Growing into a lovely young girl of fourteen, the passage of years gave her the promise of striking beauty as a grown woman. Her time was spent alone among the wild hills and peaks surrounding her secret valley, shielding her from the prejudices of man. Reading every book she could get her hands on and exploring the wild back country kept her busy enough to be happy.

Out on the blue roan stallion, she was enjoying the spring weather on her way to White Rock. The large white stallion was in tow, again wearing the pack saddle.

Though still unhappy, he had grown accustomed to her request for him to wear it twice a year. The two males had begun to butt heads, chasing and biting at one another, so this would be the last trip she took them on together. She'd already seen the huge stud drive out other maturing stallions from the herd. She'd miss the blue roan, but the white stallion ruled as king.

Today's trip was necessitated by the fact she'd completely run out of both flour and sugar. With only two bills of paper money left, the girl had scoured the house looking for more, then explored the shed behind the cottage. Stacked inside the back corner she discovered five large pine chests. Opening them, she had just stared in shock and surprise, her mouth hanging slack. It had taken seconds to realize she had found what the old shopkeeper told her she was supposed to keep hidden and safe.

Gold. More than she could count. More than she even believed.

With twenty pieces tucked in a burlap sack that she held tightly in her fingers, she'd set off early. The general store owner would help her figure out how to get paper money with the gold coins, of that she was certain. None of her books contained any sort of information on the value of what was in the large pine chests. Innately she knew it was a vast sum.

The hours passed silently as she made her way to town, her quick eyes taking in every change since her last visit. There were more people here now. The livery stable seemed larger than before, as did the hotel. Swinging down in front of the general store she hitched the horses before moving quietly into the shade of the covered walk. Inside the store was cool and empty, which she preferred.

As the bell on the door jingled her friend popped his head out from the back room, seeing her. She had come to learn his name was Edwin Fry. He smiled, but it seemed a little stiff and cool to her eyes. Her answering smile was shy, picking up on the shift.

"Well now, ain't you growing like a weed," he glanced through the window as he came around the counter. "How you been girl?"

They shook hands and she smiled more warmly at him.

"Fine thank you, sir." It was so rare that she spoke to another person that even his kind address flustered her. Then she remembered her manners. "And how are you, sir?"

"Fine, just fine young lady. You need the usual supply?" Fry was already moving to fill her order as she nodded.

"Extra flour and sugar though, please. About ten pounds, I think."

While he was gathering her supplies, the growing young woman wandered the store. Fingers traced over various fabric patterns, keen eyes reading labels on the boxes of food, soap, and clothing. It was unvaried, giving her a comfortable sense of familiarity. Movement outside caught her attention, noticing a man standing in the shade by the saloon, smoking. His fixed gaze on her horses was disturbing.

An unfamiliar chill swept through her veins. Turning away, she walked back to the counter, watching her supply list stacked by the back door. When he was finished putting them together, she would bring the horses around back to load them.

"That'll do you till winter I suspect." Fry was efficient and knew her unchanging list by heart. He'd added her extras without comment.

Smiling at him again, she handed over the last of her paper money.

"Can you help me with something else? I, I don't know what to do," she looked into his kind eyes, shy, but determined.

"If I can," was his encouraging response.

Lifting the burlap pouch, she dumped it on the counter, letting the gold coins spread out like a sparkling flood of metal. Fry's eyes bulged from his sockets as he gasped sharply. She couldn't tell if it was in fear or in anger. Suddenly uneasy, she wondered if this had been a mistake. It was supposed to be a secret.

"What are you thinkin' bringin' them here?" Fry's voice had dropped to a hoarse whisper, as though he was afraid of being overheard.

"I'm out of paper money, and I know that I can exchange these for paper at a bank. But I need help. I've never done it before, and don't know what they're worth-"

"You shouldn't have brought those here! If someone should even think that you-!" cutting off abruptly he swept the coins back into the sack as the bell on the door jingled.

Unmistakable sounds of metal clinking together filled the sudden quiet. The girl was afraid. What had she done wrong? Fry smiled at the new customer and came around the counter handing the sack back to her as he passed. Stomach twisting, she stayed silent, for the old man's smile was forced.

"Can I help you sir?"

Turning to look, she saw it was the same man from the saloon, the one who'd been studying her horses. Her heartbeat sped up as she tried not to stare at him.

