Chapter 5
As she walked the handful of blocks to Mrs. Pincher’s, Temperance retrieved the key from her purse, then hugged her purse close under her jacket.
Her feet were sore from being on them all evening. The morning was cold and dry enough to sting her nostrils. The sky was such an intense blue it nearly broke her eyes. When she glanced at the mountains, they stalled her step, mesmerizing her with their towering height and their painfully white caps glittering above granite gnarls. The lace of leafy trees painted the slopes in skirts of red and gold.
She took a moment to admire that view before she finished her walk. Despite the fact she had fallen behind on rent, Mrs. Pincher had continued to serve her meals, but the beans she’d eaten before having another ‘early night’ had worn off hours ago. Her stomach gave a clench of anticipation for hot oatmeal and tea as she neared the boarding house and saw smoke coming from the chimney.
Oh, shoot. Smoke from the chimney meant that Mrs. Pincher was up.
Temperance detoured to use the outhouse, hoping to bluff her way into the house as coming back from a visit to the john despite being fully dressed.
The back door opened as she left the john. Clarence came waggling out to snuffle at Temperance’s feet while Mrs. Pincher stood in the doorway glaring at her.
“Good morning, Mrs…..Clarence!”
The dog pushed his whole head under her skirt in a most unseemly way. Temperance tussled and shoved at the dog’s head, sending an embarrassed look toward the neighbor’s house before glancing at Mrs. Pincher, expecting her to scold the dog.
“Keep your voice down. I have new guests.” Mrs. Pincher continued to glower. “You didn’t come home last night.”
“I was here. I just went for an early walk,” Temperance lied. Blatantly.
“I looked in on you, Miss Goodrich,” Mrs. Pincher said ominously. “I was concerned. Especially when you weren’t there.”
“Did you think I’d skipped out on you? Goodness no! I should have explained.” Temperance managed to get away from the dog and shook her skirts back into place along with as much of her composure as possible. “I actually have some of the rent I owe you.” She took a step forward, hoping to be let into the house where it was considerably warmer.
Mrs. Pincher didn’t move from blocking the doorway, only held out her hand. “My key.”
“Of course.” Temperance handed it over. “And let me give you what I can of the rent I owe you.”
Firming her smile, Temperance dug into her purse, carefully keeping the amount she needed to send a letter to her father. She offered the rest to Mrs. Pincher.
“It’s not all of it, but I’ll have more every day. I have a job.” She spoke with as much sunniness as she could manage under such a malevolent look.
“I surmised you were working, Miss Goodrich.” She made it sound very unsavory as she dropped the coins into the pocket of her apron. “I do not operate a house for women of ill repute. You are no longer welcome here. I must ask you to leave. Immediately.”
It was so unjust yet familiar, Temperance could only stand there trying to withstand the churning sensation in her middle. Trying to find the words to defend herself. She was in an impossible position. What else could she do?
“Immediately,” Mrs. Pincher repeated.
“But—” I’m tired. “If...” Do not cry. “If that’s how you feel, I’ll collect my things and...” She didn’t know what she would do. Prevail on Jane and Mavis?
“You may have your belongings when you settle up,” Mrs. Pincher informed her.
“But Mrs. Pin?—”
She closed the door in Temperance’s face.
Her first thought was to bang on the door and insist she be allowed to take her writing things at least, but given Mrs. Pincher’s mood, any further demands might incline her to throw Temperance’s things on the fire. Temperance didn’t have much in her carpet bag, only a change of clothes, a fresh chemise, a handful of reference books and her personal items.
And her pen and ink and paper. How would she write to her father?
Mrs. Pincher, she screamed silently, giving a small stomp of her foot.
Clarence came up to snuffle at her skirt again.
She was so despondent, she crouched to ruffle the dog’s ears and scrub into his neck, making his foot tap in silly joy.
I’m trying to wallow in misery, you fool. Don’t you dare cheer me up.
The door abruptly opened.
“I said immediately, Miss Goodrich. Clarence, come.” Mrs. Pincher gave her skirt a slap.
The dog ignored her, lifting hopeful eyes to Temperance as Temperance straightened and nodded, heart heavy. She hadn’t been made to feel so ashamed of herself since Adelaide had banished her from the house. This was even worse than finding out her father had never married her mother.
“All right. Goodbye, Mrs?—”
The door slammed again.
Temperance blindly began walking to the bridge into Auraria, unable to form a thought beyond, What will I do? Her eyes stung. So did her throat.
A sudden press of her skirt had her looking down into the cheerful eyes of Clarence, his tongue lolling happily from the side of his mouth.
“Don’t follow me. Go home.” She bent to give his flank a tap.
He only looked hopefully at her purse as it swung off her arm, as if it held a treat for him.
“For heaven’s sake. I’m not walking you back there.” Not for another lambasting by Mrs. Pincher.
As she glanced back to gauge the distance, however, her gaze was caught by the handful of men lingering outside the Express office. They were obviously hoping to send something on the next stagecoach.
She still had the original letter from Mr. Gardner! It could withstand another trip in a mail bag. She would scrawl a note on it and forward it to her father, telling him she needed him to come here by any means possible, so they could collect the money that had been promised. All she needed was a pencil.
