Through his association with his hard-working companions, Jack gained a great deal of knowledge and wisdom that went beyond anything he had experienced in college. There was practical advice, such as the warning never to bed down in a dry creek. Although the soft sand was far preferable to the hard ground, many an innocent traveler had been swept away as he slept under the stars, blissfully unaware of a torrential rain storm taking place thirty miles upstream.
Jack was everlastingly obliged to be the regular recipient of common ‘horse-sense’ wisdom from the cowboys.
“Talk slowly, think quickly,” they would say. “Always drink upstream from the herd,” was another bit of prudent advice. “Never approach a bull from the front, a horse from the rear or a fool from any direction,” made sense. The terms ‘cow pies’ and ‘meadow muffins’ were humorous additions to his expanded vocabulary. And finally, something that one of the cowhands had said to him became part of his accumulated philosophical knowledge from his time spent on the prairies: “Don’t interfere with somethin that ain’t botherin you none.” This was probably more good advice, but easier said than done, he concluded.
Jack became quite adept at handling a six shooter, although he never had to use it in a confrontation. In addition, many days spent in the saddle convinced him of the value of a good horse and this led to his interest in the Paso Fino breed. Known for their superior endurance and smooth gait, these were the horses first introduced by Spanish explorers who used them to travel the rugged terrain of the Andes. The fine gait of this breed spared the rider the discomfort of being jostled about. It was at a horse auction that Jack and Thomas Sprague found themselves bidding on the same Paso Fino gelding.
The friendship born of this chance meeting became a deep and lasting one between the two men, now loyal and honest business partners. Their speculative venture in the mine was successful. Jack’s journey from Connecticut college boy to Colorado gold mine owner had been an eventful, if unlikely one. He had made a new life for himself which had been his goal. If only he could find the right someone to share it with, someone like the lovely Susannah. Could he hope to be that lucky? Jack adjusted his tie, straightened his collar and placed the gold fob watch in his pocket. He walked down the stairs of his splendid brick mansion and retrieved his Stetson from the foyer and let himself out. He was looking forward to a pleasant evening of socializing and a fine dinner with his friends, the Sprague’s.
Chapter Seven
July 1876 - Denver
Dinner that evening was a gastronomic triumph for the Sprague’s cook, Mrs. Sheppard, who had been in full command of the kitchen for an entire day. The spacious dining table was set for ten, with an attractive white damask cloth, embroidered linen napkins, and gleaming silver, china and crystal. A tasteful centerpiece of seasonal flowers along with candlesticks added a degree of intimacy. The comfortable dining room boasted many windows offering views of the garden and grounds. The walls consisted of highly polished oak panels and the moss green drapes were made of velvet and tied back with gold-corded tassels.
Mrs. Sheppard thoughtfully incorporated an element of the English guests’ national cuisine with a first course of spring vegetable soup, made with chopped onions, peas, spinach, parsley, egg yolks and heavy cream. This was followed by trout almandine, elk steaks, boiled potatoes, glazed carrots and Mr. Sprague’s favorite – strawberry rhubarb pie.
The dinner guests included the Sprague’s visitors from England, Edward and Charlotte Mansfield, as well as Professor Purfield and his wife Ella, Jack Simmons, and neighbors John and Eleanor Gibson and their eighteen-year old daughter Evelyn. The guests assembled for a glass of port before dinner and introductions were made.
Susannah looked stunning in an evening dress of blue silk with a graceful scooped neckline, short sleeves trimmed with Belgium lace, and a bustle. Her hair was swept into an array of soft curls atop her head. Sapphire earrings and a matching necklace, a wedding gift from Thomas, glittered in the lamplight. Susannah was the perfect hostess, charmed everyone with her warm smile and treated her guests like royalty. Thomas was by her side, a loving husband now. He looked well groomed and gentlemanly, despite having returned home only one hour before.
Jack Simmons cordially shook hands with Edward Mansfield when Susannah introduced them. She also revealed that Jack was her husband’s business partner in the mining venture. “It is a pleasure to meet you, sir,” was Mansfield’s greeting. Then he turned to his hostess. “You look radiant this evening, Susannah,” he gushed.
