Our thin umbrellas did little to shade us from the vicious sun. We were clad only in our corsets and petticoats, but as we were recessed from the porch edge, only a handful of others could see us at all. There was only one that was close enough to tell what we were (or weren't) wearing. Across the street, we were obviously a source of excitement for the banker, Mr. Joe Burdette, who tried to act like he wasn't studying us intently out his second floor office window. We weren't the least bit worried about cries of indecency from him though. 

 

We chose to sit outside where we could be found by an occasional breeze rather than bake in the oven our upstairs rooms had become in the Flat River Saloon. Flat River was definitely flat and definitely short a river. Soon, we'd have to go back in though and get ready for to work. We were titled Dance Hall Girls, and we did do some dancing, but everybody knew we were primarily whores. 

 

"How's your prospects?" I asked Nellie.

 

"What prospects?" Nellie responded breathlessly, eyes shut and lightly fanning herself. She had one partially stocking'd leg vulgarily crooked up on the wooden seat of a chair. 

 

"Nellie. Be serious," I said, "I don't know how much more of this I can stand."

 

"I don't know. I guess Nathan and Ole Pasty Pete. I'm working on the other Pete, too. OK? Half-wit that he is," she said with irritation. Nellie with her youth, pale complexion, and long dark tresses was never short on customers. 

 

"What about you, Olivia?" she asked, "Do you have any good ones?"

 

"Yeah, I got Steve pretty good and wrapped up. I'm working on Will Tate, but he's a tough nut to crack. Owen seems to be spending time in Lost Spring's Saloon these days.Traitor," I commented.

 

Rachel, the most senior of us at thirty-two crawled out the window to join us.  She'd been in a good mood at breakfast, but was clearly agitated and upset now. Through her tears she was incoherent, but I managed to make out one word: Clive.

 

'"What about your Clive?" I asked. "Get a breath and slow down. I can't understand you," I added.

 

"Dead," she said, tear-soaked face looking down at her feet, "He'd said he'd be to get me in late fall, but I guess not now." 

 

"What happened?" I asked in shock. Clive was actually a decent guy. He was about thirty-five and seemingly healthy last time I had seen him. He'd passed through on his way to meet two cousins of his that were arriving by train to help him at the mine. His partner had died of fever several months prior, and he couldn't do it alone. He'd been so excited to get back to mining and promised he would marry her, take her away from here, and make her honest. 

 

"Shaft collapse, I reckon," she said. "Got him, and his cousins, Clay and Travis, too. I heard tell this morning at the merc' from Lefty. He said he'd went by Clive's stake to see if they needed anything from town and found the shaft collapsed and no one around - said he was pert sure they'd all been in there when it happened. He also said it'd looked like nobody had been around camp, but wild animals for quite awhile. Said he tried calling to them and dug a little, but he got no response. Apparently, it was just too unstable, so he'd had to quit."

 

"He get together a party?" I asked. Usually, folks would join together any time there was a crisis. That was the only time when whores were the same as respectable women and miners were the same as townsmen. 

 

"Lefty said weren't no use in a party. He said it was a complete cave-in. That damn mine is going to be their grave." Rachel looked away before adding  "Damnedest thing is when I ask about Mule, Lefty seemed to stutter a bit 'fore saying he's dead, too."

 

After a few sobs, Rachel continued,  "I don't trust that Lefty. He bought a lot of supplies and paid with a good size nugget. I ain't never known of him to have two pennies to rub together, lest he cheated somebody out of them. Clive didn't like him either. " 

 

Nellie sighed and reached her hand out to Rachel, who clasp it and said, "Now, what am I going to do?" 

 

Rachel had reached the age where customers started drying up. Why would a miner or a townsman on the sly pay for an old whore when a younger one was available? And, besides, our profession was just as dangerous as the miner's we served. Thirty-two was ancient in whore years. Saloon owners didn't extend credit to whores.You pay your rent when due or you're out the door. We didn't exactly have other employment opportunities either. If we had, we sure wouldn't have been doing that.

 

Rachel and I both had been widowed when our husband's were killed on our way West three years prior. They were trying to scout a way around a swollen river about 30 miles from Flat River. They rode up on an old Indian trail leading up a mountainside to get a better view. They just happened to miscalculate the trail's safety, and died when it failed in a warningless rock slide. 

 

In addition to the loss of our husbands, we each lost a horse in the accident. Two were necessary to pull our wagons.  But, without men, there was no use in going forward anyway. There was no use in going back east either as we likely would've never made it for a myriad of reasons. Neither of us had any people to go back to anyway. 

 

So, we sold our remaining horses to retrieve and bury our husband bodies. What little money and supplies we had left allowed us to make it through the following winter camped in our wagons outside of town. We nearly froze to death before we took apart our wagons and using every scrap material we could find, we built us a little shanty. And, we still nearly froze to death. That was the most pitiful shelter you'd ever see in all your days.  

