Her route would take her into the southern side of the meadow. Curiosity got the better of her so she decided to ride to the meadow’s far side before taking the prescribed way out.
Mayme watched Duster’s ears and paid particular attention to her body language as they crossed the meadow. Aside from a few hard tail swishes, she didn’t seem to be bothered by anything. But her blood chilled as she saw the large area of flattened grass. She looked around as she slid the rifle from the scabbard. Everything was still. Even the birds had quieted. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she felt like she was being watched. She zig-zagged Duster back and forth looking for clues but saw nothing that hinted at what had been here.
Deciding she’d wasted enough time looking for what well could be nothing at all, she pointed Duster toward the intended course and eased her into a canter. The further she got from that spot, the more at ease she felt.
She just reached the edge of the meadow, about to enter the trees and heard an owl hoot. She pulled Duster up fast, turned around, and scanned the tree line. Owls were normally quiet during the day. Something wasn’t right. Whatever or whoever was out there was well hidden and had no desire to be seen.
She gathered the reins and squeezed her legs into Duster’s sides. It seemed Duster was just as anxious to leave because she half-reared and pushed off with her hindquarters.
A light mist settled over the mountains as they climbed higher and the trees grew shorter. The horizon to the east was clear and several rays of sun speared their way out of the clouds. It seemed a vast silence reigned over the land.
Mayme looked behind her every few minutes for the first two hours. But eventually her neck grew tired of the harsh twisting and every time she turned, Duster reacted to her weight adjustment in the stirrups. She’d had to check the pocket watch a couple times to make sure they were still on course.
The trees eventually fell away to a huge meadow that occupied the entire side of a mountain. Jagged boulders of granite sporadically littered it. The cloud deck had finally risen to reveal the vast mountain range. She suddenly felt very small and alone, and patted Duster’s neck for reassurance.
She pointed Duster downhill toward a flatter ridge, which seemed to circle the mountain. According to the map, this would take her northwest and within a day’s ride of Oro Fino Creek.
Two brown ptarmigan, small chicken-like birds, skittered like moving shadows through the short plants. They crossed in front of them and finally took to the air on stiff wings.
A golden eagle screamed from above. As Mayme brought her gaze down from the sky, one of the boulders moved. No, not a boulder. Her heart caught in her throat as she realized it was a grizzly bear.
Thankfully the bear was occupied, busily eating berries and seemingly anything else it could find. It had a massive head, concave facial profile, and small ears. Its high shoulders produced a sloping back, which emphasized its robust build. The light-colored shaggy coat glimmered in the sun as it moved. It casually turned its head and caught sight of her and Duster. It watched them for a few moments before rising up on its hind legs. The high shoulder hump was more visible and Mayme saw the mass of powerful muscles that drove the front legs. Six-inch daggers for claws hung from its paws.
She silently urged Duster on and left the bear to fill its stomach with the berries and not fresh meat.
The hours passed without event. By mid-day she’d descended the mountain far enough to meet up with a fast-rushing creek. According to the map, this was Oro Fino Creek. Tomorrow she’d need only to follow the creek upstream and make her first mail delivery.
Once she made camp, gathered firewood, and had a low fire burning, she led Duster to the creek. She wetted the now empty sack Iris had given her and rubbed it over Duster’s hide. Dirt, sweat, and hair ran down her legs and were swept away by the water.
Mayme drank in the fragrance of the cool water. By the time she was done with Duster, she was anxious to clean off her own sweat and dirt, in addition to that of Duster’s that clung to her.
While Duster grazed the lush grasses along the stream, Mayme shed her clothes. She breathed a sigh of relief upon removing the wrap from her chest. She was chaffed in a few places, but nothing severe.
Finally naked, she didn’t hesitate to submerge herself into a quiet pool beneath a tree, which had at one time lost the fight against an eroding torrent. Although the water was chilly and goose flesh peppered her skin, it was quite refreshing. She used the sandy silt from the creek bottom to scrub the dirt and grime from her body. The cold eventually drove her out and she stood by the fire to dry and get warm. Her last chore before settling down to eat was to rinse her shirt and wrap, and hang them by the fire to dry.
