Silver Strike Bride

"I am Kirsten Vinter and I'm looking for a man who can take me to a silver mine near Rabbit Creek. Do you know where that is?"

Hiram Wainwright looked the young girl up and down and wondered why fate had steered her his way. He'd gone out of his way to stay by himself as much as possible, but here she was, standing there and smiling at him. No woman had smiled at him since that day at Shiloh, the day he'd become a monster instead of a man.

Hiram was eighteen when the 8th Illinois Volunteer Infantry Regiment was forming in Springfield. He reasoned that since President Lincoln was from Springfield, it was his duty to answer the President's call for men to join the Union Army. He left his two brothers, both too young to enlist, and enlisted and was sent to Cairo, Illinois for training and then duty until July 25, 1861.

On that date, Hiram and the rest of the 8th Illinois Volunteer Infantry Regiment became the 8th Illinois Infantry Regiment and he'd served until he was wounded at Shiloh. After that, he spent months in a Union Army hospital. By the time he was released from the hospital, the war was over.

As Hiram rode the train from Tennessee to Springfield, he spent the days analyzing what he'd experienced over the past years.

The Battle of Fort Henry had been exciting at first, but then a disappointment because the commander of Fort Henry had surrendered before most of the Union troops arrived. The 8th then marched to Fort Donelson where Hiram got his first taste of a real battle. He watched men die as the Confederates tried to push through the Union Lines and felt the cold fear of death as minié balls flew over his head.

That battle was just a hint of what was to come at Shiloh. By the time the Confederates retreated from the field at Shiloh, Hiram had killed at least ten men and probably had wounded several more. He'd also been shot twice in the face and those wounds had changed his life forever.

Once the doctor at Shiloh had cleaned and bandaged Hiram's wounds, he was put in a wagon and taken to the Army hospital in Nashville. The doctors there told him he would heal but that they couldn't put back what the minié ball had shot away. Hiram didn't see his injuries at first, but the nurses who changed his bandages didn't seem to be shocked. Hiram assumed the doctors were just telling him the wounds were more serious than they were so he'd be prepared. It wasn't until he was mostly healed that a nurse brought a mirror with her when she came to remove his bandages.

In spite of what the doctors had told him, Hiram wasn't prepared for the monster he saw looking back at him in the mirror. His nose was gone, replaced by two black holes. His jaw, while it still worked, was angled down toward the left side of his face instead of being straight.

When he recoiled from the sight and slapped the mirror out of the nurse's hand, she touched him on the shoulder.

"Corporal, they'll give you a mask to cover your nose, so it won't look so bad. You should consider yourself lucky. Many of the men in the hospital have lost an arm or a leg, and some have lost both. A lot more never made it to the hospital. You'll at least be able to work and support a family."

They did make him a mask. It was a wide strap of leather that was close to his skin color and had a nose-shaped section in the center that covered the holes where his nose had been. There wasn't much they could do about his jaw. The doctor said it would work like it always did. It would just be crooked.

Since the first actual battle, Hiram had dreamed of going back home. He'd go back to the annual routine of plowing, planting, cultivating and harvesting. He was old enough to take a wife and begin a family, a family that would continue to operate the farm when he and his brothers had passed on.

Once he'd looked in that mirror, all those dreams vanished. His brothers probably would accept him as he was, though they'd always be ashamed of how he looked. The people of the farming community would all know what had happened to him. Some would have disgust or fear on their faces when they looked at him. Others would pity him. Hiram could have put up with the disgust. He couldn't tolerate pity. As for a wife, Hiram couldn't imagine any woman willing to marry a man with no nose and a crooked jaw.

He decided he'd have to leave the farm and find work where he could stay away from other people. He couldn't imagine any storekeeper hiring him in any job where he'd be seen by the public. As soon as a customer saw him, they'd run out of the store and never come back. Any job like that was out of the question.

It was when he rode the train from Nashville back to Springfield that he saw a possible answer. At each train station there were several wagons backed up to the dock and men were loading bags and boxes from the rail cars onto the wagons. The drivers of the wagons looked like a scruffy lot, but that was what he was now, wasn't it, a man too ugly to attract a woman so he didn't care how he looked.

