San Francisco

14 July 1869

Eloise couldn't stop her hands from shaking. All day, since she had awoken, the tremors had coursed through her body, along with the icy cold chill that she knew had little to do with physical ill-health and everything to do with how she was feeling about the wedding.

Three days.

In three days, she would be Thomas's wife. Mrs Lewis. No turning back. A whole new chapter of her life would begin and yet every second that ticked by felt like one second less of her being who she was. In three days, she would become someone else entirely.

It had been agreed that today would be her last day at the store. Her mother would have preferred her to finish up even earlier, but she had insisted that she needed to at least try and finish the orders that were still outstanding. She couldn't let her customers down, even though she had required to disappoint some by telling them she wasn't taking any new orders at present.

"Well, it is a shame that you won't be able to make me any more of your beautiful creations," one of her older customers had opined, "but I'm sure that you'll be very happy in your new life, my dear."

"Oh, I…I still intend to carry on, when I can," she had replied.

"Oh, you will have no time for that," the woman had trilled, as though it was the most obvious comment in the world. "Besides, married women do not work. Their place is in the home."

"Yes, well…" she had managed to move the conversation on quite effectively, but as the customer had left with her package, she had felt a wave of nausea sweep through her requiring her to sit and sip some water. Fortunately, her father hadn't noticed. He had been extremely busy himself that morning looking, to her surprise, more harassed than she thought she had ever seen him in the past. But perhaps he too was simply anxious about her impending nuptials.

Even the warm sunshine that accompanied them home at the end of the day did nothing to lift the insidious feelings sweeping through her. With no appetite, she excused herself from dinner and sat on her bed, gazing around the room that would soon no longer be hers. Michael, her closest sibling, had already claimed it as his own, fed up with sharing with his brothers and, on that score, she could not blame him. But it only added to her feelings of trepidation that, after the wedding, this would no longer be her home at all.

"Lou?" A soft tap at the door roused her from her reverie and, seconds later, her mother appeared in front of her. "You look ghastly," she commented, putting her hand on her daughter's forehead. "I hope you're not coming down with something, not with just days to go until you walk down the aisle to meet Thomas."

"I'm fine," she replied mechanically, brushing her mother's hand away.

"Well, I think you should go to bed and get some sleep. We've got a lot of tasks to complete tomorrow, not least of all collecting your aunt and uncle from the station. You'll want to be feeling your best for that."

"Of course," she replied, though inwardly, she wasn't particularly looking forward to the judgements that she undoubtedly knew her aunt would make on her. Her mother's elder sister, they had never been especially close, Ruth rather scornful of her younger sibling's early marriage. She herself had met her husband later in life, but despite sharing some commonality with her niece, every encounter had usually been marred by disapproval at her unwed status. She dread to think what comments her aunt might make over the course of the next few days.

"Well, I'll say goodnight then."

"Mother…" she heard herself say the word and realised that she had risen to her feet, quite without thinking about it.

"Yes?"

"I…I suppose I just wondered, well…you wanted to marry Father, didn't you?"

"Of course," her mother laughed, "what a question, Lou. You've always known the story of how your father and I met, courted and wed."

"No, I know. I suppose I just wondered…what would you have done if you hadn't wanted to marry him?"

Her mother frowned. "I'm not sure I'm following you."

"Well, what if, you had decided that you didn't want to marry him after all? Would you still have gone through with it?"

"An extraordinary thought…" her mother looked genuinely surprised. "I suppose I can't imagine what would have happened to make me not want to marry him. I was so in love that, for me, the wedding couldn't come soon enough." She paused and Eloise held her breath wondering if this would be the ideal opening to explain how she was feeling. Perhaps her mother would ask her if she was having second thoughts, perhaps she could then say how trapped she felt and then, maybe, there might be a solution that could be found. But the moment quickly passed. "Well, as I said, I want you to get some sleep. See you in the morning."

Before she could say anything more, her mother was gone, almost too hurriedly, as if she had anticipated where the conversation was going and didn't want to hear it. Could she blame her mother in that situation? Probably not. Here she was, finally marrying off her spinster daughter. Even if there weren't certain financial issues at play, what mother would want to risk the possibility of the match falling through?

