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Chapter One
On the progressive slope downward, everything was quiet and serene. All life seemed to have come to a halt as Eugenia Marie Scott looked around her. All she could see stretched out before her were brown-eyed Susans swaying gently in the breeze, with only an occasional coral-colored wild geranium breaking through this ocean of yellow and brown. In the far distance, she could see forests of ponderosa pines and Douglas firs hugging the mountain sides. And behind her, Mount Pisgah's slopes rose and fell in a breathtaking splendor of pale oranges as the evening sun's rays reflected onto the jutting peaks.
Eugenia rearranged some strands of hair that had fallen from the braided circle of red atop her head, then climbed from her mule. She hadn't been aware of the intensity of the mountain sunshine. Not until now. She could feel the skin of her face pulsating from sunburn, making it feel tight and drawn. She licked her parched lips, while her eyes continued to search for signs of a creek. But she saw nothing. She bit her lower lip nervously, realizing that she hadn't planned all that well after all. She had forgotten one important need of a traveler. She had forgotten water.
With tired fingers, she unbuttoned the front of her riding dress of sturdy brown cloth almost to the waist. She pulled it open and blew her breath onto her breasts, cooling them, as the perspiration began to dry and fade away. Then lifting the skirt of her dress to above her knees, she began fanning herself with it, shutting her eyes, relishing the small breeze it was stirring.
But no matter how hot or thirsty she had become, she knew that her dreams were coming true. The dream of traveling to Cripple Creek—the town that had made such a stir in Colorado ten years earlier in 1890, when gold had first been discovered there.
At the age of sixteen, life had become too boring for Eugenia on her parents' homestead. Every day had become the same, centered on the chores on their plotted land. Since no sons had been born to the Carters, Eugenia had taken on a heavier load of these chores, becoming in a sense, the "son."
Her heart just raced thinking about her adventure. She was now on her own, and was going to become her own person. She drew her usually full and pouting lips to a narrow line, determined to be a master of her own future. She knew there had to be more to life than what she had been living, and had come to a definite conclusion, long ago, that she would find her answer in the town of Cripple Creek. Surely she could find work there. Feminine work, so she could begin to feel and act like a lady. She wanted men to look at her and admire her because she was a woman doing a woman's duties, not because of the amount of ground she could plow in one day, or hogs she could catch for butchering. She could just envision herself walking down the sidewalks of Cripple Creek, dressed in green satin…
A sudden noise behind Eugenia made her drop her skirt with a start, but when she turned, she only found that her mule had inched its way closer to her. Eugenia laughed nervously, but knew that the mule's approach was a reminder that she had to move onward. The sun had already begun its descent toward the horizon. And not having yet seen any signs of a town—or civilization—Eugenia was trying to suppress a feeling of panic that was beginning to make her insides quiver. Just the thought of spending the night alone in the shadows of the mountain made her almost ill to her stomach. She knew that she could not protect herself—from anything—that would seek her out in the dark.
Hurriedly, she pulled herself back up on her mule's back, patted it fondly between the ears, then stuck her knees into its side.
"Come on, boy," she said aloud, feeling a bit awkward hearing only her voice in this vastness of quiet echoing back to her, in several other small voices. She looked down at her mule in a growing sense of panic. It hadn't budged. Not one inch. It just stood with its head bowed and eyes shut. Not even its tail was moving.
Eugenia's pulse began to race, knowing that once her mule had a stubborn spell, it wouldn't budge for hours. She dug her knees into its sides more roughly and slapped at its ears. "You darn mule," she yelled. "Get a goin'."
But nothing. Eugenia took another fast look around her, noticing how the shadows of night were beginning to deepen. Even the ocean of yellow stretched out before her was fast turning into an ocean of gray. She felt completely isolated and helpless.
"Mule," she said mournfully. "How can you do this to me?" Its answer was only a slow blink of the eyes.
Eugenia scooted off the mule once again, pondering her fate. She had no idea how far she had come, or how far she had yet to go. And she was afraid if she ventured onward she would get lost for sure. She eyed her mule questionably. She knew her only hope to reach safety was to continue her dependence on it—even if it meant standing patiently by her mule's side until it decided to move. At least the mule could provide warmth. She could cuddle up next to it if she did have to spend the night in this vast wilderness. Yes. The mule could be of some comfort to her.
The heat of the sun's rays were replaced by a cold, whipping breeze as the sun slid behind a slope. Eugenia began to shiver from both the cold and fear. She had never been alone. Anywhere. She had no idea of what to do next. She had so hoped to make it to Cripple Creek by sunset. She thought of her Mama, Papa, and her sister Elizabeth sitting in front of a warm fire at home, with their stomachs comfortably filled with fried potatoes, biscuits, and greens. These thoughts made her stomach growl hungrily, but she knew that she'd just settle for a cool drink of water and a safe place to res
t her head for the night.