Mayme kept her eye on Duster. She’d come to trust her to alert her to any danger. But the horse seemed content to graze. Every once in a while she’d raise her head with a mouthful of grass and watch Mayme work around camp.
Before she retired for the night, Mayme tied Duster close. This time she laid the rifle right alongside her instead of propping it against the saddle.
Duster’s nicker woke her later when the moon was high in the sky. She flung the blanket back, grabbed the rifle, and stood by Dusters side.
“What is it, girl?” She laid her hand on Duster’s neck. The horse seemed more curious than nervous. She heard horses stepping among the rocks somewhere downstream, heard them drink from the shallow pools in the dark where the rocks lay smooth. Eventually all was quiet.
She stood for a while longer and hearing nothing, returned to her bedroll. She still kept the rifle close. As she lay here, she wondered if the horses belonged to the stallion Mr Smart had spoken of. Would he have driven his herd this far into the mountains? But, she reasoned, if that were the case, why hadn’t the stallion tried to drive Duster away?
Sleep claimed her again before she came to any conclusions. Aside from a few minor snaps as the fire cooled down, the only sound was that of the moving water.
Chapter Fifteen
THE TOWN, IF one could call it that, of Oro Fino Creek, seemed scattered about as if the buildings sprang up sporadically wherever the builder deemed a decent spot.
As she rode past the saloon, she noticed thick boards, like horizontal shutters propped up by poles above all the windows. Each one had a three-inch hole cut into the center. She wondered the purpose until she arrived in front of the post office and saw two arrows embedded in one of them. It suddenly became clear. The shutters were let down for protection in case of an Indian ambush. The holes must be where the residents poked their rifle barrels out and shot at their attackers.
She tied Duster at the hitching post and took the mochila into the post office. Unlike the one in Eagle Rock, the interior was nearly bare except for a desk and a few wooden boxes stacked next to it.
“Ah, our first mail delivery. How exciting.” A thin gray-haired man with crooked legs stood up painfully and met Mayme halfway. “You must be Nathan. I received a telegraph enquiring whether you’d made it or not.”
“Yes, sir. I rode as fast as I could, having never been on this route before.” Mayme surrendered the bag to him. “I reckon I’ll be faster next time.”
“Well, you did just fine. The people here will be so relieved to know we have a dependable carrier.”
Mayme smiled. “Is there anything you’d like for me to take back to Eagle Rock?”
“I can’t answer that just yet. What I would suggest is that you put yourself up in the saloon for a day or two and rest your horse. I’ll put the word out that you’re in town. Check back with me day after tomorrow and I’ll see what I have for you.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Mayme took a few steps toward the door and stopped short. “Do the Indians attack often? I noticed some arrows in the shutters outside.”
The man took on a grim look. “Sadly, it seems like it’s a monthly occurrence. Damned savages. Pardon my language. Seems like all they want to do is run through and see if they can
take some scalps.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“They’ve killed some mighty fine people.”
Mayme walked out, feeling a mixture of hate and horror for the red men who took lives without reason. Savages indeed.
She led Duster to the livery and arranged for a stall. The owner refused any payment upon discovering she was the post rider.
Duster nickered to her as she turned to leave the barn with her saddlebags hanging over her shoulder.
“I know, girl. You’ll be fine here. I’ll check on you after I get myself a room and have something to eat.” Mayme felt a bit guilty for leaving Duster. The horse had been a loyal companion and faithful guardian. But, as the postman said, both she and Duster needed rest and feed.
A red façade with cursive writing heralded her arrival at Big Nosed Kitty’s saloon. A pair of “batwing” doors at the entrance hung on long hinges and extended from chest to knee level.
Mayme had never been in a saloon before. In fact, she had always crossed the street in Eagle Rock to avoid the smells of cigars and stale alcohol. In this case, she had no choice but to go inside.