She sank back down on the bed, her body starting to tremble once more, the feeling of nausea rising again in her stomach. She was a grown woman, a woman of almost thirty years of age, and yet she was being hurried and pushed along into a marriage that she knew deep down she didn't want, to a man she didn't love. Why couldn't she say how she felt? Why couldn't she tell her parents that she wouldn't marry Thomas, couldn't marry Thomas, even if not doing so meant potential financial ruin for her family?

But therein lay her answer. How could she not do this one thing for the family who had fed, clothed and kept her long beyond the years when it was considered acceptable, long past the average age of marriage for a young woman, who had indulged her millinery skills and never asked anything of her until now?

In her prayers, she asked the Lord to show her some sort of sign, give her some sort of answer to suggest that everything would turn out well. That she would marry Thomas and be blissfully happy for the rest of her years on earth. As someone who had never really asked for anything for herself before, it didn't seem too unreasonable a request.

15 July

It was another insufferably hot day. Ordinarily, Eloise paid little heed to the heat. Having lived all her life in California she was used to it in a way that many others weren't. And yet, today, she felt it burn her hotter than ever. The chills had evaporated to be replaced by an inexplicable feeling of perspiration. She felt as though rivulets of sweat were running down her face, her back and her legs and yet, every time she moved to wipe it away, she found her skin to be dry.

It was almost as though she was hallucinating.

Sleep had not come quickly the previous evening, and she had lain staring at the ceiling hearing every tick of the clock and watching each shard of darkness move and change, until at some point exhaustion must have overcome her and she had awoken feeling groggy and sluggish.

The train station was a short surrey ride away from their home and with her brothers having begged to be relieved from accompanying her and her parents, she found herself alone in the back, her thoughts many and jumbled as they traversed their way through the streets.

Two days. Only two more days.

Thomas and his parents were to dine with them that evening, then there would be no more contact until she was at the altar giving herself to him for the rest of her life, body and soul. When she thought back to the conversation she had had with her mother about the physical act of marriage, she found herself shuddering once more. There was no excitement, no stirring in her loins, no desire…the thought of Thomas touching her…intimately…

"Lou, you and I shall go and see if we can find your aunt and uncle," her mother's voice broke into her thoughts, and she realised with a start that they had arrived at their destination. "Your father can wait here." Dutifully, she climbed out of the surrey, her mother linking arms with her as they crossed the street and entered the station. "I hope your aunt is in a convivial mood, though I doubt it very much.

"It will have been a long journey for her and Uncle Arthur."

"Yes, without him being able to escape her as I'm sure he often does at home." Her mother tittered with laughter. "I do wonder how he's put up with her all this time."

"Perhaps he loves her."

"Perhaps so, though I rather think their union was borne out of desperation rather than love." Her mother craned her neck to see over the throng of people mingling in front of them. "This way. Let's head down to where the train should be arriving, if it hasn't already."

She allowed herself to be propelled through the noisy crowd, the air thick with the smell of smoke and metal, which only made her cough and splutter.

"Oh, there they are! Ruth! Ruth!" her mother started to wave frantically and, following her gaze, Eloise caught sight of her aunt and uncle moving through the crowds towards them, a porter following with an array of suitcases. Her aunt's face was pinched, her uncle's expression one of resigned fatigue.

"Flora, you don't have to whoop and holler like a fishwife," her aunt said as they reached one another and embraced stiffly. "I could see you perfectly well from where we were standing. Eloise, let me look at you. Hmm…you don't look as a blushing bride should."

"It's lovely to see you Aunt Ruth," Eloise replied. "You must be tired after such a long journey."

"Yes, well it's not every day your only niece gets married – finally. Oh Lord," her aunt tutted, "As I said, you do not bear the blush of a bride. I only hope you'll be better presented at the church."

"Leave her alone, Ruth," her mother said. "She's anxious enough as it is."

"Nothing to be anxious about. High time she found a husband, and from what I've heard, he seems a good catch. Now, are we going to stand around here all day?"

"No, Alexander has the surrey waiting outside. Can the porter bring your bags?"

