Chapter Two
Harmony bent her head down, stretching her neck which was sore from the monotonous train ride, and she sighed with reawakened grief. She had never seen Brian O’Toole again. Somehow she had known she would not from the day he left. Still she had hoped. Now that hope was gone, but she had one sign that he had thought about her, had loved her. He’d left her a gold claim. Perhaps it was worth nothing. Perhaps it was worth a fortune. She was not going to let anyone swindle her out of it. She would go there herself and make her own decision. At least it was something that was hers, all hers. No one could take it from her. Never before had she had that kind of security. Soon after Brian’s departure, Jimmie had set in motion a plan to master her mind and body, using her own insecurity to do so. She now vowed that she would never be so insecure that anyone could ever take advantage of her the way Jimmie had tried to do.
She removed her gloves and pondered life. Surely one could have a hand in determining the course of one’s own life, despite the uncontrollable events that fate brought about. Brian O’Toole had left her a gold claim. Now it was up to her to decide what she would do with it, whether she would make it work for her or lose it. Yes. One did have considerable control. The Indians had fought. Defeated, they were now controlled by someone else. She would not let that happen. She would fight and she would win. No one would ever control Harmony Jones. She would be her own master, and would make good use of the good fortune that had come her way. Being young and a woman would not stop her.
She leaned back and listened to the rhythmic clatter of the train wheels as they passed over the rail connections. She could have taken a less expensive means of getting to Colorado, but she knew nothing of wagons and driving a team, and she did not want to board a steamer. The thought of doing so repulsed her, bringing back the memory of that day her parents had boarded one and had never returned. The train was much more practical and much faster—and she could afford it. She had saved frugally. She was glad of that.
The sun fell and she slept, lulled by the motion of the train. When she awoke the terrain had changed. It was more golden now, a little more barren. The hills were steeper but still only hills, not the mountains that had been described to her by those who had been to the Rockies. The train stopped at a town whose name she didn’t even know, and passengers disembarked to freshen up and eat breakfast. Harmony kept to herself, ignoring the stares of people who wondered why such a young girl was traveling alone, and of men who admired her beauty. She ate alone, listening to the talk about Denver and the mountains. “You can see them now if you look very hard,” a tall man told a thin woman. “At first you think they’re just dark clouds hanging on the horizon, but if you look again, you’ll realize it’s the mountains.”
Harmony quickly swallowed her food and walked outside, shading her eyes and staring at the western horizon. Indeed, there was a long, dark line ahead, very distant, very misty. Was it truly the mountains? She boarded the train again, her heart pounding with anticipation and an almost pleasant fear. She wished she had just one friend with whom she could share this experience, just one person who cared and who would know it if something happened to her. What if she died in the mountains as Brian had? No one would even know or care. There would be no one to notify of her misfortune. She would be as oblivious and forgotten as yesterday’s wind. It was a strange feeling, a sad feeling. But there was nothing she could do about it.
When the train started rolling, she settled back into her seat and gazed out the window. What big country this was! So different from anything she had ever set eyes on. What was it about this barren land that attracted people so? Perhaps most of them just wanted adventure, courted danger. Who could tell? The temptation of gold, as well as silver and other valuable ores, was also a lure. That temptation had taken her parents from her, then Brian. Now it was her own turn. Would she disappear into the mountains, never to be found or heard from again? It seemed that everyone who came to this land disappeared, as though they fell into a great bottomless abyss.
But she had good reason to come. If she wanted to survive, she had to do this. She closed her eyes again, feeling weary and wishing she could bathe. Trains were so dirty.
It was then a man walked up the aisle, searching for a seat. He noticed a pretty hat ahead of him and grinned to himself. Stealing a glance as he walked past the hat, he decided he’d sit by the pretty girl who wore it so he could see her better. He lowered his tall, powerful body into the seat across the aisle from her, the one that faced her seat, and he noticed she had her eyes closed and was trying to sleep. That gave him the chance to look at her more closely, and he liked what he saw. Her hair reminded him of golden prairie grass gently rolling under the sun. He could only guess at the color of her eyes, but whatever color they were, he was certain they were beautiful. He’d not seen a woman this pretty in a long time, so he settled back, deciding he’d enjoy the short journey he was taking by rail.
