The Hen House Read online

  Eulis had thrown his arm across Letty’s waist as he slept, and was snoring lightly near the back of her head, but she didn’t mind. Despite their discomfort and lack of amenities, this felt right. It was their first night in their new home. The first, she hoped, of many.

  The rhythm of the raindrops falling on the roof above their heads finally lulled her to a deep, dreamless sleep, while down in Denver City, Cherry Creek, fed from numerous mountain streams above the town, continued to rise.

  ***

  Robert and Mary Whiteside had cooked salt pork and johnnycake for their evening meal. Mary washed up their tin plates and spoons near the spot where they’d been panning only hours before. Then she’d taken her hair down, undone the long braid she wore like a crown upon her head, and washed it clean in the water of Cherry Creek.

  Robert sat nearby, teasing her about wearing gold dust in her hair. They’d laughed easily then. They had found some good color today and their bellies were full. A few more months of this life and they would have enough to buy some land—maybe in California where they had heard that the weather was mild all year long.

  By the time the thunderstorm hit, they’d been asleep for hours. The thunder woke Robert, who got up to take a pee, and check their campsite. It was sprinkling a bit as he made the rounds of the camp, but when the rain began to fall in earnest he dashed back into the tent, and crawled into his bedroll. Even though winter was gone from the mountains, a rainy night at this elevation was always cold. Mary roused as he pulled the covers up around his chin.

  “Everything all right?” she asked.

  “I reckon so,” Robert said. “Go back to sleep.”

  Confident that Robert knew what he was talking about, Mary settled easily and was soon back asleep, but Robert wasn’t as convinced that he’d been right. Through flashes of lightning, he’d seen the rushing water in Cherry Creek and lying here inside the tent, he could hear the continuing roar of wind and water.

  He thought about the bags of gold dust and nuggets they’d buried beneath his bedroll and thought about the tools he’d stacked beneath some trees north of where they were sleeping. If that water kept rising, they might need to move to higher ground, which would mean digging up their gold.

  Mary was already snoring. He hated to wake her up, but he also didn’t want to make the mistake of waiting to move until it was too late. They’d worked too hard and too long to take a chance on losing it now.

  A hard gust of wind pushed at the tent fabric. Robert thought he could hear the squeak of protest from the tent stakes. At forty-nine years old and sporting a bad knee, he wasn’t as fast as he once was, so he stayed beneath the relative safety of the tent, unwilling to go out into the storm unless it was absolutely necessary.

  The storm rose in intensity, the claps of thunder so loud it sounded as if it was right on top of them. The flash of lightning afterward lit up the inside of the tent. When it did, Robert saw something that made the hair rise on the back of his neck.

  Water was coming into the tent, and from the creek side of their camp. He grabbed his wife, shaking her awake.

  “Mary! Get up! Get up! Water is comin’ into the tent.”

  Mary Whiteside rolled to her knees and began throwing their meager belongings into the bedrolls and rolling them up. When she reached for Robert’s bedroll, she remembered the gold.

  “Robert! Get a shovel and dig up the gold or we’ll lose it sure as shootin’.”

  Robert bounded out of the tent and made his way in the darkness, stumbling twice and falling once before he found the cache with their tools. He felt around in the darkness for the shovel, and when he felt the spoon-shaped metal beneath his fingers, breathed a quick sigh of relief. Now all he had to do was find his way back to the tent.

  At that moment, another flash of lightning illuminated the sky long enough for him to get his bearings. He saw Mary running out of the tent toward higher ground. She was screaming his name.

  “I’m here! I’m here!” Robert called. “Keep going. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Rainfall was so heavy that Robert found it difficult to breathe without inhaling water. Covering his face with his arm, he made for the tent and then fell over it in the dark. By the time he got to his feet, the tent had fallen in, and he wasted precious moments pulling it aside so that he could dig. He hadn’t expected it to be difficult. There was only a few inches of dirt over the box, but he’d become disoriented. Every time he lifted a shovel full of dirt from the ground, the hole filled up with water so fast that he couldn’t tell where he’d been digging.

