Dreams of Gold

By Royce Dalton Elms

Dreams of Gold is a historically accurate yet fictional work set in the Rocky Mountain area of Cripple Creek Colorado. The book takes place in the mining town during the late 1800s. It is a story of redemption, love, and family.

This action-packed page-turner will take you on an incredible journey of discovery through historically accurate events. Pinkerton Operative Brady Gressett searches for his long-lost sister but finds something more in the process.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Sep 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9781496937100

Royce Dalton Elms

Royce Dalton Elms (1940-2010) was a loving husband, father, grandfather (PawPaw), visionary, minister, and author. He had a wonderful imagination and a colorful personality, traits that spill over into this exciting and unique novel. This book represents the culmination of years of research he conducted prior to his passing. He is sorely missed by his family. In his famous words, “Come on now!”

Book preview

PART 1

1

I am searching for a tall, robust and buxom woman who has a round face and is warm and compassionate. Her hair is silver-gray, her eyes are dark and she dresses elegantly and often with a string of white pearls around her neck, Brady asked the old man. I have been told this woman will help me find my sister.

Do you know of a woman in this town, Brady Gressett asked, who might fit that description?

The almond-shaped, dark eyes that he was looking into were very sensitive and sympathetic. He was glad he had approached the slight, smartly dressed owner of Johnny Nolon’s Saloon and Gambling Emporium. The amiable, derby-hatted man had agreed to keep their conversation in complete confidence. Nolon bowed his head toward the table in sober contemplation of Brady’s question.

There’s a half-dozen women, Nolon said, the ends of his twisted handlebar moustache bobbing with each spoken word, who might fit your description. But the most likely one is a Madame in the red light district.

Madame? Brady said, frowning at the implication of the term.

Madame Bonavent.

What is her business?

Owns a house of prostitution called ‘The Penthouse’ on Myers Avenue, in the red light district. Has the best underground telegraph in the whole state of Colorado.

Brady cringed at the thought of having to go into a red light district. He only went into a red light district when it was absolutely necessary in the line of duty as a Pinkerton operative. His God-fearing mother would turn over in her grave if he ever went into a red light district to one of the girls for carnal pleasure.

You mean, Brady said, she has connections in Leadville, Fairplay, Aspen, Silverton, Uray, Telluride and the other mining towns?

Out here we call them camps, not towns. Yes, she’s been in all of those camps. She knows key people in every camp. Always moves her ladies to the fastest growing camp.

Thirty minutes before Brady had pulled a telegram out of his vest pocket that he had received from the Denver Pinkerton office. Two weeks earlier, with permission from his Chicago boss, William Pinkerton, he had wired them the description of the town from his mother’s dream. He had spoken with Pinkerton about his missing sister, but he had not revealed to him or to Denver the source of his description. He was glad he couldn’t reveal the source, because they would have considered him foolish for believing it. He had requested that the Denver office match the description to a specific mining town in Colorado.

Quickly, he read the main text of the telegram, again:

mountain range from north to south would be rocky

mountains stop pikes peak is highest peak stop town in

bowl like indention west of Pikes Peak with strange

sharp pointed peak would be cripple creek stop sharp

pointed peak would be mount pisgah stop can see pikes

peak from mount pisgah stop mountains of gold could

refer to mountains around cripple creek and victor

which are producing a lot of gold stop much gold stop

After receiving the wire, he had requested a two-week leave of absence from the Pinkerton’s. His boss had reluctantly granted his request, asking him to return sooner if possible. Pinkerton had stated that he needed him for a special assignment involving the campaign for the President of the United States.

That afternoon he had boarded a Rock Island and Pacific Railway passenger train to Colorado. On the last leg of his journey, on the Florence & Cripple Creek Railway up Phantom Canyon, he had asked a friendly old miner where to go for information. He had recommended that he go to Johnny Nolon who was known far and wide for helping people. Upon arriving in Cripple Creek, Brady had swiftly spotted Mount Pisgah and had been amazed at how much the gold camp looked like the description in his mother’s dream.

Across from him, the contemplative saloon keeper brought the palms of his small hands together in front of his oval face. The diminutive man periodically shook his head as he continued his pondering.

Turning toward the rowdy music that was echoing in the saloon, Brady momentarily watched the musicians. A round-faced, bald-headed piano player was bouncing on the stool while grinning and pounding the keys passionately. Nearby, a lanky man was sitting on a higher stool and plucking a loud banjo. They were playing a scorching version of, There’ll be A Hot Time In The Old Town, Tonight! Brady enjoyed the rambunctious sound and patted his boots in time with the rousing music, intrigued by the dexterity of the fast-fingered banjo picker.

When Nolon finally stirred out of his contemplation, Brady turned to see him pursing his thin lips together and preparing to speak. Turning his left ear toward him, he leaned out over the table. It was hard to hear the soft-spoken man over the echoing music and the incessant jabber of the jostling crowd around them.

Madame Bonavent? She could locate my sister?

Can’t promise you that, son, he said kindly, but if anyone can locate her, she can. A lot of people owe her favors. It amazes me what she can find out. And you can trust her to keep everything in the strictest of confidence.

Boom!

Brady instantly recognized the unmistakable report of a big-bore revolver coming through the open doors of the saloon.

The noisy mob of miners, gamblers and businessmen around him didn’t seem to notice the distinctive sound. But he observed that the report had captured the attention of Johnny Nolon. The saloon keeper had instantly cocked his head to the side, waiting wide-eyed and alert. Brady wondered if someone might have been wounded or killed.

Boom!

