By Stephanie Grace Whitson
It truly is 1876, and 20-year-old Mattie Flynn is decided to make a clean commence after fleeing from her sinister boss within the playing condo the place she was once hired as a singer. Mattie travels to Deadwood, South Dakota, looking for her more youthful brother, who went sooner than her in hopes of creating a fortune within the gold mines. All Mattie wishes is a secure and decent existence for the 2 of them, yet that does not appear to be her future as she faces extra heartache and trials. Will the suspicious bottles of gold airborne dirt and dust from her brother's declare be the most important to her future...or does the good-looking road preacher, who's constantly turning the opposite cheek, really carry the solutions to her inner most longings?
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Additional resources for A Claim of Her Own
People were always exaggerating things: their wins at the faro table, the richness of their gold discoveries, the number of people rushing into a boomtown. She hoped Dillon hadn’t exaggerated the richness of his placer claim. Dillon. He wasn’t going to be happy to see her. She could imagine the line between his eyebrows deepening and his dark eyes glowering with an unspoken scolding. Ah well. He’d never been able to stay mad at her for long. Today would be no exception. She’d do his laundry and polish his boots until they gleamed, and in time he’d decide he was glad she’d come.
The place was a maze of brush shanties and stained canvas tents in various states of disrepair surrounded by piles of gravel and holes in the ground, all of it punctuated by strange-looking wooden contraptions Mr. English called rockers and sluice boxes. “Mining requires water and lots of it,” he explained as they paused for Mattie to catch her breath. ” He pointed to the shallow open-ended sluice boxes on the claim above them. “See how the water’s been directed to rush through? That washes the lighter gravel away while gold drops onto the baffles at the bottom—” He paused.
Freddie glanced toward Mattie and lowered his voice. ” He swallowed. “And he got real loud and doubled up his fists and came up to me, so I just helped him see he shouldn’t oughta call me names and I helped him leave, and I didn’t mean for him to fall but he did and he went splat right there,” Freddie said, gesturing toward the middle of the street, “and everyone was laughing and that’s when Mr. ” Freddie shook his head from side to side. ” He beamed down at her. “And he shook my hand. ” Freddie held his palm out and looked down at it and murmured, “I like Mr.
A Claim of Her Own by Stephanie Grace Whitson