Addy turned and gawked out the window again, and the coach swept past a boulder on her side that stuck out so far she thought the coach would hit it. The driver shouted and whistled, the coach rocked and bounced. A few minutes later it pulled onto a ledge, and they waited as another coach went by in the opposite direction. “We’ll rest the horses a minute!” the driver shouted.
Addy moved to look out the other side again, feeling almost sick to her stomach when she saw how high they were. “Dear Lord,” she whispered. The only sound was a droning wind coming down the canyon, combined with the distant sound of water roaring below. “What is that yellow stuff?” she asked then, noticing a pile of yellow-looking dirt outside what appeared to be a mine entrance on the side of a mountain across the canyon.
Benny leaned over to look out. “Oh, that’s tailings from a mine, the junk that’s left over after sorting out the ore. Some of it gets in the creek water, makes it run yellow. People farther below complain that it’s souring the water and making it no good. Probably right, but when it comes to gold, men don’t much care about what gets spoiled trying to get to it.”
Addy jumped when she heard a rumbling explosion. “What’s that!”
Benny just grinned. “Dynamite in one of the mines. That’s how they loosen up the rock to find the ore. We’re gettin’ close to Black Hawk now. You’ll have to learn to live with the explosions. They go on all day long up here. It’s just a fact of life. One good thing, though—eventually you won’t have to take a coach up this road to go between here and Denver. They’re talkin’ about buildin’ a railroad.”
“In these mountains? It doesn’t seem possible.”
“How many times do we have to tell you, lady?” Sassy put in. “Anything is possible when it comes to gold and men getting to it. You’ll like Central. It’s a wild, exciting town.”
Addy rolled her eyes. “I am not exactly looking for wild and exciting,” she answered. “I have been through enough the last few years for all the wild and exciting I want, especially the last few weeks. The trip here was as wild and exciting as I want.”
“Well, the excitement ain’t over yet,” Sassy told her. “Hang on to your hat, honey.”
Addy absently did just that, putting a hand to her hat as the driver got the coach underway again. They headed up an even steeper grade, and Addy could hear more explosions. She closed her eyes and clung to the hand strap as the coach climbed higher, at such a steep grade that she was afraid something would break loose and they would go crashing backward downhill. Finally they balanced out and began heading downhill.
“Almost there!” Benny told her.
Addy looked out, and sprawling ahead of them was what she knew must be Black Hawk, as she had learned they first had to go through that gold town before reaching Central City. The town did not seem to have any specific layout. It was simply a mass of brick and wooden buildings, and everywhere in the hills the land was dug away in ugly layers, piles of tailings everywhere, mine entrances, smokestacks.
So, finally she was here. Whether or not she had made the right decision, there was no going back. The city of Central was just a mile below Black Hawk. Mrs. Addy Kane had arrived.
Thirteen
Addy had never known so much noise and confusion. As soon as they disembarked the stagecoach, Sassy grabbed a couple of bags and sauntered away, quickly surrounded by a herd of men, many of whom seemed to already know her. Addy had learned during the last of their journey that Sassy owned a saloon in town called Hard Luck, and she remembered reading about it in the Register as one of the places Central’s citizens wanted to close.
Addy could hear the woman cackling all the way up the street. Benny Reed quickly disappeared without bothering to offer Addy any help, and Addy stood on the boardwalk waiting for her bags and her trunk to be unloaded.
The city of Central was a mass of businesses, some of the streets still dirt, now muddy from a rain the night before. People swarmed everywhere, mostly men; horses and wagons lined the street in front of businesses, and farther up in the hills that rose steeply all around the town Addy could see homes in some areas, mostly mines in others. When coming through Black Hawk she had been amazed to see some mining going on right along the main street, huge holes dug, ore cars rumbling right alongside the horses and wagons in the street. Every minute or two she heard another explosion in the surrounding mountains, and smokestacks from processing mills belched black smoke, the residue from the coal used to run steam engines inside the mills. Up and down the street she could hear piano music and laughter, and once in a while gunfire.