After the second report of the firearm Johnny Nolon leaped to his feet waving his arms up and down and shouting to the crowd, Quiet! Please, quiet!

Instantly the employees throughout the saloon joined their boss, waving their arms and yelling for quiet. The musicians stopped abruptly, leaving their final notes hanging suspended in the tense air. The raucous rumble in the saloon gradually subsided until there were only a few hoarse whispers in the very back of the long saloon. All movement had stopped. Brady sensed a mounting apprehension as a heavy hush settled over the crowd.

Boom!

Fire!

He cringed as the most terrifying word in any town or mining camp exploded from numerous throats.

Fire! Fire!

The voices shattered the air like firing pistols, ricocheting from wall to wall. Instantly, Brady stood to his feet, realizing that the three shots from the booming revolver was the town’s fire alarm. For the first time he caught the faint smell of smoke in the air and wondered if the saloon was on fire. Suddenly, the clamoring crowd panicked, yelling and stomping, stampeding through the tables and along the long bar. Soon they were jammed together tightly and surging towards the open double doors in the right front corner of the room.

Brady and Johnny Nolon were caught up in the powerful flow of the wild-eyed mob and carried along with them. A human traffic jam swiftly developed, creating a rising panic in the jostling crowd. Fear of being trapped in a burning building was on all of the faces around him as they came to a total standstill.

Then suddenly, like water bursting through a crumbling dam, the mob surged forward, careening toward the boardwalk. The wild, uneven current caused Brady to drift ahead of Johnny Nolon. The human deluge flowed faster, compressing as they neared the doors. Soon Brady was thrust out of the doors into a mass of swirling humanity and smoke on the corner boardwalk.

Billy! Mama! Mary!

The anxious screams for relatives and friends pierced the air in a spectrum of octaves. Husband’s shouted for their wives. Mother’s fearfully shrieked for missing children. Scared children were screaming. Everybody in the milling Saturday afternoon crowd seemed to be searching for somebody.

Brady attempted to see where the drifting clouds of fog-like smoke were coming from. Scanning the buildings in every direction around the intersection of Third and Bennett, he was unable to locate the source. As he watched, a thick cloud of smoke curled down and momentarily blinded the crowd, creating more anxiety and confusion.

By looking carefully, he finally discovered that the smoke and ashes were drifting up from the south. When the wind momentarily lifted the smoke, he spotted a blazing building a block away. Then another huge, floating mass of smoke began to climb up the steep Third Street hill and obliterated his view of the fire.

Central Dance Hall going up in smoke, a wild voice howled.

Whole town’s going up in smoke, another panicked voice warned, if they don’t put that fire out quick!

Coleen Barrington sat nestled in elegant leather, enjoying the plush seats of the large burgundy and white, French-built carriage. Her mine-owner father had purchased the magnificent coach from an affluent French family that lived in Denver. The regal coach was her father’s most prized possession if you didn’t count the Barrington mansion or his lucrative Crown Seven gold mine. But on this particular day her father was in Denver on a business trip and she was enjoying the exclusive use of the luxurious coach.

Eldrich, the driver, was sitting outside in the driver’s box, his head above the white canvas roofline. Through the front opening she could see her father’s matching, mottled grays. The big team was standing majestically in their traces, proudly manifesting their blue-blooded, Percheron ancestry.

The coach was parked on Warren Avenue in front of a modest clapboard cabin. Absent-mindedly she opened her French drap de soie cloak, revealing the lapel watch on the large collar of her dove-gray dress. It was fifteen minutes past one o’clock and her best friend, Katie Phillips, was late as usual. They were going on a shopping trip to the tenderloin, which was what everyone called the central business district of Cripple Creek.

The balmy air was alive with the familiar sounds of the multi-pitched steam whistles coming from the numerous trains and mines operating in the surrounding area. The smell of jack-pine wood smoke from numerous fireplaces was in the air, wafting through the open-windowed coach.

Be there in a minute, Katie called from the cabin door. A good five minutes later, Katie came giggling down the porch steps, obviously excited about the shopping trip. She was wearing a dark-blue cotton dress and a small, matching derby, sporting a black feather in the band. Halfway to the carriage she turned to wave at her frail mother who was saying something from the doorway. Coleen felt a twinge of sympathy for the kindly woman, who was recovering from a bad case of pneumonia.

The tall coach driver appeared at the side of the coach, adjusting the coat of his gray uniform with burgundy braiding. Pulling the ground step out from under the coach, the driver placed it beneath the high coach step. The petite, black-haired Katie bounced up on the ground step and onto the coach step and up into the coach. With a quick movement of her petite body she slid onto the plush front seat, facing Coleen who was sitting in the back seat.

Thank you, Sir, Katie said to the courteous coach driver.

You’re shore enough welcome, Ma’am, he said, replacing the ground step in its slot under the coach body. At the side window, he raised his eyebrows in a question mark and said, Where to, Missy?

N.O. Johnson’s, please, Coleen said as Eldrich climbed back into the driver’s box.

Hee yah, Eldrich called to the Percherons. The mottled gray’s instantly responded and pulled the carriage smoothly out into Warren Avenue, in the direction of A Street.

Well, Katie said, her big, brown eyes sparkling at Coleen from her small, heart-shaped face, did I read the calendar correctly this morning? Is this, April 25th, 1896?

Coleen laughed melodiously and reluctantly admitted, I’m afraid you read it right.

Happy birthday! Katie said.

Thank you, Ma’am.

Twenty-four? Katie said, giggling.

Sweet sixteen, Coleen said smiling ruefully and glancing out the window as the carriage turned up A Street, going north.

