Annie had seen Denver before, but never this Denver.
This was her thought the next day as the six-person horse caravan proceeded past bustling Union Station, a soaring Victorian marvel with its huge clock tower. Annie's ears were lanced by a cacophony of train whistles blaring, steam engines chugging, and people shouting in a mishmash of different languages. Arriving passengers, many of them immigrants, poured from the terminal, the quaintly clad people towing along everything from children, trunks, and crates to violins, rocking chairs, and even birdcages. The throng stampeded toward the waiting mule trolley cars at the nearby barn of the Denver City Railway Company. Beyond the cars stretched long rows of magnificent three- and four-story Victorian office buildings along Seventeenth Street.
Annie and the others navigated their horses through the crowd, proceeding down Wynkoop to Eighteenth, where they turned south. A jumble of riders on horseback, carriages, trolley cars, even a few brave souls on high-wheeler bicycles, clogged the street. On the sidewalks fronting the brownstone buildings, citizens ranging from scruffy miners and prospectors to gentlemen and ladies in Victorian finery trooped along. On this overcast fall day, Annie was shocked by the brownish gray haze that hung everywhere, a noxious-smelling mix of soot from thousands of chimneys and sulfurous fumes from the smelters north of town. And she had assumed pollution was a twentieth-century phenomenon!
Soon the Victorian splendor of the Windsor Hotel loomed ahead of them. The five-story Gothic marvel, forged of native Colorado stone and crowned by a jaunty tower flying an American flag, proudly occupied the corner of Eighteenth and Larimer.
Amazed, Annie pointed ahead and spoke to Sam. "That's where you live?"
"Yep," he replied proudly, jerking his thumb toward another massive building across the street. "And yonder is the Barclay Building, which houses the temporary State House."
In awed tones, Rosie asked, "Is that where you'll be meetin' with the gov'ner, Sam?"
"Sure is, ma'am."
"How very convenient," murmured Annie. "And I must say I'm impressed by your dapper digs, Mr. Noble."
"Well, I don't get much chance to live in a civilized manner," he admitted with a wry grin.
"So you make up for it when you come here, eh?" As the group reined in their mounts before the hotel, Annie eyed the Windsor doorman in his impeccable red uniform and matching cap, then glanced askance at her own grimy shirt and ratty jeans, and the equally grungy attire of the others. "Are we just going to march in there, all of us looking like the cat dragged us in, and with two prisoners in tow?"
"Sugar, they know I'm a bounty hunter," Sam explained. "Hell, the Windsor's seen the likes of Ulysses S. Grant with his hard-drinking ways, and Buffalo Bill Cody. So believe me, they've had more than a few sets of boots spreading manure on their fine imported carpets, and they ain't snobs about it. It won't be the first time I've arrived here with a desperado in tow. Heck, they sometimes allow me to lock up my prisoners in the tack room of the carriage house till I can fetch them over to the county jail."
Willie and Charlie grumbled to each other.
Dismounting, Sam untied the captives but linked the two men's wrists together with handcuffs. The unkempt group gathered their belongings and marched toward the stately entrance.
Just as Sam had predicted, the doorman smiled and tipped his hat. "Why, good afternoon, Mr. Noble," he greeted Sam in a British-accented voice. "Good to have you back, sir. I trust you and your friends are well today?"
"We're fine, thank you, Mertson," answered Sam.
"Splendid, sir. I'll just summon the stable master to see to your mounts." The doorman glanced dubiously at Charlie and Willie, his gaze pausing on their linked wrists. He coughed. "And I assume you'll want to secure these—er—two gentlemen—in the carriage house for now?"
"You bet." While Charlie and Willie groaned, Sam winked conspiratorially at Annie. "What'd I tell you? Sugar, why don't you, Rosie, and Jim mosey on inside, and I'll join you as soon as I—er—secure my prisoners?"
"Our pleasure," answered Annie, fighting laughter at glimpsing this "refined" side to Sam's nature.
Passing through the ornate door Mertson had opened, Annie, Rosie, and Jim entered the lobby. The scattered gentlemen smoking or reading newspapers in the lavish salon took little note of their arrival. But the newcomers stood transfixed. As if they'd just entered a stately cathedral, none spoke, all overwhelmed by the incredibly opulent setting.
