A/N: The first time I saw Enter Mark Twain, my imagination was caught by Rosemary Lawson. I was unhappy that her character's story was left unresolved at the end of the episode. Unwilling to allow this brave young woman to be merely a plot device, I took it upon myself to tell what I imagine her story to be. It ended up longer than I expected and I hope you enjoy it!

On a more personal note, please see the message on my profile.

The day my father told me we were going to mine for silver, my first thought was that he was joking. After all, why would he want to leave the comfortable life we had in San Francisco? He had his teaching job at the boys' school and had always seemed to really enjoy instructing his students. We wanted for nothing and, in fact, had a more comfortable life than many could claim.

"When should I have the bags packed?" I responded, bustling around our tiny kitchen. I had been kept longer at the orphanage than I had intended and was extremely grateful I had had the foresight to put together a stew in the morning. I tasted it, savoring the rich taste that had been simmering all day. "Mmm. Perfect."

"Oh, I imagine a month from now will give us plenty of time to get everything we need for the journey and to sell what we don't need here," Daddy answered in an off hand way.

That specific time frame and the mention of selling our belongings gave me pause. Frowning, I glanced over my shoulder. My father was sitting at the table, surrounded by essays he was supposed to be grading. In his hand was a small flyer and he was giving it all his attention, instead of the work of his students.

"You're not serious," I said, unable to think of anything else to say. How could he be serious? Being in San Francisco was the only life I had ever known. "There's no silver to mine in San Francisco."

"Obviously we'll have to go where there are silver mines," Daddy responded, patiently. "Virginia City in the Nevada territory is where all of the action is taking place these days, Rosie girl. We'd be fools not to take advantage of it when it's really not that far away."

Oh, dear. This was more serious than I'd thought. "Daddy, you haven't been reading more of those silly flyers, have you?" I asked, walking over to his side. I took the flyer from his hand, scanned it, and then crumpled the paper. "You have always said these things are made up of more lies than the truth."

"Rosemary Kathleen Lawson!" my father protested, prying the now wrinkled paper from me. He smoothed it out. "I've heard it from several reliable sources. Of course I know the flyers exaggerate things, just a bit, but there is silver to be found. And I want to be part of it."

"But...why?" I asked. I didn't understand. Never before had Father even mentioned wanting to mine for a precious metal. He'd been content with teaching, or so I had always believed. I collapsed into the other chair at the table and reached out to curl my fingers around his. "Daddy, why?"

Daddy squeezed my fingers a moment before gently pulling free. "Haven't you ever dreamed of doing something more, Rosie girl?" he asked. "To see what life is like outside of tall buildings?"

He knew I had, but that's all it had ever been: a dream to think about late at night. Along with the beauty of the mountains and the claims of wealth to just be picked up as you walked along, I'd heard what life was like in those mining towns with rough men, no reliable lawmen, and no respectable women. How could the beauty possible outweigh the bad?

"This isn't just something you're considering, is it?" I asked hopefully. Maybe there was a chance I could talk him out of it, that I could appeal to his friends in the academic field to talk some sense into him. "I know it sounds appealing, but surely there are some dreams that aren't meant to be."

"Never trying is the surest way to fail, Rosie," he responded. "I've made up my mind. Think of the better life we could have , once we have the silver. We'll be a part of making history."

"Daddy, please," I begged desperately. "Would Mama have wanted this?"

Maybe it was cruel of me to bring my mother into it. It had been only five years since she'd passed away from a fever and I missed her everyday. I knew Daddy did too. She'd been such a kind and sweet woman. Everyone who met her had adored her and they all mourned with Daddy and I when she passed on.

I could see the distant grief cross my father's face. "Yes, she would have," he insisted, shaking his head. His tone strengthened into one of determination. "Now don't argue with me anymore, Rosemary. I've already started the arrangements and given notice at the school."

Shocked at the finality of his statement, I stared at him. "Daddy-!"

"Enough, Rosemary!"

With a flinch, I pushed myself out of my chair. I walked out of the kitchen and into my room. I did not slam my door; I was old enough to keep from that display of childishness. However, I did throw myself onto my bed and buried my face into my pillow.

In one month, I would have to leave my home, my friends, and everything I had ever known. Part of me was furious with my father for not giving me more warning, but I did understand why he didn't. He must have known I would not take well to the news, which then begged the question of why he was insisting on going ahead with the venture.

Angry tears soaked my pillow that night and I did not leave my room to serve supper to Daddy. I could only assume he dished his stew himself or that he was so distracted by his new plans he forgot to eat.

I felt like my life had been thoroughly ruined.

Daddy left earlier than usual the next morning. I didn't make him breakfast, still feeling a little mutinous. That was my childish response, and I knew I was being unreasonable. He could get his own coffee and pack his own lunch pail for once.

When I finally deigned to leave my room, I found a half burnt pot of stew on the stove where I had left it and had to toss all of the contents out. I then spent over an hour getting the pot cleaned. I knew, deep down, that it was my fault but it was just another mark against Daddy's crazy scheme. I put all of my anger and frustration into scrubbing the sides of the pot.