As Harmony sighed and shifted in her seat, the man grinned even more, picturing her settling herself between soft sheets, trying to envision how her exquisite form would look with nothing on. It was an enjoyable thought, and one easy to conjure up, for Buck Hanner had had his share of women. But the one he was looking at now seemed so young—too young to be traveling alone by train into the places this train was headed. He had to wonder about her, although he knew he had no right to inquire. Besides, she looked tired. For some reason the circles under her eyes pulled at something inside him, making him feel guilty for thinking of her as just another of many. Instinct told him otherwise. This girl was different, special.
Well, it didn’t much matter, he told himself. He’d be off the train at the next stop and on his way by horseback to Cripple Creek.
Harmony remained oblivious to the man’s presence, for she’d quickly fallen into deep thought again, her mind filled with memories of how she had ended up on the train. At the moment she was thinking about Jimmie. How she hated him! She would always hate him for what he had done! It was wonderful to be away from him, no matter what might happen to her.
After Brian had left, she had poured all her energy after school and on weekends into the O’Toole Supply Store. The only way she could avoid the terrible fear that Brian O’Toole would never return, the only way she could feel close to him while he was gone, was to be at the store, where so much of the man who was her whole world still lingered.
She remembered that she felt much older than her fourteen years then, and acted it. By fifteen her bright mind had earned her the equivalent of a high-school education, and she received a certificate signifying that accomplishment. From then on she worked full time in the store. Meanwhile she was blossoming into a young woman of unusual intelligence and she was displaying an uncanny knack for business, often coming up with ideas to make tens of dollars turn into hundreds. But her talents had both frustrated and fascinated Jimmie O’Toole. He did a decent job of managing the store, but he knew he would not have done nearly so well without Harmony’s natural instinct for turning a profit.
She hadn’t realized then the thoughts that were going through Jimmie’s mind. But she could remember the way he’d looked at her. It had made her uneasy, as if she were naked under his gaze. Her sixteenth birthday came, and after that it seemed Jimmie always found an excuse to stand close to her, and to touch her in some way. His behavior unnerved and irritated her, for she’d never liked him.
Now she knew what he’d been thinking. Oh, yes, she knew! She still shuddered at the memory. She’d prayed every night for Brian to return. Her problems would have been solved if he had come back. She would have told him to make Jimmie stop staring at her all the time, to stop hanging around her. And he would have made Becky happier. Poor Becky! She had not gotten any better. If anything, she’d grown much worse after Brian had left, hardly ever speaking to anyone, never smiling.
Harmony remembered those lonely times. Jimmie had frightened her, and she hadn’t been able to talk to Becky anymore. More and more she had begun to feel like the little girl on the docks. Brian’s letters had been frequent at first, and exciting. But then they had come less often and had sounded somewhat discouraged. He’d had to move into the mountains around Pike’s Peak, where there was less likelihood of finding anymore gold. So many men had surged into Cripple Creek that most good sections were already staked. Because of his distance from town, he could not write as often, and the letters were few and far between. After two years, Harmony had been sure he’d come home to St. Louis where he belonged, and that she would feel truly safe again. But he had not, and then on that terrible night Jimmie had attacked her…Again the memory overwhelmed her. She wished she could rid her mind of it, but she was unable to do so. It was only last December—December 1895—that the final events which led her to board a train for Colorado had begun.
Becky O’Toole fell ill that cold December. Confined to her bed with a dangerous cough, she was so weak she was unable to rise from her pillow. Harmony, remembering her promise to care for Brian’s wife, stayed home from the supply store to nurse and feed Becky. Although the woman had not been much company the last several months, for years she had been most kind to Harmony, a true friend. Indeed, she was a kind and sweet person who had not minded keeping little Harmony even when newly wed.
Now Harmony’s old fear worsened. What if Becky died? Where did that leave Harmony if Brian did not come home? But surely he would return if something happened to Becky! Yes, he would come home and somehow legally assure Harmony of a permanent home. And of course once he got there, he would stay. He’d not found any gold, so why should he go back?
It was the only hope Harmony had. Soon! Brian would come soon! It had been two and a half years. Even if nothing happened to Becky, he would come. He’d promised, hadn’t he? He’d said two years, and it had been more than that already. He wouldn’t break his promise the way her parents had. Not Brian. He would take care of her as he always had in the past.
