Chapter 16

Rehabilitation

Spring 1865 - Denver City to New York City

As the days of winter passed with increasing and alarming tempo, Rose's circle of female friends hovered around the Tremayne's house almost constantly. Time and again, Rose and Amanda made plans for future visits. Ned, too, was not averse to seeing 'something of the world' once their mining operation came to an end, and Rose made sure to give them contact addresses.

In a way, Mary Tennison was even more attached to Rose whom she justifiably regarded as her savior. Amanda promised to take Mary under her own wings. Both women suspected that they were with child again, and this would strengthen their relationship.

With Scarlett Kennedy, Rose never developed a strong friendship. The two women were too different, both in their background and in their perspective. Things were different between Rose and Mildred Kennedy, the older of the Kennedy sisters. That young girl adored Rose. She felt stifled by her mother, and Rose's tales of the early prospecting days in Tarryall filled Mildred with an admiration that bounded on envy. They often played music together, Mildred on the piano she loved and Rose on her guitar. Millicent, the younger daughter would join them, and then Mildred would try her hand at Rose's guitar with which she became increasingly comfortable.

In the waning days of February, on a Sunday after church service, they had a small ceremony at the shelter where Rose passed her stewardship over to Mary Tennison. She gave out presents to the families, and in turn, the women gifted her a very well made quilt, to keep her warm on her impending travels. It was an emotional occasion, and even Prudence Pilkins was weeping openly.

In early March, Ned and Hiram Kennedy started out for Tarryall, to start mining operations for the year. They started with bleary eyes because of the farewell drink they had shared with Jim and Albert. For once, Jim abandoned his usual restraints, and the evening in the Belle Isabelle saloon turned out merry indeed. In spite of his raging hangover, Jim saw his friends and partners off on the next morning, but it took him two days to recover fully.

By mid-March, they turned over their house to the Kennedy family. The McGuinns received a severance pay from Jim, but for the time being, they decided to stay on and work for Mrs. Kennedy. Jim had rented rooms with Mrs. Sloan for the remainder of their stay, and it was fitting that they stayed with their first landlady again before their departure. Mrs. Sloan still received regular visits from Marshal Thomas, but she had resisted his courting so far, asking him to give up his office first. She did not want to be widowed a second time.

On April 3 1865, six bullion wagons, one chuck wagon, thirty militia, and the Tremayne's coach wagon formed a train and left for St. Louis. Both Rose and Raven insisted on riding part of the time, but Sam was happy enough to stay in the coach. She was a second mother to Bobby anyway, and she had never developed an affinity to horseback riding as strong as Rose's. Rose would wear her buckskin outfit most of the time, to the astonished looks of the militia men, and she carried her Navy Colt and her rifle at all times.

Free of the restrictions of city life for a few precious weeks, Rose enjoyed the travel thoroughly, riding at Jim's side in the mornings, accompanied by Raven. Raven had to restrict her time in the saddle, because her breasts, heavy with milk, began to hurt after a while. Nevertheless, she, too, drank in the clean morning air and seemed truly at ease for the first time in a year.

They averaged eighteen to twenty-two miles on the rough trail, encountering oncoming wagon trains at almost daily intervals. When they reached Cheyenne country, Jim and Rose would ride with their scout in the mornings. On one particular morning, seventeen days out of Denver City, they were ahead of the wagon train by a mile, riding with the scout. Raven was with them. They were cresting a small rise in the trail when they came face-to-face with a small band of Cheyenne. They were all warriors, no women or old people, but Jim spotted Roman Nose right away.

"Do you want to meet my friend?" he asked Rose and Raven, urging his mount forward.

"I may as well, it may be my last chance," Rose smiled. Raven just nodded.

Roman Nose must have recognized Jim, too, for he approached him alone. Jim raised his right hand.

"I greet you," he signaled.

"Greetings, English Jim! I see you return to your own hunting grounds?"

"I do."

"Are these your women?"

"The fire hair is my woman; the other is our friend Raven Feather. She is a daughter of the Oglala."

Roman Nose let his eyes rest on Raven for a heartbeat.

"She has no mate? She looks healthy."