So, this was “the richest square mile on earth.” Addy wondered how many of the men packing the streets had ever truly seen riches from looking for gold. From things she had read, most men who struck gold did not have the money to mine it properly and ended up selling out to wealthier men, who in turn increased their own fortunes while paying nominal amounts for the original claims.
Benny’s words of wild and exciting hardly described this town, but in spite of all the busy commotion, Addy felt even more lonely and lost. “Can you tell me where a place called Miss Ada’s Rooming House is located?” she asked the driver, who stood watching another man unload the rest of her baggage.
“Miss Ada’s?” The man shoved back his hat and pointed uphill. “Way on up there where you see all them nicer houses. I ain’t sure the street, but once you get up in there, somebody can tell you. You won’t find a room, though. This town is in bad need of more roomin’ houses and hotels. What they have is packed full all the time.”
“Someone is supposed to have reserved a room there for me,” Addy answered. “A Mrs. Hester Collingswood.”
The man’s eyebrows arched. “Mrs. Collingswood? She’s a rich lady—lives up there where I just showed you. Her husband owns a pharmacy and a bank here in town. If she’s holdin’ a room, then I reckon you’re set. You need somebody to take you up there?”
“Yes. Please.”
The man nodded, walking into the street and hailing down another man who happened to be driving by with a buckboard. “You willin’ to take a pretty gal up in the fancy area, Mister?”
The man driving the wagon grinned. “Pretty? Will I see her in one of the crib houses later on?”
Addy rolled her eyes in disgust. Was that all men in these parts thought about?
“Heck no. She’s a new schoolteacher, widow woman come here from Illinois to teach. You gonna help her or not?”
The man rubbed his chin. “I guess so. Where’s she goin’?”
“Up to Miss Ada’s Roomin’ House.”
The man with the wagon pulled over, and the coach driver and his helper began loading Addy’s things into the back of the wagon. Addy stepped forward, addressing the stranger who would give her a lift. He was a middle-aged man, tall and lanky and looked as though he needed a bath. He wore soiled cotton pants, and only longjohns for a shirt. His boots looked well worn, as did his hat. “Hello,” she said. “My name is Mrs. Addy Kane, and I appreciate your helping me.” She pulled a shawl she had taken from one of her bags around her shoulders, surprised at how chilly it was high in the mountains this time of year. All the way here she had sweltered in the summer heat, and for the moment the only advantage she could find for being in this rowdy, unorganized town was that it was cooler here than in the broad, flat plains to the east. She wondered how the wagon driver could stand to wear only a shirt and no jacket.
“Sam Stark,” the man answered. “I make deliveries for different stores around town. Wife and I live up the other way.” He pointed in the opposite direction from where the boardinghouse was located. “Got four kids. Glad to see another schoolteacher come to town. Won’t be long before we’ll need a lot more.”
Addy could not help feelings of disgust. This man was married and had children, yet he’d wanted to know if she was a prostitute. She forced back an immediate dislike for him, grateful that at least he acknowledged a need for h
er presence, which meant maybe there were a lot of other parents who would be grateful for her presence and would want to make friends with her. “Thank you,” she answered, beginning to wonder how anyone was supposed to find anything in this town. The only directions anyone seemed to be able to give were “way on up there” or “up the other way.” She supposed she would simply have to do some exploring on her own and learn her way around, if it was safe for a woman to be out and about alone here.
“Your things is all loaded,” the stagecoach driver told her. “Climb on up there with the man.”
Addy lifted her skirt slightly with one hand, taking hold of the man’s hand for support as she stepped up into the wagon seat. She stayed on the far edge so as not to be seen sitting too close to Sam Stark. “Thank you for finding someone to take me,” she told the stagecoach driver, “and thank you for getting us here safely. I don’t believe I want to travel the road here again any time soon.”
The man laughed, and Sam joined in the laughter. “You get used to it,” Sam told her, snapping the reins to get his two large draft horses going.