She nursed Becky faithfully, bathing her, changing her gown and bed, rubbing creams on her bed-sore skin, feeding her. The care was time consuming and tiring, and Becky did not get better. Harmony began sleeping outside the sick woman’s room on a sofa, wanting to be close by so she could hear the terrible coughing and go in to help Becky sit up. When the rocking cough tore at the poor woman’s insides, she held her until the spasms subsided and Becky lay back moaning with pain, struggling to breathe.
It was on one such night, while Harmony lay nearly asleep on the sofa, that she was awakened by a hand on her breast. She gasped and sat up, staring wide-eyed at a grinning Jimmie, who had come home late from the store and had obviously been drinking. She yanked the blankets up to her neck.
“What do you think you’re doing!” she hissed. “Get away from me!”
He laughed lightly, sitting on the edge of the sofa. She curled up toward the arm, clinging to the blankets. “We hardly ever see each other anymore, Harmony,” he told her. “I miss you at the store.”
“Why should I care! And get off this sofa!”
He reached out to touch the lustrous blonde hair that cascaded over her shoulders, but she jerked her head back, eying him like a she-cat ready to strike.
“Come on, Harmony. You want me and you know it. We belong together, you and me. You can be my partner. We’ll build another store, and another. We’ll be rich, you and me. The biggest suppliers this side of the Mississippi.”
“How dare you touch me!” she almost growled. “And how dare you think I’d want to join with the likes of you! Don’t you know how much I’ve always hated you? You get away from me!”
He snickered. “Harmony. Harmony,” he said chidingly. “You’re such a little girl. You’re just afraid, because you don’t know anything about men. You’ve never had a chance to find out. What a pity—such a wonderful body going to waste. It’s time you married and let a man use that body the way it’s supposed to be used.”
“And who would I marry? You?” Her eyes narrowed, became hard with hatred. “You get away from me!”
He sighed and pretended to get up, then suddenly turned and grabbed her hair, jerking her forward painfully and leaning down to kiss her, a hard, painful kiss that hurt her lips. She grasped his wrists, trying to make him let go of her hair, repulsed by his cold lips and rudely searching tongue, and horrified that someone she hated was touching her this way. He would not let go of her hair, so she reached up and scratched at his eyes, making him break the kiss and cry out.
He quickly grabbed her wrists then, pinning down her arms and burying his face in the fullness of her breasts, mumbling that if she relaxed and let herself enjoy it, it wouldn’t be so bad. Horror engulfed her as she thought of the two men who had grabbed her on the docks. Where was Brian now? If he were here, he’d beat his brother for doing this. But there was no one to help her. Becky lay in the next room only half-conscious and too weak to help even if she were aware of the situation. Harmony recalled Brian’s words—that she must rely on her own will to survive. He was right. She could not expect anyone to help her, to protect her. Even her parents had not done that.
Jimmie O’Toole, slobbering over her neck, begged her to marry him, telling her what married men and women did to get babies, telling her how badly he wanted to do that to her. His breath was foul from whiskey and smoking, his grip painfully tight on her wrists. His words revolted and terrified her. He moved on top of her, and she felt a hardness against her stomach, realizing it was that with which he intended to show her what he’d been describing. It was all ugly and confusing. She could not imagine doing what he was suggesting.
He finally released her wrists, sure he’d seduced her into submitting, and he tore away the blankets, one hand moving up under her gown. But she pulled his hair as hard as she could, and he cried out, sitting up slightly. She yanked a leg from under him and kicked out, landing her foot under his chin. In his drunken state he lost his balance and fell backward off the sofa, landing on a small table and flipping it.
Harmony jumped up from the couch and ran to the fireplace, picking up a poker and waving it at him.
“If you touch me again I’ll kill you!” she hissed at him. “I wouldn’t want the likes of you if you were the only man alive!” Tears began to fill her eyes—tears of humiliation and horror. Never had she felt more desperate and alone! “You get out of here!” she screamed. “Get out! Go sleep at the store…or with those bawdy women on the other side of town! Let them do whatever it is you want from me! You’ll not get it here! I’ll die first!”
