'nuf."
And Chessman's mansion was very like a palace, gleaming pale in the sunset glow, an example of the curious juxtaposition of wealth and squalor so prevalent in the mining boomtowns. Side by side existed log cabins, shanties, tents, prosperous business blocks, and elegant homes. With the strike-it-rich possibilities of gold mining, an impoverished miner could find himself wealthy overnight. And when that happened, many spent their new riches in lavish extravagance.
Virginia City offered anything money could buy, from ice-packed oysters to couturier gowns. All merchandise was brought overland or up the Missouri, and though the freight charges forced prices high, there was always someone willing to pay. It wasn't like farming, where one worked and waited and finally eked out a modest living. Gold mining cast its lure out to people who craved instant fortunes. And it obliged many a gambling-minded man. Fortunes were made and lost and made again and money was spent on a princely scale. Virginia City may have been only three years old, but it offered opulence and luxurious living to anyone who could afford it.
"Really, how can anyone actually live out here? Everything is so… tasteless," Millicent complained. "And dusty, now that the mud has dried," she irritably went on.
"Can't expect a settled town right away. Takes time," the Colonel replied, smiling his apology at the driver, who'd turned his head around at Millicent's rude comments.
"There's no excuse, William, for that sort of thing, no matter how unsettled," and she lifted her silk fan a scant inch in the direction of a nearby tent with a roughly painted sign proclaiming Montana Belle its occupant. A line of men standing outside the gunny sack door flap were joking and passing a bottle of whiskey around while waiting their turn.
The Colonel cleared his throat gruffly. There's so few white women, he wanted to say, but thought better of it in front of Blaze. "They're a long way from home," he replied instead.
"It's one of the main thoroughfares. You'd think at least," Millicent peevishly continued, "they'd find someplace—"
"Have you heard how large an orchestra will be playing tonight?" Blaze interjected, stepping in as she had so many times over the years when her parent's conversation turned discordant.
"They're from Chicago, I hear," her father quickly answered, relieved to change the subject. "Remember to save me a dance, sweetie. I know how fast your dance card fills up."
"Take care with your skirt, Venetia. They'll probably all wear their spurs," her mother cuttingly decreed.
"Yes, Mother," Blaze obligingly replied. The driver was stopping to let them down, and it was too fine an evening to argue about anything.
Colonel William Braddock, Mrs. Braddock, and Miss Braddock were graciously greeted by the territorial chief justice and his young wife who were acting as hosts for the evening at the governor's request. Lucy Attenbor-ough was looking remarkably attractive tonight, as everyone who knew her would agree. Flushed, vivacious, she smiled warmly at everyone, including the elderly man at her side, her husband. It must be the summer air, several guests remarked; a night like this would bring a glow to anyone's cheek.
"Next thing you know," one elderly matron remarked to her companion of equal years, seated beside her on the perimeter of the dance floor, "we'll be hearing of a blessed event in the Attenborough family. That young bride of his was smiling up at George with something like adoration. Now when I was eighteen, mind, no one could have talked me into marrying a sixty-year-old man. I don't care how much gold he had."
Small towns being what they are, with everyone's business being everyone's business, her companion remarked with a smug, insinuating air, "One can only pray if she has a child, its skin won't be too dark."
Having gained the full and undivided attention—in addition to a
And Chessman's mansion was very like a palace, gleaming pale in the sunset glow, an example of the curious juxtaposition of wealth and squalor so prevalent in the mining boomtowns. Side by side existed log cabins, shanties, tents, prosperous business blocks, and elegant homes. With the strike-it-rich possibilities of gold mining, an impoverished miner could find himself wealthy overnight. And when that happened, many spent their new riches in lavish extravagance.
Virginia City offered anything money could buy, from ice-packed oysters to couturier gowns. All merchandise was brought overland or up the Missouri, and though the freight charges forced prices high, there was always someone willing to pay. It wasn't like farming, where one worked and waited and finally eked out a modest living. Gold mining cast its lure out to people who craved instant fortunes. And it obliged many a gambling-minded man. Fortunes were made and lost and made again and money was spent on a princely scale. Virginia City may have been only three years old, but it offered opulence and luxurious living to anyone who could afford it.
"Really, how can anyone actually live out here? Everything is so… tasteless," Millicent complained. "And dusty, now that the mud has dried," she irritably went on.
"Can't expect a settled town right away. Takes time," the Colonel replied, smiling his apology at the driver, who'd turned his head around at Millicent's rude comments.
"There's no excuse, William, for that sort of thing, no matter how unsettled," and she lifted her silk fan a scant inch in the direction of a nearby tent with a roughly painted sign proclaiming Montana Belle its occupant. A line of men standing outside the gunny sack door flap were joking and passing a bottle of whiskey around while waiting their turn.
The Colonel cleared his throat gruffly. There's so few white women, he wanted to say, but thought better of it in front of Blaze. "They're a long way from home," he replied instead.
"It's one of the main thoroughfares. You'd think at least," Millicent peevishly continued, "they'd find someplace—"
"Have you heard how large an orchestra will be playing tonight?" Blaze interjected, stepping in as she had so many times over the years when her parent's conversation turned discordant.
"They're from Chicago, I hear," her father quickly answered, relieved to change the subject. "Remember to save me a dance, sweetie. I know how fast your dance card fills up."
"Take care with your skirt, Venetia. They'll probably all wear their spurs," her mother cuttingly decreed.
"Yes, Mother," Blaze obligingly replied. The driver was stopping to let them down, and it was too fine an evening to argue about anything.
Colonel William Braddock, Mrs. Braddock, and Miss Braddock were graciously greeted by the territorial chief justice and his young wife who were acting as hosts for the evening at the governor's request. Lucy Attenbor-ough was looking remarkably attractive tonight, as everyone who knew her would agree. Flushed, vivacious, she smiled warmly at everyone, including the elderly man at her side, her husband. It must be the summer air, several guests remarked; a night like this would bring a glow to anyone's cheek.
"Next thing you know," one elderly matron remarked to her companion of equal years, seated beside her on the perimeter of the dance floor, "we'll be hearing of a blessed event in the Attenborough family. That young bride of his was smiling up at George with something like adoration. Now when I was eighteen, mind, no one could have talked me into marrying a sixty-year-old man. I don't care how much gold he had."
Small towns being what they are, with everyone's business being everyone's business, her companion remarked with a smug, insinuating air, "One can only pray if she has a child, its skin won't be too dark."
Having gained the full and undivided attention—in addition to a
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