"She is. Her mate was killed a year ago. We have known her for many seasons, and I offered her my lodge to stay."

"A pity. She should keep a warrior warm and comfortable. English Jim, we are not friendly with the Pale Faces."

"I have seen this. Does that hurt our friendship?"

Roman Nose shook his head emphatically.

"I gave you my sign; you are a friend. Continue your way in peace and return to the land of your fathers. Would all the people of your tribe do that, we could hunt the buffalo in peace again."

"I brought you a gift and a warning, my friend," Jim answered, feeling relief.

He reached for his saddle bag and retrieved a collapsible brass telescope, handing it over. Roman Nose looked it over.

"A looking glass?"

"Yes, you can see things from afar with it. Be careful and do not look into the sun with it, or it will burn your eye."

"This is a powerful gift, and you give me great standing with it! I must give you something in kind."

With that, he took off a necklace and handed it to Jim. The leather thong was threaded through a complete set of bear claws. It must have been one of Roman Nose' most prized possessions.

"Your gift bestows great honor to me. I shall wear it proudly and tell my son of our friendship in years to come."

Their hands clasped.

"What warning then?" Roman Nose asked.

"The Long Knives will roam these lands in great force. Their chief is dumb, but there are many of them. They will go to the South, and you and your people can evade them easily."

"They are not your friends?"

"Some are. I do not wish for my friends to kill each other."

"I shall tell my brothers. Some of them believe in the promises of the Hairy Faces. But my own band will follow me to the North. We may hunt with the Lakota this summer."

Jim smiled.

"This is a relief to me."

Roman Nose nodded.

"Safe travels, English Jim!"

"Safe travels and good hunting!" Jim returned.

Roman Nose rejoined his band and together they headed away from the trail and to the South. Jim fervently hoped they would be smart enough to avoid Chivington's Volunteer Cavalry.

"He really is your friend," Raven remarked. "He honored you with his gift. These are the claws of a great bear of the mountains. They are complete. He has killed it all by himself. What a hunter!"

"Yes, the thought came to me, too. I will keep this as a cherished possession."

The scout had not said a word, but now he chuckled.

"That fellow was Roman Nose. Can't say I'm not happy to see him leave us alone. He's a cunning fellow. Why'd you warn him of Chivington?"

"Chivington's a jackass, and I don't mind you telling him I said so. I hate to think what would happen if that idiot had to fight Roman Nose and his men."

"True enough. I scouted for the man once, and there wasn't a day that he did not start by drinking spirits. Well, let's wait for the wagons and tell them that Injuns are about."

For the next days, they warned all oncoming wagon trains of the Cheyenne. Much as he saw Roman Nose as a friend and kindred soul, Jim did not want any of the innocent settlers to be his victims.

When they came closer to Independence, Jim and Rose debated over visiting the city. Rose was conflicted. She feared discovery and the shame associate with it. Jim, however, had a different idea, and finally, he was able to convince Rose.

Justice Jeremiah Alberts was enjoying a quiet day in his chambers. Ever since the Bunions had met their ends, his life and his work had been so much easier. He still had a bad conscience over some of the verdicts he had handed down under the Bunions' pressure: farmers he had deprived of their lands, merchants he had denied their rightful claims, and people sent to prison for the unforgivable sin of opposing one of the Bunions. When he heard the knock on the door, he absentmindedly called, "Come in!"

The woman who entered was wearing a costly travel dress and was obviously of considerable means, yet he did not recognize her. There was something familiar about her, though, something that tugged at his conscience. She was accompanied by a tall man in a black travel suit who carried a magnificent pair of silver-plated Army Colts.

"Ma'am, how can I help you?"

"You really don't recognize me, you old goat?" the woman asked, her head tilted.

He saw the red hair then, tied in a braid, and he made the connection.

"Baltimore Rose!"

"That's right. I came for justice."

Alberts cast a nervous glance at the man and his Colts.

"You ... Y-you know I had no choice, Rose!" he squeaked. "The Bunions were pressing me, and I arranged for your escape, didn't I?"

"Well, that's another chapter entirely, but let's stay with the Bunion business. I want a fair retrial. I want my witnesses heard. I want to give evidence on my behalf. I want an acquittal, for I did nothing but defend myself."