 

It wasn't long before the sheriff, who was strangely named Liberty Valance, came knocking and threatened us with prosecution for violating the prostitution ordinance, which we hadn't. He knew it, too. He just wanted a free poke to leave us be, so I gave it to him.

 

Then there was the first meeting with the banker from across the street from the Flat River Saloon, Mr. Burdette, who claimed we were squatting on the bank's land. Armed with a deed, he demanded payment. So, Rachel gave him a poke, too. And, on and on, until we just accepted our new profession and took rooms at the Flat River Saloon, where we could at least get paid for our services.

 

Nellie joined us a short time later having been stranded by a no-good husband who gambled away everything they had in the saloon and ran off and left her penniless. She was so young and frightened, but we helped her and she adjusted fast enough. Hunger will help you adjust to damn near anything. 

 

The three of us made a pact that we wouldn't die whores in a rented room. If one got a man to marry her, then she would do all she could to help the others. Clive seemed to really love Rachel, but he couldn't support her. So, he had to let her be until he could mine enough profits to put her up. When his partner died, it surely put him back. He'd said he'd do what he could for us then, too. But, now that possibility had derailed like so many others. 

 

"We'll figure it out, Rachel. I'm sorry, honey," I said and then something occurred to me. Lefty had said Mule was dead, which didn't make sense. "You really reckon Mule would've stayed tethered until he died?" 

 

Mule was the name of Clive's horse and he was aptly named. It was about the most smartest horse I'd ever seen…and, the most disobedient, curious, stubborn, and unruly horse I'd ever seen. Clive would often return to whereever in town he'd left Mule, only to find the horse was gone. No matter the knot, Mule was a master escape artist and able to get loose if he wanted to roam. And, he usually wanted to roam. 

 

A shrill whistle from Clive and Mule would be heard thundering through the streets back to his rider. He was notorious for getting in to mischief while on his unsupervised expeditions. Last time Clive came to town, Mule had come back with rhubarb pie all over his face. Mrs. McClintock had made the mistake of setting two freshly baked pies to cool in her windowsill. 

 

Clive spent a good hour trying to figure out where Mule had got the pie and then ended up paying a very angry Mrs. McClintock for her trouble. By then, Mule had taken to rolling around in the dust trying to relieve his indigestion. Clive laughed and said it was worth what he'd had to pay for the pies to see Mule pay for some of his bad behavior. Clive and that horse had a unique bond to say the least. They were the best of friends. Clive would talk to Mule, fuss at Mule, but if Mule didn't want to do something then it wasn't happening. Mule tended to have the last word on everything. For these reasons, I can't imagine any world where Mule would've died from lack of care. 

 

"No, I don't. Mule would never thirst to death just because he was pent up. There's so many things make me think that Lefty is a liar. Another thing is that Clive told me that you never have all your miners in the mine at once. You gotta keep one out so they can get help.  I know in my heart something just ain't right. But, what can I do?" Rachel said as tears fell from her eyes. "The men folk at the merc' ate Lefty's story up. No one even questioned it a bit. What if they ain't dead,  but trapped? Ain't nobody going after them."

 

"Nellie, you remember whereabouts Clive's stake was?" I asked, because I knew Nellie had entered town from that direction. She nodded, but looked at me with a raised brow wondering why I'd asked that. 

 

"I saw three miners enter the bathhouse not half an hour ago. They didn't livery their horses yet. See 'em?" I said and pointed down the street to where three horses were tethered to the hitching post. "Bet those miners are soaking pretty good about now and their clothes are just about freshly laundered. If someone were to run off with their clothes and horses, I bet it'd take 'em a minute to get decent enough to get a party together and go after the thieves."

 

Nellie's eyes lit up as she caught on to my train of thought. "Yeah, I think I can remember the way. Towards Fort Wayne, right?" Nellie asked. 

 

Rachel affirmed and started to perk up with the understanding of the plan that was being formulated before slumping back in her chair. "We'll hang," Rachel said. 

 

"Can't think of two finer women to hang with than you two," I said.

 

Later, after we'd grabbed our savings from under the floorboards in our rooms, we slipped out the back door of the saloon one at a time. Rachel snuck in the bathhouse and grabbed the miner's clothes we needed to be able to ride to Clive's and try to rescue the men. Nellie and I watched for a break in the street traffic and quietly led the horses away from the bathhouse. It was almost dinner time, so there weren't too many people on the streets, though this also meant the bathing miner's would be done bathing and ready for a meal. It wouldn't be long before they discovered their clothes and horses were stolen, and a search party would be sent out. It would take even less time to discover who was missing from town. I thought about how sad it was that the men would jump up and track down a horse, but they'd easily risk leaving three men in a mine to die.

