Read Crimson Palace Online

Authors: Maralee Lowder

Crimson Palace (12 page)

"Being honest with you, if you’re looking for companionship, this aint’ the spot for it. But if you want a fairly good claim and are willing to put up with the winters, well, this is what you’re looking for."

Shinonn couldn’t think of a better arrangement - a beautiful and secluded location and a fairly profitable claim to boot.

"Your price seems fair enough, and I do like what I see ... I’d say you’ve got yourself a deal," she smiled as she shook his hand.

After a quick trip back to town to retrieve her personal possessions, Shinonn returned to her newly purchased home.

When she had originally inspected the property she hadn’t bothered to look inside the cabin; no matter how bad it might be, she was certain she could make it inhabitable in time. On closer inspection she wasn’t so sure.

It took a moment or two for her eyes to become accustomed to the gloom within the one room shack, but when they did she almost wished they hadn’t. The windows were shuttered, but light streamed in through gaps in the boards which made up the walls and roof. Dirt filtered into the room through the holes, along with the light. She made a mental note to pick up some sheets of tin to cover the many holes.

If she didn’t, she would surely freeze to death in the cold winter nights to come.

A pig would refuse to live like this, she thought with disgust as she began the job of cleaning out the former occupant’s filth. Scattered about the room were empty food tins, yellowed newspapers and tattered clothes.

Broad, uneven boards with knot holes big enough for a small animal to enter made up the floor. The broken chimney on the pot-bellied stove had been haphazardly patched with a flattened sardine tin. After inspecting the dilapidated bed, she decided that, with some additional rope webbing and a thick layer of pine needles, it would make do for as long as she stayed.

The thought that she might as well not put down too many roots here or anywhere else nagged at the back of her mind. Although she had always longed to belong somewhere, to have a real home, the reality of such a dream coming true for her was too remote to even contemplate.

Once again, she began to make the most of her surroundings. Once again she set her mind to the task of providing both income and comfort for herself.

The first few times Shinonn went into town she was apprehensive about running into Lincoln. Although the hope of seeing him again had brought her to this remote camp at the worst possible time of the year, the thought of it actually happening caused dozens of butterflies to suddenly take flight in her stomach.

She longed to see him with every breath, but at the same time the thought of looking into those brooding dark eyes once again filled her with a terror beyond imagining.

But, after several shopping trips had failed to produce as much as a glimpse of the man, she began to suspect that he must have left town before she arrived. The thought that she had been so close and yet was still to be denied was devastating

And then, when she had accepted the idea that he was not in Downieville, there he was, walking down the wooden sidewalk directly toward her! She managed somehow to continue placing one foot before the other without tripping and making a complete fool of herself. At the same moment, she felt her throat go dry and her face become stiff. Amazingly, her knees had managed to turn to water.

Only by using every ounce of will power in her reserve was she able to continue walking toward him. She lowered her eyes to the rough boards beneath her feet as they passed so closely their shoulders nearly touched. Daring a quick glimpse over her shoulder, she saw him turn into a saloon, not breaking his stride as he pushed the swinging doors aside.

"You must be froze clear through," the woman who poured her a steaming mug of coffee commented as she handed Shinonn the brew. "Didn’t realize it was all that cold out." She was a portly, middle aged woman. Wisps of fine, gray hair escaped the hairpins which held a loosely twisted knot in place.

"Guess I’m just not used to it yet," Shinonn answered through chattering teeth. Trembling violently, she had barely managed to stumble into the small restaurant.

Get hold of yourself, girl, she chided herself. He didn’t recognize you and there’s no way in hell he ever will. Don’t fool yourself that he would ever remember you from so long ago, even if you was dressed as a woman.

She forced the hot liquid down her tight throat, holding the cup in both hands to keep from spilling it, willing her heart to slow its rapid beat.

I’m getting the hell away from here, she thought, her emotions spilling over. I made a fool move coming here. Yep, that’s it. No matter what it takes, I’ve got to get away from him.

