Chapter One
Wildcat Ridge, Utah Territory
August 23, 1884
Rosemary knelt on the ground near her house, digging for the carrots she had planted earlier in the summer. Gardening had offered a sliver of solace after the mining accident at the end of March that had taken the lives of so many men in Wildcat Ridge, including that of her husband, Jack.
She pulled a cluster of medium-sized carrots free and brushed the dirt away with her gloved hand. The raw vegetable smell of wet soil, signaling health and new life, triggered a longing in Rosemary to finally climb from the muck of grief that had consumed her these past months.
“What are you going to do?” Cora asked, blowing a strand of brown hair away from her face as she dug out potato after potato and set them in a basket.
There had been days when Cora Drummond’s cheery and irreverent attitude had been the only thing that had moved Rosemary to rise from bed and clothe herself. And just today Rosemary finally had shed the black garments of grieving, wearing a lemon shirtwaist and brown skirt that Jack had chided made her look like a housemaid. His teasing had both humored and irritated her, and how she missed it. She mentally pushed back at the bubble of despair welling up inside her chest.
“I don’t know.” Rosemary sat on her haunches and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. It was late afternoon, and the day had been warm. Cora had insisted the garden needed to be plucked, and with so little work for Rosemary at the Assay Office, it was good to feel useful. Cora’s husband, Charles, was currently in Salt Lake City trying to set up a new dental practice, so with much spare time, Cora kept many of the widows company, helping where she could.
“Even with the money that Buster gave each of us from the horse sale,” Rosemary continued, “and the kind donations from out-of-towners after the mine accident, and the boon from Eleanora’s scavenger hunt, I still don’t have enough to keep paying the lease on the Assay Office and my home. And Crane is demanding payment by September 1.”
“What if you tried to talk to him?” Cora asked. “What if you asked for an extension?”
Rosemary shook her head, trying to suppress her snort of disgust so as not to hurt Cora’s feelings. Her friend hadn’t been forced into the same desperate situation as the other widows in town—her husband was still alive and well, and she was but a few weeks from joining him in Salt Lake City.
“You are so fanciful, my friend,” Rosemary said gently.
Cora surprised Rosemary by laughing. “I suppose I am. I know you’re right. Mortimer Crane will bar the door of the Assay Office at midnight on August 31, and by the next day he’ll be tearing that building down. But maybe you should ask him anyway? You never know. He might have grown a sliver of compassion that we don’t know about.”
“Like a wart?” Rosemary smirked. “And you’re an eternal optimist. But I do have a plan.”
“Well, this is good news,” Cora responded, her voice filled with the kind of praise a parent reserved for a child who had done well on their homework. There were times when Cora seemed far older at twenty-five, despite Rosemary being only four years younger.
“Jack was always talking about the Old Spanish Mines that were supposedly in this area. He and I both loved geology, and he would often go traipsing around in the countryside. Sometimes I would accompany him, but often he would go alone. He did like his solitude.” Sadness bubbled to the surface.
Five months. Jack had been gone only five months. It felt like a lifetime.
Rosemary cleared her throat. She had been stuck in limbo all summer long, unable to decide about anything. But not anymore.
“There was one mine in particular that fascinated him,” she continued. “It was called The Floriana. He’d been sure he was closing in on the location and had even done some preliminary testing. But then winter came, and travel became limited. And then …”
The accident.
She paused again, blinking back tears.
“It won’t always be so hard.” Cora’s soft tone was filled with compassion.
Rosemary nodded, a bit too vigorously. “I suppose not.”
But as much as Rosemary adored Cora and cherished their friendship, her friend hadn’t lost a husband on that fateful March day. She couldn’t truly understand. But maybe that was why Rosemary had leaned on Cora more than ever during this difficult time. The other widows had been juggling equal amounts of grief, desperation, and relief. Not all marriages had been happy ones. But Rosemary had loved Jack, and although they’d been married only a short time, she was still reeling from the loss.
She took a steadying breath. “I’m going to find The Floriana Mine.”
Cora froze. “In the hills? Alone?”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“What if it’s just a rumor? A silly story to drive prospectors mad with gold fever?”
“But what if it’s true? Look at what Braxton Gamble found.” During the summer, before he had married Priscilla Heartsel, who had lost both a husband and a father in the mine explosion, Braxton had stumbled across an old and very promising Spanish mine in the hills south of town. He was currently in the process of getting it up and running.