  Panic began to set in as he toyed with the idea of having to abandon the dig to save himself. The waters of Cherry Creek were completely out of their banks now, and more than once, he’d been staggered by the swift, unexpected power of the flow.

  Just when he thought it was over, Mary appeared at his elbow.

  “Leave it!” she screamed, and grabbed his arm.

  “Our gold! Our gold! I can’t leave our gold!” he yelled back, and turned to thrust the shovel back into the dirt, only to have the water sweep it out of his hands.

  Lightning struck a tree near where they’d built their campfire only hours earlier. The sudden smell of sulfur was strong, despite the pouring rain.

  Robert gasped and started to dive for the shovel when Mary yanked him around and slapped him hard on the side of the face.

  “Run, you fool! Run with me now before it’s too late!”

  Robert grabbed her by the hand and, together, they managed to stagger out of the rising water.

  “This way!” Mary cried.

  Robert held on to her, fearing that if he didn’t, he would lose her the same way that he’d lost their gold.

  They ran and they ran, climbing up as they went until they’d reached ground high enough to escape the rushing flow of Cherry Creek, then they collapsed together beneath an outcropping of rock. Huddled together, with their sodden bedrolls at their feet, they held hands and prayed.

  Hours passed, and so did the storm, although the rain continued to fall. They were forced to move twice more before morning. When daylight finally came, it was gray and gloomy, and a mirror to the unseen terrors that they’d escaped.

  Their campsite was gone—buried beneath a good six feet of roiling water. God only knew how their box of gold might have fared. And there was another horror that they had yet to face. When the water went down, more than likely, their claims would be worthless. Whatever pockets of gold that Cherry Creek had been hiding were long gone, buried in silt and mud, miles and miles downstream.

  The Whitesides could take comfort that they were still alive, but little else. It would be several hours before they ventured out long enough to realize that they were not the only miners to suffer the same crushing blow. Every man, woman, and boy that had laid claim along Cherry Creek had been wiped out.

  Faced with the devastation of their losses, they still had to deal with the rain that continued to fall.

  LAWYER

  It had been raining off and on for days, and even when the rain would cease, the sun refused to shine. Cherry Creek was still out of its banks, and every building south of Main Street had been evacuated.

  Dr. Warren and his wife had been forced to leave their home and set up a makeshift office inside a tent north of the livery stable, with a second one that he and Mildred were using as a place to sleep. But their forced evacuation had, once again, left Alice Mellin homeless. Her broken ribs were healing, and Dr. Warren had told her to come back in a week and he’d remove the stitches from her other cuts. He didn’t know about Alice’s predicament when she’d walked away, and she was too ashamed to tell him.

  The grave that had been dug for her baby was full of mud and water and the coffin with little Mary’s body was up in the loft of the livery stable, waiting for the flood to subside before she could be buried.

  Unknown to the owner of the livery stable, Alice had spent the night up in the loft, sleeping next to the little bo
x that held her baby’s body. She was feverish, and hungry, and about as desperate as a woman could be.

  She’d tried to go back to her room in the hotel, only to find out that her meager belongings had been confiscated for money owed on their bill. With George in jail and no place to live, Alice was afraid. She had tried to find work, but the hotel already had a cook, and there were only two other places in Denver City that served food. One was run by a China man, who did his own cooking, and the other was the saloon where, on occasion, the bartender could be talked into serving some bread and meat. None of it was fancy, and none of it required the hands of an extra employee.

  She’d thought about taking in laundry, and didn’t mind scrubbing and mending. But that required money and a place to live, which once again, she was sadly lacking. There was only one other thing that she knew how to do that might earn her some money, but she was going to have to heal up some first. She thought about how she’d turned up her nose at the woman in the hotel who’d had a room across the hall. She’d been selling herself to men for money. Alice was beginning to understand why. And, she wasn’t the only person suffering from being displaced.

