It was the dirty end of winter. The wind, it bit bitter, causing your fingertips to turn red and your nails to become sensitive even to the slightest touch. You could only afford gloves without fingers this year. The last year’s had already fallen apart completely, the soft fabric positively destroyed by the numerous times they’d been subjected to harsh treatment. Same as your hands.

The light green coat did little to protect you from the freezing weather, temperature far below zero degrees if the white frost was anything to judge by, so you hurried towards your destination, the soles of your boots sliding on the frozen ground.

You didn’t even have to come all the way to the little wooden house to see the big white paper sign hung on its door. ‘Closed’ it read, the black ink lines shaky and thin as if written by an unsteady hand, or in a hurry. Your heart sank down in your chest, so it had happened in the end. Even the very last grocery store in your little town of Saint Mary’s was now desolate and empty, leaving the nearest possibility to get any supplies over thirty miles away.

‘It’s time to go too,’ you thought sadly.

You loved the town. It was the place you had been born in, raised in and both your happy and tragic memories were bound to it by the tight stings of life. It would be difficult to leave, but they gave you no other choice.

The word had spread fairly quickly along the West coast. It had been just a little over a year now since they had found gold in California and already a bigger part of the plain Arizonian deserts knew. You remembered the exact moment when all this excitement and mess reached your town.

A stranger came in, riding a black horse, which was by itself enough to attract everybody’s attention. His spurred boots were grazing each other every step he took and making clinking noises. It was no surprise that his first chosen destination was the only pub in the town. Speaking to nobody, he downed three shots of the best whiskey the barman had and stood up to leave again. Instead of a few notes though, he tossed two tiny golden stones on the bar.

That’s when it all had started. It still felt like mere days ago to you, even though more than two months passed since that day. The day that changed lives of many people, including you. The proper Gold rush reached Saint Mary a few days after the stranger’s visit, when the first ‘forty-niners’ packed all their possessions and left in the direction of California, leaving the town desolate and slowly dying.

Heaving a deep sigh, you remained standing in the middle of the street, for once paying no mind to the various parts of your body that were positively freezing. There was nothing left for you. Not for you, nor for anybody else. The town was doomed without any hopes for recovering. You knew you couldn’t stay there any longer, but having no money to make the long trip along with all the enthusiastic gold diggers, you figured you’d just move to the next big city and try to find some decent work for once.

Drowned so deeply in your pessimistic thoughts, you didn’t notice the person standing next to you until he spoke up, managing to startle you.

“So it’s time to move on in the end.”

You just nodded absently, knowing your oldest and best friend would understand what was going through your head.

“Elisa and I are leaving tomorrow. For California,” he added hesitantly.

At that your head shot up abruptly. Sure, deep down you knew this was going to happen sooner or later, but you weren’t prepared for it. Prepared to lose your friend of so many years and be left alone once again in the whole wild, dangerous world. The news slowly sinking in, you just smiled sadly at your friend and nodded, not trusting your voice not to betray your true emotions yet.

“I… Well, I reserved three places at the wagon leaving westwards tomorrow morning.”

Bradford was staring at you and it seemed he was actually scared a bit. ‘Of what?’ you thought. That you might decline the offer? Your saddened expression turned into one of genuine surprise and unguarded joy. You honestly hadn’t expected that.

“But what about Elisa?”

You had to ask. It was no secret that your best friend’s wife wasn’t a big fan of your company. You didn’t know why she despised you so much; you two didn’t even know each other that well. And despite all that you still thought she was a lovely woman.

“She’s,” Bradford clears his throat before continuing, “she’s okay with it, don’t worry.”

Sensing the mistrust radiating off you he swiftly adds,” really, Chester, she’s fine with it. I cannot leave without you and she knows it.”

At that you knew this was it. It wasn’t the miserable end you’d been so afraid of, it was a new beginning.

Now both of you smiling, you mouthed a quiet ‘thank you’ before parting for your separate ways and going to prepare yourselves for the big journey.

The next morning, you were standing at the fairly crowded carriage station, a small bag draped over your shoulder, carrying all your remaining possessions. Your toes were freezing; your ancient boots had already given up the previous day and presented your feet with a nicely shaped hole at the top of each of them.

California, they said, was warm even in winter. You sighed quietly and willed Bradford to cut down on his necessary morning preparations (honestly, he was worse than his wife) and to turn up, before you froze to death. You didn’t have to wait much longer though, because soon enough you were able to distinguish two very familiar voices in the chatter around. Stepping out towards the echo of hope and new adventure, you stopped dead in your tracks. This particular conversation you didn’t really want to be a part of.

“Honey, it’s still not too late. You can tell him you’ve lost the ticket, or… Or -“

“Elisa, please, we’ve been over this. I’m not leaving without him. I can’t.”