Rosemary continued in a rush, as much to convince herself as Cora. “If I can locate something—anything—of merit out there, then I can test the ore samples myself. If they’re good, then I would contract an independent assay out of Salt Lake City. I have a tiny bit of money set aside for that. This might entice an investor to buy the claim. This could give me leverage with Crane to keep Jack’s business—my business—as well as my home. I really want to remain in Wildcat Ridge. And if I had enough money, I could repay the kindnesses that so many of the widows in town have extended to me.”
“Oh, Rosemary, you know that no one expects repayment. And I hate to be a curmudgeon, but Crane has insisted that your husband run your business. Even if you can continue paying the lease, what about that stipulation?”
Rosemary released a frustrated huff, a few foul words that she’d heard Jack utter on the tip of her tongue. Mortimer Crane was a cockroach. “First things first. If I can wave the promise of money under his nose, I’m hopeful that this ‘husband’ situation can be overruled.”
“You mean run the Assay Office yourself? Without a man?”
“I’ve been doing it all summer anyway. My father taught me to assay when I was young. I instructed Jack in the beginning before he got the hang of it. So why shouldn’t I run the business? I don’t need or want to marry, except for this financial issue that’s hanging over me like a black cloud. And besides, you know I loved Jack. I can’t imagine being with anyone else.”
Doubt shadowed Cora’s gaze. Rosemary couldn’t fault her. Convincing Crane to renew her lease without the promise of a man taking over was likely nigh to impossible. Still, she had to try. But first, she needed a windfall of credit to make it happen.
Cora chewed her lip. “I really don’t think you should go alone into the hills. With Mr. Gamble working his new mine, all sorts of questionable characters have been seen around town.” She wrinkled her nose. “They certainly don’t bathe often enough, and besides that, I fear many aren’t gentlemen. And haven’t some of them come to you for an assay?”
“Some. Most of them don’t like the fact that a woman is doing the testing. They’re all running to that fella in Cranesville. I think his name is Frankie Edwards. Jack was acquainted with him.”
“Well, exactly.”
Confused by Cora’s response, Rosemary frowned at her friend.
“I don’t think you should be running around the hills alone with these types of men loose,” Cora clarified.
“I traveled with Papa on his surveys all the time.” Rosemary stood and dusted the dirt from her skirt, just as she wished to flick away her guilt over the estrangement from her father. But how could she forgive him after the lies he had told her about her mother? She picked up the basket of carrots and carried them to the house porch, setting them on the stoop. “I’ll be fine.”
Cora deposited her bounty beside Rosemary’s. “I should go with you,” she said. “Can you wait a few days? Martha isn’t feeling well, and I promised Doc Spense that I’d help in his office, at least until the middle of the week.”
Rosemary flicked her blond braid from her shoulder. “I don’t want to wait any longer. I still have Jack’s six-shooter, and I know how to use it. I just need to borrow a horse and get some supplies.”
Cora planted her hands on her hips. “All right. I can see you’ve made up your mind. Buster might have a horse she could loan you. I think she’s got a few at the livery. Maybe you could ask her tomorrow at church. And I could gather some food for you. How long will you be gone?”
“I really think I could do this in two days. Maybe three.”
“What if you get lost?”
“Jack was very detailed in his descriptions, and he kept a notebook with his observations. I’ll use it as a reference. I know this is a longshot, but I have to try.”
“I suppose. But if you find nothing, then please return quickly. And it’s not the end of the world if you lose the Assay Office. If you lose this place—” she gave a nod toward the small house “—then you can come live with me. And you can even come to Salt Lake City when I join Charles. You don’t have to stay here.
“I know, but it’s my home.” And Jack is buried in the cemetery. He was one of the few to have a headstone and a proper resting place. Unfortunately, many of the remains had been impossible to identify.
But if Crane took her business, Rosemary knew that she wouldn’t be able to stay. She could certainly take up Cora’s offer, but she didn’t want to. Her only other option would be to contact her father, but that was the last thing she wanted to do. Although she hadn’t seen in him in over three years, she had heard from her Aunt Louisa that he hadn’t approved of Rosemary’s hasty marriage to Jack, or of Jack himself. And he had conveyed his displeasure that his only daughter would move to the middle of nowhere in the Utah Territory.
But Rosemary hadn’t just fallen in love with Jack; she had also found a connection to the people and locale of Wildcat Ridge. The wilderness was a balm to her soul, and despite the hardships that she and Jack, and many others, had endured to eke out a living here, she had found a place that called to something deep inside her. And even more so now. The tragic loss of so many men—including her own love—had prompted many townsfolk to leave. But with those who had stayed, Rosemary felt an especially close kinship.
They were surviving.
She wasn’t ready to give up yet.
“All right then,” Cora said, her tone decisive. “Let’s get you ready for your adventure.”
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