Hiram did stop in Springfield to tell his brothers what he was going to do, and as soon as they saw him, Hiram knew he'd made the right decision. His brother James gasped when he saw Hiram but didn't say anything. His brother, Amos, took one look and then asked Hiram what he looked like without the mask. When Hiram took off the mask, both Amos and James turned a deathly shade of white.

Hiram gathered up what he'd left on the farm, just some clothes and his Bible, and then boarded a train for Chicago. He thought as big as Chicago was, he'd be able to find a job driving a freight wagon like the ones he'd seen at the other rail stations.

Hiram talked to the freight drivers at the rail station in Chicago, and did find a few who said their company was looking for men. When he applied at those companies, he was thanked for his service to the Union, but told there were no openings. At the last company, the secretary stopped him as he was leaving. She wasn't smiling. The look on her face told Hiram she pitied him, but he stopped and listened to her.

"Sir, I lost my brother to the war and I know he'd want me to help you. I'm so sorry that after what you've done for the Union they won't hire you. I do know of a place that might. It's not very civilized like it is here, but a former soldier like you should be able to get along. It's at a rail station in Denver that's run by my uncle. They have drivers there who take supplies from Denver to the gold and silver mines and bring back the gold and silver. If you're interested, I'll give you the name of my uncle."

When Hiram said he was interested, the secretary motioned for him to come closer. When he did, she wrote short note and put it in an envelope with a name and an address, and then opened her desk drawer and took out a small card.

"You want to see Mr. Joel Marks at Miner's Freight Company in Denver. This card will let you ride on the train to Denver without paying. Just show it to the conductor when he asks to see your ticket. When you see Mr. Marks, give him this envelope."

Two weeks later, Hiram walked into the office of Joel Marks and introduced himself. When Hiram handed him the envelope the secretary had given him, the man tore it open, read the note inside, and then smiled.

"I see you met Eleanor. Nice woman, Eleanor."

He looked up at Hiram then.

"Shame about her brother. Blown to bits by a cannon ball was what she wrote me, but I suppose you saw a lot of that sort of thing during the war. Well, Eleanor says you need a job and she thinks I might have one for you. Can you drive a team?"

When Hiram said he'd been driving a team since he was ten years old, Mr. Marks smiled.

"We make a trip to the mines once a week, but it takes six days to go down and back. My Rabbit Creek driver quit yesterday. Damn fool thinks he'll strike it rich mining silver. What he's going to do is maybe find enough silver to keep him going, but not enough to let him get out of the mines and live a normal life. It's the people who sell to the miners and haul their supplies who'll make out in the end.

"I'll send you out tomorrow with another driver so you can learn the route. When you get back, we'll set you up with a team and a wagon, and you'll make the trip by yourself. I'll send Eleanor a letter telling her I hired you."

After a month of making the trip, Hiram decided he'd found where he belonged. He didn't mind being alone for a week at a time. It gave him time to think and it kept him away from other people. Now, this woman wanted to ride with him down to the mines. They'd be together for three days and he knew that during those three days, she ask what happened to him and he'd have to explain.

He shook his head.

"Ma'am, I don't take riders along with me, especially women. It's a dangerous trip and we'd have to sleep in the open at least two nights.'

Kirsten frowned.

"The man at the ticket counter told me to come down here so it must be allowed, and one of the other men said you'd get me to Rabbit Creek safe and sound."

She smiled then.

"Mr. Wainwright, I grew up on a farm and I don't scare easily. I can also pay you for taking me along, and I can bring my own supplies if you tell me what I need."

For the first time in his life, Hiram was taken by a woman's smile. He'd seen women smile at him before the war, but it never affected him like this woman's smile. It made him reconsider but with some conditions that he hoped would make her decide not to go.

"If I let you ride with me and you complain about how rough the ride is I'll make you walk. When we stop for the night, I'll build a fire and cook my own meals. You'll have to cook yours so you'll need food and a frying pan. You'll need a couple blankets too. It gets cold at night this time of year."