"Needin' some supplies and cartridges," the stranger drawled out slowly, his eyes going from the girl to the storekeeper.

With a casualness that seemed too deliberate, he pulled a list from his pocket and handed it over. Fry looked at it and smiled nervously.

"It'll take me a minute, be right back."

"No hurry," the man replied, his cool eyes on the girl. "Finish helping this lovely young filly here, I can wait."

"She needs to special order something, and I don't want to keep you waitin' sir. I won't be long."

It was a smooth response and Fry hurried to collect the things listed as the stranger began to meander around the store, working his way over to where the girl stood. Her heart was pumping icy fear through her, but she was fiercely determined not to show it. Something about him rubbed her the wrong way and the girl was suspicious.

"Haven't seen you in town before," he commented softly.

"I've never seen you either, mister," was her instant response and his nostrils flared a little.

"Kinda a young slip to be fetchin' supplies on your own." Though deep, his voice was not smooth and it grated on her already sensitive nerves.

"How old does a girl have to be to go shopping?"

She had no idea where the words were coming from, but as she spoke, her heart sowed down, fear releasing its chokehold on her. A small tick at the edge of his eye told her the man didn't like her answers. He was fishing for information, and that made her resolve not to give him any.

"There you are sir, and I had an extra box of ammunition you specified, so I threw it in. I get very little call for that type," Fry had reappeared just in time, for the man's face was growing hard.

Without another word the stranger paid what he owed and slung the sacks his supplies were packed in over his shoulder. He shot the girl a hard look as he left the store but she held his gaze until the door closed. Only when he was out of sight did Fry move toward her.

"You have to get out of here, now!"

"Why-?"

"Don't you understand girl?" He cut her off. "That there is treasure money! You can't bring it here and start flashing it around, not to anyone!"

"Treasure money? What are you talking about? There are five whole che-" she started to protest but he stopped her with a sharp wave of his hand.

"I don't want to know!" Now she could see it was fear, not anger that drove him. Why was he so frightened?

"Where did it come from? You told me once that my parents were special, that they had what others wanted. Is this what you meant? Gold? Who were my parents, who am I?" She felt she was on the edge of understanding, if only he would tell her!

"Please, please just go!" Fry was pleading with her, his eyes looking outside and suddenly she understood.

"Am I in trouble?" Voice low, it revealed a little of the full throatiness womanhood would bring. Deep gray eyes were brimming with discomfort.

"Not yet you ain't but you gotta light shuck! Get back to your place, only go careful! Leave no trail if you can help it and go the long way. That fella is trouble, and I think he's got a nose for gold."

"Will he come back here?" She put a tentative hand on his arm, relaxing slightly as Fry smiled and patted it gently.

"Maybe, maybe not, but you'll be long gone by then,"

"But you won't," was her quiet response, and the old man saw a look of unexpected maturity in her eyes, an almost crushing understanding of the ways of men. How would she know about greed and murder?

"Don't you fret about me," was his gruff assurance. "I got no intention of telling anyone where to find you, even if they kill me,"

His voice had not yet stopped when her face blanched and the girl's eyes went dark and wide. She had so little already, the thought of losing the only human friend she had was unbearable. In that moment, she began to change from a fourteen-year-old orphan into a young woman with a tight grasp on the world around her. All at once she made up her mind.

"If he comes back here, you tell him what he wants to know," she said it suddenly and Fry stared at her, disbelieving.

"There ain't no way-" he started, but this time she cut him off.

"No one is going to die for me because of some no-account drifter's greed!" Her voice was edged with the beginning of anger. "What I have is rightfully mine, and I'll not lose it to some thief with a gun." A plan was taking shape in her mind, an idea that was so farfetched it might just work.

"Now, listen here young lady, there are two things that I won't ever do, and one-"

"Please!" Her earnest tone stopped him, and Fry looked at her, seeing the fierce glow of fire in her eyes. It got him to wondering what she was thinking.

"If I tell him where to find you, your life is over, or worse," he warned softly.

"I will be alright, so please, please, if he comes back, just tell him. I can't stand to think of what would happen to you,"

She didn't wait for a response. Hurrying outside, she brought the horses around back and began loading up the supplies. Fry helped her load the packs and boxes, tying them securely in place. Stepping into the saddle she paused, looking down at him. Her faint smile was a little sad.