Don’t you wish, Katie said, still giggling.

I may be an ancient twenty-four, Coleen said, now giggling along with Katie, but I still feel like I did at sweet sixteen.

Twenty-four, Katie mused, raising her black eyebrows dramatically, and still not married. How does that feel?

Well, my dear, you don’t have any room to talk, Coleen said. Katie was twenty-eight and well on her way to becoming an old maid.

I know, I know, but I haven’t been voted the ‘Queen of Colorado,’ either. I’ve never been declared to be ‘The most beautiful young lady in the state of Colorado.’ And I’m not the daughter of one of the wealthiest mine owner’s in our fair state.

Katie Phillips!

I’m sorry, Katie said giggling and bowing her head meekly. I was just teasing.

You know better than to tease me about that!

I know. Please forgive me.

You’re forgiven. But if you really want to know how it feels for me to be twenty-four and unmarried, it feels, she paused, then happily spelled the word letter by letter, W-O-N-D-E-R-F-U-L.

Colly, are you sure?

Positive.

Is that the way you should feel when you’re going to be married to Craig Burleson in October?

Thank goodness, it’s a long time until October 3rd. Please allow me enjoy my independence and freedom a little while longer. Anyway, I wanted to tell you about my dream.

You had a ‘dream’ last night?

No, silly. I’m talking about my dream of sponsoring a Benefit for the School of the Deaf and Blind, in Colorado Springs.

What do you mean by ‘Benefit?’

I want to have a gourmet dinner to raise money for the School.

How much money?

Twenty-five thousand dollars.

What? Do you think you can raise that much?

Yes, Ma’am. If I can get the mine owners and businessmen of the District behind it.

That’s a lot of money in 1896.

I know. But there’s a lot of money in this camp.

I hope you’re not biting off more than you can chew, Katie said in a doubtful tone of voice.

I’m not, you just wait and see.

Glancing out of the coach window, Coleen saw that they were approaching Bennett Avenue, the main street of town. Eldrich reined the big grays to a halt at the busy intersection, waiting for two wagons and a buggy to pass down the hill. Then he deftly guided the grays and the coach around the corner from A Street onto the steep slope of Bennett Avenue.

Fire! Eldrich suddenly called back through the opening in the front of the coach above Katie’s head.

What? Coleen said.

Fire down below.

Where? Coleen said, leaning forward and looking out of the wide opening on the right side of the coach.

Over there, in bad boy town, Eldrich said. The corrupt and notorious red light district of the gold camp.

Leaning against the right side of the coach, Coleen spotted a huge, bloated puff of dark-gray smoke. It was billowing up ominously and staining the magnificent blue sky over the jagged roofs below them. Across from Coleen, Katie jumped up sideways, kneeling on the front seat, so she could see out of the carriage window.

Oh, look, Katie said gasping.

Coleen had often wondered why the gold camp had been located on such an inconvenient and undulating side of a wide steep hill. The camp had been platted by its founders on the lower skirts of Mineral Hill. The land sloped mainly downhill to the south, but there were lumpy grooves on the side of the long hill as you traveled the streets from east to west.

On this day, the steep, hilly angles of the town placed them high above the fire. In front of them, Bennett Avenue, The town’s wide main street, went steeply downhill east to Second St., then back uphill to Third. From the high, western side of town where they were, she had a clear view of the fire below her and to the right. She watched with growing concern as the smoke billowed high into the sky, shuddering at the thought of what a runaway fire could do to their town.

CLANG! … CLANG! … CLANG! The loud bell of a Fire Wagon was ringing out up the street, east of where Brady Gressett stood at Third and Bennett. He turned toward the welcome sound of pounding hooves and screeching wagon wheels. The milling mob in the street scattered before the huge team of galloping horses that were pulling a Fire Wagon manned by a yelling driver and clinging firemen.

The wild-eyed horses were panting profusely as they pulled the big rig around the Third Street corner. The wagon skidded sideways, splattering gritty sand and ore gravel into the scattering crowd. Wobbling side-to-side, it hurtled down the Third Street hill and soon faded into a muddled mass of tumbling smoke.

Unable to stand idly by in a crisis, Brady leaped down from the boardwalk and hit the street at a dead run. If they would allow him, he would help. After twisting through the frantic people milling around in the intersection, he made a fast run down Third Street. It reminded him of the wind sprints he used to run in college, while training for the Chicago State University boxing team.

Halfway down the block he ran into a lump of drifting smoke and was running blind for a short time. A gust of wind lifted the smoke briefly, allowing him to locate the Fire Wagon. As he veered toward the wagon, the heat from the fire engulfed him and threatened to take his breath away. Pulling a big handkerchief out of his back pocket, he ran around the Fire Wagon looking for a water barrel. Across the street, the blazing wooden front of the Central Dance Hall was popping and crackling like firecrackers going off in rapid succession.

Finding the barrel, he quickly dipped his handkerchief into the water. Tying the wet cloth around his neck, he pulled it up over his nose and mouth for protection against the dangerous smoke and rippling heat. Near the wagon he saw two firemen frantically screwing a fire hose coupling onto a lone fire hydrant. Running to them, he grabbed the nozzle and began to stretch the slack hose out toward the towering flames.

Embers from the blazing inferno sailed around him, gliding down to a splash of sparks in the street. Some of the blazing embers were splashing into the buildings across the street. The fire would soon be climbing the hill, if the firemen couldn’t contain the flames quickly. Extending the hose to its fullest length, Brady stood waiting for the firemen to take over the nozzle. The flames of the fire were leaping fifty feet into the air over him. The heat was beginning to scorch his exposed skin. Finally, one of the firemen at the hydrant came running toward him.

