and deplorable Gem Theater really employed women tricked into working there. I always wanted someone like Ewan to give down-on-their-luck people a second chance. I’m thankful to know that with Jesus, we all can have that chance at redemption.
Love,
Janette Foreman
This book is dedicated to Karen Turgeon, my second grade teacher. Because of you, I found my love for stories. Thank you for your continued support and love.
Contents
Deadwood, Dakota Territory September 1878
“In case of trouble, call upon Mr. Ewan Burke at the Golden Star Mine in Deadwood.”
Clutching the crinkled note Aunt Mildred had given her, Winifred Sattler raised her gaze to the town in which she’d found herself stranded. Dust curled up as the stagecoach drove away, tinting the air with a dirty dose of failure that caked her lungs. Surely that was what stung her eyes and clouded her vision.
The dust. Not the failure.
Stuffing the note back into her pocket, Winifred wove on foot up the cramped street through a tangle of men, vegetable carts, wagons and horses. Her glance bounced between the wooden buildings and the gaping holes in the road, then scaled the hills on either side of the narrow gulch where the town rested. A slight breeze made the mining town stink of dirt, unlike the sweet aroma of pine that permeated the canyon she had ridden through to get here, and the metallic pounding of stamp mills had begun to give her a headache.
But Winifred would not lose hope. She couldn’t. Sure, she’d spent the last of her dowry traveling from Denver to Spearfish to marry Mr. Ansell. Then her remaining cash had barely covered the fifteen-mile trip to Deadwood when the mail-order match had turned disastrous.
All she needed now was money to get home. Then she could eat a little humble pie before Uncle Wilbur and devise a new plan. Place new mail-order bride advertisements in the newspapers. Send out more letters to the prospects she would gain. Pray the dear old man hadn’t been serious about marrying her off to one of his colleagues if she—again—returned unmarried.
At least this time the mail-order disaster was entirely not her fault.
As she focused ahead, a sign for the Golden Star Mine caught her attention—barely. Small and brown, it blended with its natural surroundings. Winifred approached the tall wooden building that scaled the hillside in stair-step fashion and knocked on the door. The entrance certainly didn’t feel inviting. How much prettier it would be with flowers or a hedge. Did the slat siding need to be a weathered, natural brown? Wouldn’t it be nicer painted white?
Lost in her design ideas, she almost didn’t hear the door open.
“Ma’am, may I help you?” A man stared down at her, blocking the entrance. His suit seemed a bit threadbare, though meticulously pressed. Sandy blond hair was combed up off his forehead—which pinched at the sight of her—and gray eyes narrowed in suspicion. “The shop is closed for the night. Might be closed for the rest of the week.”
She