He slowly rose, panting, rubbing at a sore shoulder. There were bloody scratches over his eyes, and his hair was sticking out oddly. He stood staring at her then, fists clenched, unsure what to do, in pain with the want of her. She was beautiful. He’d touched her voluptuous body and wanted more. But the way she stood there holding the poker…there was something about her—the look of a wild animal ready to kill. He had no doubt she’d swing the poker stick if he went near her, and in her state she’d probably manage to land it right into his skull. He’d been so sure that with a couple of kisses and a man’s touch she’d submit. After all, she was just a stupid kid. Weren’t all young girls curious about boys? Weren’t they all for the taking if a man could get them excited? Not this one. Not the way she was looking at him now.
“You cold bitch!” he growled. “It’s too bad those men didn’t have at you on the docks when you were six years old.”
She raised the poker more and he backed away. “All right. I’m leaving.” He sneered. “But you remember one thing, Harmony Jones! You’re not only living in a borrowed house but on borrowed time! When Becky dies, and she will, I’ll be the only one left. Brian won’t come back once she’s dead! Why should he? What’s left to come back to if not Becky? He sure won’t come back for you! You don’t really think he cares about you, do you? You were just somebody to help Becky and work with him at the store, that’s all! Now he doesn’t care about either one, and there are no legal papers saying you belong to him or have a right to anything that is his. If you want to stay on here and be taken care of, you’ll have to come to my bed eventually!” He smoothed back his hair. “I can wait. Someday you’ll have no place else to turn, Harmony Jones! And you’d better not take too long deciding, because when I get tired of waiting, I’ll throw you out into the streets. Then see what happens to you! You’ll be wishing it was me moving over that pretty body of yours instead of the scum waiting for you out there! They won’t be half as kind as I’d have been!”
His breathing was still rapid, and she moved closer, still waving the poker. “You get out of here!” she repeated, tears flowing fast now.
“I’m going!” He walked away and then stopped. “And one more thing! When you decide to come to my bed for security and a home, don’t expect me to marry you! I would have, but not now. If you want to stay here, you’ll have to start paying for it, and since you have no money, there is only one alternative! But I’ll not marry you, bitch!”
He turned and stormed off, but she just stood for several seconds, still holding the poker, watching to be sure he wasn’t coming back. Then she dropped the stick and fell to her knees, bending over and crying, sobbing with horror and humiliation. She did not doubt he’d meant every word he’d said, and her mind raced with indecision. Why didn’t Brian come home? Perhaps he had abandoned her after all, just like her parents. Was there no one in this world who could be trusted? What was she to do at sixteen, with no family, no help, and nothing she could truly call her own?
She slowly got to her feet, getting a handkerchief and blowing her nose and wiping her eyes. She thought again about the fact that she really had no one but herself. Then she walked to a mirror and stared at her image. She was pretty. Of that there was no doubt. But she was small, only five feet, two inches, and barely a hundred pounds. She was only sixteen and had no family or property. She had nothing to start with, but she was certain she would not make her way through life by letting men use her body the way Jimmie O’Toole had suggested. In fact, after the horror of his touch and his remarks, she was even more convinced that no man would use her that way, no matter what. The only experience she had had with that side of men had been ugly and horrifying. She wanted nothing to do with it. Then a little voice told her that surely it was sometimes pleasurable. Brian and Becky had been blissfully happy when first married. But at the moment she could not imagine enjoying any man’s touch.
That left her with only her instincts, her strength, and her determination to survive. A coldness crept into her soul. Yes. She would survive, in spite of parents who’d abandoned her, in spite of a guardian who had deserted her, in spite of men like Jimmie O’Toole, in spite of her age and sex. The keys were pride, cleverness, and determination, as well as property and money. She had the first things. Somehow she would get property and money, if she had to dig ditches or scratch the earth to get it! She would ensure that nothing—no one—could defeat her or make her helpless again! Men like Jimmie could never threaten her! She wouldn’t need them, nor did she need him now!
Her lips were tight, her tears had dried. She would not cry again. She would not beg, and she would not be afraid. She picked up the poker stick and the blankets. She would sleep with Becky in the big bed. Jimmie O’Toole wouldn’t dare come in there and attack her! It was a start—not much, but a start. At least she was thinking about survival. Her next step would be to confront Jimmie, to surprise him by showing no fear. She would go to the store in the morning and get to work. She’d hire a woman to care for Becky, for Becky was so far gone most of the time that Harmony’s presence no longer seemed to matter to her. She’d march down to the store in the morning and go to work. She smiled.
