A/: A longer chapter for you to enjoy. :) Time for the Cartwrights to meet Rosemary!
No more than a day later, the trees that had sheltered me were filled with the sound of riders. I hide in the branches as unsavory men rode beneath me, many of them carrying traps and rifles. Something had brought them all out, and though I was mildly curious about what that reason was, my fear drove me further into hiding.
With my havan filled with men, I made the decision to follow the road I'd found. Leaving the forest was the hardest decision I made. I hunched low over the ground as I walked. So many of the men who had invaded the trees had come from this direction, I was certain Virginia City had to be there. Or, at least, some town where I could find some sort of lawman.
Pounding hoofbeats caught my attention, and I looked up to see a brown horse passing by, not quite headed directly for me. Alarmed, I changed direction and clambered over the mound of dirt. My hope that I would be ignored was shattered when I glanced back to see the rider rushing towards me.
Large stones nearly made me stumble as I tried to move quickly. Adrenaline rushed through my veins, impelling me forward. I momentarily forgot about how hungry and tired I was.
"You in there! That's a box canyon! There's no way out!"
The warning that followed me only made my legs move quicker. If I could climb fast enough, I would be out of this man's reach. I was stronger than I had been when I first found myself alone in the wilderness. I found handholds quickly as I pulled myself further up the side of the canyon.
I heard the horse and then another shout, "Get down from there!"
The solid rocks that my feet had found gave way beneath me and I began to fall. I remember hitting the bottom of the canyon, feeling the breath get forced out of my lungs, and then blackness danced in front of my eyes. My hearing, though, hadn't been harmed and the sound of someone dismounting nearby reached me. Then, footsteps crunched on the ground and then I felt someone's fingers press against my neck.
"Not dead then," I heard him say with a sigh. Hands grasped my left arm and the back of my jacket, and I was hauled up. My legs felt like jelly, and my captor dragged to his horse. My vision had begun to clear up and I was flopped over the front of the saddle. The man mounted behind me and the nudged the horse into motion.
Only once did I make the mistake of opening my eyes. Watching the ground pass by underneath me made my headache even worse and I squeezed my eyes shut again. Time flew by quickly with my trying not to lose the few contents of my stomach and my captor not saying a word.
When the horse began to slow, I heard a young man's voice. "Hey, Pa! Hey, Pa, here comes Adam." There was a pause. "He's got a body stretched across his saddle. Maybe it's that Josh fella."
Those names meant nothing to me, and I could only feel relief that I was going to be on solid ground again. "Well, who have you got there?" an older man asked.
"Found this boy roaming the hills," my captor answered, and I felt him dismount. He pulled me from the saddle.
"Is he alright?" The young man asked, concern in his voice.
"Oh, he's alright. I'll take him into the bunkhouse and let Hop-Sing wash him up."
A second pair of hands helped steady me as I was pushed forward. My balance restored, I managed to hold my own once I was on my feet for a few moments. I was deposited on a bed in a sparsely decorated wooden room. I kept my head down, staring at the black boots in front of me.
"Now stay here," the man ordered. "Our cook will bring you hot water and the some food."
A hot bath. Food. The two things I wanted most. Feeling choked up, I said nothing. Heaving a sigh, the man turned and walked out. The door closed behind him. I lifted my head, and tried to take stock of where I was.
Many bunks lined the walls. I eyed the door for a moment, resisting the urge to flee. Where would I go? Surely the men here would catch me faster than I could run. And I was so hungry.
A second door opened and I recoiled into the corner. Muttering words I couldn't understood but in a language I had heard many times in San Francisco, a small Chinese man dragged a tin tub in. He then hurried in and out, carrying steaming buckets of water. Once he was satisfied with the water level, he turned to me.
"You boy! Get in tub!" He ordered. "No time for foolishment. Have supper to put on table. You wash up clean."
What I would have done if he'd remained in the room, I don't know. As it was, he hurried out, closing the door, no doubt to food on the table. I waited a moment to be sure he would not come hurrying back, and slowly approached the tub. Steam rose from the water, enticing me to enter and be clean for the first time in...I didn't know how long.
I was quick to pull my filthy clothes from my body, and I am rather ashamed to admit I dropped them in a heap on the floor. Without a thought as to what I would put on once I was clean, I stepped into the hot warm and sank down until my head was above the water. Closing my eyes, I let my weary muscles relax.
After a few moments, the pull to completely immerse myself was too strong to resist. Taking a deep breath, I slipped beneath the surface of the water and stayed under for as long as I could, feeling myself relax more and more. It occurred to me that I ought to make a start on removing the dirt from my skin and hair. Reluctantly, I straightened up and leaned to the side where I had seen a bar of soap.
