene’s ears, and a matchin
g ruby necklace graced her slender throat. Her dress, dropped low off the shoulders and revealing an enticing peek at full, firm breasts, was a lovely blue that matched her eyes perfectly. The bodice was draped in white lace that hung to the elbows. The tightly-fitted waistline led to a deeply gathered full skirt of blue tulle, trimmed in white lace and draped diagonally across an underskirt of blue silk puffings, which were gathered and tied with bands of deeper blue velvet. The same darker blue trimmed the hem of the dress in a quilled border design.

  “You are so beautiful, Miss Kirkland,” Rose Boles spoke up, careful not to call Irene by her first name. Bea had forbidden it.

  Rose was Irene’s personal maid, a homeless young girl Bea had hired for mixed reasons. Bea told herself she was doing the Christian thing by giving the seventeen-year-old girl a home; but she was also able to pay Rose far less than the average. Rose was so happy just to have a roof over her head and so ignorant of the going rate for servants, that Bea had been able to hire her cheap. She was a plain, quiet, obedient young lady, very subservient—all that Bea demanded in her help.

  Oh, how Bea wished her cousin had decided to come! Cynthia would see that her cousin now had a grander home and many more servants than Jake and Marlene Ritter could ever have hoped to have!

  Bea’s own personal maid, Elizabeth Thomas, agreed with Rose, as both women studied Irene. Liz, as Bea called the woman, was a mining widow whose only child had died of consumption a year ago. The woman was homeless and penniless, as were so many in Denver. Again, Bea had gotten her cheap, but she relieved her guilty conscience by reminding herself she had given these women a lovely room to share in the basement servants’ quarters, and they had plenty of food to eat.

  Bea urged Irene into the carpeted hallway, then called for Kirk, who appeared from his bedroom, his eyes lighting up when he saw Irene. Since moving into the new house, Bea and Kirk had taken separate bedrooms. “It’s what all the wealthy do,” Bea had explained to the children. “When you get older, it’s difficult to sleep with someone else. Old bones ache and sleep does not come as easily. Besides, I like my room arranged a certain way, and your father likes things his own way. Now I won’t have to smell the smoke of his infernal pipes and cigars.”