“A young man on the stagecoach told me that,” she answered, “but I don’t quite believe it.” She clung to the side and back of the wagon seat as the wagon bounced and clattered over ruts in the road, splashing mud onto its wooden wheels.
“Illinois, huh?”
“Yes,” Addy answered. “Unionville.” Had she really lived there once? “I lost my husband and family because of the war, and came out here to start over.”
“Sorry to hear that, but you’ll learn to like it here in Central. Up here the war don’t count, who fought for who. Folks have to rely on each other to get by. It’s a whole other world up here in the Rockies. Most people who come here never go back.”
“I can see why!” Addy answered. “No one wants to go back down that road!”
Sam laughed and headed the wagon up a steep road that led away from the main part of town. Addy took in the sights, jumped slightly at the sound of another explosion. “Do you know where Miss Ada’s is?”
“I make deliveries, remember? I know every house and business in Central. Miss Ada’s is one of the nicer boarding houses, and believe me, there ain’t a lot of nice ones. The hotels is worse. Most of them are log buildings with dirt floors, blankets to divide the rooms—no place for proper ladies to stay. Things is gettin’ better, though. There’s talk of building better hotels and such. If you’re a church goer, there’s been a Methodist church organized, St. James, I think they call it. Right now they hold services in peoples’ homes, lots of times at Aunt Clare Brown’s house. She’s a Negro slave woman who bought her freedom and came out here to look for gold. Anyways, I guess they’re tryin’ to raise money to build a church. Mrs. Collingswood can tell you about all that. There’s a Presbyterian church up at Black Hawk.”
Addy looked around in wonder as Sam’s horses huffed and puffed their way up the steep incline. She wondered if anyone could go anyplace in these parts without having to climb to get there. “Where is the school?” she asked.
“Well, right now there ain’t one. School’s held at Lawrence Hall, but folks is raisin’ money to build a real school building. You ain’t the first school teacher hired, you now. Central is a lot bigger than you think. We’ve got about a hundred and forty kids goin’ to school now and not enough teachers. That’s why they advertised back East. I’ll bet they’re payin’ you good. Most teachers ain’t willin’ to come to remote places like this.”
I can understand why, Addy felt like saying. “I’m being paid quite well,” she answered, thrilled at the offer she had been made of $45.00 per month. “I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but I just needed to go someplace completely new to get away from bad memories.”
“Well, ma’am, you’d be surprised how many folks up here came for that very reason. Everybody in Central and Black Hawk is from someplace else. I’ll bet every state and every territory is represented in this town. I’ll tell you, too, that if the teachin’ job don’t work out, there’s all kinds of work for women up here, and not just in the brothels. Fact is, Central’s prominent citizens and the local newspaper are tryin’ to roust out the town’s, uh, soiled doves, so to speak. But I think the miners would put up a big fuss over that.”
The man laughed, and Addy stared straight ahead, her cheeks growing hot with embarrassment that he would speak so casually of such women in front of her. Apparently, prostitution was such a common way of life out here that no one thought anything about discussing it openly.
“Anyway, heck, women are needed for workin’ in dining rooms, as chambermaids, laundresses, housework for the richer families up in the hills, cooks, clerks … some even work in the mines! You can make two to three dollars a day workin’ in the mines, but most of that work is just too hard for a woman. Laundresses and maids and such make sometimes thirty dollars a month.”
“Oh, I prefer to teach, Mr. Stark.” Addy looked back. Most of the city was spread out below, and she could not help wondering if Cole Parker was down there somewhere. Maybe he had not come at all. She hoped he had not. She had left one life behind her at Unionville, another phase of it on the trip here. All of that was over now.
After a good fifteen minutes of climbing Sam drew his wagon to a halt in front of a neat frame house. A sign in front read simply “Ada’s”. “Here you are, Mrs. Kane,” Sam told her. “You’ve had quite a journey, haven’t you?”