"I have retained Mr. Chalmers to represent my wife," the man cut in with a cultivated voice. "We have located three material witnesses who were excluded from testifying during that earlier mock trial. Are you prepared to assemble a jury?"

Justice Albert was still staring at the two Colts when he nodded.

The members of the jury were assembled in haste and herded into the courtroom. A flustered state attorney went hurriedly over the original charges. Barring the testimony of Bunion himself who was dead there was no evidence against Rose, except for the doctor who testified to the injuries the man had sustained. This time under cross-examination, he had to concede that the injuries were rather consistent with a woman fighting against a violation.

Andy the waiter testified for the defense. He told the jury how he had heard Rose cry for help and beg Bunion to leave her alone before Bunion had shrieked in pain and rage. One of the girls from the Emerald Isle told how Bunion had forced her to perform 'unnatural acts', telling her she'd end in the Work House just like Rose if she refused.

Mr. Chalmers, Rose's attorney, then rehashed the story of how the Bunions had met their end as common criminals, and the jury was sent out for deliberations. They returned within a few moments, handing down a no-guilty verdict, and Justice Alberts solemnly acquitted Rose of all charges and renounced his original ruling as a grave error that he was glad to correct.

Rose was not a convict anymore! After Justice Alberts banged the gavel one last time, she fell into Jim's arms, crying with relief. There was the option to retrace some of Rose's original possessions. Jim wanted to buy them back from the people who had bought them at auction, but Rose refused, saying that those items represented a past she was not eager to relive.

Mr. Adams, the owner of the Emerald Isle saloon met them outside the court house and he congratulated Rose on her good fortune, telling Jim over and over how Rose had been the light of the saloon and a joy to those who knew her. Rose felt no little embarrassment at being reminded of her past profession in Jim's presence, but Jim pressed her arm encouragingly all through the encounter while maintaining the he was well aware of his luck.

In the end, after politely refusing the offer to celebrate in the saloon, they were able to shake off Mr. Adams and they met their friends at their hotel. Talk in the common room was filled with exciting news. General Lee had capitulated at Appomattox, in effect ending the Civil War. The last clusters of resistance were being mopped up, and finally, the country would enjoy peace again. Jim immediately felt an urgency to press on. Soon, soldiers would be released from their units, and to meet bands of victorious ex-soldiers while traveling with three women could be a dangerous proposition.

Their wagon train left Independence for St. Louis with a Rose who was riding on a cloud of bliss. She had not realized how much her conviction, so many years ago, had still weighed on her until that weight fell off. The following nights on the trail she eschewed the comfort of the coach wagon at night, instead cuddling to Jim under his blankets. She made sure to convey her gratitude and love in a way that kept the men around them awake and listening, and she received many longing stares during the days.

St. Louis, Gateway to the West, was quite an experience for the women. For one last time, Jim visited the First Philadelphia Bank to unload another Letter of Exchange, this time over $442,000. He had now $647,000 in his account, and he made arrangements for the immediate transfer of these funds to the New York City branch of the bank. The manager was indeed very helpful, communicating with his counterpart in New York by telegraph. He assured Jim of the immediate availability of his funds once he arrived in New York. Jim made further arrangements for the future transfer of his shares to New York, and once again, the manager told him not to worry.

They were ferried across the river on June 2^nd, for the next leg of their journey, to Dayton, Ohio. The last fighting of the Civil War occurred far to the south, but barring a certain shortage of men, nothing along their travel route indicated that the country had been engaged in a bitter internal strive. They were now traveling alone with just their driver and a scout hired in St. Louis. They spent the nights in roadside ordinaries, for they were traveling through populated country. Raven caught a few nasty looks during suppers, but nobody said a word.

By the end of June, they arrived in Dayton. Jim was able to secure a private compartment in a luxury car that was scheduled all the way to New York City. They would leave on July 2, and Jim spent the remainder of the days in Dayton selling off their horses, mules and wagon. The only things they kept were their clothes, weapons, and two bear skins.