 

We avoided the main road and took precious time to run circles and cross paths with the horses to try to confuse the search party. Then we tied brush to the hind quarters of our horses to drag behind us hoping and to lessen the tracks we left behind. Still, we knew time was short before they would be on our trail. And, horse thieves were hanged without fail. If we ever returned to Flat River, it would be to die at the end of a rope. 

 

Night came far too quickly. We argued about directional choices as we rode through the bramble and dust. We'd watered the horses well before leaving town, but hard riding and heat was showing in their fatigue. 

 

"Let's dismount," I said. "We need to conserve whatever the horses have left in case…"

 

We led the horses as dark fell, which only brought the relief that the search would have concluded for the night and be delayed until dawn. As the moon was high in the sky, we came, quite by accident, back to the path that led to Clive's. A little later, we found a small stream at the base of the mountain where Clive's stake laid. We watered the horses, and took a break to wash and bandage our bloody and blistered feet. The miner's boots had been far too large for our feet, and had done significant damage. 

 

Just before dawn, we located Clive's camp. Two pitiful and thirsty horses were in a makeshift corral and they gulped the water we found for them in the camp. We found Mule at the mine entrance, where he stood facing the rock fall blocking the shaft. He wouldn't be moved and we noticed he was badly injured from trying to get in the mine.

 

After lighting a lantern we found, we surveyed the scene. Rachel said, "Mines don't usually collapse at the entrance. They collapse from pressure and weight and there just wasn't enough of it here." She gestured to the gradual rise above where the rock and dirt had fallen from the collapse. Really, in the scheme of things, the amount of debris had to be very little. That is, unless there was something we couldn't see. 

 

"Look around for shovels or anything that will help, " I said, but Rachel entered the shaft and started digging at the debris with her hands. 

 

I spotted an axe laying on the ground and we came across a support beam with splintered wood that had obviously been hacked at before giving way. It wasn't long before we came to understand that the cave-in had a human and deliberate cause behind it. 

 

When we broke through, a rush of cold air escaped the shaft. Rachel called out, "Clive? Clive!" 

 

Faintly, I heard a moan and it wasn't long before we found all three men tied up and bloodied just inside what was intended to be their tomb. The six of us were all outside by mid-morning, and we nursed the grateful men's and Mule's wounds. We gave them water to drink and hard tack to eat as we discussed how we'd come to find ourselves in and how to handle our current situations.

 

Slowly, they were able to relate how Lefty had came by the camp two days prior. They'd hit a small cache of gold and had excitedly told Lefty of their find. Then, as they were going about their duties, he'd snuck up on each of them, and hit them in the head with something. While they were knocked out, he'd drug them in to the shaft, taken their find, and then collapsed the mine entry; leaving them to die. 

 

He'd taunted them the entire time he hacked at the support beams, telling them that he would come back after they were dead with supplies, and would become a rich man while they rotted. They'd no sooner finished their tale until Clive raised his hand to silence the others. He could hear someone whistling as they approached the camp leading a horse laden down with noisy supplies. 

 

"Ladies, hide. Travis, Clay let's surround him," Clive whispered. 

 

It wasn't long before Lefty found himself beaten half to death and tied to a tree. And, it wasn't long after that until the horse thief search party arrived on the scene and was surprised to learn the truth about the cave-in.  

After much discussion resulted in the issuance of a thinly veiled threat to disclose certain acts of infidelity to the townsmen's wives; the party allowed how we should remain free and we were conditionally pardoned of our crimes. As we stood there in our make-shift garments made from oiled canvas from a tattered wagon covering, we were told to never show our faces in Flat River again. Lefty, the stolen horses and clothes were taken back to town plus a little gold for the owner's troubles. And, we never went back to Flat River. 

 

                              ***

"Well, what did you do then, Mrs. Olivia?" asked my new maid, Ashley.

 

"We worked the mine with the men, of course. And, we got very lucky and wealthy indeed. I eventually fell in love with and married Clay and we've had four children. I lost Clay five years back now. Nellie lives a few miles from here with Travis, and they had two children. And, Rachel and Clive live up in the mountains still to this day. They never had any children themselves. But, they took in some orphans and raised them as their own."

"What about Mule?" she asked, wide eyed.

I laughed, "Well, it was quite a few years and many adventures before Mule left us. The years we spent on that mountain were never boring and, neither was Mule. I"ll tell you some more later if you'd like to hear about our time on the mountain." Telling the stories were almost as good as living them.

Ashley walked to the window, and pulled back the lace curtain to look out across the expanse at the mountain. After a moment, the girl choked up, probably thinking of some lost love or lost hope. 

"Every second of every day." I said as I pulled on my gloves to go to my volunteer duties at the Miner's Hospital. The wounded miner's there would never have guessed that the refined old widow who nursed them was once a whore and a horse thief.