Thanks, Mister, the burly man said, grabbing the nozzle of the fire hose out of Brady’s hands. The big man extended the nozzle toward the fire and braced himself expectantly. Relief washed through Brady when he saw a powerful, jet stream of water spurt out of the nozzle inspiring hope in him for the endangered gold camp.

Go around to the alley, the fireman shouted to Brady, I think some dance hall girls are trapped in the building!

Brady leaped into action, running down Third Street, past the blazing front of the building. The popping of the fire and the pounding of his boots echoed in his ears as he ran away from the blasting heat. He welcomed the flow of cooler air on his parched face and wondered if his hair was being singed. Nearing the back of the doomed dance hall, he slid around the corner and into the alley.

Help!

The cry of distress came from above him. Running down the alley, he looked up, searching for the source of the cry.

Help!

Instantly he spotted a dance hall girl in a red housecoat hanging out of a third story window. In a flash, Brady observed that she was both very pretty and very frightened. Instantly her pale face and probing eyes zeroed in on him.

Help! she said, cupping her hands around her mouth, we’ve got to get out of here!

He was surprised that the back of the building was untouched by the fire. The steady breeze from the south was evidently holding and pushing the fire to the north. But he knew the fire would soon be creeping backwards, devouring the structure and the dance hall girls inside of it. The smoke would soon overcome them, followed shortly by the fatal flames. He had to find a way to get them down as soon as possible. In a spasm of desperation he yanked the wet handkerchief down below his mouth.

Wait! Wait right where you are! he said to at the girl, his hands cupped around his mouth, I’ll be back in a minute!

Running back around the blazing building he hurried to the Fire Wagon where he located a bulky extension ladder hanging on the side. Grabbing one end, he attempted to lift the heavy ladder off of the high hooks.

Need help, Mister? a nasal voice called from behind him.

Turning he saw a short, bandy rooster of a man with a long arching nose. On his nose were a pair of oval spectacles that were reflecting the fire and turning his eyes demoniac red. The bow-legged, man seemed to be a strange mixture of cowboy and miner. His big hat, leather vest and red bandanna branded him a cowboy. But his heavy woolen shirt and thick canvas trousers and rugged hobnail boots were the attire of the miners he had seen.

Need help bad!, Brady finally managed to yell between gasps of breath, girls trapped around back.

Brady led the way at a loping, half-run back down Third Street, carrying the ladder at his side. He was surprised at the strength of the shorter man who was easily carrying his end of the heavy ladder. They turned into the alley and stopped under the window where Brady had seen the girl. With a herculean effort they were only able to extend it to the first rung. Lifting the ladder up and placing it against the building, Brady saw that it would only reach up to the second story window. Somehow they had to get up to the third story window.

Mister, we’re going to jump! the desperate dance hall girl in the third story window shouted down to Brady. There’s a bunch of girls up here and we can’t stay any longer!

I’ll get a rope, the cowboy-miner said. And spinning around, he took off in a bow-legged run, darting down the alley and disappearing around the corner of the building.

The girl up in the window went into a spasm of coughing and Brady saw a troublesome trail of smoke drifting out around her. The frantic girl climbed halfway out of the window and bravely prepared to jump.

No! No! No! Brady yelled up, thrusting his arms and palms up in a stopping motion. A jump down from the third story window to the rock-hard alley would mean serious injury or death.

Stay where you are, he shouted, I’m coming up after you. Stay where you are.

Brady climbed up the ladder until he was under the second story window and waited anxiously for the rope. Soon the cowboy-miner came loping back around the corner of the building with a big coil of double-thick Fire Wagon rope. Quickly, the funny-faced man climbed the ladder and handed the rope to Brady.

Catch this rope, Brady shouted up to the girl. The fast thinking cowboy-miner had already tied a large knot on the end so it would be easier to throw and catch.

Twirling the knotted end of the rope vertically at his side, Brady sailed it upwards. The girl lunged out dangerously and caught the rope momentarily, but it slipped out of her hand as she struggled to keep from falling out of the window.

The daring girl reached out in another wild grab and accidentally slapped the rope away from her grasp. Brady snaked the falling rope back into his hands and flipped it upwards the third time. This time the girl snared the rope with both hands and let out a shriek of triumph.

That’s Jenny, Brady heard a man call out from a crowd that had gathered between the buildings on the south side of the alley.

Jenny, Brady shouted, glad to know the girl’s name, tie the rope to a bed frame.

Jenny disappeared, pulling the rope inside. Returning in less than a minute she leaned out and yelled down through cupped hands, It’s tied, but the smoke is getting worse. Brady could see that the volume of smoke was gradually increasing.

Friend, Brady said to his helper, I’ve got to go up there.

Hoof it, the man said. I’ll handle things down here. Pulling a pair of cowhide gloves out of his back pocket, he added, better put these on.

Thanks, Brady said, yanking the gloves on. He was surprised that they fit his large hands.

Pulling on the rope he climbed the ladder to the last rung. Then he began to climb the rope hand-over-hand. Digging at the slippery, clapboard wall with the toes of his boots, he inched his way upwards. It was maddeningly slow and strenuous climbing. Finally, he was able to creep above the second floor window.

Mister, you’re a sight for sore eyes, Jenny said, leaning down from the window ledge to greet him.

With a powerful pull on the rope and a final flailing of boots he reached the window ledge. Dragging himself over he fell into the room, landing on the floor on his side, sucking air furiously he lay evaluating the situation.