The interior was a crude affair with minimal furniture and few decorations. A gray wolf hide hung behind the bar above the row of whiskey bottles. Four vacant tables and chairs stood on either side of the doorway. Seven stools were tucked under the overhang of the bar. A single wood-burning stove sat at the base of the stairs. No doubt so the warmth could be shared in the rooms above.
A very large, bespectacled man stood behind the bar, wiping freshly washed glasses. He had full sideburns and eyes that spoke of seeing many things. He perused Mayme with open curiosity as she approached.
“You’re new in these parts.” He put the glass he’d dried on the counter. “What can I get you?” He lifted a whiskey bottled and motioned toward it.
Mayme shook her head quickly. “The postmaster told me to come here and enquire about a room.” She noticed a sign advertising a free meal with the purchase of a drink. She pointed with her chin. “Does that apply to any meal?”
“Yep. Sure does. What’s your pleasure?”
“I think I’d like to get a room first,” she said wearily. “I’ll come down when I get settled.”
“Righto. How long you staying? We’ve got weekly rates, or if you think you’ll be here longer, there’s a boarding place down the road a spell. Ain’t fancy, but it’d be a roof over your head.”
“Two nights here will be fine. Thanks.”
“The name’s Miles in case you need anything.”
Mayme started toward the stairs. “No, there’s nothing I need at the moment.”
The room Mayme chose on the second floor closely resembled the one she’d occupied at Mrs. Randall’s. A single chest of drawers stood against the wall with a round mirror nailed above it. A washbasin, a full pitcher of water, and lamp were the only items on the roughly hewn surface.
A single casement window allowed light in as she parted the dingy curtains. A few horse and riders rode past the buildings, but other than that, all was quiet. She wondered if the town’s inhabitants were still out working in the gold fields.
She went to the bed, kicked off her boots, tossed her hat onto the dresser, and stretched out on top of the covers. The cotton mattress felt wonderful after sleeping on the hard ground. In a few moments she was asleep.
Mayme’s pocket watch read a few minutes after eight. She couldn’t believe she’d slept so long. The last vestiges of daylight had been replaced by splinters of moonlight that penetrated the curtains.
Voices from below mingled together to create a dull roar that rose and lowered in tempo like the ebb and flow of waves on a lake.
Her stomach grumbled and reminded her that she hadn’t eaten anything since a quick breakfast on the trail. She rubbed her eyes and poured water into the basin. She caught sight of herself in the mirror, and very nearly didn’t recognize the figure that reflected back. Her face sagged with the fatigue of days on the trail and the stress of entering the unknown. She ruffled her hair and then pasted it in place with damp hands after splashing her face.
Feeling more awake now, and even hungrier, she ventured out.
She stood at the top of the stairs and surveyed the floor. The saloon was nearly full with men drinking at the bar or tables. Some were apparently asleep with their heads resting on folded arms. Others played cards, still others were enjoying a hot meal. A silver haze from smoke clung to the ceiling, moving only when someone came in from outside.
In the far corner, a scantily clothed woman stood next to a seated man. She looked around as if bored while he fondled her breasts with one hand and stroked her backside with the other. Something about her seemed familiar, but in the poor light, Mayme couldn’t be sure.
There was one empty stool next to the bar and it was there she headed. The seat next to it was comfortably far enough away and occupied by one of the sleeping men.
“Ready for that meal now?” Miles wiped the surface in front of her with a rag that long ago must have been white.
“Yes, sir.”
“You have your choice tonight. Boiled elk roast and mashed taters or boiled elk roast and mashed taters.” A well-hidden grin raised his moustache.
Mayme chuckled and shrugged. “Hard choice, but I think I’ll have the elk and potatoes. Could I please just have some water with that?”
“Not a drinker?”
“My horse hates the smell of it.” Mayme smiled at her little white lie. “And I’m not allowed to drink. Boss’s orders.”