With fresh purpose in her step, she walked into the first business she came across, a butcher. It was not the best option since the counter was covered in blood stains, but they hadn’t done much business yet today so the stains were dry.
Clarence tried to follow her in. She shut the door against him.
“Would you be so kind as to allow me the use of a pencil?” she asked as a bearded, heavyset man left the deer carcass he was skinning.
He picked up the pencil near his scale and sharpened it with the knife he still held. Then he took a few scraps of offal out to Clarence and gave him some pats while Temperance scrawled her note.
Papa,
The mining company insists you be the one to collect any draws on account. If you are able to talk your way onto any conveyance at all, I’m told the mining company will honor the agreement once you are here.
Was that an exaggeration? Perhaps, but she desperately wanted him to be here.
Had she just tapped this filthy pencil against her lips? Yech!
If you have funds to send me, that would help enormously as I’m in arrears at the boarding house.
With all my love, your daughter,
Temperance
“Thank you.” She made a point of handing the pencil directly to the proprietor when he came back in. The last thing she needed was to be labeled a thief.
Despite the buzzing flies and the mingled scent of copper and carrion and fresh sawdust to soak up the blood, she was tempted to spend her postage coins on a stick of dried venison.
She made herself turn away and trek across to the stage office where she took her place in the queue. Clarence brightened spirits as he moved up and down the line for pats and scrubs of his ears.
When she arrived at the window, she started to hand over her letter to Papa only for the post master to say, “Goodrich? You have something.”
“I do?”
She looked to the one she had planned to send. Suddenly, she was King Solomon, faced with an impossible choice.
“Who is it from?” she asked as he came back from his sorting slots.
He consulted the back. “Mr. Reginald Goodrich in Fort Kearney.”
Her blood zinged into her fingers and toes.
“I’ll pay for that one and send this one later.” She handed over her quarter and tucked both letters into her purse.
She hurried around the block where she knew there to be a bench out of the wind.
She passed a pair of boots along the way that poked out from between a pair of buildings. Clarence went to investigate whether they belonged to a man who was alive and sleeping off heavy drink or dead to the world in a more literal sense. One boot twitched, so that was a good sign.
As she sat, Temperance took a moment to bask in the relief of being off her feet. Every muscle in her body ached and her stomach growled a reminder that it was empty. She could have fallen asleep right there, but she mustered her courage and unfolded her father’s letter.
His messy scrawl was worse than it had ever been, but she was well practiced in deciphering his handwriting and abbreviations.
My Dearest Temperance,
Since you left Fort Kearny, I have suffered two more fainting spells.
“No,” she moaned, instantly wishing herself there instead of in this forsaken place.
The physician advises me against travelling to Denver where medicine is even more scarce. He has arranged a place for me on a wagon heading to Leavenworth. Once there, I will prevail on an old friend for funds to return to Chicago. Once home, I will resume my teaching position.
He was going home without her?!
Temperance’s heart shrank in abandonment. And homesickness. She missed her half-siblings. She already missed him.
Adelaide would be thrilled to see him come in the door without his eldest daughter, though.
Temperance couldn’t blame him for going back. The money from this contract would have been a nice boon, but all his children deserved his affection and support. They were much younger than she was and hadn’t messed up quite so colossally.
Even so, this letter felt like a rejection. It felt as though he was agreeing with Adelaide and no longer wanted Temperance in his home or in his life. What on earth was she to do?
I trust Mr. Gardner is looking after you well, her father’s letter continued.
“Ha!” she cried, blinking to read through her damp lashes.
Once I have arrived home, I will write to him myself and explain my indisposition. Please assure him that I will square up with him for any funds he has forwarded to you on my behalf. Perhaps he can buy you a ticket to fund your own trip home?
He would not.
Alternately, I am told there is an abundance of men in Pike’s Peak, including a few who have made their fortunes in the diggings, or with shopkeeping and other industry. If you wish to marry and stay there, I will understand. In that case, forward me the amount owing to Mr. Gardner and I will see to his repayment as soon as possible.
Good news, Papa. There is no debt to repay.
Write to me at home, so I will know you are well.
Your loving father,
Reginald Goodrich
“Oh, Papa, noooo,” she wailed softly.
Marry and live here forever? What sort of life was that?
As if to reinforce her apprehension, a gunshot resounded in some nearby street along with shouts of alarm. This was a profoundly lawless place. Last night, one of the miners had told her of a blatant robbery by starving men who had stolen two wagons of corn that enterprising farmers had worked all summer to grow. The vagrants had fed it to their oxen so the animals would survive to take them home to Alabama while the poor farmers were left with no food and nothing to sell.
She was exactly like those robbed and destitute farmers. She had no money, no job, no home, and her few things were being held hostage by Mrs. Pincher. She didn’t even have her good name. She didn’t have hope.
Her vision of returning to Chicago with her father, having proved she was integral to his reporting and the income he gleaned from it, was gone. The vastness of her empty, shapeless future left her feeling as cold as those glaciers hanging in their lofty valleys.
As if her day could not have grown worse, into her despair, a familiar male voice asked, “Where the hell have you been?”