Let’s jump, shrieked a wild-eyed girl that Jenny was restraining at the window.

Wait, Brady commanded, staggering to his feet. We can get out of here alive if you’ll do what I tell you.

Suddenly a trail of toxic smoke hit his lungs and he experienced a throat-splitting coughing spell of his own. He pulled his nearly dry handkerchief back up over his mouth and nose wishing he could dip it in the water barrel again.

We’ve got to move-fast, he said, "or this room will become our coffin!

What’s burning? Coleen asked Eldrich for the third time.

She was watching the gigantic gray mass of smoke rising rapidly and increasing in size, obscuring the central business district of Cripple Creek. The steam whistles of the numerous mines on the hills around the camp were now scorching the air with the emergency fire signal. It was a call to every man within hearing distance to go to the aid of the town.

Must be the judgment of God, Coleen stated in her most disgusted and pious tone of voice. He wants to burn down some dance hall’s and purge our town of the dreadful red light district.

Why, Coleen, Katie said, her eyes big with disbelief, how can you say that when there are unfortunate girls in those dance halls?

Katie Phillips, those girls make me angry. I’m sorry. I don’t want any of them to be hurt, but they shouldn’t be there.

But Colly, Katie said, her brown eyes sparking like coals of fire, don’t you have at least a little pity for the dance hall girls and soiled dove’s of Myers Avenue?

No! You tell me how they can do what they do? Coleen said, pressing her case. How can any decent girl stoop to live such a deplorable and disgraceful life?

Most of them don’t want to do what they’re doing. They’re just casualties of circumstances.

But Katie, they walk down the boardwalks on their shopping day and try to act like, well, like ordinary ladies, it’s disgusting. That’s why I try not to go to town when they’re on the boardwalks.

What are the firemen doing, Eldrich? Coleen said, instantly turning her anger from the soiled doves of Myers Avenue toward the volunteer firemen. She was ready to close the disagreeable subject. Why aren’t they putting the fire out?

She was beginning to understand why fire had always been her British-born father’s greatest fear for the gold camp. He had often declared in his most disdainful British accent, This town’s nothing but bloody-dry kindling wood just waiting for a spark to ignite it.

They’re trying, Missy, Eldrich said, but that dance hall is shore enough burning fast. Won’t be no tip-toeing there tonight.

2

We’ll follow, Jenny said, answering for the girls trapped in the blazing Central Dance Hall. Just tell us what to do.

Line up at that window, Brady said, pointing to the second window in the room, and take turns putting your heads out for fresh air. Take in a couple of breaths of air and then rotate to the back of the line. The smoke is going to get you if you don’t. Keep rotating until we call for you to go down the rope.

Hold Rabbit for me, Jenny said, pushing the hysterical girl who had tried to jump out of the window into Brady’s arms.

Brady understood the girl’s nickname, when he saw the little white, pink-nosed rabbit she held tightly in her arms. He pulled the trembling girl to him and held her gently. Her baby-faced look told him that she was far too young to be dancing with drunken miners who were old enough to be her grandfather. She was just a trembling child in a plain blue cotton dress that was the victim of a cruel world.

It’s all right, he said soothingly, I promise you’ll be the first one we send down the rope.

Jenny had disappeared momentarily into a smoke-filled closet near the door. She reappeared coughing hard, bringing an armload of towels and an assortment of gloves. Grabbing a pair of heavier gloves he turned back to the baby-faced girl.

Give Jenny the rabbit and put these on—quick.

No! baby-face squealed. She goes with me!

Listen now, Brady said firmly, you’ve got to hold on to the rope with both hands.

She’s all I’ve got, the girl wailed, clinging to the rabbit tenaciously, I don’t have a Momma or Daddy. Her sad lament softened Brady’s resolve.

Give her to me, Brady said gently, I’ll send her down first and she’ll be waiting for you. Very reluctantly, the girl surrendered her prized possession to him.

At the window Brady called down, Hey, friend. Catch this bunny rabbit. Her owner will be coming down shortly.

The cowboy-miner removed his vest and he and a man from the crowd held the four corners and formed a makeshift catcher out of it. Brady dropped the rabbit down and the men caught it. The man with the cowboy deftly captured the fuzzy little creature and took it to a woman in the crowd across the alley.

Turning back into the room, Brady felt the floor sagging slightly under his boots. A greater urgency gripped him because he knew they only had minutes to get out of that death trap.

Look Colly, Katie said, as she turned from observing the fire, the smoke cloud seems to be smaller.

I hope, but it still looks bad.

Coleen had been thrilled when the arching stream of water from the fire hose had started cascading down on the fire. The much-maligned town reservoir was evidently doing better than the critics had been expecting. Her father had recently been severely critical of the condition of the reservoir and the water pipe system. She was hoping that they could confine the fire to the red light district.

I think they’ll stop it from spreading, Katie said cheerfully, still kneeling on the facing seat and watching the scene below.

I hope, Coleen said, gazing at the profile of her cute, dimple-cheeked, black-haired friend. Katie exuded a bubbling zest for life that was contagious. Coleen had enjoyed many happy times with her. Both of them had a quick sense of humor and loved to laugh. It was Katie’s mother who had christened them, the gold-dust twins, because they were virtually inseparable.

Oh, Colly, what about your sister? Katie said dramatically, turning to her with big eyes. Is she coming to your birthday party? Will your father be there? What will your father do if she comes? The questions tumbled out of her wide mouth so fast her words slurred together.

