A/N: Thank you, everyone, for your well wishes! They really help me get through the bad days. :) Oh, and I should mention I took a few liberties with the story as told in the episode. You'll understand when you see them. Enjoy!
Father made no mention of my minor rebellion when he returned home. As I set out the meager dinner I had managed to scrape together, he needed no encouragement to explain the details of his plan to move to the silver mines. Drawing on every bit of patience I had, I sat and listened to him.
He had plans for the wagon we would take and the supplies we would need to gather. He had a specific route drawn out on a map, part of which included portions of the Truckee Trail. I couldn't help but wonder how long he had been planning this, and felt a little hurt that he hadn't confided in me sooner.
Given my reaction to the news, though, I couldn't really blame him for keeping it to himself.
With resignation, I began to pack up our belongings. Daddy advised me to part with many 'non-essentials', as he called them. My heart grew heavy as I began setting aside many of the books that made up our library. As dearly as I loved the volumes, it would be far too hard to carry them all the way into the wilderness and so I resolved to donate them to the orphanage.
A few 'non-essentials' I flat out refused to dispose of, namely my mother's china set and the mantle clock. These I wrapped up carefully in a trunk and prayed they would survive the journey. Daddy made no objection after his initial frown of disapproval. My plea of needing some family heirloom to remember my mother by was all I needed to say.
The news of Daddy's plan spread quickly. Many of our acquaintances tried to talk him out of it. I held my tongue as I listened to their reasoning and logic: hundreds abandon the mining life and come to San Francisco, so why leave a good life; what kind of father would take his only daughter into mining fields; my father was not as young as he used to be and mining was work for the young.
Through it all, my father maintained that he had considered all sides of the issue and he was not going to change his mind. A large part of me always hoped someone would have something Daddy hadn't thought of and convince him to abandon the idea. As the date of our departure drew closer, though, fewer people tried to argue and instead began wishing us luck.
With so much to do, I bid farewell to the children and my friends at the orphanage several weeks before Daddy and I were to leave. I couldn't hold back the tears at the wails from the littlest ones. Mrs. Dawson pursed her lips as she hugged me, still disapproving of the change. Mr. Peters shook my hand, hesitated for a long moment, and then wished me well.
I went home and cried for an hour.
Looking over my shoulder, I watched the city fade into the darkness. The early morning start was a mixed blessing. I wouldn't have to see my home in the daylight, but a part of me yearned for that last view of San Francisco. Who knew if I would ever see it again?
We didn't get far at all that first day. Daddy struggled to keep the oxen under control. He'd never been an outdoors kind of person but he was determined. I keep biting my tongue as I tried to help. Cooking over a fire was a novel experience for me that night, and I'm afraid I burned everything. My feet ached from walking, the only activity to break up the monotony of riding on an uncomfortably hard wagon bench.
There was no denying that the stars were beautiful, and I spent more than an hour just looking up at the sky. Daddy hummed some of his favorite old songs like Shenandoah, Lily Dale, and Annie Lawry. For the first time, I felt at peace about the whole venture and I went to sleep with more confidence about what we were doing.
As the days went on, Daddy became better with the wagon. We met many people who had abandoned their interest in mining and were making their way to California in search of a better life for their families. Of course, that did nothing to dampen my father's enthusiasm for the mining life. In fact, it only seemed to bolster his spirits and feed his enthusiasm.
Every evening, after we'd set up camp and I managed some kind of meal, Daddy would sing the old songs while I watched the stars. My anger over the situation drained away the further into the mountains we went. How could I possible be angry with such beautiful scenery surrounding me?
We traveled for over a week, going higher and higher in the mountains. My ability to cook over open flames improved with each night, and when we shared our camp with other travelers who were heading to San Francisco, I was able to pick up some pointers from those with more experience. Father's pride in me pleased me but I tried not to let him know it.
And then we reached the Truckee River. "We're almost there, Rosie girl," Father declared when he finished setting up camp. "It won't be long now."
For some reason, I felt as though we were being watched and I cast uneasy glances at the growing darkness. "Virginia City?" I asked, trying to act as though everything were fine. I tried to focus on the pot of bubbling stew, the one thing I could do well over the fire. "We're that close?"
Eagerly, Daddy nodded. "Those last travelers we passed said the silver is there for the taking. Our future will be set."
I raised my eyebrow as I looked up. Our futures had been secure enough in San Francisco. "If it's so easy to mine, then how do you account for them abandoning it? Some of those men looked desperate."
"Some people have no patience."
He was so irrepressibly optimistic. Shaking my head, I ladled the stew into the tin pan that served as our dinnerware. As soon as he had eaten, he went to the water's edge for a closer look at the river, leaving me to clean up. Once I had everything out away as it should be, I joined him to watch the glow of the setting sun vanish from the water's surface.