Turning back toward her mule, Eugenia began to tug and pull on its rope. But it was in vain. The mule resembled a rock. All solid and hard, and now a dark shadow against the landscape.
"I hate you, mule," Eugenia argued to herself, pulling the wool blanket from its back. "I need this worse'n you. I hope you freeze to death."
She started to throw, the blanket around her shoulders, but stopped. Had she heard a noise behind her? Or was it her imagination? She was almost too afraid to let her eyes search the blackness around her, for fear of what she might see approaching. Then she heard it again… and breathed more easily when she recognized the familiar neighing of a horse and the muffled sounds of horse's hoofs against the thickness of the wild flowers and grass beneath them.
A horse meant possible rescue. She had worried about meeting undesirables while alone on her trip, but now, any human form would be a welcome sight to her. It was much better than possibly being attacked by a bear, or whatever else chose to sniff her out for their nightly meal.
She cupped her hands to her mouth. "Who's there?" she yelled, waiting, hoping for a response. Ice seemed to fill her veins when she thought of this person passing her by, ignoring her plight. She yelled again. Even more loudly. "Hello! I need help."
Then suddenly before her eyes, she saw him. In the darkness, all she could make out was a bulkiness atop his horse, staring in her direction.
"Woman, what the hell are you doin' out here all alone!" the man growled. He inched his horse closer to her. She could even feel the horse's breath against her cheek as she looked upward. When a match scraped against the horse's saddle and lit up the area for a brief moment, Eugenia was suddenly afraid all over again. Yes, she was with another human being, but one who sent pinpricks of danger through her brain. The only thing she could make out behind the bushy face of whiskers was a pair of the bluest eyes Eugenia had yet to see, eyes that were in the process of raping her, almost hazing over with lust. And the scar above his left eyebrow, it cut into the brow, leaving a corner of it hairless. Other than that, the only other things she could see were a sweat-soaked derby that didn't fit in at all with the rawhide cape thrown over his wide shoulders, and dark heavy boots pushed into the stirrups on his horse. She moved away from him, swallowing hard.
"Are you alone, woman?" the man asked. He climbed from the horse and walked toward her.
She was too afraid to answer. She held the blanket up in front of her, making a barrier between this man and herself.
"Cat got your tongue?" he growled, then laughed as he jerked the blanket away from her.
She could smell the dried perspiration on his clothes and the stale smell of chewing tobacco on his breath as he now towered above her. He scraped another match against the heel of his boot and began to study her more closely, his eyes sweeping over her in admiration.
"You're a lot of woman," he drawled as he placed a hand inside her opened dress. She cringed as his fingers moved slowly around a breast, stopping at a nipple to squeeze it.
"Remove your hands from inside my dress," she snapped. She quickly tried to step back away from him. And she didn't like his implying that she was a "lot" of woman. Was that his way of mocking the size of her? Eugenia's father had always described her as "healthy," having to wear the fuller dresses to hide her thick waistline and extremely large busts. And the fact that her fifteen-year-old sister Elizabeth Doreen had been born with the soft, delicate features that had not been afforded Eugenia, had made Eugenia even more aware of her larger stature.
He pulled his hand away and laughed raucously. "So you can talk, huh?" he said. He tossed his cape behind his shoulders, revealing a faded-out flannel shirt, filled out by thick muscles. Then Eugenia's eyes lowered, making strange feelings surge through her when she saw the tightness of his breeches, exposing his swollen manhood pushing against the inside of the rough corduroy material.
"Just keep your hands to yourself," she said, setting her jaw firmly. She had to appear strong, capable of handling any situation she found herself in. Couldn't her life even depend on it?
"Then why don't you cover yourself, woman?" he said thickly, frowning in her direction. "Can't expect a man out here in the wilderness to not take advantage of a touch of such beauties if they're hangin' out for the askin'."
Eugenia could feel her face reddening, now remembering that she had left her dress unbuttoned earlier, being so lost in worry from the predicament that she had found herself in. With trembling fingers, she hurriedly worked with the buttons until they were secure clear to her neck.
"Now tell me," the man said. "Why are you out here all alone?" He looked quickly around him. "You are alone, aren't you?"
Eugenia watched him light a cigarette and flip the match into the air. "Yes. I be alone," she answered. No matter how frightened she still was of this man, she had no choice but to confess to such a truth. She was in need of what assistance he could lend her. "I'm on my way to Cripple Creek," she quickly added.
"Jesus," he exclaimed, squatting on the ground. He picked at the tall grass around him. "Can't believe the women of today. So damned independent." He struck another match to look her over once again.
Her gaze met his. She had never seen such beautiful blue eyes. They even made her heart skip a few beats. She had to wonder what he'd look like with a clean-shaven face. "I'm awful thirsty," she blurted, still eyeing him questionably. "Might'n you have a spare drink of water?"
His eyes began to dance with amused discovery. "Do you mean to tell me you came way out here with no water?"