Colly said, Harriet can only come if father stays in Denver. He told me he wanted to be back for my party, but I encouraged him to stay and finish his business. Trouble is, he knew why I wanted him to stay. So he may come home just to protect his little castle from his willful and rebellious daughter.

I still can’t believe your father disowned her.

Me either. It’s his, she deepened her voice, slipping into a British brogue mimicking her father, aristocratic, blue-blooded, British bullheadedness. Too many Dukes and Duchesses in his linage.

Oh, Colly, I just love to hear you talk British. It sounds so, oh so sophisticated.

I love to talk British, but I hate British bullheadedness, she said remaining in her British brogue.

How can he hold a grudge so long?

I hate to admit it, but Harriet did act foolishly. She made a big mistake by not telling father about George. Then she made matters worse by eloping with him without father’s permission. You know how father has always harped on us about ‘marrying a highly educated man with an unlimited future.’ His pride was severely wounded when Harriet married what he called, ‘a common, uneducated, hard-rock miner.’

That really makes me mad, Katie said, in a rare burst of hot temper, I’d like to have a word with him about that. My father was a ‘common, uneducated, hard-rock miner.’ But he was a great man, a wonderful man. Some of the finest men in the world ride the skip down into these mines. Besides, most hard-rock miners are smarter than most of your so-called, educated men.

Whoa, girl, whoa. I couldn’t agree with you more.

Missy! Eldrich said through the small front opening, the smoke cloud is rising again. The fire has sure enough jumped Myers Avenue and it’s running wild toward the tenderloin!

Heaven help us! Coleen said in her normal voice, having been jolted out of her British brogue.

In the sagging third-story room of the Central Dance Hall, Brady quickly put a pair of thick gloves on Rabbit’s trembling hands. Grab the rope and squeeze tight, he said guiding her gloved hands over to the rope. When she grabbed the rope he let go and the girl sailed down shrieking and kicking the air wildly with her feet. She slammed into the extended arms of the waiting cowboy and knocked him flat on the ground. But the stout and nimble man swiftly jumped back up on his feet and helped the sobbing girl up. The cowboy pushed the girl across the alley and she snatched the rabbit out of the hands of the woman who was holding it.

The girls in the second window began to drop their valuables down to some of the bystanders. Hand mirrors, shoes, a cat, a little dog, perfume bottles, jewel boxes and small valises rained down into numerous outstretched arms. The people hurried back across the alley carrying the girls prized possessions.

An explosion and the sound of crumbling timber drew Brady back into the room. He cringed as he watched the hallway wall sag a few inches. The interior of the building was slowly collapsing as the fire devoured its way into the back half of the building.

The remaining girls reacted by going into a fresh frenzy of hysterical screaming. Brady swiftly prepared the next girl for the escape down the rope. Time was running out, but he was determined to get all of the girls down before they were sucked into the gaping mouth of the fire.

Katie, Coleen said, I forgot to tell you that George and Harriet have moved to a house on Carr Avenue. The fire is headed straight toward their home and George is at work. If the flames keep climbing the hill, Harriet and the baby will be in great danger.

When did they move?

Last week.

A fresh ball of blacker smoke billowed up into the sky nearer to the tenderloin. The rumbling of another explosion echoed up the hill and she knew the firemen had lost their battle to stop the fire. When the smoke lifted she could see that the rampaging flames were climbing toward Bennett Avenue.

What was that? Katie said anxiously.

Another explosion, Eldrich said. This here town is sure enough in bad trouble, Missy.

With swift, calculated movements Brady helped each dance hall girl out of the window and down the rope. The men below caught each of the shrieking girls and sent them running to safety across the alley. When the last girl slid down the rope only the courageous Jenny remained.

You’re next, he said waving her over from the other window.

Suddenly there was muffled explosion and the hall door fell into the room followed by a cloud of dark and dense smoke. Brady instantly lost sight of Jenny who had been leaning out of the window and breathing fresh air. Jenny immediately went into another terrible, lung-splitting, coughing spell.

Get on the floor, he yelled while falling down. But before he reached the floor the dense smoke hit his lungs inducing a hacking coughing spell of his own.

Jenny, he called, while groping along the wall toward her incessant coughing. Before he reached her huddled and smoke-hazy form, the coughing had ominously stopped.

Another thick cloud of smoke engulfed him and he almost blacked out. Then he placed his cheek flat on the floor and was able to relocate the fresh air supply. The better air eased the coughing spasms. Reaching out he touched the limp form of Jenny’s body.

Jenny—Jenny, he said, but she didn’t answer.

She was evidently unconscious. Reaching under her armpits he pulled her toward the rope window. The heat of the fire was becoming unbearable. The acid-like smoke kept grasping at his scorched lungs and burning his parched eyeballs.

Another hacking spasm of coughing exploded up from his battered lungs. The residue of the smoke tasted like burnt ashes in his mouth and his throat felt hot and dry.

As he pulled Jenny through the dense smoke she felt so lax and lifeless he wondered if she were dead. They would both be dead and incinerated if they didn’t get out of the room fast. When he finally reached the hanging rope he swiftly lifted her up and into the window.

We must go to Harriet’s house, quick! Coleen said to Eldrich. She was aggravated with her self that she hadn’t told him sooner. But she was thankful that he had driven her to see Harriet’s new home the week before. He knew exactly where they needed to go.

At that moment they were still locked in a tangle of animals and vehicles and fleeing people. It looked like an impossible situation. But Eldrich immediately demonstrated the reason why her father had hired him. He claimed that Eldrich was the best coach driver in Cripple Creek and one of the best in the state of Colorado.

