Chapter 1

In a cavern, in a canyon,
Excavating for a mine,
Dwelt a miner, forty-niner
And his daughter - Clementine

CHORUS:
Oh my Darling, Oh my Darling,
Oh my Darling Clementine.
Thou art lost and gone forever,
Dreadful sorry, Clementine.

A long time ago, way back in the time of the famous California "Gold Rush", there lived a beautiful miner's daughter called Clementine. I have to make it abundantly clear that this sensuously nubile daughter of the far west was unique in a very special way because most of the females out in the gold fields were either whores or worn-out wives with no sparkle left in their weary eyes any longer.

Her impetuous ma was long gone, not in the permanent way of being deceased, but by taking off with some itchy-footed Cavalryman with a need to find a more comfortable existence in the drawing rooms of San Francisco society without a need for actually working in some dreary mining camp with rustic simplicity.

Clementine's ma was undisputedly a "hot" number and the rumor was that she had made a fool of her husband with almost every good-looking unattached male passing through the gold fields with a yen for finding a lot of the yellow stuff without really having to work for it like the actual miners similar to Clementine's hard-working dad.

It was really no surprise to anyone including Clementine that Mrs. Powell was finally running away to her "pie in the sky" dream about life in the upper crust of society and in the midst of rich and cultured people that set store by fancy duds and typical "nose in the air" attitudes. The fact that her new-found beau Lt. Ashbury was better at playing cards than actually shooting a pistol seemed perfectly suitable to her because she respected his ability to earn money with skills learned during his military career.

I first met Clementine at the assay office up near the American River not far from Folsom and Sutter's Mill where the first nuggets were found. She had this deep low sexy voice that sent shivers up your spine like a bobcat just jumped down from a tree-branch. She was standing real close to her Pa because there were some rough looking characters hanging around the place looking for naïve prospectors to fleece of their new wealth. It was hard to discern her figure because of the loose-fitting men's clothes with the baggy pants and high slogging boots which were needed if you stood anywhere near a sluice box.

My name is not important because this story is about Clementine and not about me.

Her Pa was a fine figure of a man. He was tall and handsome and you could tell from the way he kept his hand always near the handles of his six shooters that he was not one of those naïve dudes that hadn't yet lost their "back east" ways.

I was careful to keep my distance because I was certain he was on the alert for amorous minded gents willing to risk rejection because the prize was so tempting. It was easy to see that the flirtatious Clementine was used to the attention from the way she kept tugging at the wisps of softly flowing hair in front of her delicate ears.

The assay officer was tabulating the value of the dust pokes and his swift hands were watched closely by one and all to make certain none of the precious content was spilled or swiped by some dishonest soul.

I had several nice-sized nuggets in my waist belt but I hesitated to produce them because I didn't like the looks of some of the rough and heavily armed characters standing silently in the corners. I would just hang onto the finds until I got to the better protected miner's office in Sacramento.

Clementine was excited with the press of the heavily bearded men crowding the small office. Of course, most of them had not had the advantage of a bath for some time because they were too busy searching for the yellow stuff that guided their every motion. She really didn't mind the odor because it carried a certain thrill of masculine presence. Besides, she was with her doting father and he would protect her for any unseemly advances.

In a way she wouldn't mind of one of the dangerous looking types did force her to do something against her will because she certainly wouldn't find an eligible bachelor out in the dreary gold fields and muddy rivers where the dust seemed to gather.

She heard a pair of miners arguing about the "Mother Lode" that was supposed to be up in the foothills of the nearby mountains and that it was the legendary "El Dorado" of solid gold seams running though the rocky face of the silent mountains. She heard talk of "millions" and it made her start to quiver down low between her legs like some silly boy had inserted his grimy hand under her skirts to explore her virgin territory. The thought and the lure of the vast riches they discussed made her come closer to a true orgasm than when she did her best to rub her feminine slit under the covers in the dark of their lonely cabin. Sometimes she got so lonely; she considered asking her father to take her virginity. She was mortified at the incestuous thought and knew she would never do any such thing but it was a little exciting just to think about him holding her down and making her give up to him the secrets of her female core.

The tent where the fancy girls from San Francisco were making more gold than the miners was only a short distance from her window and she could sometimes hear them shouting encouragement to the miners that were plowing their gardens in exchange for some of their precious "pokes" of dust. She had visions of the girls flat on their backs with their legs up high taking all the miners had to give and hoping they got there fast so they could move on to the next customer.

Clementine had forged a sort of friendship with one of the tent girls that was more friendly and talkative than the others. She told Clementine that most of the miners were just lonely and looking for female companionship and they pretty much were satisfied with just poking her between her legs until they managed to fire off their loads with happy shouts of laughter. Sometimes they would spank her just to see if they could make her cry but she liked it so much she felt more like laughing than crying.