As he had done every night, Daddy sang as he sat by the fire. When it grew dark, I crawled into my bed in the wagon to listen in comfort. Staring up at the canvas, I thought about how much my life had changed. I never would have imagined I could be happy cooking over a campfire, constantly smelling of wood smoke, or feel so exhausted. The journey had changed my outlook on life, and I found I felt ready to take up the challenge of surviving a mining town.
Maybe I would even find a handsome miner to call my own.
It was with this pleasant, though impossibly romantic, idea on my mind I closed my eyes. And that's when my life changed again. This time, it was far worse than anything I could have ever imagined.
There was the snap of a twig that comes from someone stepping on it. "Can I help you, gentlemen?" I heard Daddy say, his tone holding a suspicious note I had never heard from him before. All hint of sleepiness fled as I sat up. Trunks and supplies blocked my vision of what was happening.
"We were just passing by, and saw your fire," an unfamiliar voice said. "Mind if we sit a spell?"
"Be my guest," Daddy invited. His voice was louder than necessary, and I knew he was trying to warn me. He had a gun on him, I knew, but I had never seen him shoot it. Would he be able to defend himself if necessary? This had been a constant worry of mine that I had tried to keep to myself. "You fellows are traveling awful late, aren't you?"
How many of them were out there? As silently as possible, I searched for something I could use as a weapon. Not that I would show myself unless there was no other choice. I was in my nightgown, and it would be highly inappropriate to jump out like an amazon woman. With one hand, I searched for my dress, finding only Daddy's spare clothes.
The next sound I heard echoed in the silence of the night: the loud crack of a gunshot. My heart in my throat, I pressed my hand over my mouth to keep myself from screaming as there was an answering thud.
"Why did you have to do that, Mack?" a second voice asked, his words slurring together. "An old man like him couldn't have done us any harm."
Panic and shock was all I felt as my mind tried to wrap itself around the sounds it was hearing. "See if he has any food around," the first voice said, sounding uncaring that he had just shot someone. "I haven't heard a sound from the wagon but I doubt an old man like this would be out here alone."
He was coming towards the wagon. I had to move. Not caring how much noise I made, I scrambled for the front of the wagon. I knew all too well what would happen if these two caught me and I intended to do all I could to prevent that fate. An angry shout followed me as I made it over the bench. With Daddy's clothes still in my hand, I jumped to the ground and bolted into the trees.
"Girl! Come back here!"
That shout was accompanied by a gunshot. A squeak left my lips as splinters of wood flew through the air next to my head. Trying to keep my bearings, I angled around until I reached the edge of the Truckee River. Hearing crashing in the trees, I plunged into the cold water, going in until the water reached my waist. I kept the clothes over my head.
"Where did she go?" the second, drunk man asked.
"Into the river," the first said. Their voices carried easily over the water. Shivering, I held still, trying to keep my footing in the moving water. "There's nowhere for you to go! Either you'll drown in the river or you'll be eaten alive."
Flinching, I stared at the bank of the river. My eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness, and I thought I could make out two figures outlined against the trees. One of them threw something on the ground, yelling words I had never heard before. The second made a move to enter the river, and I retreated until the water came up to my chin.
The cold seemed to deter him. When they finally moved away and vanished into the trees, I couldn't feel my toes.
Trembling violently and gasping for breath, I stumbled to the bank. I collapsed onto the rocks and dirt.. What was I going to do? I may have escaped them temporarily, but now there was a whole different set of problems. Where could I go? The only thing I knew for sure was I needed to get out of the wilderness.
Tears filled my eyes as I thought of my father, but I had to push it aside to deal with the present. Grief and mourning would have to happen later.
My hands shook as I pulled off my sopping wet nightgown and dropped it on the ground. The hoot of an owl made me start as I dressed in my father's clothes. Far too big, they were warmer than my wet clothes. I tossed my nightgown into the river, knowing it would be swept away.
Wet though they were, I knew my wool socks were better than nothing and kept them on. Recognizing the need to move quickly, I closed my eyes, trying to remember what I had seen of Papa's map. As many times as I had seen it, I hadn't paid as much attention as I wished I had. I would just have to start moving and hope I was going the right way.
Virginia City was my only hope.
Only a few feet away, I found a hat, presumably the item one of the men had thrown in his anger. I wrinkled my nose at the worn, grimy leather. Still, I twisted my hair up and settled the hat on my head. Hopefully, from afar, I would be mistaken for a boy.
Being a woman alone in the wilderness was practically a death sentence, one I prayed I could avoid. But I had to run.
And run I did.