Make way! Eldrich said. Make way for an emergency vehicle!

Urging the calm-spirited horses forward, he talked to them smoothly as they responded to the reins. Working his way between the other vehicles he carefully guided the team toward First Street. When the team broke free of the intersection, he urged them to a trot and guided them north.

We’re on our way, Katie said thankfully.

Excellent driving, Eldrich, Coleen said.

Hee-Yah! he said urging the team to yet a faster pace for the remainder of the block. At the intersection of First and Carr he reined the grays back to a walk and guided them around the corner.

Holding Jenny’s head outside the window Brady hoped that the nippy air would revive her. To his great relief she revived and immediately began to suck in great gulps of the fresh air. He could feel life and strength began to surge back into her body.

What happened? she groaned between gasps.

You passed out.

That was scary, she mumbled.

Can you make it down the rope? he said, desperate to get her down as quickly as possible.

I think so.

Need to get you out of here, he said, handing her a thick towel. Wrap the towel around the rope and squeeze tight.

After helping her through the window he gripped her wrists and let her down below the window ledge. Brady turned her loose. Sailing down toward the waiting men her red housecoat billowed up as she fell into their arms. The crowd to the south cheered and the other dance hall girls squealed and leaped for joy.

WWWHHHIIISSSHHH!

The imploding sound came from behind Brady and he frantically grabbed the outside edge of the windowsill and put a death grip on it as suddenly the floor under him literally vanished. He immediately tried to climb the slick, soot-covered wooden wall, but it was impossible for him to get a toehold. With a tremendous effort he tried several times to pull himself up to the windowsill. But he was unable to get more than his chin above the sill.

Glancing down below he began to gauge his dire predicament. The second and third floors had fallen to the bottom floor. The fire was now two stories below him and momentarily smothered by the fallen debris. But the flames would soon devour through the highly flammable debris and he would soon be dangling over a roaring, fiery furnace. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hold on for very long and when he let go he would be doomed to die a horrifying death. Fatigue was already beginning to weaken his grip. His fingers were swiftly becoming numb. At least he had been able to save the dance hall girls.

Slowly… ever so slowly… his fingers… began to slip. He fortified himself for the fall… into the rising flames.

Then suddenly, a wacky face appeared in the window opening. It was the cowboy-miner who seemed to be standing miraculously on nothing but thin mountain air.

Hold on, Pard, the amazing man said, I’m pullin’ you out!

A fresh surge of hope-inspired strength shot through Brady’s exhausted body. An airy gush of enormous gladness rumbled out of his mouth when he observed that the cowboy was standing on the Fire Wagon extension ladder. Two firemen were holding the base of the ladder steady. The men had somehow pulled the warped sections of the ladder apart and had extended it up the wall just in time to save his life.

The cowboy backed down the ladder to make room for him. Though trembling all over, Brady quickly crawled onto the ladder and followed the cowboy down the ladder to safety. When he finally reached the ground he grabbed the stubby cowboy and gave him a big bear hug.

You’re… incredible… man, Brady croaked between gasps for breath. I had… about given up… and you… saved me.

Well, after you saved their lives, Pard, he said, pointing to the dance hall girls across the alley, we weren’t about to let the fire engulf you!

Thank you, men, Brady said to the firemen and turned to see Jenny crossing the alley. As she walked toward him she looked prettier than when he had first seen her. Stopping in front of him, she tipped her head to the side and looked up at him with luminous, brown eyes.

Mister, she said, while wiping the rolling tears on her cheeks with the fingers of both hands, I’ve never been so scared in all my life. I thought we were finished. I thought the fire would get all of us. But you saved our lives, my life, and almost lost yours in the process. May I ask you what your name is?

Brady Gressett, Ma’am, he said, feeling humbled by her tears and her deep gratitude, but please don’t make so much of what I’ve, what we’ve done. If we had not been here, someone else would have come.

But you came. You were the one, she said, with tears rolling down her cheeks, you gave us, you gave me, another chance, a chance for a decent, a better life.

Thank you, Jenny, he said, waving a hand at the other men, but these men helped, too.

Well, she said blinking her teary eyes rapidly, I know what I know. I was up there with you. I know what you did. You’re a very special man, Mister Brady Gressett, a very special man.

Impulsively, the vibrant dance hall girl reached up and grabbed the handkerchief around his neck and pulled his head down. Tilting her head up to meet his, she planted a spirited kiss of gratitude full on his lax lips. Her cool lips felt like a soothing medicine on his scorched flesh. When she released him, he stumbled back, unconsciously feeling his lips with his fingers. The cowboy-miner at his side was chuckling softly.

That’s a great big, ‘thank you,’ from Jenny Johnson, she said fervently, and just you remember, this girl has worked her last night in a dance hall. That’s as close to hell’s fire as I ever want to be. Turning away, she walked swiftly and gracefully back toward her cheering friends across the alley.

Brady turned to his chuckling friend and stuck out his right hand and said, Brady Gressett here.

Jim Bob Martin, the laughing man said, and I’m pleased to meet such a ‘very special man.’ Brady laughed with him and was surprised by the stubby man’s powerful, hand-crushing grip.

Thank you for the help, Jim Bob, he said, glad to pull his numb hand away. Looking at the man’s face he suddenly realized why he looked so funny. It was the combination of a small face with an arching nose and big, floppy ears, similar the false ears Brady had seen on clowns in a circus.

Those gals almost bought the graveyard, Jim Bob said with a funny snort out of his arching nose.