And she intended to tell Jimmie that she would write to Brian about what he had done. That would bring Brian back, and Jimmie O’Toole would wish he’d never even looked at Harmony Jones!
The next day, Jimmie looked up in shock when Harmony did indeed walk into the supply store, slamming the door behind her and heading directly to the office in back. He stared at her, then followed, finding her already getting to work on the account books. His voice would not come when she looked up at him with cold green eyes.
“Why haven’t you kept things up to date?” she asked sternly. “I’ve been away from here for three weeks and everything is a mess!”
He swallowed. “I…haven’t had time.”
“You have time to drink and attack innocent girls.”
He reddened, putting a hand to his aching head. She was pleased to see scabbed scratch marks over his eyes. “I…I’m sorry, Harmony…about last night.”
She turned away and picked up a quill pen. “Sorry isn’t enough. Have you ordered the seeds as I asked you to do before I left?”
He sighed deeply. “I forgot. Look Harmony—”
“Forgot!” She favored him with a scathing look. “You’re as worthless as a pig! You know we always order seeds early so there are plenty on hand for the farmers come spring. And we were nearly out of picks and tin plates and cups down at the warehouse a month ago. There are still plenty of men coming through here wanting mining supplies. Have you restocked those things?”
He was visibly shaken, and he rubbed at his neck. “I…I’m not sure. Harmony, I really am sorry. I didn’t mean what I did…what I said.”
“Of course you did. You’ve never liked me, any more than I like you. I’m smarter than you and you know it. Brian knew it too, and that irritated you. I don’t blame you. He’s your brother. But if it weren’t for him, you’d be worthless today. You used him to make something of yourself, and you want to use me to keep this place in business. I’ll not be used. I’ll help you, Jimmie, but I want to be paid for it. And if you ever touch me again, I’ll write Brian and tell him what you’ve been up to. No matter what you say, I know he loves me like a daughter, and if he knows you’re threatening me, he’ll make sure you have no part of this store. You know he’ll do it. In the meantime, I made him a promise to care for Becky and for this store until he returns, and I intend to do just that. It’s already obvious I have to be present here for things to be handled correctly, so I’ve hired a woman to stay with Becky. I’m going to write Brian and let him know she is ill, and I have no doubt he’ll come home to see her. He wouldn’t want Becky to die before he saw her again. And when he gets back, I won’t tell him what you did to me if you don’t touch me from here on and if you cease all talk of marriage. I’d slit my own throat before I’d marry you.”
Her voice was cool and determined. She was changed, and Jimmie suddenly felt as though someone had punched him in the nose. It was he who felt like the child, like the one being threatened. She had a sureness about her, and somehow he thought she just might be able to destroy him, as long as Brian was alive anyway. She was right about the favoritism, right that Brian would come back to see Becky. Jimmie was furious with himself. He had intended to woo her the right way, to be good to her and carefully talk her into marrying him, for he truly wanted to bed her and he needed her business knowledge. He had chased her away and would probably never get her back. Not that he loved her. But it would have been a wonderful revenge on his brother’s favoritism if he could have made her his wife and taken her virginity…and then made her life miserable. Unfortunately she’d seen him for what he really was. She probably had all along.
The look she gave him now almost frightened him. She had not reacted the night before the way he’d thought she would, and she did not cower now. For the time being, he had no choice but to play the game her way.
“I’ll order the seeds…and the mining supplies,” he told her.
“Fine,” she replied, turning back to the books. “I’ll spend the day getting these figures in order.”
He stood there for several more seconds, but she did not look up again and he left. As soon as he was gone Harmony breathed a deep sigh of relief. It had worked! Showing determination and authority had worked! He needed her help and he knew it, but by God, he’d not get his way! Inside she was shaking like a leaf, yet she had refused to show it. She had something on him now, and she’d not let him forget it. As long as Brian was alive, even far away, she had a hold over Jimmie. And once she wrote to tell Brian about Becky’s health, he’d come home; then everything would be fine. She was almost glad now for Jimmie’s behavior the night before. Dealing with it had given her courage and had cleared the air between them. Now each knew where the other stood. Jimmie needed the store—it was his security—but he was incapable of running it without her business sense. He needed her. She would work there for a salary and save her money, and if Brian did not return, she’d use that money to start a business of her own so that she wouldn’t need anyone but herself!
