by Teresa Rae
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” asks a man in a blue uniform as he steps in front of me. “Private Smith, we’ve found ourselves a real lady.”
Uneasy, I try to turn around but am cut off by another man in uniform.
“Please excuse me gentlemen,” I say, trying to go around them. “I’m expected, elsewhere.”
“You aren’t going anywhere until we say so,” the other man says, taking an aggressive step forward. “We are here to keep the peace, and there is no peace when a pretty girl like you is bothering innocent soldiers like us. Don’t you agree, Private Dent?”
Someone clears their throat behind us. Colonel Blair smiles serenely at the men.
“Is there a problem, privates?” he asks.
“This is none of your concern, just move along,” Private Smith says nastily.
“You are upsetting Miss Harris, and that is my concern, as she is my houseguest,” Colonel Blair answers.
Private Dent draws a gun out of his holster and points it at him. I’ve come all this way to save his life, and he’s going to die right in front of me. I prepare to jump in front of Colonel Blair. Thankfully, I don’t have to.
“Colonel Blair!” says a voice in an Irish accent. A dignified man runs across the street to us. “How was your meeting with President Grant?”
The soldiers are confused for a moment.
“Private Dent, good lord! Put that gun away!” the man says as he joins us, panting. “You’re threatening one of the most powerful men in the state, a Civil War hero, and a good friend of mine! Didn’t they teach you any manners in New York?”
“Mr. MacKay, this isn’t Colonel Blair,” Private Smith says, gesturing at Colonel Blair.
“He most certainly is Colonel Blair, formerly of the Confederate Calvary, otherwise known as ‘Gentleman James’. Where have you been living, under a rock? Put that gun away before I suggest to Sergeant McHenry you serve latrine duty.”
The gun is swiftly put in the holster.
“Miss Harris, there are some items I would your opinion on at the clothing store,” Colonel Blair takes my arm and wraps it around his. “John, it would a pleasure if you were to accompany us.”
“Certainly, Colonel Blair,” he snorts in the direction of the soldiers before flanking James’s other side.
“Are you all right, Ma’am?” Colonel Blair asks me quietly as we walk.
“I’m fine,” I answer.
“If you ask me, the sooner the Federal troops fix the Indian problems, the better,” Mr. MacKay says. “James, how many times have I told you that you need to get out more often? You have lived here nine years, and hardly anyone outside your household recognizes you by sight.”
“You know I like to keep to myself.” James directs me under awnings so we stay dry during the brief rain shower.
Mr. MacKay snorts a second time at Colonel Blair before addressing me, “Ma’am, I’m afraid I have not had the honor.”
“John MacKay, this is Miss Rebecca Harris of South Carolina. Miss Harris, this is John MacKay,” James introduces us outside a clothing store.
Mr. MacKay inclines his head and I curtsy.
“Is Miss Harris a relation of yours, Colonel Blair?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.
“No, she is merely my guest for the next two weeks,” he answers.
“What excellent timing for a visit to Virginia City! My Phoebe and boys will arrive, tomorrow morning, from San Francisco. We will be having a glorious St. Patrick’s Day party on the seventeenth. I trust we can count on you attending with your lovely visitor, Colonel Blair?”
Colonel Blair looks to me for approval. I nod once. It sounds like fun to go to a St. Patrick’s Day party in 1875. He sighs.
“Yes, we will be there,” he says.
“Excellent!” Mr. MacKay pats him on the shoulder. “I will inform Phoebe at once. Good day, Colonel Blair, Miss Harris.”
He strides away.
Colonel Blair scowls at me. “Miss Harris, you should have waited at the schoolhouse for me. It is unwise for a girl to travel, unaccompanied. I am still in shock you were allowed to travel without a chaperone.”
“I’m sorry. Everything is new and unfamiliar to me,” I reply truthfully. I’m just trying to fake it well enough to keep from standing out too much.
“All the more reason for you to use discretion,” he says, directing me down the street. “I hope you do not disapprove, but I have purchased a few things for you.”
