Tracks of Gold

 

Scene: A dusty train car rattling westward across the Great Plains, 1870. A gambler in a fine gray suit and a young woman in a faded calico dress sit across from each other in the dim light of late afternoon. The whistle of the train punctuates the quiet murmur of passengers in the car.

Gambler: "I’d wager you’re running from something, Miss. A girl like you doesn’t end up on a westbound train with nothing but a satchel for no reason."

Young Woman: [glances out the window, avoiding his gaze] "And I’d wager a man like you doesn’t mind his own business for no reason."

Gambler: [chuckling, tipping his wide-brimmed hat back] "Touché. But a train ride’s a long journey, and talking makes the time pass quicker. Besides, I’ve got an eye for stories. Yours, I reckon, is worth hearing."

Young Woman: [finally meets his eyes] "What makes you think my story’s any different than the rest? I’m just another face on this train, heading somewhere new."

Gambler: "Ah, but it’s the way you hold yourself. Quiet, but watchful. You’ve got the look of someone who’s seen trouble but hasn’t let it break her. That’s rarer than gold out here."

Young Woman: [pausing, then smirking slightly] "And you? You’ve got the look of a man who’s spent more time in saloons than in church. What brings you west?"

Gambler: [laughing outright] "Guilty as charged. I’m a man of opportunity, Miss. Cards, dice, a good horse race—I go where the luck takes me. And right now, luck says there’s a fortune to be made in California."

Young Woman: [narrowing her eyes] "You think gold will solve all your problems?"

Gambler: "Not all of them. But it’ll sure make the ride smoother. And what about you? Looking for fortune, or just running from a past that won’t stay buried?"

Young Woman: [after a long silence] "I had a brother. Older than me. He worked the railroads, sent money home to keep us afloat after Ma and Pa passed. Last letter I got, he said he’d struck gold out near Denver. Promised he’d come back for me." [her voice hardens] "That was two years ago. Haven’t heard a word since. So no, I’m not running. I’m finding him."

Gambler: [leaning forward, suddenly serious] "Denver’s a hard place, Miss. Easy to get lost in. Or worse."

Young Woman: "I know. But he’s all I’ve got left. And I aim to find him, dead or alive."

Gambler: [nodding slowly] "You’ve got grit. I respect that. If you ever need a hand, or a card up your sleeve, look me up. Name’s Harris. Harris Cole."

Young Woman: [standing as the train begins to slow] "I’ll keep that in mind, Mr. Cole. But I don’t need a gambler’s luck. I make my own."

The train screeches to a halt at a dusty station, and the young woman steps off, vanishing into the crowd. Harris watches her go, a faint smile playing on his lips as he mutters to himself.

Harris: "She’ll do just fine out there. Better than most."

The train lurches forward again, carrying him westward, leaving behind a trail of dust and untold stories.

End.