dollars and fifty cents…That, and nothing more.
That was all that stood between herself and whatever happened to a girl who was without money, in a place where there were no jobs for women.
Of course, there was her father’s gold watch and her mother’s ruby and diamond ring.
It was costing her just fifty cents a day to live at the Bradys’ and Pat would let her have horses at a dollar a head per day. When she started out she would need food, blankets, and some kind of a weapon.
The trouble was she had no idea how long it would take to get to the mine, or just how far she would have to travel, and she was afraid to ask anyone. If only she had dared trust that man…the tall man with the little boy. He seemed so sure of himself, so positive about where he was going and what he was going to do.
As for Mat…Despite herself, she worried about him. He was such a little boy to be going into that wild country. Did his father realize how young he was to face such hardships and dangers?
Nobody seemed to believe in Rody Brennan’s silver mine. He was a man everybody had liked, a man who talked and spent freely. And nobody seemed to have any secrets in this country. There were too few people for any of them not to be known to the others. Nobody believed in Rody Brennan’s mine, but Miranda Loften had never known Uncle Rody to lie.
He had told her where the mine was, even how to get there. He had left them what money he had and gone back west on his railroad pass. He might, she admitted to herself now, he might have exaggerated the importance of the mine and the number of men working there. It would be like him to do that to convince them it was no hardship for him to give them the money.
But it was odd that no one out here even knew of the mine, or knew that he had any interest in one. Come to think of it, the thing he had been most explicit about back home was its location. She had made no further inquiries here, but whenever she could she steered the conversation to mining, but there was never a comment on Uncle Rody when the talk involved mining.
She might, she was thinking, be able to sell the ring. It might give her money enough to hire horses, and to get the supplies she would need. Yet deep inside her was a kind of fear at the thought of relinquishing the ring.
Her lips trembled, and she sat down stiffly on the edge of the bed.…Suppose there was no mine? Suppose Uncle Rody had just gotten that money some other way—somewhere, somehow—and had told them there was a mine so they would accept the money?
Yet, if that was the case, why the careful directions?
Moreover, there was her fear about the ring. It was a family heirloom, and her mother had told her it was valuable; but Miranda doubted that her mother knew that much about jewelry. That was really what she was afraid of—suppose the ring was not really valuable—suppose it was worth nothing.
She had to find the mine, and to find it she had to risk everything she had. If she could not find it within a few weeks she would have to give up, and she would not have even the money for a ticket back.
She could not bring herself to say a ticket
home
. It was no longer home. It was only one of several cities in which she had lived as a child, and it was the place where her mother was buried. There was nothing there for her, nobody…only a few people who had known her to speak to, a few casual friends of her mother. Nobody who had any interest in her, nobody in whom she had any interest.
She was alone.
The shadows grew long, but she did not light the lamp. She still sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, frightened at what was before her.
Yes, to find the mine was her only chance. Without it, there was nothing. There were no jobs for women in Corinne except in the dance halls and in the cribs behind them. There were few other jobs available anywhere except as household help, which she could do, but which she shrank from except as a last necessity. Even that
That was all that stood between herself and whatever happened to a girl who was without money, in a place where there were no jobs for women.
Of course, there was her father’s gold watch and her mother’s ruby and diamond ring.
It was costing her just fifty cents a day to live at the Bradys’ and Pat would let her have horses at a dollar a head per day. When she started out she would need food, blankets, and some kind of a weapon.
The trouble was she had no idea how long it would take to get to the mine, or just how far she would have to travel, and she was afraid to ask anyone. If only she had dared trust that man…the tall man with the little boy. He seemed so sure of himself, so positive about where he was going and what he was going to do.
As for Mat…Despite herself, she worried about him. He was such a little boy to be going into that wild country. Did his father realize how young he was to face such hardships and dangers?
Nobody seemed to believe in Rody Brennan’s silver mine. He was a man everybody had liked, a man who talked and spent freely. And nobody seemed to have any secrets in this country. There were too few people for any of them not to be known to the others. Nobody believed in Rody Brennan’s mine, but Miranda Loften had never known Uncle Rody to lie.
He had told her where the mine was, even how to get there. He had left them what money he had and gone back west on his railroad pass. He might, she admitted to herself now, he might have exaggerated the importance of the mine and the number of men working there. It would be like him to do that to convince them it was no hardship for him to give them the money.
But it was odd that no one out here even knew of the mine, or knew that he had any interest in one. Come to think of it, the thing he had been most explicit about back home was its location. She had made no further inquiries here, but whenever she could she steered the conversation to mining, but there was never a comment on Uncle Rody when the talk involved mining.
She might, she was thinking, be able to sell the ring. It might give her money enough to hire horses, and to get the supplies she would need. Yet deep inside her was a kind of fear at the thought of relinquishing the ring.
Her lips trembled, and she sat down stiffly on the edge of the bed.…Suppose there was no mine? Suppose Uncle Rody had just gotten that money some other way—somewhere, somehow—and had told them there was a mine so they would accept the money?
Yet, if that was the case, why the careful directions?
Moreover, there was her fear about the ring. It was a family heirloom, and her mother had told her it was valuable; but Miranda doubted that her mother knew that much about jewelry. That was really what she was afraid of—suppose the ring was not really valuable—suppose it was worth nothing.
She had to find the mine, and to find it she had to risk everything she had. If she could not find it within a few weeks she would have to give up, and she would not have even the money for a ticket back.
She could not bring herself to say a ticket
home
. It was no longer home. It was only one of several cities in which she had lived as a child, and it was the place where her mother was buried. There was nothing there for her, nobody…only a few people who had known her to speak to, a few casual friends of her mother. Nobody who had any interest in her, nobody in whom she had any interest.
She was alone.
The shadows grew long, but she did not light the lamp. She still sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, frightened at what was before her.
Yes, to find the mine was her only chance. Without it, there was nothing. There were no jobs for women in Corinne except in the dance halls and in the cribs behind them. There were few other jobs available anywhere except as household help, which she could do, but which she shrank from except as a last necessity. Even that
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