No!, her mind silently screamed. I want him to see me, to want me. I want him to touch me like a man touches a woman.

Her fingers gripped the mug of coffee even tighter. She had never even allowed herself to think of any man in such a way. What was there about Lincoln Bradley that held her heart in such bondage?

Finally, shaking her head slightly in resignation, she left the security of the restaurant.

Although she spent the night dwelling on her dilemma, the morning sun brought no answers. But one fact was very apparent. No matter what she wanted, it was much too late in the season to even consider leaving Downieville. The trip would be too dangerous and very foolish. Even if she was willing to expose herself to the danger, she could never risk the lives of her horses with such foolishness.

No, whatever she did, she would have to winter right here at her claim. She couldn’t run away from Lincoln Bradley until after the spring thaw, and she didn’t have a clue as to how she would go about tolerating living so near to him until then.

"We haven’t been seeing much of you around town lately, Tim," Walter Guzman commented as he handed Shinonn a sack of coffee. "It must get mighty lonesome for you so far up river. Youngsters like you need to kick up your heels now and again."

"I don’t mind being alone all that much, Mr. Guzman. I keep busy enough, and from what I can see, I’m better off by myself than I would be getting mixed up with some of the roughnecks that hang around town."

"You might be right on that account. Truth is, we do have our share of ruffians. Mostly the men are a good enough lot, but there’s a bunch can be mean as skunks, specially if they’ve been battling with the bottle.

"Why I remember the time, July 4th it was, just a few years back, they got themselves good and riled up.

One of ‘em thought he would show what a real man he was and tried to rough up this pretty little Mexican girl. Juanita was her name. She called herself a dancer, but there’s those that say she did a lot more than just dance, though I wouldn’t know about that.

She was a good looking woman, but tough as nails. Anyways, not meaning to stretch this story out forever, he went to her tent and tried to force himself on her. She said he tried to stab her with a knife.

There’s others said she lured him into the tent, but whatever the case, she stabbed him right through the heart.

"Well, drunk as they all were, they decided to have a so called trial right there on the spot. The more responsible citizens in town insisted on having a real trial, with a judge and lawyer for Juanita. But the outcome was the same as what the lynch mob would have come up with. They found her guilty and hung her from the bridge, right here in town. It didn’t matter a bit when she claimed she was with child. No siree, they just hung her from that bridge just the same."

"What do you think? Was she guilty?"

"I can’t rightly say. I never could make my mind up on it. Still, it don’t seem right, hanging a woman. So far anyways, this here town is the only one in all of California that ever did hang a woman. I can’t say as that’s something to be proud of."

"Maybe I’m just as well staying out on my claim. Seems there might be an element in this town I wouldn’t care to rub elbows with."

"Oh, most every town has its rough bunch. Now don’t let my story keep you from coming to town come Christmas. I wouldn’t hear of you staying out there by yourself on Christmas day."

"Christmas! I can’t think of anything that’s been further from my mind. When is it, anyway?"

"Why, it’s day after tomorrow. The Clampers, a little social organization we have in these parts, are having their annual celebration dinner in the town hall and the whole town’s invited. And I’m offering you a special invitation, son. You’re not to be sitting out there on that claim of yours all alone on Christmas day. It just ain’t right."

"Thanks, Mr. Guzman, I’ll think on it," she promised as she paid for her purchases and left.

When Shinonn awoke on Christmas morning it was to an overcast, dreary day. The sky was heavy with gray clouds. Chilled air pierced through the patched walls of her shack as she hurriedly built a fire in the stove. Outside the cabin was a death-like stillness. Not one bird chirped; no squirrel skittled about looking for fallen acorns.

She hadn’t given the Christmas dinner invitation much thought, but as she sat drinking her second cup of coffee, she began to think seriously about taking Walter Guzman up on it. Sitting alone in her cabin on a day like this seemed too dreary to contemplate. Why not go? She could enjoy herself and still not get too involved with the townspeople. Why not have a little fun for a change?

