11

Hence, it was easy for me to say, with absolute certainty, “You will never regret loving me. That I swear on my grave.”
*****
The new town of Denver lay at the confluence of Cherry Creek and the South Platte River. It was mostly tents when we arrived.
There had originally been gold in the creek. But the truly rich deposits lay in the mountains to the west. Still, all the supplies and mining equipment had to come from somewhere and Denver was the terminus of the Pike’s Peak Express. That was the only supply service from the east. And so, it was commerce, not mining, that had turned Denver into a boom town.
Of course, no boom town could consider itself “civilized” unless it had a high-class whorehouse. Fittingly, May was called on to deliver that essential service. She, in turn, had sent her protege to set things up. That was why Aimee and I were there.
After our adventure with Abigail and the Indians, we had taken our time getting back to Denver. The reason it took so long was that we couldn’t get enough of each other. So, we lingered a lot on convenient creek banks and grassy spots. We also needed to work out the details of our evolving relationship.
Oddly enough, Aimee was the inexperienced one. I had been married. I knew how to be with somebody. Aimee had never had anything but a brief furtive affair, a brutal quasi-marriage and customers. So, she had to get used to life in a close and loving bond.
It was difficult at first, For instance, Aimee wasn’t used to waking up being cuddled. The first time that happened she jumped to her feet, startled. She also got nervous when I did nice things for her. It was like she suspected ulterior motives. And she apologized far too much. She would even tell me she was sorry if she got too wild during sex.
Her behavior was easy to understand. I knew that I was totally committed to her. But she didn’t know that. She had been mistreated her entire life. Now she’d staked her soul on the hope that I was different. And she had everything to lose if I turned out to be just like every other man.
So, we’d talk whenever one of the ghosts from her past reared its ugly head. Ultimately, each of those shades was laid to rest. It was touching really, watching Aimee slowly come to trust me. And for my part, those discussions convinced me that she would die rather than betray me. Which of course, was somewhat credulous given her former profession.
Still, I was more convinced of Aimee’s fidelity than I would have ever been with an ordinary woman. Aimee had survived the worst life had to offer. So, she understood the value of her present situation, and she made no assumptions about its permanence. That fact, more than anything else, cemented my belief in our long-term prospects.
We got back to discover that Pat and Aphrodite had been busy. May had bought a prime plat downtown and our two friends already had a big tent set up: doing a land-office business. The frame of the permanent structure was laid out behind it and construction was a beehive of activity, since there were plenty of miners who needed a grubstake.
I drifted down to the Pike’s Peak offices, while Aimee and Pat oversaw the building. I had a plan that I wanted to set in motion. It was the first fruit of an agreement that Aimee and I had reached. She was still the manager of the best little whorehouse in Denver. But we were eager to get married. So, I had to find a way to support us.
My ace-in-the-hole was the stake that I had left over from my last whaling voyage. Was that only three years ago?
At any rate, it was sufficient to set me up to fleece the thousands of fools rushing to make their fortunes in the gold fields. In fact, in many ways mining supply was as immoral as my soon-to-be spouse’s former profession, and it was considerably more lucrative.
I made an agreement with the manager at the express office. For a small percent of the profit, he would ship in the goods. Then I would sell them at twenty times the price. Our arrangement would make us both rich.
For her part, Aimee had hated being part of May’s stable. But she had learned the trade inside and out and she was an astute businesswoman. So, she had pledged to oversee the burgeoning cathouse; until Aphrodite felt confident enough to replace her.
She told me that it was a male fantasy that the women enjoyed the sex they were selling. She called it dirty and demeaning. But on the other hand, it was necessary to survive. I recalled that she had told me that very same thing the first day we met.
We lived in a small tent next to the big one. By day, I worked in my supply business. Then I spent every night hanging around in the main tent, tending bar with Pat and providing a deterrent to any rowdy miners.
Initially, Aimee had a problem with my presence. I finally took her aside and said, “Do you love me?” Her odd violet eyes flamed with intensity. She said, “How could you ask me a question like that, when you hold my very soul in the palm of your hand.”
I said, “Then why are you acting so standoffish? You’re supposed to be the proprietor of this place, not the local Women’s Christian representative.”