The travel by railroad was a first for all of them except Jim who had already ridden trains in his younger years, back in England. The luxury of the state car was new even to him. There were only six compartments and one large common room which doubled as dinner hall. This time, there was trouble over Raven. On the very first evening, a heavy set man in his late thirties complained loudly as soon as the Tremaynes showed in the common room.

"What's all this?" he demanded loudly, raising from his chair and confronting Jim. "I'll be damned if I eat with a dirty squaw!"

"I suggest you step out of my way, Mister," Jim answered coldly. "My companion has purchased accommodation for this car. If you disagree with her presence, I suggest you move to another car."

"I, move to another car? Take that dirty..."

He did not finish. The cocked Army Colt pressing into his belly was no inducement for him to speak his mind.

"You were saying?"

"T-take that gun away! I'll complain. Conductor!"

The conductor wisely kept out of it.

"This seems like some gentlemanly dispute, Sir. Nothing for me to meddle."

Jim pressed the muzzle deeper into the soft belly.

"Any objections to the presence of my friend?"

The man turned pale and shook his head.

"Git!"

The man scrambled to pick up his valise and left the state car in undignified haste. There were no further vocal objections against Raven's presence from this point onward.

Tipped generously by Jim, the conductor shrugged the incident off. Nevertheless, the climate at dinner was frosty, and nobody felt comfortable, least of all Raven. She spent the majority of travel time in their compartment and only entered the common room for the meals.

It was a good thing that they made excellent headway. With the long days of early summer, they could cover an astonishing one-hundred-twenty miles per day and more and sometimes, when the track was straight they traveled at over twenty miles per hour. This was of course compensated with stops for coaling and watering the engine, but they still averaged ten miles for the hour. They traveled along Lake Erie and then through Pennsylvania and finally, New York state. Ten days after their start, their train entered Pennsylvania station, and the Tremaynes alighted from the car for the last time.

Hotel rooms were at a premium in New York, but with the help of the railroad agent, Jim was able to secure a suite of three rooms at the newly opened Brunswick Hotel. Here, they rested for a day, giving the hotel staff the time to wash and press their clothes. A tailor visited them to take orders for suits and dresses, not only for their crossing but possibly for their first appearance in British society.

Jim's funds had arrived in New York, creating a small sensation at the New York branch of the bank, and he was now faced with the need to convert his Dollars into Pounds Sterling. In this, he was aided by an almost incredible coincidence. Leaving the bank branch, he bumped into another gentleman whom he remembered as living in the Brunswick, too.

"I beg your pardon, Sir," he offered, standing back.

"Oh, no, it was my fault, really," the man answered politely. "Aren't you staying at the Brunswick, too, Sir?"

"Indeed, I am. I thought I'd recognized you. Are you heading back? I have a coach waiting."

"That is exceedingly kind of you. Indeed, I am somewhat in a rush. My wife is waiting for my return."

Jim led the way to the rented cab, waiting in front of the bank. They climbed in, and the driver left the curb.

"James Tremayne," Jim introduced himself.

"A pleasure, Sir. I am Sir Anthony Carter, of Woodbridge Manor, near Maidenhead."

Jim gaped at the man. He knew him, had known him. Maidenhead was only a short way from his father's home. Sir Anthony looked at him, too, recognition dawning.

"James Tremayne?" he asked incredulously. "Of the Berkshire Tremaynes?"

"More recently of Denver City, Colorado, but yes," Jim answered. "You were a year ahead of me, at Eton."

"That's right. What a strange coincidence! We must dine together. I shall send you a billet this afternoon. I am staying here with my wife; we just recently married and this is something like a honeymoon for us. Are you married?"

"Yes, indeed I am, for the last four years anyway. My wife and I plan to return to England. Well, it's a return for me. My wife was born in Baltimore."

"Please, Mr. Tremayne, keep this evening free. We can have dinner in the Brunswick. The cuisine is quite adequate."

Jim laughed.

"I have to accept your word. I spent most of the last ten years west of the Mississippi River, and I ate what I managed to shoot."

"That sounds like an exciting life! Oh, here we are. Are we on for dinner?"

"Certainly, Sir Anthony. You will have to excuse our utilitarian clothing, though. Our new wardrobe is not finished yet."

