Finally, the edge of the town was reached. The mule carried Eugenia through a shallow, meandering creek, then through some more rock-covered ground until she pulled her mule to a halt.
Eugenia's eyes studied the area around her. There were two levels of streets for her to choose from. An upper and lower. She chose to take the lower because that was the street that she was already facing. She thrust her knees into her mule's sides and sat, looking from side to side, as she began to be carried down a street lined on both sides with houses.
Disappointment surged through Eugenia. She expected to see beautiful mansions, instead, what she saw were small houses and shacks and sheds made of colorless, rough boards. Some even had makeshift tin roofs. And the stink surfacing from the privies that stood behind them made Eugenia's nose curl and her eyes almost begin to water.
A few more feet down the road, she began to feel more encouraged, eyeing the row of dwellings that appeared to be in a much better condition. But they were so small. She couldn't see how any family could live in any of them. An
d strangely, there were girl's names painted above each door of these houses. She slowly read the name "Doll" above one of these doors, and watched in wide-eyed wonder as a woman opened the door and stepped out onto the board sidewalk, with hands on her hips, looking in Eugenia's direction. Then to Eugenia's surprise, this woman suddenly threw her head back and began to laugh and point at Eugenia.
Feeling embarrassment creeping through her, Eugenia realized that she was still on her mule and knew that she did have to make quite a sight for people to stare at. With aching joints, she scooted from atop the mule, and continued to make her way forward, letting the mule trail behind her. She took a backward glance at the woman who she was leaving behind. Eugenia had never seen anyone painted up as much as this person. The woman's lips were bright red, matching the coloring of her cheeks, and even the hair that was stacked high on her head. And she was so scantily attired, with the front of her dress so low that even the nipples of her large breasts were nearly visible.
Eugenia turned her head quickly away and continued to move onward, studying the names on the doors of the several other small houses. They read, "Dot,"
"Lil,"
"Rosy," and on and on. She watched in silent wonder as a man came bustling from one of these houses, and when the door was shut behind him, she read the name of Eva. Then her eyes traveled to the open window of this house as a woman appeared. This woman's painted face was framed by the window, making her look almost unreal to Eugenia. But when this woman began to yell at Eugenia she knew that she was indeed real enough.
"Hey there, ugly," the woman yelled in shrill tones. "Watcha doin' on our street? You'd best get back to where you come from. No man would pay a sprinkle of gold dust to screw you."
Loud hysterical laughter followed Eugenia, making her glad to leave this part of town behind.
Watching the activity of people moving around her, Eugenia grew more aware of the mule trailing behind her. She spied a hitching post in front of a building that had a saloon sign hanging over the door, and took the mule and tied him securely to it. Then she stood watching. It appeared to her that Cripple Creek was a city of mustaches and hats. Not one man she saw passing by her was clean shaven, or even bearded, as she remembered Drew having been. The hat that each man wore was identical to Drew's, with a rounded top and a medium-sized brim encircling it.
As she continued to stand there, she could feel eyes on her. She turned and looked at her full reflection in the plate-glass window of the building behind her, and realized that she wasn't a pleasant sight to see. Her hair had become half-unbraided and her face shone back at her in red. Her eyes traveled downward. Her traveling dress was covered with dust and wrinkled, so that even the gathers had gathers. She shook the skirt of the dress, trying to make it more presentable, but sighed resolutely. It was no use. She would have to remain in this undesirable way until she found a place to stay for the night.
The clattering of hoofs drew Eugenia's attention from herself. It seemed the morning's activity of Cripple Creek was thickening. The squeaking of wooden wheels made Eugenia stop and stare openly at a coach drawn by two horses. When it stopped across the street from her, she watched as several richly dressed women stepped from it. Again she noticed their faces. They were painted in bright reds, not making them at all more attractive. But their dresses appeared to be of pure silk, and all of them dipped gracefully in at the waist, accentuating their bosoms. Eugenia watched as they walked away from the coach. They entered a building with "Dance Hall" painted on a large, front window. She shrugged and let her eyes wander around her.
On each side of the street there were all kinds of establishments. Hotels, dance halls, saloons, gambling halls, and other unlabeled buildings that stood with their false-fronted pine exteriors looming up into the air. It was as though she had stepped into a book, everything was typically western, making her want to explore some more.