She looked at me quizzically and said, “I was??!!” I laughed and said, “It’s like you’re here to stamp out the sin of prostitution.”
She said appalled, “Seriously??!! Oh Lordy!!”
I took her exquisite little pointed chin between my two fingers, tilted her head up so she was looking directly into my eyes and said lovingly, “I have no doubt that your heart is utterly mine. I also know you would never betray that love. So, go back in there and be your usual stunningly sexual self.”
Then I added stone faced, “Just don’t disappear into the back to fuck any of the customers.” Aimee looked horror stricken. Then she saw my face melting into a laugh. She made an exasperated sound, slugged me on the arm, and returned to the evening’s trade. We had no problem with customer satisfaction after that.
I was there every night. So, I would have known if Aimee had ever dabbled in her former calling. She, for her part, was almost pathologically wary of even going near the back of the tent. It was hilarious really, watching her pussy footing around the hosting duties. And of course; she killed me with kindness every night.
Aimee and I were married on the twenty first of July, eighteen hundred and sixty-one. That was a date made significant by more than our wedding. It was the date of the first battle of Bull Run.
It was no doubt inevitable that the people back east would fight a war over slavery. But it was still a surprise when the two parts of the country transitioned from inflamed rhetoric to actually shooting at each other.
It didn’t affect the people out west in the slightest. The supplies continued to flow, because money was to be made. The miners still brought their gold down and the fellows who didn’t want to fight for either side had all developed an interest in visiting us.
So, we had the likes of Henry James, Mark Twain and William Dean Howells pass through our doors, even adventurers like Bill Cody.
By that point, we had gotten a fancy bordello built and Aphrodite had taken over Aimee’s role as the madam. Aimee, for her part, turned her firm hand and astute business sense to running the supply operation. And thanks to her we were making money hand-over-fist.
*****
One bright and shining summer morning I walked into the store to find my wife sociably chatting with an Indian maiden. That was such an odd sight that I nearly spilled my coffee. Then the Indian turned to face me, and I dropped the cup. It was Abigail!! And she had prospered.
Abigail still had her pretty face, which was smiling in greeting. Her china-blue southern belle eyes were calm and peaceful, and she looked happy. The old Abigail had been nervous, pail and a bit chubby. The woman in front of me was rawhide, clearly tough and in charge.
Aimee knew that Abigail’s appearance would surprise me. So, she quickly added, “Abigail has some news for us dear.” It is something you’ll want to hear.”
Abigail said cordially, “It’s good to see you Jacob. You were always kind to me, even though I wasn’t in my right mind most of the time. Now I’d like to do you a favor.” She opened her hand to reveal an odd grey rock that clearly had a gold seam in it.
She said, “Some of the men found this. We have no need for this devil’s material. But we know that you whites put much value on it.”
I thought, “We whites??!! Doesn’t she recall that she’s a former lily-white planter’s daughter?”
Abigail continued with, “I will show you where we found it. I believe it will be something that you and my sister can use.”
It sorta made sense. Abigail and Aimee were in fact half-sisters. And Abigail had voluntarily followed Aimee when she was sold to May. Even after that, we had pursued Abigail after she was abducted and honored her wish to stay with her abductors.
So, there was a deep connection. Perhaps Abigail was leading us to something more than just a single nugget of gold. Hence, I saddled a mule, kissed Aimee goodbye and followed Abigail, or “Heron-Woman” as she now preferred to be called, out of town.
The same two Indian men were waiting for us, up the trail. We proceeded west in the general direction of the Clear Creek canyon. There was a lot of gold mining going on up there. But my guides turned and headed slightly north, and into the initial elevations of the front range.
We rode for several hours, until we reached a pine filled split in a sheer rock cliff. The day was getting hot. So, it was a relief when the man, who had actually been situated between Abigail’s legs during our last encounter, dismounted and entered the cool shade of the gap between the rocks. It was perhaps thirty yards wide and full of ponderosas.
He walked a short distance and then pointed at the rock face and sure enough, there was a distinct gold seam in it. I used a little assayer’s pick to knock off a chunk, nodded at him and we walked back to where Abigail and the other, ahem…”husband,” were waiting.