She arrived in town in mid-afternoon, bundled up to her ears. She couldn’t remember when she had been so cold. The misty dampness penetrated through everything she wore. Inside the town hall a huge fire roared in the fireplace. The room, decorated with evergreen boughs and red bunting, exuded a warm holiday air.

At the far end of the room, on a raised stage, several men raucously played fiddles, harmonicas and an odd assortment of home made instruments. Food laden tables lined the walls, leaving enough open space for dancing.

The noise was deafening as people sang and danced to the music while others talked and laughed loudly, calling to one another across the celebrants.

"Son, I’m glad to see you took me up on my invitation," the grocer called to Shinonn as she entered.

"Come on over and get yourself a cup of this punch. It’ll warm your frozen tail and put hair on your chest." He handed her a steaming mug of a pungent smelling fruit drink.

"Old Henry over there made it. Henry’s from England and says that this is what they drink on Christmas over there. Stuff tastes pretty fair after you’ve had a cup or two."

Shinonn cupped her frozen hands around the hot mug, trying to thaw her fingers. Sniffing the steaming liquid, she could smell a medley of fruit juices and spices and another scent that was alien to her. She tasted it and found it delightfully tangy. The warmth of the beverage trickled down her throat and warmed her stomach. She gratefully drank down half of the cub before Walter warned her to go slower.

"That stuff’s a tad bit hearty, son, if’n you’re not used to it. I’d go easy if I was you."

A warm, happy glow flowed through Shinonn’s veins; her head felt just a bit light.

"I watched Henry make this batch and he really poured the whisky in."

"Whiskey? There’s whiskey in this?"

"Nearly half a bottle went into this batch, I’d say. Why? Don’t you imbibe?"

"Can’t say as I’ve ever developed a taste for it. I think I’ll go find some coffee, if it’s just the same to you." She handed her half finished mug back to Walter

"Grab some of that food before it’s all gone," he called after her. "It won’t last long with this mob."

She found a plate and piled it high with the festive food, then retreated to a quiet corner to watch the party. It appeared that nearly everyone in town had shown up for the party.

She spotted Lincoln chatting casually with a group of men across the room. As she had expected he would be at the party, she managed to steel herself against the emotions she felt whenever she saw him.

The crush of people gave her a sense of anonymity, freed of her usual reticence. For the first time since arriving in town she felt free to feast her eyes on him. She found herself remembering the look he’d had in his eyes that day so long ago when he had first spoken to her.

Caught up in her memories, she didn’t realize she had been staring at him for several minutes until he suddenly turned his head and looked directly into her eyes. Their gazes held for one startled moment before she quickly looked away and he returned his attention to his companions.

As the evening wore on, the crowd settled down into a quiet, almost pensive mood. The rag-tag band played Christmas carols and old, familiar church tunes as the men joined their rough voices in song. The light, airy tones of the few women present were barely heard about the deep voices of the men. Here and there, removed from the others, sat a few lonely miners drinking their whiskey, apparently unaware of the festivities surrounding them.

Shinonn leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes and listened to the singing. Longing to join in, she feared her voice would quickly give away her closely guarded secret. She opened her eyes when she heard the scraping noise of the chair next to hers being pulled away from the table. Glancing toward the noise, she was shocked to see Lincoln lower himself into the chair.

"I don’t recall seeing you around the saloons where I spend most of my time, but I sure do feel like I’ve met you somewhere before. The name’s Lincoln Bradley," he stated as he held out his hand in a friendly gesture. "Could it be we’ve met somewhere along the way?"

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Bradley," she answered, managing to keep her voice both low and steady as she shook his proffered hand. "I can’t say as I can remember ever having had the pleasure."

"Forget the mister business. Just call me Lincoln. But I just can’t get over this feeling that we’ve met before."

"I sure don’t remember it if we did. You must have me mixed up with someone else.

"Say! It sure is getting late. I guess I’d better be getting back to my claim. I’ve got a full day planned for tomorrow. Nice to meet you, Mr. Bradley - I mean, Lincoln. Maybe we’ll see each other around town sometime."

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