The lobby was gigantic, softly lit, and decorated in muted shades of gold and mauve. Massive crystal chandeliers glittered above tufted velvet settees, brocade-covered walls, and rosebuds floating in sterling silver bowls placed on priceless carved mahogany tables. Beyond the handsome front desk, a massively ornate grandfather clock ticked softly next to a stunning carved staircase that curved toward the upper stories.
Annie and the others tiptoed about, sinking their shoes into plush Wilton carpets and admiring their superbly defined reflections in diamond dust mirrors.
Rosie actually gaped over an ornately carved brass spittoon. "My stars, folks!" she cried. "I ain't never seen a gaboon fancier than a spinster's Sunday punch bowl!"
Jim and Annie were chuckling over her unabashed reaction as Sam reappeared. Gesturing about them, he asked modestly, "Handsome place, eh?"
"Handsome?" scoffed Rosie, turning to him. "Why, Sam Noble, this is the purtiest sight I ever seen in Denver, and I'll have you know I'm countin' Mattie Silks' fancy whorehouse!"
As several gentlemen in the lobby raised eyebrows in disapproval of Rosie's last ribald comment, Annie stifled giggles, and Sam hastily escorted his guests away. They passed the lavish drawing room and stunning ladies' ordinary, then proceeded up the stairs to his suite on the third floor.
Inside the sitting room, Annie, Rosie, and Jim stared in awe at green velvet rococo furniture and a beautifully patterned mauve-and-green carpet. An opened doorway provided a tantalizing glimpse of an elegant bedroom with a satin-festooned brass bed and a white-tiled bathroom with a clawfoot tub.
"My law, ain't this grand!" cried Rosie, plopping down on a velvet settee.
"It is indeed," agreed Annie, joining her.
Glancing at Jim, Sam stroked his stubbled jaw. "I reckon we'd best get cleaned up before we try to meet with the governor. I got a spare suit that should fit you; then afterward we can go downstairs, telephone Ben Eaton, and get us a shave and haircut. How 'bout it, friend?"
"Sounds fine to me," Jim replied. He eyed Annie and Rosie apologetically. "That is, if the ladies don't mind our washing up before they do."
"Mind, my butt!" declared Rosie. "Annie and me can deal with some trail dust for a spell. You boys just go get me my pardon so we can all have us some fun."
"I agree," seconded Annie.
After the men left the suite wearing stylish suits, Rosie and Annie bathed and changed into more respectable attire. Rosie donned the blue calico dress Annie had recently lent her, and Annie put on one of the black silk frocks she'd worn in Rowdyville while pretending to be a preacher's wife.
The two women were visiting in the sitting room when the men returned. Rosie and Annie gasped at the sight of their clean-shaven faces and neat haircuts. "Honey, didn't we choose us a couple of fine-lookin' fellars?" Rosie declared.
"We sure did," Annie answered, admiring Sam in his striped brown suit and gold moiré vest, and eyeing Jim in his equally dapper black frock coat, silver satin vest, and gray trousers.
"While we were downstairs, I registered Jim and Rosie for their own room," Sam announced. "And I called the governor. He said to come right over. He'll fit us in as soon as possible. We'll just fetch Willie and Charlie from the carriage house and be on our way." Sam approached Annie and handed her some cash and the key to the suite. "Why don't you and Rosie go shopping for some pretty new duds? There's plenty of nice department stores over on Sixteenth. With luck we can have us a celebration tonight."
Glancing at Rosie, who appeared delighted at the prospect, Annie nonetheless bit her lip. "If you think it'll be safe for Rosie."
Sam laughed. "Honey, this is a respectable part of town. Ain't nobody looking for Rosie here, I'd expect. You two just leave the key under the carpet in front of the door, in case we return before you do—and mind your manners while you're out."
Tossing Sam a chiding glance, Rosie rushed over to hug Jim. "Take care, darling. You look so dang handsome I ain't sure I can part with you."
"We'll be back soon, dear," Jim replied solemnly, squeezing his wife's hand. "I promise."
Rosie turned sternly to Sam. "No detours to Market Street, now."
"With you two pretty fillies waiting for us?" Sam asked in outrage. "No way in hell."
***
After the men left, the ladies primped a while longer, then departed to go shopping. They strolled over to Sixteenth, where they marveled at all the beautiful buildings—the classically designed post office, the massive county courthouse, the posh new department stores. They lingered for a long moment in front of the Tabor Grand Opera House at the corner of Sixteenth and Curtis. The structure was fashioned on the grandest possible scale, five stories of red brick accented by white limestone. Along the lofty roofline, a stately tower and rows of mock turrets more than satisfied the Victorian fetish for rococo whimsy.