She stepped out into the street, carrying her traveling bag, feeling out of place, since the main inhabitants of this particular street were male. Just missing a large pile of horse droppings, Eugenia stepped high, and hurried across the paved road. She looked downward onto the road and remembered thinking for so long that these roads would be paved in gold. She laughed. The roads were only of a gray, matted substance, with no alluring color glistening back at her at all. Her thoughts were shadowed by the laughter that had burst from Drew when she had asked about these streets of gold. She had to wonder, had he also walked down these same streets as she when he first entered the town? And where was he now?
Suddenly, all around her, the town seemed to come completely to life. Men were in throngs, coming in and out of the saloons, and loud music filled the air. Eugenia stepped up onto the rough board walks and hurried on her way, glad to see that the designs of the houses were improving, appearing to be more what she had dreamed of. One in particular caught her eye. It was a two-storied, painted white brick establishment, with delicate lacy curtains hanging at each of its cantilevered windows. On the outside hung a sign. She read "The Old Homestead Parlour." Then again… more slowly… "The… Old… Homestead…" She was reminded of her Papa and Mama's homestead.
Hunger pangs began to stir at the depths of her stomach, and she wondered if this parlor could possibly be a place where she could find her first meal in Cripple Creek. It looked and sounded friendly enough, and she certainly didn't want to go into any saloon to ask for food. She had read about these saloons, and knew that only undesirable women frequented them.
With her skirts lifted, she climbed the steps to the front door of The Old Homestead Parlour. It was so quiet, she had to wonder if anyone was even living there. She hesitated for only a moment, then knocked. When the door swung open, she gaped openly at the woman standing before her, who was tying the belt on a terrycloth wrap that was hanging loosely from her, exposing long, sagging breasts in the vee of the neckline. This woman's jet black hair cascaded in long waves across her shoulders, making her appear to be trying to be more youthful in appearance than in truth she was. And Eugenia knew that no amount of face powder or rouge could hide the deep lines around this woman's mouth and eyes. Eugenia felt a blush rising when she knew that she was also being studied with careful eyes.
"Yes? What can I do for you?" the woman asked, her eyes still assessing Eugenia, as though Eugenia was up for sale.
Eugenia swallowed hard. "I just arrived in town," she said quietly. "I was a wonderin' if you might have some spare food to share with me."
"Where did you travel from?" the woman asked, her eyes lighting up, pulling Eugenia on into the house.
"From 'round the mountain," Eugenia said, sighing with pleasure as she looked at the interior of the house. She had never seen such grand furniture or curtains. One fast sweep of the eyes found groups of different colored velveteen-covered chairs and sofas, and matching velveteen drapes at the windows. And the tables beside these weren't made by hand like her Papa's. They were of dark red mahogany, and polished until they shone like glass. Her hands covered her mouth when her eyes jerked upward, settling on a crystal chandelier above her head. It sparkled in purples and golds as the light reflected through it. She had never seen anything so beautiful in her entire life.
The woman began to walk around Eugenia, her eyes continuing to study her. "You traveled from around the mountain?" she asked, touching Eugenia here and there. "How did you manage to do that? Did you come with your parents?"
Eugenia flinched as this woman's fingers settled on her bosom. And she quickly stepped back when her fingers ventured to squeeze one of her breasts.
"Firm enough," the woman said, then backed away from Eugenia, frowning. "I asked you. Did you make this trip with family?"
"No, ma'am," Eugenia mumbled. "I came by myself." She was glad to see a faint smile surface on the woman's face. It made her less frightened of this strange-acting lady. And maybe now the woman would give her a bite to eat. Eugenia's knees were growing weak from the hunger. And she was even beginning to fee
l a bit lightheaded. She caught herself as she began to sway.
"What's your name, honey?" the woman asked, going to a table. She picked up a cigarette, placed it between her lips, and lit it.
"My name be Eugenia Marie Scott," Eugenia said, watching wide-eyed as the woman blew a large puff of smoke from her mouth. Eugenia had never seen a woman smoke before. And it made this woman look manly somehow.