  The flood had caught a lot of people besides the Whitesides unprepared. Some of the people searching for their own bit of gilded heaven had gone the same route as Letty and Eulis, by tunneling into the surrounding peaks of the Rocky Mountains. They were unaffected by the Cherry Creek flood or the recurring downpours. But a good portion of the prospectors, men, women, and even some with children, had been panning, which meant they’d been residing in tents on their claims near the creek. Now they were all afoot, without shelter to be had, and the small bags of dust and nuggets they had with them were being swiftly depleted.

  Despite Doctor Warren’s temporary location, he was doing a booming business. People had sores and foot rot from walking around in wet shoes all day, and children were coming down with coughing spells that turned into pneumonia.

  Denver City had been a place of chaos since the first gold strike had been announced, but this latest event had caused a different kind of chaos. Last winter’s smallpox epidemic had been a tragedy. The flood was causing a different kind of disaster, but in a way, winding up with the same results. People were dead. A few more would wind up the same way, and those who survived would never be the same.

  ***

  Letty’s new house smelled of freshly sawed wood and dampness. But the fire she’d built in the parlor fireplace was taking the chill out of the air, as well as providing her with a place to cook their food. Eulis had intended it to be a focal point of the room—a grand edifice that would impress their guests and give them comfort through the long winters. The opening was six feet wide with natural rock facing the mantle and wall all the way to the ceiling. The hearth extended more than six feet into the room, providing a safe boundary for any escaping sparks or embers. It had not been intended for cooking, but Letty was a practical woman. Her new cookstove was en route somewhere between Boston and Denver City. She would make do with what she had and be thankful.

  She’d put a pot of stew on to cook less than an hour ago. It would be a few more hours before it would be done. She would have loved to ride out to the mine and check on Eulis and the men—maybe take Robert Lee some fresh supplies, but if she rode off and left the food unattended, most likely the fire would go out or the food would burn. So, she was stuck in a house full of empty rooms, with memories yet to be born.

  Frustrated, she walked out onto the front porch. T-Bone was lying near the front steps. He looked up and wagged his tail when he saw her.

  “Hey, puppy,” Letty said, and sat down on the steps, absently scratching behind the pup’s ear as she looked down into the valley.

  The tents of Denver City looked like so many toadstools, and the people moving about on the streets were hardly larger than ants. Still, she could see enough to know that people were in a bad way. She hadn’t been back to town since they’d left the hotel, although Eulis came and went with some regularity. Because of the rains, they’d temporarily stopped hauling to the smelter. After they’d spent most of a day digging the last ore wagon out of the mud, Eulis had stopped hauling, using the down time to shore up braces inside the mine, and replace a few others.

  Weather had little effect on their work, but it had brought Letty’s plans to a halt. Cooking one meal a day was hardly what she called work, and she’d been taking care of herself for so long, that being idle didn’t set all that well with her.

  She went back into the house to stir the stew, added a couple of sticks of wood to the fire and went back outside. T-Bone whined as she resumed her seat on the porch, but she didn’t respond. Ever since she’d held that dying baby in her arms, she’d had a feeling she’d left something undone.

  ***

  And while she was struggling with new emotions and a whole new way of life, Robert Lee was also changing. He’d gained some badly-needed weight, and followed Eulis’ lead by shaving nearly every day. He’d gotten a haircut and some new clothes with his first pay and for the first time in years, felt good about life.

  And there was also the fact that he had fallen in love with Letty.

  He’d admired her from the first day they’d met, when she’d calmly announced the fate of men who tried to cross her husband. But after she’d taken a bullwhip to the man who’d beaten his wife, he’d been in awe. In his eyes, she could do no wrong. She was what God meant a woman to be—beautiful, strong, and faithful.