Annie was drawn to the marquee stating that Lillian Russell would perform tonight in Gilbert and Sullivan's Patience. "Why don't we surprise the boys and see if we can get tickets?" she asked excitedly.
"Sounds fine to me," agreed Rosie. "I reckon my Jim must miss the finer things. He was brought up right well."
But, to the dismay of both women, the clerk at the box office informed them that the performance had been sold out weeks ago. "Oh, well," Annie said as they walked away. "We can still have a nice dinner tonight, can't we?"
"We'll have us one humdinger of a celebration," agreed Rosie, clutching Annie's arm.
The women stopped at the nearby Fair Department Store to shop for dresses. An hour later, they emerged wearing huge grins and carrying two enormous boxes. They had bought nearly identical gowns, Annie's of blue satin and Rosie's of gold, and had also purchased satin slippers and costume jewelry to complement their frocks.
Spotting a nickel trolley car parked at the corner, Annie exclaimed, "Hey, why don't I treat us to a trolley ride before we return to the hotel?"
"You got yourself a deal!"
The women boarded the car, which luckily was only half occupied. They parked their boxes on one bench and sat together across the aisle, with Rosie by the window. The trolley wound its way past Capitol Hill, the raised ground Henry C. Brown had donated for a permanent state capitol, and east through the fashionable surrounding area known as Millionaire's Row. Annie marveled at Rosie's expressions as she gaped at street after street of mammoth Victorian mansions with high slate roofs, stained-glass windows, fanciful turrets, and railed galleries, and at vast manicured lawns sporting elegant sculpture gardens, gleaming fish ponds, and brilliant strutting peacocks.
"Wait till Jim sees all this!" Rosie gasped. "He'll think we've died and gone to heaven."
Annie squeezed Rosie's hand, feeling a moment of sublime joy at giving her great-great-grandmother, who had suffered so much, these moments of innocent pleasure. "I think we're going to have to stop for ice cream sundaes before we go back," she announced.
***
They did, stopping in at White and McMahan's Drugstore, joining the Victorian ladies who sat sipping nickel phosphates in their sedate dresses and feathered hats.
Savoring a bite of ice cream smothered in chocolate syrup, Rosie glanced at Annie. "How are you doing, honey?"
Taken aback, Annie replied, "Oh, I'm fine."
Frowning, Rosie set down her spoon. "Well, somethin's been frettin' me."
"What?"
With a sigh, Rosie admitted, "I reckon I've been downright selfish, lettin' you and Sam solve all me and Jim's problems and not givin' a thought to yours."
"Rosie, no one expected that, considering all you and Jim have endured," Annie replied sincerely.
Rosie nodded, but her brow remained furrowed. "Yeah, I know we been through hell, but things are looking better thanks to you and Sam. 'Ceptin' I'm worried about you now."
"Me?" Annie protested, laughing.
Rosie regarded Annie soberly. "Honey, if me and Jim get our lives all worked out, where does that leave you?"
Annie released a heavy breath. "To tell you the truth, I'm not sure."
"Reckon you'll marry Sam?"
She smiled, pleasantly surprised by the question. "What makes you ask that?"
Rosie playfully tapped Annie's forearm. "It's plain to see you think that man hung the moon. And Jim says he's sure Sam is plumb sold on you."
Annie nodded. "We'd love to stay together, but it's complicated."
"Figure I'm too ignorant to understand?" asked Rosie with an air of hurt.
"No, not at all," Annie quickly reassured her. "It's just that—well, I'm from a different time—"
"So you say."
"And Sam and I think differently, too. He wants a wife who'll be content to stay home while he goes off on his adventures."
Rosie cackled. "I'll allow that man is prideful and strong-willed, but we both know you're woman enough to tame him."
"I just wish taming him were enough," Annie confessed. "I have no idea what our futures will really hold."
Rosie squeezed her hand. "Honey, you can count on Jim and me. You'll always have a home with us."
Annie smiled with pure gratitude. "Thank you. You're a dear, but—"
"It's complicated?"
Annie nodded.
Rosie's expression grew thoughtful. "Honey, have some faith. I know things will turn out all right for you and Sam. If you're doubtful, just take a gander at me. Any fool coulda seen my life was in the slop bucket—but look at the miracle you and Sam brung me, reuniting me with my darlin' Jim."