I needed to keep busy so near noon I left the apartment perfectly clean and made my way to the one place that I knew would always need an extra pair of hands: the orphanage. Strange as it may seem, the constant chatter of children's voices soothed me. The group of girls who exclaimed welcomes when they saw me touched my heart as always.

"Miss Lawson, I didn't think this is your usual days to come in."

A blush heated my cheeks as I looked up. Joshua Peters, the young, dark haired teacher who worked at the orphanage, was smiling at me. "It's not, Mr. Peters," I said as one of the girl's tugged on my hand to get my attention. "But here I am anyway."

He chuckled and nodded. "I think we will have to talk more about this later. It looks as though you're wanted."

The giggling girls pulled me away from Mr. Peters before I could form a response to that. I managed to send them off to get cleaned up for lunch and made my way to the kitchen. Mrs. Dawson, who ran the orphanage, was there, supervising the cook.

"Hello, Mrs. Dawson," I greeted when both women faced with surprised expressions. "Is there something I can do? I need to keep busy."

Mrs. Dawson, a woman I had known for most of my life who had been my mother's best friend, frowned in concern. "Yes, of course, Rosemary," she answered. "The younger ones will need to be put down for their nap." She patted my shoulder. "We can talk later if you want."

I nodded, relieved I had someone I could confide in. There were twenty toddlers who were too young to attend school and, as usual, every one of them resisted nap time. The hour it took for me to get all of them asleep left me more tired than any other day. Perhaps because I hadn't slept the night before.

A cup of coffee was waiting for me in Mrs. Dawson's office. "Out with it," the woman said when I sank into a chair opposite her. "You look awful, Rosemary. Tell me what's happened."

"Last night, my father has informed me that in a month, we are leaving San Francisco," I told her slowly. Somehow, saying it out loud, made it even more real. "He wants to mine silver in Virginia City."

Blinking, Mrs. Dawson set her cup down. "You're not serious."

"That's exactly what I said," I told her with a half-hearted laugh. I sipped my coffee, savoring the hot liquid. "I'm afraid my father is very serious. He has his heart set on mining silver. He's already started the arrangements and there wasn't a thing I could say to reason with him."

"And he's never said anything about this before?"

Shaking my head, I heaved a sigh. "Not a word," I answered. "I don't know what to do. I've heard such horrible things about the territory Virginia City is in, the violence and the criminals. How am I supposed to survive there?"

My friend reached over to pat my hand. "I have every confidence that you can survive whatever life throws at you," she told me. She hesitated for a moment and then asked, "Have you considered staying in San Francisco?"

Startled, I looked up. "What? Stay while my father leaves?" Honestly, the thought hadn't even occurred to me. "I couldn't! A young woman on her own? What would I possibly do to support myself? It's just impossible, Mrs. Dawson."

"No, I suppose it was a crazy idea," Mrs. Dawson admitted with a sigh. "I'd offer to make room for you here but it's already so crowded."

"I understand," I told her. "I can't imagine not seeing this place again."

"This place or a certain Mr. Peters?"

My cheeks burned with embarrassment. "Mrs. Dawson!" I protested in a horrified whisper. "Mr. Peters is a very kind friend and that is all. He has never indicated that he wishes anything more than friendship ."

Had I hoped for more? Certainly! But that was beside the point.

"Maybe if you gave him some encouragement?"

Emphatically, I shook my head. "I've seen what some girls consider 'encouraging' and I refuse to sink to that level," I told her. Heaving a sigh, I leaned back in my chair. "I suppose there is no other alternative. I will go with my father to the silver mines."

Mrs. Dawson shook her head. "It's not right. I've heard the stories from those mining fields. I cannot believe your father thinks it is the place to take you."

While it was a relief to be with someone who shared my opinion, there was a small part of me that rebelled against hearing Daddy spoken of in such a manner. "I suppose he believes he knows what is best, Mrs. Dawson," I said, forcing a smile. "I am probably overthinking this, and worrying over nothing. Thank you for hearing me out."

"I am delighted to do so, Rosemary," Mrs. Dawson responded, concern causing a crease between her eyes. "Your mother would have been so proud of you."

Mrs. Dawson was one of the few left who had known my mother. In fact, she had worked with my mother here in the orphanage. Hopefully, I met her gaze. "You really think so?"

"Of course. You're a good and dutiful girl. Any mother would be proud to claim you."

A blush heated up my cheeks. I finished my coffee and rose from the chair. "I ought to return home," I said. "I left it in such a state!"

The older woman laughed lightly and shook her head. "You had good reason to be out of sorts, and I'm sure once you have had the chance to discuss this with your father, you will find it not such a horrible future," she said, though there was no confidence in her voice. "As soon as you know more, you must be sure you tell me." my coffee and got to my feet. "I suppose I should get home. Daddy is going to need dinner."

"Of course."