Hiram felt that same feeling when the woman smiled at him again.

"Can we go by a store so I can get what I need?"

The first day of the trip Kirsten didn't say much, and for this Hiram was thankful. He kept the team at a walk, partly because he wanted to stretch the distance before he had to stop and rest them and partly because the trail was just that, just two ruts in the ground that constantly jostled the wagon.

He was a little surprised when Kirsten didn't hold on tight to the wagon seat or to the bow that supported the canvas top. Instead, she sat on the seat and moved to counter the movements of the wagon in order to keep herself upright. Maybe she'd been telling the truth when she said she'd been brought up on a farm.

Because of the time it took to load the wagon and then the half hour they'd spent at the general store so Kirsten could buy what she needed, it was almost four o'clock when the horses needed to be rested. Hiram started looking for a good camping place, and found one beside a small stream. When he stopped the team, he turned to Kirsten.

"Not much sense in going any farther. It'll be dark a little more than an hour. We'll stop here for the night."

That said, Hiram unharnessed the horses and then tied them to a picket line and brushed each horse. He then went to build a fire. Once the fire was started, he went back to the horses with a feed bag of oats for each from the box on the side of the wagon.

Kirsten watched him do all this and was impressed. Hiram did the same things her father had always done at the end of the workday. He'd taken care of his horses before he took care of himself. When she thought about it some more, she realized Hiram was much like her father. He didn't talk much, or at least, hadn't so far. He just spoke to the horses once in a while. There was something about him though.

She'd been dying to ask him what had happened to him, but she thought he'd have already told her if he wanted her to know. Her father had been like that too. She remembered the time he'd cut his leg chopping firewood. He hadn't said anything to her or to her mother. He'd just come into the house, asked her mother for a rag, and then washed the deep cut with soap and water and tied the rag around his leg. The next morning, he was up before the sun and back at work in the field. He was limping, but he never said anything about being in pain.

Her mother had told her that's just how men were, but Kirsten knew that wasn't true of all men. She remembered the time Mr. Hines had sprained his ankle when he missed the step while getting out of his carriage. He'd had Mrs. Hines summon the doctor, and for three days after that, he'd stayed in bed.

As Kirsten watched Hiram she was thinking that only true men would act like the man with a crooked mouth and a strip of leather over his nose. Mr. Hines had been a man, but he was a man who wasn't equal to the father she'd grown up with. Hiram was.

Hiram was also watching Kirsten while he worked, and was a little confused. The woman wasn't afraid of him like most women were. Occasionally, one of the driver's wives would come to the loading platform, and one look at him was all they wanted. After that, they'd go out of their way to avoid looking at him or even being close to him. Several times during the afternoon, he'd glanced at Kirsten and had seen her looking at him. She always smiled if she caught him doing that, and the smile didn't look as if she was just doing it.

When Hiram had built the fire and it had burned down to coals, he told Kirsten the fire was ready and she should cook her meal because it would soon be dark. Hiram fried his bacon and then ate it and soaked up the bacon grease with his hardtack while Kirsten fried a potato with a small onion and a slice of cured ham. When she finished and scooped half the potatoes onto her plate and cut the ham into two pieces, she asked Hiram if he wanted some.

Hiram politely said he was full, but in reality, he wished he hadn't had to settle for bacon and hardtack. Kirsten just smiled.

"You've been working so hard all day. You need more than just bacon and a cracker."

She handed him the skillet.

"Here. I can't eat all of this by myself and there's no sense in wasting it. I only bought one plate, so the skillet will have to do."

As Hiram lay in his blankets beside the fire that night, me mused that any woman who could make ham and potatoes that tasted that good with just a skillet and an open fire was going to make some man a fine wife. He felt a pang of jealousy for a few seconds, but then shook that out of his mind. He couldn't be jealous of a whole man when he himself had no nose and a crooked jaw.

Kirsten had spread her blankets on top of the wood cases of supplies inside the wagon because Hiram had said she'd be safer there. She did feel safe, but it was hard going to sleep on the hard wood cases. She finally found a mostly comfortable position and then tried to fall asleep. That was also hard. She kept thinking about Hiram, wondering what had happened to him, and wondering that he'd let her come along. He hadn't spoken more then a dozen words to her all day, but she'd seen him looking at her.