“Thank you, Edward, but you pay me too great a compliment,” she replied as a hospitable smile broke over her wistful face. “Please excuse me for a moment while I see to the others,” she added, stepping away.
Mansfield returned his attention to Jack and shrewdly set about digging for some useful information of his own about Simmons’ successful mining venture. Jack did not approve of Mansfield’s attentiveness to Susannah – he acted like a Frenchman who had just found a truffle, and he wondered what his friend Thomas thought of Mansfield or if he thought of him at all. While he answered the questions Mansfield put to him about the mine, it seemed something was off kilter.
To an astute observer of the human condition, it was a truth universally acknowledged that if someone who is powerful and of good reputation approves of you, then this endorsement automatically elevates your standing in the eyes of others. Friendship with respectable people bought one counterfeit respectability. By applying that logic, Jack Simmons should have accepted Mansfield’s status as someone in Susannah’s circle of friends, as a given. He had to admit that Edward Mansfield had been known to Susannah for some years, but he was still suspicious of him. Mansfield’s manners were practiced and he seemed overly curious. Soon the pocket door separating the parlor from the dining room was slid open, the guests were seated and the feasting commenced.
“We are anxious to hear of your visit to the Philadelphia Exhibition,” John Gibson, who it was revealed was a banker, said to the Mansfields. “I understand you had a lively time.”
“Where to begin? There was so much to see!” Charlotte answered. “We spent a week and exhausted ourselves, but still did not manage to see everything. I did so much walking,” she groused, “and it was hot and my clothes too warm. The Main Exhibit Building was 1876 feet long!”
“On a couple of days, we took the rolling chairs for two hours and saw much in a superficial way. The grounds were not open on Sundays,” added Edward. “It seems the directors refused to allow anything to break the Sabbath.”
“I glimpsed the Empress of Brazil at the Ladies Pavilion,” said Charlotte, to the amazement of the others. “On another day we had coffee dispensed after the fashion of Turkey in the Turkish Bazaar.”
Charlotte turned to Jack who was seated next to her. “Have you ever tasted Turkish coffee Mr. Simmons?”
“I have not had the pleasure, no,” he answered.
When she requested that he pass the butter, she gave him a flirtatious look that was unmistakable. Jack had not formed an opinion of the effusive Miss Mansfield, only that she was well padded in all areas. He regarded her with courteous disinterest.
“Have you visited Philadelphia, Mr. Simmons?” Charlotte asked him.
“Of course,” he replied.
“Did you not find it to be unbearably hot?” she complained.
“I do not remember,” he answered. Miss Mansfield certainly never ran out of questions.
“A man by the name of Bell demonstrated his galvanic muttering machine,” said Edward.
“What in the world is that?” asked Susannah.
“Bell talked into the device and someone in a different location at the Exhibition answered him. They had a conversation without being in the same room with one another.”
“How extraordinary!” exclaimed Evelyn who had been listening with rapt attention.
“Well, he certainly believes it to be an invention of the future,” said Edward with haughty disbelief.
“Oh, papa,” Evelyn implored, “you must take mamma and I to see these wonders before it is too late and they are gone.” Her father gave a noncommittal shrug.
“The Japanese House was popular with everyone and so was the Moorish Villa,” Charlotte observed. “This trout is delicious Susannah,” she added. “It is so moist.”
“Thank you for the compliment,” said Susannah. “I will be sure and tell our cook, Mrs. Sheppard.”
“Another new product which captured everyone’s attention is a type of flooring called linoleum,” Mansfield continued.
“What is special about it?” asked Mrs. Purfield.
“It is advertised as being durable. It is also inexpensive and is available in patterns and colors,” he answered.
“That settles it, now we shall have to redecorate, Professor Purfield. We simply are not keeping up with these changing times,” said Mrs. Purfield.
“No decorating, no decorating, Mrs. Purfield,” pleaded the Professor, “we are home to England soon, so please, no decorating.”