Snatching it up, I set to lathering it across my skin. I'd removed most of the filth and had set to working the soap through my tangled hair when the door opened. The cook's loud exclamation made me duck below the brim of the tub with a gasp, my hair hanging in a mass in front of my face. A steady stream of Chinese came from the man as I heard him rush out the door.
An almost hysterical laugh bubbled up out of nowhere. I forced it down and swiftly rinsed out my hair. I began to climb out of the tub, the water now cooling, and grabbed the thick towel that had been laid out. It was while I was drying myself that I realized the cook had taken my clothes. Astonished, I sat on the edge of the closest bunk. What was I supposed to do now?
Before I could figure it out there was a knock on the door. "You in there," the baritone voice of my captor called in. A second later, the door opened enough for an arm to come through and a blanket of some kind was tossed in. "Put this on and come out."
The door closed again. Forcing myself onto my feet, I hurried to pick the blanket up. It was nothing to look at but seemed large enough to cover myself if I arranged it just right. I put my hand up to my hair and somehow couldn't bring myself to walk out without at least trying to tame it.
My fingers made a poor substitute for a comb and brush, but I managed to confine it into a passable braid. I set myself to 'dressing' myself in the blanket. Then, I found myself in front of the door and couldn't quite reach for the doorknob.
Who were these men? What kind of family were they?
There was a light tap on the door. "Missy? You ready come out now?" It was the cook.
Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and stepped out. The cook grinned in what I assumed was supposed to be an encouraging way. He guided me from the bunkhouse to the main house. Through the door, I could hear multiple male voices speaking and laughing. One, loudest of all, asked, "What are we going to do with her?"
Whatever the answer was, I didn't hear, either because it was spoken more quietly or because the Chinese cook opened the door. "This way, Missy," he said, gesturing for me to enter.
Nervously, I stepped through the doorway and forced myself to continue into the house. Four men, of varying ages and looks, exchanged glances and rose from where they had been sitting. I couldn't bring myself to meet any of their gazes, and my heart pounded in my chest. My fingers tightened on the blanket that was protecting my modesty.
The oldest man, one I had heard before, came forward. "Hello," he said in a kind way. I couldn't keep from flinching as he drew near, though I didn't think he would hurt me. He gestured to the chairs where he had been sitting. "Won't you sit down?"
My shoulders hunched up as I walked. Getting closer, being trapped in the middle of those men, was the last thing I wanted. After being so long on my own, suddenly being the center of attention was frightening. The largest of them sat down so that he wasn't towering over me, an action I felt grateful for.
"What's your name child?" the silver haired man asked gently.
Could I trust my voice? Would it even work after being unused so long? My lips parted to speak but I couldn't bring myself to do it. The dark haired one who had brought me there knelt by the arm of the chair. "Why did you run away from me?" he asked. Still, I couldn't find my voice.
"Ain't you got no folks? No relatives?" The large, kindly one asked, concern written on his face.
That question struck pain through my heart, but at least I could answer without my voice. I shook my head and kept my gaze lowered. I would not cry in front of theses strangers. I wouldn't let myself.
"Perhaps...perhaps you'd rather not talk until morning," the older man suggested.
Startled by the suggestion, I twisted to look at him. Would it be any easier to tell if I put it off? "N-no," I said, forcing the word out. I made sure to look at them all in turn as I continued, "I think you're all...friends."
They hadn't tried to harm me, even once they knew I was female. I could trust these men, I felt sure of it. Did I have any other choice? I took a deep breath, steeling myself to tell my story.
"My name is Rosemary Lawson. My father and I left San Francisco to come to Virginia City by wagon. My father was a schoolteacher, but he wanted to look for silver. We didn't have any trouble until we got into the mountains. And one night, we were camped near the Truckee River. It was very beautiful there. We were were very happy."
The four men kept quiet, listening and watching me tell my tale. Somehow, their understanding expressions made it easier to go on, to tell the hardest part.
"We sat by the fire and Daddy sang some old songs to me. Then, I went to bed in the wagon. Later, I was awakened by pistol shots and there...there were strange men in camp." My grief threatened to choke me. "They-they'd killed my father."
Ducking my head down, I tried not to let my sobs overwhelm me. My audience shifted around me. "Well, I think you've talked enough for tonight, Rosemary," the silver haired man said, his tone somber. "Hop-Sing, why don't you see that she gets some hot food and prepare that room at the end of the bunkhouse."
The dark haired man who had brought me there rose and helped me to my feet. The Chinese man, Hop-Sing, his smile sympathetic led me to the door. "Rest well," the patriarch said as I left the house.
"Come this way, Missy," Hop-Sing said once the door was shut behind me.
Before I could go a step further, there was something I had to know. "Hop-Sing? Who are those men? Where am I?"
"Those are the Cartlights," the cook said with obvious bride. "Mr. Ben, Mr. Adam, Mr. Hoss, and Lil' Joe. Them good people. This the Ponderosa. You safe here."
Safe. At long last.