They bade their farewell in the foyer of the Astoria, and Jim went upstairs to warn the women of the changed dinner plans. This set off a flurry of activity. While the women were busy with preparations for Rose, Jim went over his memories, trying to recall what he knew of Carter. He was the grandson of Admiral Sir Anthony Carter who had won distinction in the Great War against Napoleon and who had served as Jim's "friend" in the duel. Carter's father was quite a figure, too. Richard Lord Lambert was a politician and financier of renown who owned a bank house in London. Jim recalled Lord Lambert and his beautiful wife. They had led quite an adventurous life themselves, and Lady Lambert was a personal friend of the Queen. If Rose had to meet English High Society, this was starting it with a bang!

With a pang of remorse, Jim also remembered that Anthony Carter was the brother-in-law of Major Pryce, Jim's squadron commander at Balaclava. Pryce had fallen in the charge, leaving behind his young wife Siobhan, Anthony Carter's sister.

Something had not matched his memory. Carter had said that he had recently married. Yet, from what Jim remembered, the young Carter had married the granddaughter of millionaire financier Robert Norton. It had been quite a big wedding. He shrugged. He would learn the truth this very evening.

Rose was not entirely happy with the prospect, Jim could tell. She hated the thought of meeting nobility in her travel dress. The only dinner dress she had fitted into her trunk had been made by a tailor in Denver City, and she could already tell that she would never wear it again. It had been fine for Denver, but in New York City she would look like the country bumpkin she was.

Her rescue was close, though. The tailor came by in the afternoon with a first batch of clothes, and a simple dinner dress she had ordered was in it. The billet sent up by Sir Anthony invited them for 7 p.m., and they entered the dinner hall just when the last chime of the wall clock died. Sir Anthony and Lady Carter were sitting at one of the best tables already and they rose when the Tremaynes entered.

Lady Carter was a pretty woman in her mid-thirties, with a wholesome look and a womanly figure, dressed in a dream of burgundy silk. There was a palpable affection between her and her tall husband. Sir Anthony, too, was dressed immaculately, as befitted a dining gentleman.

Jim affected the introductions first.

"Sir Anthony, Lady Carter, please meet my wife, Mrs. Annabelle Rose Tremayne."

"Enchanted," Sir Anthony answered, kissing Rose's hand with obvious appreciation.

"Mr. and Mrs. Tremayne, this is my wife, Sarah."

"It is an honor, Lady Carter," Jim answered dutifully, kissing the outstretched hand.

Then it was Rose's turn and she smiled.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Carter," she said nicely, mindful of her wording.

"The pleasure is all mine, Mrs. Tremayne," the buxom blonde answered with a smile the exuded good will and friendliness.

They sat down and the appearance of a waiter interrupted the conversation until the orders were placed.

"So, if I may ask, what did you do all these years in America, Mr. Tremayne, oh hell, Jim? I mean, we went to school together, right?"

"Thank you, Tony," Jim smiled. "I worked the Oregon Trail for three years, as wagon driver, scout, hunter, whatever. Then, from '59 to '62, I panned for gold in the Colorado Territory. We had a good claim, my partner and I, and we were reasonably well off already, but then Rose literally stumbled over a quartz deposit. Solid deposits. I've been a mine owner since."

"A gold mine?" Anthony Carter asked his eyebrows up.

"Yes, are there any others?" Jim grinned. "We have a four-way partnership to run it, but even divided by four, over $2,000,000 dollars are quite satisfactory."

"I'll say," Anthony Carter replied, his balance regained. "Your share would be £80,000 Sterling, right?"

Jim nodded.

"That is quite a sum. And now you plan to return to England?"

Jim turned serious.

"My father wrote that my mother is ailing. I have to return."

Sally Carter had her own thoughts.

"And you found the gold, Mrs. Tremayne? How?"

Rose laughed.

"We were taking a rest day, it was a Sunday. Jim and I wandered up the bed of the creek, and I saw a stand of pretty flowers on a ledge above the valley ground. I climbed up, but then the soil gave way. I landed on my behind, and bruised it was let me tell you. And this lout of a husband, instead of commiserating with me, exclaims, 'Look, there's a quartz vein underneath!'. I didn't even know what that was."