He opens the door and ushers me into the store. “It is March, and you do not have a cloak. The weather is different in Nevada than what your have been accustomed to in South Carolina. Mrs. Barnett has agreed to help you locate suitable outerwear.”
“Colonel Blair, this must be the young lady you were telling me about?” an older woman greets us from behind the counter.
“Yes, Mrs. Barnett, this is Miss Harris,” Colonel Blair says. “She is in need of traveling attire, namely a cloak, bonnet, and parasol. Charge them to my account.”
“Colonel Blair, I have my own money, and I do not need winter attire. I will only be here a couple weeks,” I object.
He pretends not to hear me. “Mrs. Barnett, send Timmy for me when you and Miss Harris are finished. I will be at the Washoe Club having a drink with a friend.”
He abruptly disappears out the door as though he’s happy to be rid of me.
“That insolent man!” I mutter.
Mrs. Barnett laughs. “That insolent man is the catch of Virginia City. Believe me when I say, you will be the envy of all the girls by nightfall.”
The other girls can have Colonel Blair. I’m only here for a couple weeks, and I’ve already decided to despise the man forever. He was a cranky ghost who haunted me. More importantly, he owned slaves and fought for the Confederacy.
Mrs. Barnett is a kind woman and helps me find a warm cloak. After we locate a bonnet and parasol to match, she calls for her grandson to go for Colonel Blair. Instead of waiting around for the irritating man to return, I follow Timmy out the door.
The gentlemen’s club is filled with smoke. I wave it out of my face as I walk in. Little Timmy goes to a table in a corner.
“Colonel Blair, Miss Harris has finished her shopping,” he tells him.
“Thank you,” he says, pulling a small coin out of his pocket. He passes it to the boy.
“And who is this Miss Harris, Colonel?” the other man at the table teases Colonel Blair.
“One of the most trying girls in the country,” he replies, having caught my eye. He rises to his feet, and his drinking partner’s eyes open wide at seeing me enter the club.
“Gentlemen, do not get up,” I say, passing speechless men on my way to the table. I avert my eyes from a couple half-dressed women who are entertaining some of the patrons.
“Miss Harris, allow me to introduce Sergeant Marsh.” Colonel Blair gestures to his friend. “We served together during the war.”
Sergeant Marsh has had both his arms amputated. I smile warmly at him. Spending a lot of time in the hospital has given me a large amount of experience with dealing with physical differences.
“It is a pleasure to meet you,” I say, taking the pipe from Colonel Blair’s mouth. I nonchalantly put it on the table.
“Were you able to find the items you need?” he asks, looking at my new cloak.
“I was able to find some items I definitely do not need, as I’m leaving in two weeks,” I reply, ignoring the dirty looks I’m receiving from both the patrons and the prostitutes entertaining them.
Sergeant Marsh leans over and slowly sips the top off his drink.
“Sergeant Marsh, allow me to get that for you.” I pick up the drink and lift it to his lips. When it is empty, I put the glass on the table and wipe his mouth with a cloth napkin.
“Thank you, Miss Harris,” he says gratefully.
“Not at all, Sergeant Marsh,” I return.
Colonel Blair rises to his feet. “Robert, I will return to finish thi
s drink after I escort Miss Harris home.”
“I have a few things I need to pick up for Rose while I am in town.” I pull out a shopping list with directions to a grocery store. “Finish your drink while I go to Filiott’s grocery and provision store.”
“Miss Harris, my household staff is more than capable of stocking the pantry,” he objects.
“I didn’t say they weren’t. However, as I remember, Rose has been caring for sick children. I don’t want her to have to make a special trip to do the shopping if I can quickly stop right now. I won’t be more than a few minutes.” I turn to the door. “It has been a pleasure meeting you, Sergeant Marsh.”
I’m not more than five steps from the Washoe Club before Colonel Blair catches pace with me.
