The building was labeled 'Hotel' but James knew there would be no hotel in this part of town. It would either be a brothel or a boarding house-- both those things were plenty rife in these mountain towns. They'd probably charge too much and offer too little, but where else could he stay? It was cold up here in Leadville, much colder than Denver, and he would freeze if he stayed in the street. He stepped closer to read the window signs. 

ROOMS FOR RENT- FAIR RATES

"Sure chance of that," he muttered, but stepped in anyways. It was warmer than outside, which wasn't much, but there wasn't any wind. He stepped up to the desk in the small entrance hall and rang the bell. It had been a long journey up the mountain-- there were no trains and only the barest of dirt roads, and he'd had to pay to hitch a ride on a wagon, and now he just wanted to sit down for a while. He wasn't as young as he used to be.

After a moment a girl came through the back door. She was wearing respectable clothing, thank heavens, thought James, this wasn't a brothel. "Can I help you, sir?"

"I need a room," he said. "I've just come from Denver."

"Haven't we all?" said the girl. "Come on, there's a room upstairs I'll show you to. It won't be private, but nowhere will be unless you build yourself a cabin. What's your name?"

"MacEilan," he said, not following her up the stairs. "What are the rates?"

She paused at his name, holding the stair rail lightly. "Fifteen dollars a week, not including meals." She started up the stairs again. "I know it sounds like a lot, but you can make four dollars a day if you work in the mines-- I'm assuming that's what you're doing?"

James followed her up the stairs this time. "Aye, if I can get work."

The girl laughed and took a right at the top of the stairs. "Tabor wants all the men he can get to mine silver for him." She pushed open a door. "Here's your room. I'll let Mr. Rosen know you're here-- he's the owner-- and he can discuss rent with you."

"Thank you," said James, stepping inside. The room was small, with two bunked beds and a tiny, smudged window, but he'd stayed in worse places.

"MacEilan, did you say your name was?"

James nodded.

The girl stepped out and began to close the door. "I worked with a girl by that name," she said. "In Denver. She had red hair like you, too."

His stomach jumped as he rushed towards her. "What was her Christian name?" he cried. Were his children in Denver, so close?

The girl looked at him strangely. "Emma," she said slowly. "Do you know her?"

James ran his hands over his hair. "My daughter. About seventeen, grey eyes?"

The girl's eyes widened as she nodded. "She said she didn't have a father."

"She didn't, really. I was a lousy one and her mother took the children to America without me years ago." He blew out a long stream of air. "I thought I'd lost them forever. She's all right, then? Do you know about any of her siblings? Has she talked about her mother?"

The girl moved to the room's solitary wooden chair and sat. "I know for a fact her mother is dead," she said gently. "I'm sorry. But she talked about her older brother-- he lives in Denver, too, his wife's family runs a boarding house and a bakery. The other sister, she's married and went to California not too long ago. The youngest-- she lives in the country on a farm with some other children, Emma would go there some weekends to visit." She shook her head, her dark hair flat and tightly pinned into an unmoving bun. "I'm sorry that a strange girl at a boarding house in this godforsaken mountain town had to tell you all this."

James tried to process everything. His wife dead, well, it hurt but he decided he wasn't surprised. She had always been delicate. Two children married, one on a farm, and one working in Denver-- what about the others? Emma must not have mentioned them in detail.

"It's all right," he said softly, sinking onto his bed. "Thank you. What's your name, by the way?"

"Hannah," she said. "Just Hannah. We don't care too much for formalities here." Her eyes sparkled as she looked at him. "I know how I can make sure you see Emma again."

*****

Mrs. Remigrant was peeking over her spectacles at her embroidery when Emma entered. 

"May I speak with you for a moment?" Emma said timidly, wringing her hands.

"What about?" The old lady did not look up.

"Mr. McDonald."

Her searching blue eyes immediately flew up to the young woman's face, but her fingers kept sewing. "What of him?"

Emma came closer. "I don't know how much I want to court him anymore," she said slowly, biting her lip.

Mrs. Remigrant stopped sewing. "Sit down, Emma, and tell me why."

"Please don't be angry," Emma began hurriedly, perching herself on a nearby chair, "but I've realised I could never be happy if I married him, and I don't want to give him any of the wrong ideas by continuing on with him."

"My dear girl," said Mrs. Remigrant, setting down her embroidery, "I won't be angry, so long as there's good cause. What's wrong with him?"

Emma looked down. "There's nothing wrong with him, ma'am, I just don't think he's right for me. I love hearing him talk about Europe and I couldn't help thinking that if we were married he'd take me there to visit-- to see Italy and Spain and all those wonderful places. It's just--" she drew a deep breath-- "I don't think he really likes me. I don't tell him much about myself. We don't talk about my favorite books or my interests, or what I want to do in life. I think he is courting your niece and not really me."

"You think he's only interested in the money."

Emma opened her mouth to protest, but nothing came out. "I don't know." She looked up, inadvertently meeting the lady's eyes. "I don't think he knows me, and I don't think I'd ever really get on well with him. I don't think he'd like to know that I'm not your niece at all, or that I even have dreams. I think he wants a wife who will follow him around, and love him regardless, and be pretty all the time. I don't think I'm cut out to be that."

"Having dreams won't get you far," sighed the old lady sadly, picking up her sewing again. "It's a shame to have a dream, because either you'll have it snatched away or you'll have to put yourself through so much hell to get it that you wonder if it was really your dream at all." She sighed. "I won't fault you if you end things with Mr. McDonald. Only do it graciously, and do nothing to endanger your reputation. There's plenty of young men in the city yet."

A breath escaped that Emma didn't know she was holding. "Thank you, Mrs. Remigrant. I'm glad you're not angry at me." She rose to walk away.

"Emma," said Mrs. Remigrant before she left the parlour, "what made you think about this?"

Emma paused for a moment, unsure of how to word her answer. "I saw my sister and her fiancé," she said, "and I realised that they had this beautiful spark and understanding of each other as people, not just as heirs. It helps, of course," she added, "that they have nothing to inherit. But they're willing to go through anything together, and they'll do anything to help the other. I realised that while Duncan McDonald is a fine man, there was just none of that spark.

"I don't think, of course, that love is all that matters in a marriage, especially not in your class. I don't think I'm really looking for love in a partner, just somebody I could love, and who could love me. Someone who saw me as a person for myself, with thoughts and ideas, and not just as Mrs. Remigrant's niece from New York. Their prospects and their wealth would be a bonus. I'm not marrying their money-- money can be taken away and lost. I'm marrying the man."

The two women looked at one another. Emma bit her lip in nervous anticipation.

"I don't know whether you are very wise or very naive." Mrs. Remigrant broke the silence and smiled sadly, looking back down at her needlework. "End things with Mr. McDonald if you wish, and I'll help you find someone who I promise will understand you."

I'm nicknaming this chapter "are things moving too quickly or too slowly?" because I can't decide. Anyways, what do you think of Emma's decision? How will Hannah reconnect Emma and her father? What do you want to see??