“We will be very sorry to see you go,” said Susannah. “You have been as family to Thomas and me.”
“We will have to arrange visits then, and be faithful correspondents,” said Mrs. Purfield.
“Would you replace a shiny oak floor with linoleum, Mr. Simmons?” Charlotte asked incredulously. “Of course you wouldn’t,” she answered for him.
The strawberry rhubarb pie was served and Edward Mansfield continued to entertain the others with further accounts of his recent adventures. “July Fourth in Philadelphia was a disaster,” Mansfield commented with a frown. “On all sides fireworks were exploding – the horses were terrified. The parade that was to go down Chestnut Street to Independence Hall never made it because the spectators would not stay off the street.”
“Yes, it was a disaster,” agreed Charlotte. “All the restaurants were out of food before dinner time. There was not a crust of bread left in town by evening.”
“My word,” said Mrs. Purfield. “Such a do! The pages in your personal diary must be completely filled!”
“The Exhibition is proof that we are on the brink of profound change in this country,” said Professor Purfield, “as the events of next week here in Denver shall bear witness.”
“The world is changing,” Thomas agreed. “The recent news of the unfortunate General Custer and our 7th Cavalry have been much on my mind.”
“Ah, yes. Sitting Bull,” Jack frowned.
“And Crazy Horse,” Thomas added.
“What a wretched business,” said Jack, shaking his head.
“But statehood is a change I think we can all celebrate,” said Mr. Gibson, trying to lighten the mood. “You fellows will be happy to know that the design for our new State Seal appropriately features two miner’s pick axes!”
The dinner conversation continued to flow. Other topics included gold prices, new claims and winter storms. As he listened, Edward Mansfield’s imagination raced ahead. While gazing at Susannah in the candlelight, ideas blossomed faster than springtime weeds.
“This pie is delicious,” declared Charlotte. “The fruit is quite tangy.”
“Thank you, Charlotte, it is Thomas’ favorite,” said Susannah as she grinned at her husband. “I wish to remind you all of the special dinner dance to take place tomorrow evening at the Grand Hotel. It should be quite an event and I know you have all been invited so we hope to see you there.”
“A different kind of dance, I dare say,” supplied Mrs. Purfield cryptically. Mansfield raised a brow. “How so?” he asked.
“This is a leap year, Mr. Mansfield. Ladies are emboldened to be more daring than usual. At a leap year social, the ladies escort their gentlemen, not the other way around,” was her response. “You will learn more tomorrow night.”
“Women just don’t act like women anymore, do they?” Mansfield observed dryly.
“You had best get into the spirit of the thing, Mansfield,” Mr. Gibson wisely advised, “lest you end up a lonely wallflower.”
“Besides, haven’t we all agreed that the world is changing,” said Mrs. Gibson.
“I am very much looking forward to your leap year social,” said Charlotte. “It will be my first opportunity to ask a gentleman to dance,” she cooed, as she gazed at Jack Simmons. “What would you have to say if I asked you to dance, Mr. Simmons?” she boldly asked.
“I suppose in the spirit of the festivities, I would say yes,” he told her. For him, tomorrow evening’s dance seemed a grim prospect indeed. Why did he feel like it was to be a hunt and he was the prey? That Caroline Mansfield asked question after question was not his idea of conversation; it was simply annoying.
“It is an evening not to be missed,” agreed Evelyn. “John Routt will be there and as you know he is to be our governor.”
“You must sign his dance card as soon as he arrives, Evelyn,” advised Mrs. Purfield. “If you shillyshally, his dance card will be filled.”
The cherry cordials were served and the gentlemen passed around cigars. “I would be interested in visiting this mine of yours that I have heard so much about,” Edward blurted out.
“I would not advise…” Jack started to say, when Susannah looked at him and raised a brow. Edward’s expression remained carefully bland. Then Thomas jumped in. “Yes! Of course,” he said obligingly. “We must return to the mine in a few days. The work we have to attend to will keep us there for several days more. Come to the mine and have a look around. You may take the train back to Denver again after you have toured the operation.”
