Thurston House Read Online Free PDF Page A

back as he rode old Joe along the Silverado Trail to Calistoga. Jeremiah urged him on, and the big horse picked up his feet and flew the last five miles, as Jeremiah rode with the wind in his beard and his hair, as he thought of Mary Ellen.
    As he rode down the main street of Calistoga, there were clusters of ladies strolling together, protected by lace parasols. It was easy to spot those who had come from San Francisco to visit the hot springs: their fashionable dresses were in sharp contrast to the simpler costumes of the locals, their bustles were pronounced, the plumage on their bonnets was lavish, the textures of their silks noticeable in sleepy little Calistoga. It always made Jeremiah smile to see them, and they were quick to notice him as he rode past them, astride his white stallion, with his own dark hair in sharp contrast. When he was in a particularly playful mood, he would doff his hat, and bow politely from his mount, his eyes always dancing with mischief. There was one particularly pretty woman in the cluster today, a woman with reddish hair and a forest green silk dress, the color of the trees on the mountains, but her coloring only served to remind him of why he had come to Calistoga, and he spurred his horse on a little more quickly, and it was only moments later that he reached Mary Ellen's small, tidy house on Third Street in the less fashionable part of town.
    Here the smell of sulphur from the spa was strongest, but she had grown used to it long since, as had Jeremiah. It was not the spa, or the sulphur, or even his mines he thought of as he tied Big Joe up behind the house, and ran quickly up the back steps. He knew that she would be waiting, and he opened the door without ceremony with a faint pounding of his heart. Whatever he felt of didn't feel for this woman, one thing was certain, when she was near him, she still had the same magical power over him she had had when they first met. There was a kind of breathlessness he felt, a surge of lust he had felt for few women before or after her. Yet when he was away from her, he was so easily able to do without her. It was for that reason that he never had any serious inclination to change his status. But when he was near her ' when he sensed her in the next room, as he did now, all of his senses were suddenly racing with desire for her.
    Mary Ellen? He opened the door to the little front parlor where she sometimes waited for him on Saturday afternoons. She would drop the children off at her mother's in the morning and then return to the house to bathe and curl her hair and put on her prettiest finery for Jeremiah. There was a kind of honeymoon aura to their meeting, because they only saw each other once a week, and if something went wrong in one of the mines, or he went away, then it was longer. She hated it when he was gone. Every night, every morning, every day, she waited for their weekends together. It was odd how, over the years, she was becoming more and more dependent on him. But she was sure that he hadn't noticed. He was too intent on his physical attraction to her, to be aware of her decreasing independence. He liked coming to Calistoga to see her. He was comfortable in the shabby little house, and besides, he had never invited her to stay with him in St. Helena. In fact, she had only seen the house once. You sure he's not married? her mother had questioned her often at first, but everyone knew that Jeremiah Thurston had never been married, and probably never will, her mother growled after the first few years of her daughter's liaison. Now she no longer growled. After seven years of Saturday nights, what was there to say? She said nothing now as she took the children in, her oldest granddaughter at fourteen being almost as old as Mary Ellen had been herself when she got married. The boy was twelve, and the youngest girl was nine. It was she who particularly adored Jeremiah. But they knew enough not to say too much to Grandma.
    Mary Ellen? Jeremiah