The next morning, Hiram was stirring the coals into a fire when Kirsten climbed out of the wagon. When she walked up to Hiram, he looked up and said, "Coffee'll be ready in a few minutes".

Without thinking, Kirsten asked Hiram what he was having for breakfast. When he replied he'd be having the same thing he'd had for supper the night before, Kirsten shook her head.

"No you aren't. That won't last you until noon. I bought some oatmeal at the general store. I'll make enough for both of us. I bought two cans of condensed milk and some sugar too."

After that meal, it wasn't hard for Hiram to let Kirsten do the cooking. He'd tried, halfheartedly, to refuse her, but he didn't protest a second time. When they stopped, he'd build a fire while Kirsten got her skillet and what she needed to fix the meal. After they ate, he'd tell Kirsten how good her cooking was. Hiram could tell that Kirsten liked his compliment because she always smiled.

They reached the center of the mining community at Rabbit Creek on the third day on the trail. While Hiram saw to the unloading of the supplies, Kirsten went to the only actual building in what passed for a town -- the assay office. She got many stares and whispered comments as she walked along the dirt street, comments that were not what a lady would expect in the city. Kirsten was embarrassed, but also a little proud. She'd never had so many men telling her how pretty she was in her whole life.

At the assay office, she asked for directions to the mine where Robert Milburn worked. The agent behind the desk looked at her with a frown on his face.

"Why do you want to know where Robert Milburn works."

Kirsten replied that he'd written to her pastor in Chicago that he wanted a wife and that she was going to be that wife.

The agent sighed.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am. Robert Milburn was killed a week ago when the roof of the mine collapsed on him. It took the other miners two days to dig him out. He's buried out in the miner's cemetery if you want to go see his grave."

Kirsten said she didn't need to see his grave and then walked out of the assay office and looked up and down the dirt path that passed as a street.

There were men on the street, some riding horses, and some going in and out of a large tent with a sign hung over the flap that said, "Rabbit Creek Saloon". The men going inside were dirty and judging by their beards, hadn't shaved in a very long time. The men coming out were just as dirty and had beards just as long and bristly, but they were having some trouble walking.

There were smaller tents pitched along the street. Those tents had no signs, but the women standing in front of some of them left no question in her mind as to what those tents were for. Though it was cold enough Kirsten had worn a coat, those women were standing there in just their dresses, and those dresses showed a lot of their breasts. When one of the men walked by a tent, the woman would raise her skirts to show her bare legs.

Kirsten was at a loss for what she should do now. What she had hoped was that she'd find the man who wrote the letter was not like the men she saw now. She'd marry him even though they would not ever be true man and wife. She would be just the woman who cleaned and cooked for him and who shared his bed at night. At least that would give her a home and protection from men who might hurt her. Her consolation would be the children she'd bear and then raise.

If the man had at least been clean and didn't go to the saloon, she could have lived with that. She'd known many women who married just to have a man to provide for them. They hadn't seemed to be unhappy. Kirsten had grown up assuming that was how marriage worked. Men and women got married to share work and to start a family so there would be sons and daughters to help when the mother and father got older.

As she looked up and down the street, Kirsten realized that there was nothing for her here. True, there were no police so she probably didn't need to be concerned about being arrested for murder, but she didn't see even one man she'd consent to share her bed with. Her only option seemed to be to go back to Denver and find a job as a cook. Maybe some day, some man would come into wherever she was working and she'd end up finding a husband.

Kirsten walked back to where Hiram had stopped the wagon, and found him unloading the last of the supplies. He looked up, and then asked her if she knew where the mine was.

"The silver was all shipped out on a mule train yesterday, so all I'll be carrying is a few deer and bear hides. I need to get started back to Denver as soon as I take you to the mine."

Kirsten sighed.

"We can leave for Denver as soon as you're ready. The man I came here to marry is dead. The only thing I can do now is go back to Denver and try to find work."