Eugenia's Embrace

Making her way onward, Eugenia saw the flakes begin to fall from the sky once again. Even that increased her anxiety about her outing. She loved the fresh crispness of the breeze as it blew against her face, even though she was trembling from the coldness of it. She pulled her cape snugly around her and clasped her fingers together inside her muff as she stepped up on the walkway that led her in front of the many establishments that she had only been able to observe from her bedroom window back at The Towers.

Walking slowly, she looked through the paned windows, wanting to go inside, try on, and even possibly choose a dress all by herself. So far, all that she wore had been hand-picked by Frederick.

Then one window in particular captured her gaze. It was a display of gold necklaces and rings with diamonds clustered on each, teasing the eyes in sparkling blues and purples. Frederick had given her a gift of pearl earrings and necklace, but they were nothing in comparison to what lay before her eyes now. She hadn't ever thought much about possessing jewelry—until this moment. She now knew that it had to be a part of her attire, some day, in the future. It could only enhance her lovely dresses of silk and satin.

She turned from the window and moved onward. Her eyes moved around her, marveling at the emptiness of the walks and streets this afternoon. Normally, Cripple Creek was a hubbub of activity. But today, only a few women and men hurried on by her, with their heads bent downward, against the blowing snowstorm that had suddenly increased in fury.

A lone black buggy drawn by a magnificent chestnut mare made its way through the thickening slush on the street, and a cable car clattered by, empty of people. And on the far end of this street, a stagecoach was unboarding in front of the Hillcrest Hotel.

Brushing the snowflakes from her face, Eugenia stopped and stared in the direction of the Hillcrest Hotel, remembering the first day that she had entered there, and why, and thinking that she had seen Drew. It was hard now for her to recall the one night with Drew. So many things had happened since then. As though he hadn't really truly existed. Possibly a figment of her imagination. The one thing she could recall, the knowledge that it had been a reality, was that moment of becoming a woman. That moment of heightened sexual gratification—the first time for her. It would always remain in her mind. She wasn't sure if it was a natural, decent thing for a refined lady to do, but she had been longing to have that sexual gratification once again.

Realizing that the snowstorm had become almost a blizzard, Eugenia held on to her hat, bent her head against the wind, and hurried back toward The Towers. She knew that by now she had surely been missed, but she didn't care. She would just have to show Frederick and Clarissa that she had a mind of her own, and would use it from now on, whenever she durn well pleased.

The aroma of smoke halted Eugenia's flight. She inhaled deeply and let her nose direct her to where it was coming from. Her eyes widened when she saw that the smoke was circling upward from beneath the closed front door of Cripple Creek's only jailhouse. She looked quickly from side to side and saw that no one else was anywhere near. She knew that she was the only person who was seeing this. Then the stillness of the day was shattered by loud yells coming from inside the jail.

Again, Eugenia looked around her. Almost in desperation. She wasn't sure if it would be wise for her, a defenseless woman, to enter this particular establishment. What if there were hardened criminals in there, just ready to attack her? And where was the sheriff? Why hadn't he run from the building yet?

Her heart skipped a few beats. Maybe the sheriff had become unconscious from the thickness of the smoke and was lying there in flames?

"Oh, my goodness," Eugenia said, after these thoughts. She hurriedly opened the front door of the jail, coughing wildly when a huge blast of smoke wrapped around her, burning her eyes, nose, and throat.

"In here

, lady," a man yelled loudly.

Eugenia squinted and peered through the smoke. It extended from the floor to the ceiling. But to her relief, no flames were yet visible to her eyes. She fell against a desk, then groped around to the back of it, discovering an empty chair. Then her eyes searched the floor, afraid at any moment she might see the body of the sheriff stretched out on it. But nothing.

"Damn it, lady," the same man yelled from somewhere in the jail. "Get the keys from that nail on the wall by the desk and get me out of here. I don't want to get burned alive."

Fanning the smoke away from her face, Eugenia could make out a man standing a few feet from her, behind bars. She hurried toward him, beginning to cough once again.

"Where's the keys?" this man blurted.

"I can't set you free," Eugenia argued. "You have to be an outlaw or you wouldn't be in here."

"Do you see that mattress in that next cell?" this man argued. "It's only smoldering now. From some jackass leaving a cigar butt on it. But it can set to flamin' any minute now. And I want out of here when it does."

"But the sheriff?" Eugenia whined.

"To hell with the sheriff," the man yelled. "I ain't no outlaw. Just stole a bit of gold dust that wasn't mine. Now will you get the keys and get me out of here?"

Eugenia moved closer and took a better look at this man who she was considering setting free. Now that she was much closer, and could see through the smoke, something grabbed at her heart. Without the beard could this clean-shaven man actually be Drew? Her heart began to pound rapidly, remembering those blue, penetrating eyes, the black curls of hair on his head, and the one eyebrow that had most of the hair missing because of a scar. Feeling faint from her discovery, she grabbed for the bars he was standing behind.

"Ah, come on, lady," Drew snarled. "Don't you go a faintin' on me before you get me out of this hell of a mess." Then he stopped in mid-sentence, his eyes widening in wonder.

"Well, I'll be damned," he said softly, his eyes traveling up and down the length of her body. "Could it be… ?"

"Drew, is it really you?" Eugenia asked, half sobbing.

"Eugenia? Is… it… you?"

"My God," she gasped. "It is you. Drew, I've searched for you in every man's face I've seen. And now. Here? In jail?"

"Hon, get me out of here," he drawled. "Then I'll explain."

"But the sheriff?"

"Damn it, Eugenia. Do you have to be so proper at a time like this? Get me out of here. Then I'll explain."