“I look forward to it,” said Edward enthusiastically.
“It is not glamorous,” Jack said brusquely, as if to defend himself. The mountains and forests were a place of risk, hard labor and exertion. It was not to be mistaken for an attraction at the Philadelphia Exhibition. But Susannah frowned. Why was Jack trying to discourage her friend from visiting the mine, she wondered? Jack reminded himself that this man was Susannah’s friend. Perhaps he was barking up the wrong tree by not being more hospitable.
“It is settled then,” she affirmed with confidence. Mansfield smiled appreciatively, knowing who had won that round. “The timing of your outing could not be more perfect, as we ladies also have an activity planned.”
“What are you up to, my love?” Thomas asked.
“Ella and I would like the rest of you ladies to join us for the dedication of the new park on Sixteenth Street. It is to be held three days hence. Ella and I are members of the Ladies Aide Society and this park has been one of our projects,” Susannah explained.
“Yes,” Ella added, “The parcel of land was donated by some helpful landowners. Our organization purchased the saplings which were planted in March.”
“What a wonderful idea,” Charlotte said enthusiastically. “What kinds of trees did you plant?” was yet another question she had.
“We think the park will be quite something when the trees mature. There are spruce and pine, walnut and apple along with cottonwood and aspen,” Ella said.
“My dear,” said Thomas turning to his wife, “I was not aware that the park was ready to be dedicated.”
“It was recently decided to move the date. There are so many other activities coming up soon that it seemed necessary,” she replied.
“A stringer from the Tribune will be there. Think of the publicity!” Ella gushed.
Late that night, Thomas stood in the soft lamplight of the bedroom embracing his beautiful wife. These were the moments that filled her dreams, her private time with Thomas, the way he claimed her, thrilled her, his hardness to her softness, each joining more intense, more exquisite than the last. “You looked lovely tonight,” he whispered, as he locked his arms around her and pulled her backward against his chest. Thomas bent to kiss the sensitive skin behind her ear and then trailed kisses along the nape of her neck to her shoulder, sending shivers of delight coursing through her. “You taste delicious,” he said as his warm breath floated across her
skin, “better than any dessert.”
“Better than strawberry rhubarb pie?’ she asked. That earned her a soft nip on the shoulder. She could feel the grin on his lips against her skin. His hands were around her waist, anchoring her, his thick arousal well in evidence as she leaned against him. Then he cupped her breasts, squeezed and kneaded as he continued his onslaught of feather light kisses, and she let out a series of sweet gasps.
Thomas turned her around and kissed her lips tenderly. “Susannah, my love,” he said, “I am the luckiest man alive.” Her hair was loose about her shoulders and he sifted his fingers through the glorious strands while his tongue swept into her mouth for a deeper kiss. He worked at the buttons at the back of her gown; so great was his need to have her that he almost tore at the bodice. The gown soon pooled at her feet and he helped her step out of it. He adeptly dispensed with her petticoat, followed by her stockings and chemise, until she was completely naked before him. He backed her against her writing desk, her bottom touching its edge, and he bent his head to worship her full, round breasts, taking each one deep into his mouth and suckling hard. Intense shards of awareness overwhelmed her senses. “Oh, Thomas,” she whispered, “I love you,” she moaned, as she kissed his forehead, his brow and caressed his hair. His rock hard body pinned her firmly against the desk, and although he was fully clothed, she could feel the heat of his desire against her belly, thick and full.
Papers scattered as he gently lowered her down onto the desk. He bent over her and trailed kisses across her belly to the apex of her curls, then held her thighs firmly in place as he tasted her nether lips and suckled the bud at the core of her womanhood. His artful tongue drove her wild with need, such exquisite torture, and she arched into him, willing his tongue to go deeper still. He sucked hard on her nub, drawing forth and drinking in the honey from her womb as he felt her contract against his tongue and lips, heard her cry out his name.
The Gold Miner's Wife: A Young Woman's Story of Romance, Passion and Murder Page 4