“Miss Harris, never again enter the Washoe Club!” he says angrily. “It is not a place for ladies!”
“From what I saw, it is not a place for gentlemen, either.” I continue to walk.
“I’m thinking of your safety. Are you always this aggravating?” he asks.
“Yes,” I answer directly. “Do you always drink with prostitutes?”
He frowns deeply. “I was drinking with Sergeant Marsh, no one else.”
I shrug my shoulders. “It is really none of my concern. However, you should know that you can get some pretty terrible diseases from sleeping with prostitutes.”
His face turns a deep shade of red as he blushes. “Miss Harris, you are very candid for a southern girl. Likewise, I will return your candidness with candidness. My father taught me to behave like a gentleman. I do not consort with prostitutes.”
“That is a relief to hear. You will live a lot longer.” I don’t add that it’s completely degrading to women. If the demand were gone, the girls might have the opportunity to do something else with their lives.
I push my way into Filiott’s.
“Colonel Blair!” cheers a man as we walk into the store. “What can I do for you?”
He gestures to me. “Good day, Mr. Filiott. Miss Harris has a few items to purchase.”
I hand the man the shopping list. “We are almost out of flour, butter, salt, sugar, and bacon.”
“I have just what you need.” He disappears into the back room.
I look around the store. Coming from a generation of superstores, it’s weird to see such a small store with so few products. I inspect the displays behind the cabinet. My eyes linger on one particular product. It’s been a day and a half since I properly brushed my teeth, and I desperately want to change this. When Mr. Filiott returns, I point to the enormous toothbrushes.
“How much are the toothbrushes?” I ask.
He puts the groceries on the counter. “I have not had much interest in them. I would be willing to sell them for a penny apiece.”
First, it’s just plain nasty that the man can’t sell toothbrushes because that means no one is brushing their teeth. Second, a penny is a fantastic deal. I open my coin purse.
“I will take the whole box.”
“Miss Harris, what, may I ask you, are you going to do with a whole box of toothbrushes?” Colonel Blair questions.
I pass Mr. Filiott a dollar.
“Early St. Patrick’s Day presents,” I reply. “Having clean and healthy teeth is very important.”
Colonel Blair takes the dollar from Mr. Filiott and returns it to my coin purse. “Miss Harris is my guest for the next two weeks. Have any items she wishes to purchase charged to my account.”
“Colonel Blair, I have my own money,” I object.
“And millions of dollars of silver is mined from my holdings every year. I can afford to be a good host.”
I raise an eyebrow, not knowing whether to be impressed or disturbed by the massive amount of wealth. Ultimately, I decide to be practical.
“In that case, I would like a couple things to go with my toothbrushes.” I turn to Mr. Filiott. “What kind of fruit do you have? And do you have any peppermint sticks?”
“The only fruit I have is a box of apples, but I’m expecting a shipment of fruit from California in a couple days,” he answers. “As far as the peppermint sticks go, I keep them on the counter.”
A smile appears on his face while he points to a jar right next to me.
After I’m finished with my shopping, Mr. Filiott loads Colonel Blair’s carriage with the groceries before disappearing back into his store.
Colonel Blair frowns at the box of wrinkled apples as he helps me into the carriage.
“Those are the saddest apples I have ever seen,” he says.
“Be kind,” I scold. “I’m just grateful he had some.”
He shakes his head as he urges the horses forward. “At least Rose will be able to make some apple pies with them.”
“I will save her enough for a couple pies, but I have plans for the rest,” I tell him truthfully.
“And what are you planning on doing with a box of old apples?”
“Stop the carriage, and I will show you,” I say.
His brow wrinkles but obediently reins in the horses. Before he can walk around the carriage to help me, I’ve already stepped out. I take a couple of the small apples from the box and go directly to a group of children playing in the mud. None of them are wearing shoes, and their clothes don’t fit properly. The oldest looks to be about eight, and the youngest are toddlers too young to speak.