“Fine, if you prefer his company to mine I can very well stay here and – “

“Honey, please, you must understand that…”

Not being able to stand any more of that you steeled yourself for the onslaught of dirty looks and maybe even expletives and finished the rest of your little trip. Suddenly, you were desperate to stay on board.

“Good morning!” you exclaimed cheerfully, a fake smile plastered on your face, your heart rate increasing with every passing second of stunned silence. Finally, Bradford shot a warning glare towards his wife and spoke up.

“Good morning, Chester. Ready for the big journey?”

Bradford’s eyes were pleading, trying to communicate something over to you. What, you weren’t sure but you said no more. Throughout the whole process of deciding which wagon was yours neither one of you dared to speak, nor look one another in the eye. It was better that way, you thought, as you knew your eyes would just betray you and spill out all your unspoken emotions – fear, anticipation and uncertainty.

The journey was long and rough. The only sounds you could hear were light snores and clapping of hoofs against the frozen ground. When the night fell and it started to get on to midnight, the coachman stopped near a cheap motel and camped under the stars with a blanket, same as most of your fellow passengers. You, on the other hand, just had to get a room.

It wasn’t so cheap that you could afford it, but Elisa insisted. And that meant Bradford had to pay for a room for you too. If out of compassion or guilt, you didn’t know.

The two small rooms were divided just by a thin worn down wooden wall. By no means sound proof so you hoped beyond hope that your friend and his wife would steer away from any conversation they may have wanted to engage in. You really didn’t want to hear anything. Not in your wildest dreams you had thought that your best friend would marry a woman that resented you so deeply and without any apparent reason. But your nightmare became a reality and there was no way to change it now, so you had to just grin and bear it.

A light hand on your shoulder brought you back from your daydreaming. Bradford. His eyes were soft and apologetic. You smiled at him.

“Look, Chester, I don’t know what you’ve heard this morning, but I’m – “

“No, it’s okay,” you tried to interrupt him, but he wouldn’t listen, determined to try to smooth the situation a bit.

“ – sorry. You know how she is,” Bradford sighed almost inaudibly.

“I know,” you just nodded minutely and turned to walk back to your room.

It didn’t take long for a light sleep to claim you. You were dreaming about freezing fingers, golden gloves and angry wives. Something didn’t feel right though, you were standing on an empty street but still, you felt eyes piercing into your skin. Wherever you turned, they were watching you.

You woke up with a start.

In the furthest corner of your room, hidden in the shadows, stood a figure. Lithe, slim and mysterious. Before you were able to distinguish between the dream and reality, the figure approached you and you recognized her. It was Elisa.

Only a transparent white shirt, with half the buttons open, was covering her beautiful naked body. Slowly, she sat down on the bed beside you and put a bony finger across your lips, to silence any protests you might have had.

“I know what you want from my husband,” Elisa whispered. Then she leaned even closer and hissed right into your ear, “if I give it to you, you’ll leave us alone.”

It wasn’t a question.

She took your trembling hand and placed it on her warm skin. Her breast, it was small in your palm. Small, round and unbelievably soft. Your breath hitched in your throat, you had no idea what was happening or what you should do. In such situations, you thought, experience was necessary. She seemed to make up for what you didn’t have.

Later, you would think of your first experience with physical love as of something sacred. In that moment though, you weren’t able to think of anything but smooth, silky white skin, round curves and unbelievably wet warmth.

She disappeared as unnoticed as she had appeared. One minute she was there, her body heat warming your skin, the next you heard a soft click of the doors.

In the morning, you thought it was just a dream. Your twisted mind replaced the face of your best friend with his wife’s and played a nasty trick on you. It wasn’t her that you were pining for, after all.

The trip down to your wagon prepared a vicious surprise for you. It was nowhere to be found. No, they couldn’t have… Bradford wouldn’t let them leave without you. That wasn’t possible.

But then, you remembered Elisa’s words. And maybe, just maybe it wasn’t a dream. Was it? You felt a steady stream of tears running down your face. She was right, that really was what you were waiting for, this little bit of affection you needed from your best friend. And now, it ruined everything. You were lost, couldn’t go back or forth. Your whole life, hold together by a friendship and memories had fallen apart.

Before you knew it, you were sitting in a bar. A tall, thin, dark haired man bought you a drink to drown your sorrows and when he put a hand on your thigh and slid it more upwards, you didn’t find it in you to protest. Afterwards, kneeling down on your knees in a dirty back alley, you grabbed the few notes he tossed at you and pocketed them.

You never saw Bradford or Elisa again. The Gold Rush in California was a huge success and you often pictured them sitting in front of a small house with a bunch of kids running around.

When things got particularly bad, somebody was too rough or too drunk or both, you thought about Elisa and the last time you saw her. It helped you to endure the toughest of times. Everything cruel and ruthless had something beneficial in it, after all.

A/N: Title stolen from Nick Cave. As well as the town of Saint Mary.