Addy felt a catch in her heart. She turned and looked to the east … her parents, her sister, Tom … Cole. Finally she had made it to her new home, her new life. “Yes,” she answered. “I’m very tired.”
“Well, I’ll carry in your things for you.” Sam climbed down and Addy blinked back tears, telling herself she must not do any more crying. It was all done now. She was here, and that was that.
Cole puffed on a cigarette as he looked at his cards, then eyed the men around the table where he sat. The only one challenging him was an older man who had drawn two cards then raised Cole on the next round of betting. Cole had drawn three queens and had also taken only two cards, but neither one improved his hand. Still, three queens was damn good for five-card draw. He matched his opponent’s raise and threw down his cards. The other man scowled.
“How many times do you draw three jacks in this game and lose?” he grumbled. He threw down his own cards and rose, putting on his hat. He rested a hand on a six-gun at his side. “Mister, you wouldn’t be cheatin’ me now, would you? Ain’t a man in Central who’d put up with that.”
Cole pulled the money toward him. “I wouldn’t put up with it either,” he answered. “You’d better sit back down and play, or leave. Just don’t think about drawing on me because if you do, you’ll never play another game of cards.” He shoved the money into a leather drawstring bag he’d brought along for that very reason.
“We don’t even know your name, mister,” his challenger answered. “You say you’ve only been here four days, don’t have a job yet.”
Cole sighed with disgust, taking the cigarette from his mouth and setting it in an ashtray beside him. “And I suppose every man in this town does have a job?”
A few other men laughed.
“Let it go, George,” one of them spoke up. “The man beat you fair and square. Let’s get on with the game.”
George, who had drunk far too much already that night, stood a little straighter, holding his chin high. “All of you know how fast I am—so fast that nobody around here will go up against me anymore—fast enough that I don’t take bullshit from any man.”
“You’d better take it from that one,” another voice entered. “I’ve already seen him in action, and it ain’t pretty.”
Cole frowned, glancing sideways to see a young, blond-haired man watching them. He didn’t recognize him at first, but then he remembered—the man he’d let live after shooting his two cohorts who had threatened him back near Denver.
“How do you know?” George a
sked.
“’Cause I was right there,” the young man answered. “He out-drew two men at once, and now they’re dead.”
Cole kept his eyes on George, realizing that in his drunken condition, he was unpredictable. He slowly rose. “Look, mister, I don’t want any trouble. I beat you at cards. So what? What man here hasn’t had his good nights and his bad ones at the card table? Just get the hell out of here.”
George shook his head. “I ain’t been beat yet with the gun, and I don’t aim to start now.”
Instinct told Cole it was time. He saw the split second decision, and in a flash his own gun was drawn and cocked. George’s was not yet out of the holster. Gasps could be heard throughout the room, and George stood there gawking at Cole’s gun. “Unloose your gunbelt and get going,” he warned. “I’m sure the bartender here will keep it for you until tomorrow.”
George swallowed, slowly unbuckling his gunbelt. “Who the hell are you?” he asked.
“What difference does it make to anybody here?”
George laid his gunbelt on the table. “I’ll see you again, mister.”
Cole nodded. “You probably will. Maybe you’ll be sober then.”
A few men laughed, and George scowled, turning and walking away.
“Sit down and we’ll play some more, mister,” one of the others told Cole.
Cole looked over at the young man he’d let go free back in Denver. “Maybe later,” he answered. He picked up a glass of whiskey and swallowed what was left of it, then took up his cigarette and took a last drag before putting it out, all the while staring at the young man who had warned George not to draw on him. He stood at the bar with a buxom blond woman who wore a dress that fit too tightly over her breasts. She smiled at him, looking him over as though he were a delicious piece of cake. Cole tried to guess her age … twenty but looking older because of too much paint and a hard life? Or was she actually at least thirty? Maybe forty? Who could tell with women like that? He picked up his leather bag of money and walked over to the two, while a few others continued to stare at him and talk quietly about how fast he was. Everyone else returned to their drinking and gaming.
Until Tomorrow Page 17