Sure did, Brady said as he turned to watch the firemen take off running down the alley toward Second Street. Where are they headed?

To find some dynamite to stop the fire from spreading.

What happened to the fire hose?

Water quit flowing from the reservoir. Said the drain in the reservoir must be plugged up.

Well, we better go help with the dynamite, Brady said, feeling strong again, after the short rest. The two men turned as one and ran down the alley after the firemen.

I could just cry, Coleen said to Katie, wanting to jump out of the carriage and run to her sister. I hope we’re not too late. We should have gone to Harriet when we first saw the smoke.

Eldrich kept the gray’s moving forward, forcing the on-coming masses to make room for the coach. Coleen was relieved when they finally neared Third Street and were in sight of the house on the north side of the street. Carr Avenue was cut into the side of a sloping hill, creating a rising north side and falling south side. Through a drifting cloud of foggy smoke, Coleen spotted the long flight of stairs going up to her sister’s small porch. When Eldrich had worked the carriage through the congested intersection the traffic thinned out and the smoke became thicker.

As they passed Harriet’s house, Eldrich guided the horses to the far right side of the street and turned the team around to the left in a tight circle. Pulling the reins and standing on the carriage brake he called the grays to a halt directly in front of Harriet’s house.

Coleen immediately opened the coach door and raising her long dress she dropped down to the carriage step and leaped to the ground. With the lithe grace of an athletic woman she bounded up the long flight of wooden steps. She could hear Katie somewhere behind her, panting with the exertion.

Harriet, she yelled as she climbed, fire, Harriet, fire. Finally reaching the porch, she leaped to the door and flung it open and hurried into the living room.

Harriet? she said anxiously. "Where are you, Harriet?

Rushing into the bedroom she found the baby asleep in his crib and Harriet in a deep sleep on the bed. She had recently washed her hair because a beige towel was wrapped around her thick, moist, dark-brown hair. As Coleen shook her, she stirred groggily and struggled to open her heavy eyes.

Wake up! Coleen said.

What’s wrong? Harriet mumbled, a look of puzzlement on her sleepy face.

Fire! It’s out of control, Coleen said, still breathing hard from the fast climb, coming in this direction, got to get you and the baby out of here, now!

Katie came into the bedroom ready to help.

It’s that bad? Harriet said, her words still slurred as she rolled over and sat on the side of the bed.

Worse than that, the whole town’s going up in smoke!

Our house might burn?

Yes, Harriet, yes! Pick out a few things you want to save.

We’re going to lose everything? she said blank-faced and unbelieving.

We don’t have time to talk, we’ve got to get out of here!

The baby started crying in his crib. Coleen picked him up, cooing to him, saying, It’s all right, it’s all right Andy boy. Auntie Colly is here. The cherub faced boy looked up at her, wrinkling up his little pug nose as she rocked him in her arms.

Harriet stood and began to collect her most precious keepsakes. Her face was pale and her brown eyes were large with shock and disbelief. Katie moved to her side and took the numerous pictures, boxes and clothing from her. Harriet pointed out a small leather valise and Katie laid it on the bed and packed the items into it.

Hurry! Hurry! Coleen urged, We’ve got to go.

Where to? Harriet said in a forlorn whisper.

Home

Holding the baby in one arm, she collected the baby’s clothes and diapers and other necessary items.

Father will never allow it, Harriet said in a monotone, while shaking her head and handing Katie a clock and a jewel box.

Do you have a larger valise? Coleen said.

Harriet knelt at the side of the bed and reaching underneath it, pulled out a larger leather valise that matched the smaller one. When she opened it on the bed, Coleen put the baby’s things in one side. Katie hurried to fill up the rest of the valise with the larger items that Harriet gave to her.

I’ll take care of Father, Coleen said. If he throws you out, I’ll go with you.

Suddenly, there was a pounding on the front door followed by the raspy voice of Eldrich, the coach driver, Missy! Missy! The fire is sure enough coming this way in a hurry, time’s a wasting!

Hurry! Hurry! Coleen said.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs a tremendous explosion rocked the center of town. She paused to see a huge mushroom cloud of exploding smoke shoot up into the sky. Holding the baby tightly, she jumped down from the last step into the street.

Eldrich was helping Harriet and Katie climb into the coach. Katie turned back and Coleen handed the baby up to her. Eldrich helped her climb into the coach and the driver leaped up into the drivers box.

Hee-yah! he said to the team. The gray’s jumped forward in their traces and moved at a fast trot toward Third Street. At the intersection, the driver turned the coach up the steep hill. Coleen hoped the big grays could handle the strenuous climb up the hill to the reservoir. Her father had forbidden Eldrich to drive up the treacherous hill under normal circumstances.

Brady and Jim Bob turned out of the end of the alley and ran up Second Street toward Bennett. Brady saw the two firemen ahead of them turning east on Bennett Avenue.

Let’s get above the fire, Jim Bob said, leading the way across Bennett and on up Second Street. The steady climb up the hill took its toll on Brady’s already weakened lungs and weary muscles.

What can we do? Brady said. The smoke was coming at them in increasing waves, but it was drifting high enough above them so they could still see and breathe.

Need some dynamite, Jim Bob said.

Got some giant powder right here, a strange, growling voice said from directly behind them.

Brady whirled to see a burly miner carrying a box with the word dynamite stamped in menacing black letters on the side.

Got to blow some buildings up, the miner said, and I could use some help, gentlemen.

Be glad to help, Jim Bob said, following the newcomer.

I’m with you, Brady said, hurrying to catch up.

Brady noticed that one of the miner’s legs was shorter than the