  No one knew how he felt, and he would have died before admitting it. He knew she was devoted to Eulis, and he admired the man tremendously. Anyone who’d gone from the drunk he remembered in Lizard Flats to this stoic, hard-working man demanded respect. Still, it was Letty who held his heart.

  ***

  It was a little past noon when it began to drizzle again. Letty’s stew was finally cooked, and she’d taken it off the fire and set it aside. It wouldn’t take long to warm it up when Eulis got home. She wanted to make some bread to go with it, but she was out of flour and cornmeal. Despite the weather, she decided to saddle up her horse and ride down into Denver City. She might get some of that fabric she’d been looking at down at the general store. She didn’t need furniture to begin making curtains, and it would be something to do.

  She dug an old poncho out of the trunk and pulled it over her head, then grabbed her hat on the way out the door. T-Bone was sitting in the rain beside the saddled horse, making sure that she couldn’t slip away without him. As soon as she stepped off the porch, the rain blew into her face. She settled her hat a little firmer on her head as she mounted. Even though she was soon soaked to the skin, it felt good to be outside and moving. The trail down into town was sloped and winding, but it was solid and in some places, sheltered by the trees. It seemed like no time before she was riding into town.

  Shock came quickly.

  The roar of rushing water from Cherry Creek was plainly audible, and the number of displaced people was obvious. They huddled anywhere there was shelter and their misery was reflected in the gloomy looks they cast her way.

  She ducked her head and kept on riding until she got to the general store. She dismounted in ankle deep mud, and when she tried to walk, struggled to stay in her boots.

  “Here ma’am, take my hand,” a man said, and she did, thankful when he pulled her up and onto the narrow wooden sidewalk.

  “Thank you,” she said, and ventured a quick look at his face. He was a stranger to her, and from the cut of his clothes, probably a gambler—certainly not a miner. However, a gold camp brought in all sorts of people hoping to capitalize on the gold dust and money rolling around.

  She stomped as much of the mud from her boots as she could before entering the general store, only to find it so packed with people she could hardly move about.

  She nodded to some of the women she recognized, and then kept moving toward the counter to where Milton Feasley was standing.

  When he saw her coming through the crowd, he
beamed. At last, a paying customer.

  “Howdy, Miz Potter. How can I help you today?”

  Letty nodded at the store owner, and as she did, the image of Vern Goslin popped into her head. Vern had owned the general store back in Lizard Flats and was the exact opposite of Milton in every way possible. Vern had been the human equivalent of a grizzly bear and smelled worse than the buffalo skins he was so fond of wearing. Still, he’d been kind to her when nearly everyone else had judged and found her wanting. She wondered how Milton would behave if he knew what she’d been in the past, then figured from the glitter in his eyes that he wouldn’t care as long as she could pay.

  “I’m needing some flour or cornmeal,” she said. “Can’t cook a proper meal for my husband without fixing him some bread.”

  Milton nodded. He was partial to bread, himself.

  “Yes, ma’am, but it’ll have to be cornmeal. I’m plumb out of flour until the next freighter comes through.”

  “That’s fine,” Letty said.

  “…oughta’ be ashamed.”

  The words drifted over the murmur of voices from the crowd gathered inside the store. She knew they were talking about her. God only knew how many times she’d been judged before and found wanting. It shouldn’t have mattered. But it did.

  She turned away from the counter and moved toward a table where Milton had displayed about a dozen bolts of fabric. Letty had seen them plenty of times before, and had made up her mind as to the pieces she wanted for curtains.

  Milton followed her to the table.

  “Will you be needing some fabric today, Miz Potter?”

  “Yes.” She pointed to a couple of different patterns. “I’d like ten yards each of those two.”

  “…showin’ off cause she’s rich.”

  Milton glanced nervously at Letty, well aware that she’d heard that comment, too. He’d expected to see tears, or at the least, a show of emotion. He was wrong.

  Letty lifted her chin and turned abruptly, catching the women who were talking about her before they could look away. Startled by the confrontational look on her face, the women found themselves under scrutiny, as well.