Annie beamed. "I know. Seeing the two of you back together has been one of the biggest triumphs of my entire life. And it does reaffirm my faith."
Leaning closer, Rosie confided, "Whatever powers brung you here, honey, I don't think the Almighty's ready to drop you in the fat just yet."
Annie smiled. For once Rosie seemed very wise, very much like a grandmother.
When the women arrived back at the suite, Sam and Jim were already there, smoking cheroots in the sitting room. Both hastened to help the women with their boxes, then presented them with bouquets of flowers. Sniffing the festive blooms and spotting the broad grin on Sam's face, Annie knew at once that the visit with the governor had gone well.
"So tell us all about it!" she exclaimed.
Exuberant, Sam turned to Rosie. "Governor Eaton was just wonderful. He wants to see you tomorrow morning. I think he's ready to grant you a pardon."
"Sweet Jesus be praised!" Rosie cried, hugging first Sam, then Jim.
"Oh, this is great!" Annie cried, also embracing Sam. "Now I want you to start at the beginning and tell us all about the meeting."
Sam stuck his thumbs in his vest pockets. "Well, first off, I explained the basic situation."
"You did?" Perturbed, Annie asked, "How did you explain me?"
"Well, I figured it was best to follow Rosie's lead and tell him you and her are distant kin."
"Good thinking," agreed Annie.
"Anyhow, I explained how you and me knew Rosie was in trouble and wanted to help her, how we found her in Rowdyville and learnt her sad tale. Next Jim, Charlie, and Willie all told their stories; then the governor asked a few questions and thought it all over." Sam's face lit with pleasure. "And it appears he's fixing to see everything our way. In fact, Ben said he's been right suspicious of Royce Rowdy for some time, and he'd like to see him face justice."
"Sam, that's fantastic!" exclaimed Annie.
"Can the governor really do that, make sure Rowdy's arrested?" asked Rosie anxiously.
"He can sure give the authorities a nudge in the right direction," Sam replied.
Rosie hugged Jim again. "Darlin', I'm so. happy!"
"And I'm greatly relieved, sweetheart," replied Jim, kissing Rosie's brow. "I just don't know what I would have done if the governor wasn't willing to help us."
"Yeah, but I ain't pardoned yet," Rosie reminded him.
Sam touched her arm. "Don't worry. I think the meeting tomorrow will be mostly a formality. I reckon Ben just wants to be sure you're ready to become an honest citizen."
"We'll hope so," Rosie replied.
Jim squeezed her hand. "Everything will be fine."
"By the way, where are Charlie and Willie?" asked Annie. "Back at the carriage house?"
Sam chuckled. "Nope. I'm friends with the Arapahoe County sheriff, so those two trail rats is languishing at the jail right now. The sheriff promised to have a deputy deliver 'em up to Central in a few days."
"I'm glad we're through babysitting those cowpokes," put in Rosie, pulling a face. "They smelt."
As Jim and Annie chuckled, Sam snapped his fingers. "Oh, I almost forgot—Jim and I have another surprise."
"Yes?" Annie asked breathlessly. "I don't see how you can top Rosie being on the verge of getting a pardon."
"Reckon we can come close, don't you, Jim?" Sam slyly asked the other man.
"Reckon we can," Jim agreed.
"What is it, Sam?" Annie demanded.
Mischief danced in his eyes. "Hope you two girls bought some mighty fine duds, 'cause Jim and I have a treat in store for you tonight."
Annie balled her hands on her hips and slanted him a chiding glance. "Will you please end the suspense?"
"Yeah, Noble, spill the beans," teased Rosie.
Grinning, Sam dug in his pockets and pulled out a sheaf of tickets. "How 'bout we all get to watch Lillian Russell perform at the Tabor tonight—from the governor's private box?"
"You're kidding!" cried Annie. "Rosie and I tried to get tickets, but the performance was sold out!"
"Well, the governor and his Rebecca Jane have to miss the opera 'cause they've been invited to dinner at the Methodist bishop's house," Sam explained. "So when Honest Ben offered us the use of his private box, Jim and me didn't hesitate."
Annie chortled in joy and Rosie clapped her hands. "So, what are you folks waitin' for?" Rosie cried. "Let's all get gussied up and step out on the town!"