Harmony was pleased with her new power, but before she could write to Brian about Becky’s health, Becky died of pneumonia, just two days after Jimmie and Harmony’s confrontation. The woman’s death threw Harmony into despair. Again someone she loved had left her. If people did not deliberately leave her, death took them from her. It seemed she was determined never to keep those she loved. A letter was quickly dispatched to Brian, no one knowing how long it would be before he received it at his remote mining site, but immediately after the funeral Jimmie’s attitude changed somewhat. Harmony could see her power slipping slightly, see the old haughty attitude coming back to him.
“Brian will never come back now,” Jimmie told her the next day at the store. He seemed little affected by Becky’s death, but because of her own sorrow Harmony went to work the very next day. She wanted to keep busy. She did not want to weep. She had promised herself she would not weep or be afraid or give in to her terrors ever again.
“He’ll come back,” she replied quietly, as she ran a feather duster over some dishes. “As soon as he finds out, reads my pleas to come back for a while, he’ll come.”
“Becky is the only reason he’d have come. He won’t come for you. I’ll bet he’ll write and say the store is mine and I’m to let you work here and live in the house.” He grinned. “I’ll let you—if you’re nice to me.”
She cast him a dark look that wiped the smile from his face. “If that happens, I’ll manage on my own. I don’t need you or this store, but I’ll remind you that you need me—and I come a lot cheaper than a professional accountant.”
“So, you think you can make it on your own, do you? No woman makes it on her own, let alone a sixteen-year-old kid.”
“I’ll be seventeen soon. And a lot of women make it on their own.”
“You need a man.”
“I need no one but myself. And if you want this store to keep running at a profit, you’re the one who’d better be nice to me, Jimmie O’Toole!” She abruptly turned and walked to the office, fully realizing that her position was now precarious but still one in which she could exert reasonable control. She would have to be on the alert now though, constantly on guard against his remarks. She must not falter.
It was five months later, in the spring of 1896, when the awful news came. Upon hearing of his wife’s untimely death, full of grief because he had not seen her again and in ill health from a fever, Brian O’Toole collapsed when the messenger gave him the letter about Becky. The messenger loaded Brian onto a travois and took him to the doctor in Cripple Creek. Shortly thereafter Brian O’Toole was dead. The doctor wrote a reply addressed to Harmony, who had sent the letter about Becky. In the letter he enclosed a separate envelope marked Harmony Jones—Personal. But once Harmony read the initial letter, she didn’t bother to look at anything else.
Brian! Brian was dead! She sat alone in the big empty house when the news came—the house where she had spent those early, happy years with Brian and Becky O’Toole, who were so kind to her, who had been like parents. In that house Brian O’Toole had been happy with his beloved Becky, until constant miscarriages had destroyed pretty Becky’s spirit and had driven a wedge between the pair. It had been devastating for Harmony to watch Brian O’Toole walk out of her life to go west. Now he was dead. Dead! No! It could not be! She loved him, needed him, had counted on his return. Again death had claimed a loved one. But would he have returned? Was Jimmie right in saying that he would not have come back? Was it true that he didn’t love her like a daughter? After all, he hadn’t returned in three years, and he’d promised it would be only two.
Brian O’Toole had abandoned her too, for there was not even a will stating she had any claim to anything he owned, despite how hard she’d worked for the man, despite all she thought she’d meant to him. Jimmie had already affirmed that. A will was something Brian had always meant to take care of but had never drawn up, and now all the property would surely go to Jimmie. Harmony had no right to any of it.
Her personal grief was only made worse by her awareness of the predicament she was in and by wondering over whether Brian had really cared about her. Was she so unlovable? All she had ever done was try to please people, yet she kept losing them. Again the haunting memory of the night on the docks came to her—the terror, the loneliness, the indecision. As long as Brian was alive, she’d felt confident of his love, certain he would return to take care of any unfinished business. She grieved now, not only for his death but for all the things that meant to her—most of all the renewed abandonment. More than ever she was sure that she could never again trust another human being, that she should never again love for fear of losing, that she would never again rely on help from anyone. It must come from her, and she was right back to the fact that she must have money and property. In those things lay her only power, her only independence, her only strength.
