Chapter 9: Making a Home

Denver, Colorado Territory, September 1862

Two weeks later, Ned, Al Tennison, and Hiram Kennedy left Denver for Tarryall with a train of five wagons carrying the supplies Kennedy needed. Ned and Mandy had an emotional farewell, leaving her depressed for days.

They were still lodging with Mrs. Sloan, but Jim and Rose had been viewing a few houses already. This afternoon, they were to see another one. It had been built for a wealthy investor from Boston who had come to Denver with a hoard of money. He had bought up claim after claim, but none of them proved productive. In the end he owed money to the Miner's Bank and had to leave his house to satisfy the debt. He returned to Boston from what they heard.

Jim and Rose met the bank clerk who was to show them around on the property. The house, or rather mansion, was grand enough to make Rose self-conscious. Even Jim was impressed. His father, a well to-do Berkshire landowner, had a manor house too, but not as big as this one. The ground floor was build of masonry, with a grand dining room, and spacious kitchen. A second floor was made of cedar wood and housed five bedrooms and even a luxurious bathroom.

"Damn it, Jim, I feel like I don't belong in here," Rose whispered to Jim in a moment when the clerk left them alone briefly. "They had houses like this in Independence, and I remember that one woman who was looking out from a second floor window. Her look at me said everything. 'Look all you want, you hussy, you'll never get inside this place'. Can we afford it at all?"

Jim kissed her forehead. It was a reassuring gesture that he often used when Rose's past caught up with her and flustered her.

"Once we buy it, you will belong in here. It's that simple, Rose. It's just a house. It's bigger than most, more solidly built, likely more expensive, but it's a house. You buy it and it's yours to live in." He smiled down at her upturned face. "You'll be the lady looking out of the window, and knowing you, you will not show disdain to those less fortunate than we are."

"What will they ask for it?"

"The last I heard was $4,000, but they've asked that for a while. Rose, honestly, wouldn't you love to live in this house? We can have a housekeeper and a groom for the stable. Hell, why not have a maidservant too, to look after your needs? You can entertain in that tea room downstairs."

Rose snorted. "Entertain? I? Who will even come?"

"I'm getting friendly with a number of the important men in town. I imagine that there will be dinner invitations soon. It would be helpful to be able to issue counter-invitations, and this place would certainly be fit to make a good impression. Remember, I am posted here to get on the friendly side of the territorial government."

"You think we should buy this? I admit that it's almost like a dream. It's only ... Jim, what if I ever wake up? What if people learn of my past?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I'm a convicted whore."

Jim shook his head and took her face in both his hands.

"Rose, you are Mrs. Tremayne, the wife of one of the richest men in town. This is the West. There are no 'old families' here. Justice Pilkins' wife was born as an Ohio farmer's daughter; at least that's what I heard. You and Mandy will fit in here."

Taking a deep breath, Rose nodded.

"I'll have to try. Perhaps, Mandy can teach me more of good behavior."

"Your behavior is just fine, Rose. Remember, I know of such things. You'll see, people will like you. They liked you fine in Tarryall, and Denver is just a bigger Tarryall."

Just then, the clerk returned, and Jim asked him a number of pointed questions. He was pleased to learn that there were decent servant quarters on the third floor under the rafters. Since the house stood on a hill overlooking Cherry Creek, there was a dry cellar under the kitchen, and the property was safe against any flooding, too.

In the afternoon, Jim went to the Miners' Bank to express his interest and to start the price negotiations. The bank was asking $4,000, but nobody had been able or willing to pay that price in the six months it had been on the market. Jim's counter offer of $2,000 was rejected with proper indignation. In the end, they settled on $2,700 in the bank's own paper money. The house was fully furnished, if dusty, and Jim expected that they could move in within a week.

They hired a couple, Pat and Martha McGuinn, for the household. He was a former sergeant of the Kentucky militia. They had come to Colorado like many others, to find gold, but their hopes did not materialize. Thus, Martha McGuinn became the Tremaynes' housekeeper while her husband Pat tended the horses and acted as driver of a four seat buckboard Jim had purchased. The McGuinns helped Rose, Mandy, Raven, and Samantha with the initial cleaning and scrubbing, and it was less than a week when they could move in their scarce belongings.

Mrs. Sloan received a two-week severance payment from Jim since they could not give proper notice, and they parted from their landlady on good terms.

For the next days, Rose roamed the rooms in a state of daze. This grand mansion now was hers. She, Rose Donegal, saloon girl and whore, was living in this imposing home. There was even a piano in the salon, and carpets covered the floors and dampened the steps.

The icing on the cake was that Rose had missed her bleeding that month. She was not sure yet, but she felt she might be with child. This should not have been surprising. If anything, it was surprising that she had not conceived much earlier, the way Jim eagerly worshipped her body. However, Rose had the nagging worry that she had been left barren when the proprietor of the Baltimore establishment had her have an abortion when she was eighteen. It had been a butcher's job, done by a drunk midwife, and she'd bled for days afterwards. She had just assumed that this had damaged her too much to have children.

Unlike the last year, the winter had not yet arrived, but Jim had made sure they had enough firewood for the cast iron ovens of which there were five in the house; even two of the bedrooms could be heated.

Mandy had a room down the hallway from Jim and Rose. Her mood had improved, and she was happy to live in a real house, happy to expect her first child, happy to be with her friends, and happy with the prospect of Ned's impending return.

Raven, meanwhile, was feeling more and more like a fifth wheel. With Martha McGuinn in charge of the household, there was little she could contribute. Her skills were not in demand anymore, and she spent her days keeping Rose and Mandy company. She hardly ventured out, and when she did, the looks and comments directed at her were often downright hostile. She had spoken Mr. Linkletter in his office and answered his questions, but the article in which Linkletter described her as "astonishingly cultivated young Red lady" reached only the literate part of Denver's population.

One afternoon in early November, Raven was returning from visiting Mrs. Sloan, and she had to pass the saloon. As bad luck would have it, a group of diggers were standing on the sidewalk in front of the saloon. They were an ill-tempered lot after having lost their gold at the cards table and more than a little drunk. Seeing Raven, the lot of them rushed her. Raven tried to run, but the stupid white woman's skirt hindered her movement. The men were all over her in an instant pulling her into a narrow alley.

She managed a few cries for help before one of the rascals silenced her by sitting on her face. Rough hands tore at her skirt and blouse as she lay immobilized under her attackers' weight.

Her cries had been heard, however, and bald, bespectacled Abraham Linkletter came running. With a courage he did not know he possessed, he attacked the men with a wooden fence post that had been lying in the alley. With luck, he hit two of the men on their heads before they could ready themselves. The fellow who sat on Raven's face tried to get up but caught the blunt end of the fence post in his face and went down too.