Julia and Becky struggled furiously in the darkness; at least Becky hoped her cousin was trying to struggle. I'm tied up with cloth, Becky reasoned, so why can't I get get myself free? At times, Becky heard some kind of muffled outcry, more whimpering than anything else. Julia has never been in a situation like this before, but then agin neither have I, Becky thought. Becky wracked her brain to try and figure a way out of this. Noise! That was it! It would have to be good, as they'd be stuck there until morning.
The head of the bed was against a wall. Quickly, she formulated a plan. Becky then slid herself to the foot of the bed. It was a long, laborious process , but she was finally able to get to the point where she could bring her legs up onto the bed. She moved so she could bend her knees easily and began to kick the wall. Each kick resounded loudly against the oaken paneling. Becky stopped kicking briefly, to gain some time to see if somebody was responding. She kicked at the wall again, but this time she heard a knock at the door. She resumed the kicking.
"Stop with the noise or I'll get the manager!" An iritated male voice demanded.
Becky kicked yet again. Fine, get the manager; get President Hayes or General Sheridan! Just as long as you get us loose!, was her way of thinking.
A short time later, Burke came in carrying a lighted kerosene lamp and a candle. He used the candle as a means to light the lamps in the room.
"Good Lord!" he exclaimed as the light became bright enough to see what was in the room. Another man, possibly the complainant, was with him. The newcomer's hair was tousled and his fine shirt opened and carelessly tucked into his trousers.
"Please forgive my anger," he said as he removed Julia's gag. "I had no idea what had happened to you."
Julia looked intently at the stranger. Despite the disheveled appearance, she found him to look handsome in the lamplight.
"I can't even begin to thank you, sir," she said hoarsely. "I don't even know your name. "
"Fulton. Henry Fulton, of San Francisco," the handsome stranger said.
"Any idea who did this to you, Becky?" Burke asked.
"Well, they wore masks, but it was the Colton brothers." Becky replied.
"Is that so?" Fulton said. "How would you know that?"
"Only the Coltons would be idiotic enough to wear masks and address each other by name."
" I'll see to it the sherriff finds out about those two," Burke promised.
With that, the two men left. Becky noticed Julia's face for the first time. Her cousin was ashen and still shaking
"Are you all right?" Becky asked.
"Oh, Becky, I was scared." She rushed up to Becky and began sobbing into her shoulder. "I don't belong in the West. You can have the mine, I'll go back to Boston, first chance I get."
"Hey, I was scared, too." Becky said "Well, I've lived in the West for many years. It's rougher than what you're used to, but you'll get by. At least get a look at the mine before you make up your mind."
"Very well. I'll at least see the mine."
"There you have it, girls." Brown said. "Right down there in black and white. The mine's yours, free and legal. I'll accompany you."
All of Julia's clothes--minus the misused petticoat--were piled into a buckboard and they made their way out toward the mine, with Brown riding his horse alongside. Julia was apprehensive, but that soon disappeared when she came up to the mine. It was a busy place, with several shafts and a refining plant for smelting the ore.
"Who works the mine?" Julia asked
"Immigrants, almost exclusively." Becky replied. "The Irish are the older ones, mostly. Now we get mainly Chinese, Slavs and Hungarians."
"Well, I suppose they're good for this sort of work." Julia said, somewhat snidely.
Becky was appalled at Julia's attitude. "It's the only kind of work they can find, for the most part. The kind of work folks whose families have been here a while won't even consider doing. Why, I'll bet the the only Irishers and Negroes you've ever met were servants, either yours or your Boston friends'".
Red faced, Julia nodded. "Is there a well or spring nearby?" she asked. "They must get dreadfully thirsty."
"Water has to be put in barrels on a wagon." Becky confirmed.
"Are all mines this bad?"
"No. Most are worse."
All this time, Brown had been a silent observer. "If you don't mind my doing so, I'll be heading back to town before my wife starts to worry."
"I've seen all I care to here, for one day." Julia commented.
"Fair enough," Becky said. She took the reins and they set off for the ranch.
Julia was surprised by the sheer size of the spread. It seemed to stretch from one mountain to another. Horses and cattle alike grazed in the pasture.
"Uncle Josh had started to tinker with the idea of raising cattle before he died," Becky explained as they pulled up to the house. "Haven't had a chance to see how it goes, though."
The buckboard was soon surrounded by ranch hands and other employees of the ranch. They semed friendly enough, with shouts of "How do you do?" and "Welcome, Miss Julia!" ringing throught the air.
"Get back to work, you no-accounts!" a gruff looking man said, with a hint of a brogue.
"Be nice, Mister Mahoney, or I'll get a new foreman!" Becky teased.
Mahoney smiled and took Julia's luggage. The two travellers dismounted from the wagon and started to enter the house. Julia met a young woman not too much older than herself, yet one who had a serious look about her.
"This is Magda Kruzek, our Cook and Housemaid." Becky explained. "Her father and brothers all work in the mine."
Becky had driven home another point, and Julia was only now beginning to understand how sheltered her life had been.
She rode contentedly along, unconcerned about the three riders approaching from the other direction. As the trio came closer, it looked as if they would not let her pass. She pulled back on the reins, and said, "Whoa, Lillybelle!" Only then did she notice all three riders were masked. Before she could react, two stopped, one on each side, and one grabbed the reins. "Just what is the meaning of this?" she demanded.
"Dismount!" The one with the blue bandanna mask ordered. Julia obeyed. He was not one of the Coltons, that was certain. The two dismoutnted as well, and the one in the red mask grabbed her.
"Hold on there, missy," Mr. Blue said, as he pulled a piece of rope from his saddlebag.
"Who are you people?" Julia insisted as her wrists were bound tightly in front of her.
"It don't matter what we're called." Mr. Red said, as he pulled a gag over her mouth, and pulled back on it sharply. Julia then felt the knot at the base of her skull. She looked at the third rider, who was still mounted, and said nothing the whole time; indeed, he never looked directly at her, as if he feared recognition. But how did they know? she asked herself, as a long piece of the rope was being wound around her upper body and cinched tight. She was then pushed to the ground, where Mr. Blue tied her ankles together. Finally, the third man made a contribution. He tossed a lariat to Mr. Red, who looped it over Julia's bound ankles, and pulled on it tight. Also he took one turn around, threaded the lariat through between her two bound legs. He then took the slack and tied it the the knob on Lillybelle's saddle.
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