How long she lay on the bed weeping she wasn’t sure. When her tears finally subsided the sun was setting. She had not gone to the store that day, but had stayed home to clean. Because of her threats, Jimmie had stayed away from the house, taking an apartment of his own. But what would he do now? Brian’s death would change everything. She realized then that she hadn’t even told Jimmie of it yet. Perhaps she should wait. The longer she waited, the better it would be for her; for Jimmie would think Brian was still alive and might come home. That was her last hold on him, except that he needed her at the store, but he was becoming more self-confident, more sure he could handle things himself and didn’t need her anymore.
She was torn by indecision. She didn’t want to think. She didn’t even want to grieve. She hated crying. What good did it do? Crying made her feel like an abandoned little six-year-old again, and she didn’t like that feeling. Besides, she was angry now—more angry than sorrowful. Hadn’t Brian abandoned her after all, just like her parents?
She sniffed and straightened, walking out to the dining room, where the envelope marked personal still lay on the table. She stared at it, her heart beginning to pound. Personal! Why had she paid no attention to it before? It could be a will, or some kind of legal paper awarding her money! It could be…
She grabbed up the envelope and ripped it open.
“To the attention of Miss Harmony Jones, ward of Brian Howard O’Toole, St. Ann Street, St. Louis, Missouri:” the paper read. “Please be advised that upon the death of Brian Howard O’Toole a claim has been left in your name only, said claim being near Pike’s Peak, a size of one hundred feet (100’) by one hundred feet (100’) and said claim yielding five ($5.00) in gold (roughly) daily from placer mining Wildcat Creek, which runs through said claim, and into Cripple Creek. Please be advised that said claim has never yielded more than the above-mentioned amounts in gold, that no shaft has been dug on this claim and no coyoting has been performed, nor has any mother lode been found to designate the source of the meager gold on this claim; and it is doubted that any mother load of any great value exists.
“Since you are the sole owner of this staked claim, as duly recorded in this assayer’s office as of the fifth day of September, Eighteen Hundred and Ninety-Five, this assayer must be informed forthwith of your intent as pertains to the above-mentioned claim. Please be advised that if notice is not received by the thirtieth (30th) day of June, Eighteen Hundred and Ninety-Six, under the laws governing such claims, and giving you due time, considering distance and circumstances and the fact that you are a woman, said claim will no longer be considered your property and will be up for bids to anyone who wishes to stake it and duly records himself as owner of said claim.
“I await your prompt reply.”
The letter was signed Jonathan C. Humes, assayer in the claims office of Cripple Creek, Colorado.
Harmony put down the letter with shaking hands. A gold claim! A gold claim all her own! So what if it only yielded five dollars a day! To her that was a fortune! She put a hand to her chest. Brian O’Toole had remembered her after all! He had left her his claim! There was no mention of Jimmie! None at all! She read the letter again—and again. She had no idea what placer mining was, or what was meant by digging a shaft or coyoting. And what was a mother lode? It made no sense to her, but that didn’t matter. She had property! And that property yielded enough gold to live on. She had only to learn how to get the gold out, and woman or not, she would do it! For once in her life she had something that was all her own, even though it was over a thousand miles away in an unknown land. It was hers, and as long as she went there and claimed it, no one could take it from her. She had to rely on herself now, herself and no one else. The claim gave her the independence she needed, gave her property and money. Somehow she would work it. She would do whatever was necessary to hang on to it!
She immediately took out some paper, her eagerness and determination overshadowing all grief, all fear, all reasoning that a young girl alone could not go into a wild land and work a gold claim. Never in her life had she had something that was just hers. She composed a letter, stating her intent to come to Cripple Creek and claim Brian O’Toole’s property and declaring that she would work the claim herself. She sat back then and read the letter before folding it and putting it into an envelope. She would see that it got into the mail the very next morning.