“Children, do you think you could help me?” I address the group. Some of the younger children hide behind the older ones. I smile warmly at them. “Colonel Blair just purchased me an entire box of apples, and I don’t know what I am going to do with all of them. Do you think you could take a few off my hands?”
I pass an apple to one of the older girls. She looks at the apple in disbelief.
“C-can I really have it?” she says in a sweet Irish accent. “The whole thing?”
“It is all yours,” I reply.
She beams at me. “Ma can make something with it for my family! I’m going to save it for St. Patrick’s Day!”
I pass out the other apples in my hands but quickly run out. I turn and find Colonel Blair holding the box of apples behind me. I pass an apple to each of the children. More children join the group, and I give them apples as well. There are still plenty of apples in the box, and I glance around the street for more children. I find two eyes peering behind a building.
“Do you want an apple?” I call out to the hiding child.
“He’s just a chink,” one of the boys informs me.
“Chink?” I question, not having heard the word.
“Chinese,” Colonel Blair explains.
“Oh, that doesn’t matter,” I say loudly. “I have a lot of apples and need children to use them. I don’t care where those children are from.”
A little boy frighteningly emerges from his hiding spot. I hold out an apple to him. He dashes to me, taking the apple. Hiding it in his too big jacket, he mutters something I don’t understand.
“What?” I ask.
“Sister,” he says, pointing to the building. For the first time, I see a second head peering out at me.
I wave over the frightened little girl. She trembles as I place the apple in her tiny hands. I pat her beautiful black hair.
“Thank you for helping me,” I tell her.
Her dark eyes look up at me, and a faint smile appears on her lips. She takes her brother’s hand, and the two quickly run away.
I find other groups of children to share the apples with. When the box is three quarters of the way empty, I prepare to step into Colonel Blair’s carriage. I am stopped by a fast moving woman. She dashes across the muddy street in a dark dress.
“Excuse me! Excuse me!” she calls loudly. “I wish to make your acquaintance!”
“Do you want an apple as well?” I ask, holding one out to her.
“That is what you were giving the children!” She looks at the small apple. “That is a very generous gift in Virginia City, as everything must be shipped in by train.�
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“Colonel Blair is extremely generous,” I tell her.
He frowns when I smile sweetly at him.
“Colonel Blair?” she asks. “Not the Colonel Blair?”
“It is a pleasure to meet you,” he says politely, still frowning at me. “You must be Julia Whitaker, Bishop Whitaker’s wife.”
“Yes, it is an absolute honor to meet you, Colonel Blair! And this must be Miss Blair, your sister.” She gestures to me.
“Colonel Blair is an only child, Mrs. Whitaker,” I explain. “Being generous to a fault, he has offered me a roof over my head until I return to my sister.”
“Miss Harris has been helping care for the ill children of some of my miners,” Colonel Blair adds.
“It is welcomed new to have another God-fearing woman in Virginia City. Heavens knows there are not nearly enough of us.” Julia clicks her tongue and shakes her head. “Can my husband and I expect you to church while you are with us?”
“Of course,” I answer.
Colonel Blair frowns.
“Very good, I am already looking forward to Sunday. I wish I could stay and visit longer; however, I have visits to make. Good day.” She turns and begins to walk away. Suddenly, she stops and turns back around. “Miss Harris, you will want to keep your distance from the children. Many of them have lice and fleas.”
“Oh, I am not worried about that,” I retort. I’ve met more than my far share of do-gooders who preach one thing and do another. “The children are just too beautiful to keep my distance from. Didn’t Jesus tell his disciples in the New Testament, ‘Suffer the children to come unto me’?” I repeat a sermon Mama often quoted.
Julia’s face is stoic.
“Miss Harris, you are a true Christian,” she says, surprising me. “Sunday will not come nearly fast enough.”
With that, she disappears down the street.
“I assume you are finished giving away my apples,” Colonel Blair says, putting the almost empty box in the back of the carriage.
“I am,” I reply, taking my seat. “Now, I am going to give away all your toothbrushes.”