“I see.” The bartender poured a glass of water and expertly slid it to her waiting hands. “I’ll put your order in. It shouldn’t be long.”
MAYME SIPPED FROM her glass and spun around to put her back against the bar. She stole glances at the various patrons, but her gaze kept flitting back to the woman she’d seen from the upstairs floor. As she was now in better light, Mayme could see the woman had crimson hair, but so far she hadn’t been able to get a good look at her face.
The man who’d been fondling her had apparently lost interest in her. He’d gotten to his feet, albeit unsteadily, and was heading in the direction of a younger girl on the other side of the room.
“Here you go, young fella. Eat ’em up.”
Mayme turned as Miles placed the plate full of aromatic food in front of her. Her mouth watered in anticipation and she eagerly picked up the knife and fork. She closed her eyes and hummed when she put the first mouthful of sweet meat into her mouth.
“Now that’s what I like to see. A young man enjoying his food.”
Mayme shoved in another mouthful and looked toward the voice. Betty! She gasped and a piece of meat lodged in her throat. She doubled over, and while the woman thumped her on the back, she choked and gagged until the errant lump dropped onto the floor.
“Land sakes, are you all right?”
Mayme nodded but kept her head down. She did but she didn’t want to look up at the woman who she’d recognized. The same Betty she’d met on the train months earlier. The one person in this town who stood a chance of recognizing her.
“Miles, get him something stronger to drink. Put it on my tab.”
“Sure thing, Kitty.”
Kitty? Mayme shook her head. “Thanks, but no. I’m okay.” Her voice was raspy and she had a hard time keeping it in character of Nathan. She had no idea how she was going to handle this if Betty didn’t leave soon.
Betty shot her a strange look. “Never mind. Bring his food and a tall glass of water to my room. Bring a scotch for me, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Betty grasped Mayme by the arm. “Come with me.”
She allowed herself to be led upstairs and through a door that went into a different section of the building. Betty stopped at door number five and removed a key from her bodice. Mayme worked to keep from smiling. Betty’s safe.
Betty unlocked the door, pulled Mayme inside, and latched the door.
&n
bsp; Mayme took in the surroundings. There was a bed in one corner, in another a stove, a coal hod, and a bundle of kindling sitting near it. A small dresser with a washbasin was pushed against the wall. Permeating everything was a mixture of disinfectant, hair oil, and cheap perfume. A few pictures hung on the walls, oddly enough, with innocent scenes of flowers and mountains.
“I never in a million years expected to see you here, let alone in a saloon.”
Mayme turned and for the first time, looked openly at Betty. Her red dress was nearly as fancy as a ball gown. Its elaborate lace stitching flowed down the neckline. Silken laces so fine, they barely seemed to contain Betty’s bust. A decorative braid wrapped tightly around her waist and accentuated her voluptuous curves.
“I thought you were headed to California. And why did Miles call you Kitty?”
Betty sighed and pointed to her bed.
Mayme hesitated.
“Please. Sit. We have a lot to catch up on.”
There was a knock on the door. Betty opened it and took the platter holding Mayme’s food and the drinks. “Thanks, Miles. Please make sure I’m not disturbed for a few hours.”
Miles winked. “Sure thing.”
Betty latched the door and set the platter on her dresser. “Here.” She handed Mayme her plate of food. “You eat, I’ll talk. Then I want to know why you’re dressed as a young man in a rough mining town.”
“Okay.” Mayme sliced a piece of meat and put it in her mouth. The food had cooled but was still very edible.
“I never made it to California like I’d planned. When the train stopped in Salt Lake City, I received word that Oro Fino Creek had need of a saloon proprietor. It took me a month to gather enough money, but I was finally able to make my way back to Idaho.”
Mayme widened her eyes. “Only a month?”
Betty raised her chin slightly. “Yes, well, I’m a good business woman if I say so myself.”
Mayme recalled what she’d seen earlier and it became clear. Very clear.
“You’re a prostitute.”
After a Time Page 13