Six

“Put her down!” Clarence Philbrick said.

The cowboy looked at Clarence but kept his hold on May. “Mind your own business, son,” he said, though he was not even twenty.

“I’d hate to have to whip you right here in the street,” the Vermonter said, “but I will if you don’t let her go.” He looked at the trail boss, and the older man simply backed away a couple steps and leaned on the rail of the whorehouse porch.

The cowboy let May slide out of his grasp, and she sprang to the steps. “Stranger,” the cowboy said, “if you was to try whippin’ me, and I ever found out about it, I’d kick your ass all over the prairie.”

Clarence cocked his arms and showed his fists. “I’ll risk you finding out.”

The cowboy put his hands on his hips and sized up his opponent. He looked at the trail boss.

“What are you waitin’ on?” the older man said. “You been wantin’ a fight all day.”

The young cowboy grinned and took his coat off, throwing it aside. “Ain’t you gonna get ready?”

“I believe I am ready,” Clarence replied. The gold coins sewed into his sleeves were going to slow his punches somewhat, but he didn’t dare take the coat off here.

“All right,” the cowboy said. He raked his boot in the dirt like a bull, got wild eyed, and rushed the Vermonter, growling to the tune of ringing spurs.

Clarence stepped gracefully to one side to avoid the rush and jabbed the cowboy in the side of the jaw as he tried to swerve. The cowboy stumbled to one side and plowed headlong into the dirt.

The trail boss laughed. “Lovin’ or fightin’, you don’t last long, do you, boy?”

The cowboy scrambled to his feet. “Stand still this time!” he ordered. He set his smarting jaw and came at Clarence again, more carefully now. Just as he drew within striking distance, he took one big step and swung the pointed toe of a boot at the Vermonter’s groin.

The kick was not well disguised, but it still took Clarence off guard, and he had to hump his spine and spring backward to evade the worst. The boot caught him in the stomach, and the cowboy’s fist clobbered him over the back of the head, but Clarence latched onto the leg and yanked upward with everything he had, throwing the cowboy so hard that dust flew out from under him when he hit.

The trail boss whistled a laugh up his throat and slapped his thigh.

Clarence circled and went back to his kind of fight, his fists waiting. When the cowboy sprang, he ran hard at the Vermonter, the whites of eyes and teeth showing his anger. This time Clarence used the momentum. He stood his ground, leaned into the attack, and snapped a jab into the cowboy’s nose. Blood spurted as the drover stood up, and Clarence followed with a hard right that made the cowboy’s knees buckle.

“All right, stranger,” the trail boss said, stepping between the two. “That’s enough.”

Clarence stepped away and let the older man help the cowboy to his feet.

“Somebody was gonna have to do that sooner or later today,” the boss said, looping the bloody cowboy’s arm over his shoulder. “I’m just glad it wasn’t me.” He winked at Clarence, ignored May, and took the young drover away.

May buckled her shoe and stood on the steps. “Thanks,” she said, looking at the ground, avoiding Clarence’s eyes. She was grateful, but for all she knew, this man might treat her rougher than the cowboy.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied.

They stood awkwardly in silence as a steam whistle wailed far away at the depot. “My name’s Clarence Philbrick,” he said, thrusting his hand toward her.

“May Tremaine.” She briefly touched his hand.

He took a good look at her for the first time. Her face was doll-like, blushing about the cheeks, brown eyes matching swirls of hair. He had kept in his mind, since leaving Vermont, a vague notion of courting Western women, though he knew they were few. It just went to prove his instincts. Yes, things were going to pan out here.

“Well, you can go on in now,” May said, feeling uneasy under his stare.

Clarence looked at the whorehouse door and the red curtains in the window. “In there?” he said, trying to sound astounded. “You don’t think … I was just walking back to town from camp. Just passing through this way.”

“Well, so was I,” she said. “My feet hurt, so I sat down here for a minute. I didn’t know…” She made a remote gesture toward the door.

Clarence took his hat off and raked his hair back. “I was going to have some supper,” he said. “Would you think me too forward if I asked you to join me? My treat. I just got paid.” He cringed inwardly. Yes, of course she’ll think you’re too forward. You just met her, you idiot.

May started to decline, but a hunger pang stabbed her stomach, and she got practical. “I’d like that,” she said. “I don’t know anybody here.” She stepped down from the stairs, smiling through the torture of each stride.

They walked to a seemlier quarter of town, May trying her best to hide the limp.

