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Sometimes work Christmas parties can be fun.


'That being said, I'd like to see you again from time to time when I'm in town. If you don't mind I'd like to tell a couple of my business associates about our relationship, which I'm sure will lead to some additional contacts for you. Now, I think it's time for you to leave. I'll have my coachman take you home.'

"With that he reached for his wallet, pulled out a twenty and placed it on the night stand. I should have been furious with him. He had just treated me as some kind of cheap whore; but I realized later that it was just his way of showing me that I was not in his class and that nothing would ever come of our affair.

"In the coach on the ride home I took out the envelope and counted the money, with the twenty from before there was over three hundred dollars. I'd have to work all week for that kind of money. True to his word, I began receiving more "callers" at my home. Some were young, others were old, a few were single but most were married, but all had one thing in common; they were all rich and powerful. I was earning more money in a week than I was when I had the house with the girls working for me. I was also careful to project the image of myself as growing a little older as my new clientele aged.

"I worked steadily for the next ten years. I watched my accounts in the Bank of New York and my investments held by my client's merchant banking firm grow substantially. But I was getting bored with life in New York. One of my clients had told me about how different life was in San Francisco and that if at all possible I should visit there before I died. Little did he know how long that would be. I had remembered the Captain telling me how nice the city was; that it was big, but still small in character.

"With the decision made, I packed the things that I treasured the most, mementos of my life with the Captain and Mary; made arrangements with my bankers; closed up the house and began my journey west.

"I did not wish to travel by boat, remembering how the Captain had died, so I bought a ticket on the train from New York to Independence, Missouri. From there I would travel as a member of a wagon train along the Oregon Trail and then on to San Francisco. In Independence, against the advice of several of the locals, I bought a wagon called a Prairie Schooner and a team of horses. Because it was still too cold to travel, we stayed in Independence for a month which gave me the opportunity to learn how to handle a wagon and a team of horses. Since I was a single woman and would be doing all the work that the men were doing I figured I'd better dress like a man. I bought several pair of long pants, a few heavy cotton shirts and a pair of boots. I also bought a pistol and a rifle. The man who sold me the weapons instructed me in their use. By the time we were ready to travel I could hold my own in any situation.

"It was a warm spring day, the sky was bright blue with a couple of puffy white clouds in the distance, when the leader of our wagon train yelled out, "Wagons Ho" and waved us westward. Anyone who tells you that traveling west by covered wagon is romantic doesn't know what they are talking about. It was six months of back breaking, boring travel, punctuated by moments of sheer terror. Day after day, the routine was always the same; wake up at sunrise, hitch up the horses and head westward. The weather was unpredictable. For days on end the sun would beat down on us, making the ground bone dry, which we turned into great clouds of dust. Or it would rain for several days in a row, making the trail slick with mud and me and everyone else drenched to the bone. And yet we pressed on, ever forward, always towards the setting sun; only stopping at pre-determined locations or when it started getting dark.

"We crossed swollen rivers, climbed steep mountain passes, and watched as Indian Hunting Parties watched us from a distance.

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