"Of course he can! Let's go!" Her aunt marched off in front, her mother scurrying behind her, leaving Eloise to fall into step with her uncle.

"How are you, Uncle Arthur?"

"As well as can be expected, my dear," he replied, in the tone of the long-suffering. "As well as can be expected."

Further conversation didn't appear to be forthcoming and she found herself gazing around at all the people hurrying back and forth, wondering where they were going and what their stories were. There were families, single travellers and even young lovers. She found her gaze captivated by a young couple holding one another in a tight embrace that made her question whether they were greeting or parting.

Tearing her gaze away, she was about to ask her uncle about the journey, when she suddenly felt herself bumped sharply from behind, causing her to drop her money purse and, turning, came face to face with a woman around her own age, a stricken expression on her face.

"I'm sorry," the woman gasped. "I'm so sorry."

Before Eloise could say anything, the woman turned and hurried away from her, and it was only as she bent to retrieve her purse that she noticed the item lying on the ground that had fluttered from the woman's hand. "Oh, wait you've dropped…" but the woman had gone, swallowed up by the crowd. Crouching, Eloise retrieved the item from the ground and, turning it over in her hand, saw that it was a one-way ticket to Denver, Colorado.

"Are you alright my dear?" She felt her uncle's hand on her arm, helping her back to her feet.

"Yes, yes I'm fine," she replied. Satisfied, he walked on ahead, leaving her to stare once more at the ticket in her hand.

Denver, Colorado.

"Lou! Lou, come on!"

Looking up, she saw her mother gesturing to her, her aunt's face marred by disapproval and so she pushed the ticket into the pocket of her dress and began to follow them once more. As they reached the entrance to the station, she suddenly caught sight of a gentleman in a railway worker's uniform and, quite unexpectedly, found herself moving over towards him.

"Excuse me?"

He looked up at her, "Can I help you, miss?"

"The…the train to Denver…"

"I'm afraid it's already left, miss. About an hour ago."

"Oh…oh well…"

"Next one's not until tomorrow morning, nine o'clock."

"Nine o'clock?" He nodded. "Thank you."

"Lou!" her mother appeared at her side, her expression one of mild annoyance. "What are you doing? We're all waiting for you."

"Nothing…" she heard herself stutter, "I was just…I'm sorry, I'm coming now." Glancing back at the gentleman, who touched his hat to her in response, she followed her mother back out into the sunshine and over to where her father was waiting with the surrey. Her aunt and uncle were already within, and she climbed in beside them, her aunt's complaints about the city and the heat washing over her as she slipped her hand into her pocket and felt the hard edges of the train ticket against her fingers.

Colorado Springs

Hank made his way down the corridor, glancing at each door in turn as he passed it, pausing briefly at the door of the bedroom that had used to belong to Myra. Another girl, Olive, had taken it soon after Myra had left and he reached for the door handle, poised to turn it, enter and claim what was rightfully his. Then he stopped and stepped back. For all her prettiness and eager flattery, the girl wasn't Myra and, right at that moment, comfort with another didn't hold any lasting appeal.

He knew Myra was happy now, or at least happier than she had been. He could see it in her face every time he happened to catch a glimpse of her. She would walk down the street dressed in her respectable clothing, smiling and offering greetings to everyone, or she would cling onto Horace's arm and gaze up into his face, eyes shining with love.

Why had she never looked at him that way? He had given her everything she had ever wanted and never asked for anything in return except what he was legally due under her contract. Like he had told her, it was just business, employer and employee, different and separate from his feelings for her, man to woman. She wasn't stupid, how could she not have seen that?

Making his way to his own room, he lay down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. He wanted her to be happy, but not like this, not at the expense of his own feelings. He was twice, three times the man Horace would ever be and yet…

He wasn't sure how long he had lain there. Sleep didn't come in the way that it normally did which told him that perhaps he did need to relieve himself in some way, rid himself of her. There had been no-one since he had last lain with her and perhaps that was the problem.

"Hi Hank," Olive said, sitting up eagerly in the bed when he entered the room. "Something I can do for you?"

"Yeah," he replied, dropping his gun belt on the ground. "Lie there and shut up."