“Did you get hurt back there?” Clarence asked.

“I’m wearing new shoes,” she said.

In the café, they talked about where they were from, but neither cared to volunteer a reason for coming west.

May tried to remember her manners as she ate, though she was starving. “Where did you learn to fight like that?” she asked, moving her plate to cover some gravy she had slung onto the checkered tablecloth.

“I was on the boxing team in college.” He chuckled. “Some of those tactics that cowboy used took me off guard. Those would have been considered poor form where I’m from.” He noticed calluses on May’s hands as she held a fried chicken leg daintily in her fingers.

After Clarence paid, he stood with her on the boardwalk for an awkward moment. “Can I walk you home?” he asked.

“No, thank you,” she said. She had to wonder what he meant by that. He had been a perfect gentleman so far, but she had seen them blink and become predators. Still, she didn’t want to part company just yet. If ever there was a time to harness that mystery that made men desire her, this seemed to be it. “Actually, I don’t…”

Clarence waited. “Yes?” He saw that she felt uneasy and embarrassed, and the truth dawned on him. “You don’t have a place to stay, do you?”

She shook her head. This was very risky. She was vulnerable now. “Don’t you worry about me. I’ll make out all right.” She felt ridiculous. What could a college boy from Vermont possibly see in her?

“Do you have any money?”

She shook her head again.

He reached into his pocket.

“No,” she said, surprising herself with the firm tone. “You’ve done enough for me. I won’t take any more from you.” She would go back to that house of red curtains before she became a beggar.

Clarence let his money drop back into his pocket and put his hand on his chin. “I can’t very well leave you out here on the street.”

“I’ll take care of myself. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Wait a minute,” Clarence said. “I may have an idea. Are you determined to stay in Denver?”

She shrugged. “I don’t have to stay anywhere.”

“Are you religious?”

May’s eyebrows pushed together, her curiosity sharpening. “I used to like to go to church. Why?”

“I hear there’s a group of pilgrims camped up on Clear Creek. They’re going over the mountains to establish a new town. What if we go up there and see what they’re about? Maybe they’ll take you in.”

May tilted her head forward and looked at him. She felt the dry air parching her lips. “Pilgrims?” she said.

“It’s a church. They’re on a pilgrimage to find a new town site. That’s all I know about them, but it wouldn’t hurt to find out more, would it?”

“I guess not.” It was a hope worth considering, only she didn’t feel much like walking all the way up Clear Creek with her feet smarting so.

He took her by the elbow and guided her to a bench on the boardwalk. “Wait here.”

“Where are you going?” she said. It felt good to get off her feet, so she sat down.

“I’ll be right back.” He trotted away down the street and turned a corner.

May didn’t know quite what to make of Clarence Philbrick. First he wants to walk her home, then he wants to give her over to a bunch of pilgrims. She had heard about the group on Clear Creek. She read something in the paper, too. An editor had ridiculed them, calling them “cur-istians” because they allowed mingling of the races. They had even taken in a Mexican Catholic since arriving in Denver.

She sighed as a man passed her on the boardwalk, glanced up and down at her, and tipped his hat. She ignored him. Where had Clarence gone, anyway?

It was true that she had enjoyed going to church before. People were nice there. Men were on their best behavior. She liked the music, too, though she sang in such a small voice that she could scarcely hear herself. What would it be like to establish a town? A lot of hard work, probably, but she was used to that from the farm.

She had sat on the bench for several minutes when it dawned on her that maybe Clarence wasn’t coming back. That was odd. He had seemed so sincere. Well, now she was on her own tonight. Her feet were too sore to walk all the way up Clear Creek to the campground of the Church of the Weeping Virgin. Where was she going to sleep? God, not the wagon yard. The thought sickened her now for some reason. Dark was coming on quickly, though, and she had to think of something.

She heard a buggy whip crack and saw a nag pull a runabout around the corner. Clarence had the reins! She stood to meet him, forgetting her aching feet. He drove the horse to the edge of the boardwalk and pulled in the reins.

“Where on earth did you get that?” she said, a genuine smile showing her rows of perfect teeth.

“Hired it. Come on, let’s go meet the pilgrims.”

She took her skirt in her hand as she stepped into the buggy. “How much did it cost?”

“A rattletrap like this? Not enough to worry about. I didn’t expect you to walk all the way up there with blisters on your feet.”

He cracked the whip, and May surged ahead with the Vermonter, feeling like a gliding hawk moving effortlessly through the clapboard canyons of Denver.