"See you in six months?"

"I hope so, girl," he replied, "I really hope so."

She had turned the roan away and was moving off when he called after her and she twisted back to face him. He leaned up and pulled her ear down to his lips, whispering softly.

"Take that sack to Santa Fe, to the Wells Fargo there. It's far enough from here that folks won't get suspicious. Ask for Bently Deving and tell him old Edwin Fry sent you. He'll take care of you."

"I will, thank you," she beamed the makings of a dazzling smile at him and started off, moving at a steady walk.

Fry watched after her for a long moment, wondering what the future held for the girl. What would his own end be for keeping her hidden? No one forgets about gold, not really. With a heavy sigh he turned back to his store, trying to focus his mind on other things.

By the time the girl reached the high mountains late that evening, she knew she was followed. It was through no exceptional skill on her part, she knew nothing of tracking. The horses told her. Continually stopping to glance back, the white stallion's ears were turned toward some distant sound. The roan beneath her was looking around, blowing softly, his ears also twitching and swiveling toward the breeze.

Heartbeat quickening, this is what she had expected, but now she was faced with the reality. The possibility of having to fight a grown man. Jaw tightening, she faced the trail ahead. 'I can do this.'

Urging the horses faster she swung them up a steep trail that would lead them into the high peaks parallel to her home range. If she was quick, she would get there just before twilight. The spring breeze was warm, but the high-altitude mountain air quickly cooled and she shivered slightly in her cotton dress. The roan was a mountain born horse and was surefooted as mountain goat, almost prancing along the steep rocky talus. Though older now, the white stallion was game and kept pace despite his heavy load.

In the fading light she was beginning to worry she would miss the tracks but then she saw them. Large and deep in the dust just off the narrow trail, was the unmistakable print of a Mountain Lion. Grinning, she glanced back over her shoulder at her back trail. The rider would be coming, likely thinking her defenseless and easy pickings. Her plan was a gamble, but her faith was in the cougar. Animals had a natural liking for her.

~~~

Edwin Fry was sweeping a dusting of snow off his walk when he glanced up at the sound of a horse coming around the corner of his store. The last six months had eaten at him until he was worn down to a shadow of the man he used to be. He wasn't sleeping well, he barely ate, his dreams were restless, and above all he felt the crushing weight of guilt. Despite his wife's infernal nagging, he'd not told her the cause.

The stranger had come back that day, determined to get the information he wanted. Though Fry had suffered, in the end he was forced to tell the man what he wanted to know. Fingers broken, his shoulder dislocated, deep bruising to his kidneys and a savage knife wound cut into his face, he'd given in. Watching the stranger ride away after the girl made him sick with worry. He'd almost waited too long to get help for himself.

"Good morning, Mister Fry," at the shy voice he broke into a wide smile, turning around.

"Mornin'," watching as the girl slip easily off an appaloosa mare did his heart a world of good. Instead of the white stallion, the roan was in tow.

Approaching him somewhat warily, she looked unsure of her welcome. Though he did not move towards her, his eyes were brimming with genuine pleasure and relief.

"Getting set for the winter?" Turning to enter the store, he held the door open for her.

"Yes," large grey eyes were taking in his appearance. He had a scar across his face she'd not seen before, and his eyes were sunken and hollow. "Have you been ailing?"

"You might say that," he waved her inside and closed the door, the bells jingling softly. "I'm relieved to see you alive and well,"

"Thank you, I am well." She paused for half a second. "Can I just ask-?"

"Please, for both our sakes don't ask me nothing about your family, ever! It won't change what happened."

Looking up into his tired brown eyes she realized a sad truth. He had just bowed out of her life. Edwin Fry was a good decent man, but he was old and wanted to live out his life in peace. Though he probably knew exactly who she was, who her parents were and where they came from, he would never tell her. The risk was simply not worth the deadly consequences if anyone ever found out that he knew, if it was discovered she was alive.

Swiftly turning away to look outside, she hastily wiped sudden moisture from her eyes. Crying wouldn't solve anything. When she faced him again, Fry's cragged features were lined with pity and compassion. She smiled, trying to think of something to say that would cut the uncomfortable tension between them. Then she knew.

"Santa Fe is some town." 

Thoughts on how she survived? The gold? The future? I'd love to hear them!