solitude—time to untangle her thoughts. A leisurely stroll to the creek would help her do just that.
Riding in on the train, she’d seen a strand of water weaving across the bottom of town. She headed that direction, and it looked as though First Street could get her there. Crossing Bennett Avenue in late afternoon proved a challenge, but Cripple Creek seemed to buzz with activity at all times of the day and night.
Once she had crossed seedy Myers Avenue and broken free from the chaos in the center of town, Ida slowed her steps to enjoy the more artistic aspects of her surroundings. The panoramic mountains that encircled the valley rose up like green and golden yellow feathers on a Sioux chief’s headdress. Father had indeed chosen a breathtaking place for his daughters to relocate, and this had been the perfect time of year for her to come—autumn. Winter wasn’t far off, but in the meantime, she’d enjoy the patches of sunflowers and the earthy scent of fallen leaves and drying grass.
Ida continued down First Street until she caught sight of a burbling creek through the brush. She followed the dirt path toward the water’s edge,hoping to find a rock she could rest on for a spell of tranquility. Before she reached the water, she heard twigs snap and boots crunching on gravel upstream.
Perhaps coming down here alone hadn’t been her best idea. She’d just turned back toward town when a motley apparition of a man stepped out of the brush in front of her.
“Well, I’ll be … one of the ladies done come to see us.”
“Only one?” Two other beastly-looking men emerged from the undergrowth behind her.
“I only came to see the creek.” Her words squeaked out on ragged breaths.
“Well, then”—the man clamped his hand around Ida’s forearm and spun her back around—“I say we be good hosts and show it to ya.” Her head swam in the nauseating stink of his breath.
“Let me go!” Ida pounded her fists into his chest. When his grip tightened, she blindly tried to stomp his foot.
Holding her as she squirmed, he called her insulting names that made her skin crawl almost as much as his touch did. He pushed her through the brush and into a clearing cluttered with bedding, hard hats, picks, and shovels.
Ida kicked his shins and dug at his ears with her fingernails. He snarled like a wounded badger and covered his ears, freeing her arm from his grip. Seizing the opportunity, Ida turned and ran toward town. The men’s sneers and retorts propelled her up the path. She heard at least two running after her for a few moments, but the sound soon fell away. Perhaps the heartbeat pounding in her ears had only drowned out their pursuing footfalls. She needed to press on.
As Ida came up over the rise, she tripped and landed face first in a surprisingly deep, offensively odorous puddle left by the recent rains.
Shivering from the cold water, she lifted her head to wipe her face with her sleeve. A snort startled her, and she looked up into the large snout of a drooling mule.
“That’s Sal, ma’am. And we’d be right pleased to help you.”
Ida looked past the mule at a wiry man with unruly gray hair.
“No, thank you.” She rose to her knees and studied him and his mule. Picks, shovels, and every sort of tool hung from the man’s animal. Another miner .
He spit a brown streak into the dirt behind him. “You need to know we’re not all the same, ma’am. When I saw you runnin’, I figured you come across those no-accounts down at the creek. Thought you could use a friend ’bout now.”
She could do with a friend, but …
He reached out his hand, giving her a chance to grasp it. Given her circumstances, she could fight him off if necessary once she was out of this mire. And the sooner, the better.
The miner gently lifted Ida out of the muddy mess. What a frightful sight she must be. She took some comfort in the fact that she didn’t know many people here yet, and those she did know were mostly
Riding in on the train, she’d seen a strand of water weaving across the bottom of town. She headed that direction, and it looked as though First Street could get her there. Crossing Bennett Avenue in late afternoon proved a challenge, but Cripple Creek seemed to buzz with activity at all times of the day and night.
Once she had crossed seedy Myers Avenue and broken free from the chaos in the center of town, Ida slowed her steps to enjoy the more artistic aspects of her surroundings. The panoramic mountains that encircled the valley rose up like green and golden yellow feathers on a Sioux chief’s headdress. Father had indeed chosen a breathtaking place for his daughters to relocate, and this had been the perfect time of year for her to come—autumn. Winter wasn’t far off, but in the meantime, she’d enjoy the patches of sunflowers and the earthy scent of fallen leaves and drying grass.
Ida continued down First Street until she caught sight of a burbling creek through the brush. She followed the dirt path toward the water’s edge,hoping to find a rock she could rest on for a spell of tranquility. Before she reached the water, she heard twigs snap and boots crunching on gravel upstream.
Perhaps coming down here alone hadn’t been her best idea. She’d just turned back toward town when a motley apparition of a man stepped out of the brush in front of her.
“Well, I’ll be … one of the ladies done come to see us.”
“Only one?” Two other beastly-looking men emerged from the undergrowth behind her.
“I only came to see the creek.” Her words squeaked out on ragged breaths.
“Well, then”—the man clamped his hand around Ida’s forearm and spun her back around—“I say we be good hosts and show it to ya.” Her head swam in the nauseating stink of his breath.
“Let me go!” Ida pounded her fists into his chest. When his grip tightened, she blindly tried to stomp his foot.
Holding her as she squirmed, he called her insulting names that made her skin crawl almost as much as his touch did. He pushed her through the brush and into a clearing cluttered with bedding, hard hats, picks, and shovels.
Ida kicked his shins and dug at his ears with her fingernails. He snarled like a wounded badger and covered his ears, freeing her arm from his grip. Seizing the opportunity, Ida turned and ran toward town. The men’s sneers and retorts propelled her up the path. She heard at least two running after her for a few moments, but the sound soon fell away. Perhaps the heartbeat pounding in her ears had only drowned out their pursuing footfalls. She needed to press on.
As Ida came up over the rise, she tripped and landed face first in a surprisingly deep, offensively odorous puddle left by the recent rains.
Shivering from the cold water, she lifted her head to wipe her face with her sleeve. A snort startled her, and she looked up into the large snout of a drooling mule.
“That’s Sal, ma’am. And we’d be right pleased to help you.”
Ida looked past the mule at a wiry man with unruly gray hair.
“No, thank you.” She rose to her knees and studied him and his mule. Picks, shovels, and every sort of tool hung from the man’s animal. Another miner .
He spit a brown streak into the dirt behind him. “You need to know we’re not all the same, ma’am. When I saw you runnin’, I figured you come across those no-accounts down at the creek. Thought you could use a friend ’bout now.”
She could do with a friend, but …
He reached out his hand, giving her a chance to grasp it. Given her circumstances, she could fight him off if necessary once she was out of this mire. And the sooner, the better.
The miner gently lifted Ida out of the muddy mess. What a frightful sight she must be. She took some comfort in the fact that she didn’t know many people here yet, and those she did know were mostly
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