She reread the assayer’s letter. Yes. There was no doubt. The mine or claim or whatever it was belonged to her alone. Brian O’Toole had loved her after all. Perhaps the only reason he hadn’t come home sooner was that he’d hoped to strike a richer claim before returning, wanting his Harmony to have all that he could give her. She had to believe that. She needed to believe it.
Rising, she threw on her cape, and picked up the letter from the doctor about Brian’s death. She stuck the assayer’s letter up under her dress into her undergarment. She did not want Jimmie O’Toole to get his hands on it. What if he destroyed it? Then she decided to do the same with the letter of reply until she could mail it in the morning. She had already cried herself out. Brian O’Toole was dead, and nothing would bring him back now. All those she loved had abandoned her or died, and she was left alone, to fend for herself however she could. With her Colorado property she would do just that. She went out the door and hailed a carriage to take her to the supply store, where she knew Jimmie would be working late. Her heart raced, her cheeks were flushed with victory.
Several minutes later the carriage pulled up in front of the store, and she hurried inside to find Jimmie taking inventory. He cast her a scowl.
“Fine time to come to work,” he told her. “I’ve worked my fingers to the bone today.”
“Good,” she replied. She watched him a moment, unable to be so cruel as to throw the news at him without feeling. “Jimmie, I have bad news,” she said quietly. “You’d better sit down.”
He frowned, setting down his tablet and pen. “Brian?” he asked.
She nodded. “A letter came to the house today, from a doctor in Cripple Creek. Brian…collapsed when he heard about Becky. He died a few hours later.”
Jimmie just stared at her a moment, and to her surprise, he didn’t look at all upset. His eyes scanned her rudely, and a faint grin swept across his mouth. “Well. I’ve had enough talks with our attorney to know what that means. I am now sole owner of this store and the warehouse and the house.” He looked her over again. “And you.”
She smiled right back at him. Whatever pity she had felt in telling him of his brother’s death was gone. “No, Jimmie. You do not own me. I own myself—and a gold claim.”
He paled to an alarming white, and his eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“Brian left me sole title to a gold claim. And I intend to go to Colorado and take it over. It’s my property, and it yields five dollars daily. If I’m lucky, it will come to more than that.”
He stepped closer, the little crimson dots on his white cheeks betraying his anger. “He wouldn’t do that! If he struck gold he’d have left it to me!”
She smiled. “There was no mention of your name in the letter I received from the assayer.” She reached into her handbag and held out a piece of paper. “Here. This is the assayer’s address. If you doubt me, you are free to write to him and find out for yourself. I do not intend to show you his letter. It’s mine. And I have already replied that I am coming to claim the strike. You can have the store and everything else. My savings will finance my trip to Colorado and pay for the supplies I will need when I get there. I need nothing more from you, Jimmie O’Toole.” She turned to leave.
“Wait!” he called out. “What…what about the store? The books?”
She smiled haughtily. “If you don’t know how to handle this business by now, Jimmie, you deserve to lose it. I have done all I can to keep it going, and I would have done more if you had been kinder to me. But I’ll not forget the night you attacked me, nor the fact that you have not shown any remorse for Brian who gave you all that you have. I have no feeling for you; therefore, I do not care whether you keep this store or lose it. Do what you will. I am going to Colorado.”
She turned again. “You can’t go out there and pan for gold!” he yelled. “You’re only seventeen! You’re a girl! You don’t know anything about panning for gold! You don’t have anybody to help you. You’ll never survive!”
She turned back again. “I’ve survived so far, haven’t I? I’ll manage.” She opened the door.
“I hope you die on a mountain!” he growled at her. “I hope a grizzly attacks you, or claim jumpers rape and murder you! I hope there’s no gold left when you get there! Bitch! You’ll come crawling back to me, that’s what you’ll do, if you don’t die out there!”
She grinned. “I would much prefer to die under a grizzly’s claws. Good-bye, Jimmie. I’m going home to pack and I’ll stay at a hotel tonight. The house is yours. Everything is yours, just as you wanted.”
She walked through the door and closed it, reentering the carriage. Nothing mattered now—nothing but getting to Colorado and claiming what was hers. She was truly on her own from here on, and never again would Harmony Jones trust anyone, love anyone, depend on anyone but herself. Yes. That was truly all she had—herself…and a gold claim in Colorado.