It all started with a little article in the newspaper. This being an election year the paper was full of accusations and countermands among smidgens of real news articles. It was on page 12 towards the bottom; it was about a no name westerner that had moved to the east after panning up a pound of gold dust off in California. Wren suddenly remembered the little land plot his uncle had left him years before. It was probably worth more then he could ever imagine.

His uncle Tobiason had left him a land plot in California south of the port of San Francisco. Wren would have sold it a long time ago but the man had died of the pox trying to get the slip of paper to him. Tobiason had gone West over the Oregon Trail years before Wren was born. He sent lots of letters about what was going on in the West.

Wren grew up listening to the letters sent to his father about land so black that seeds started growing before they hit the ground. He also wrote about the whorehouses and the gambling places he was in and meeting famous people like Wyatt Erp and Billy the Kid. Wren kept all the letters from his uncle in an old baking soda tin, some nights when he wanted to dream about the West he would take out the tin and read those letters in front of the winter fire. All those child hood years were spent thinking about going West and he never did. He had a great job at the largest book publisher in the Americas. He had worked hard for the position and his ambition over shadowed his desire to move West. But with the print shop having burned down he was out of a job and was able to move West.

It took him a time to find that old tin but in time he was able to find it wedged in his bookshelf. It was behind his personal copy of "The Fall of the House of Usher" Edgar had given him because the man hated the sloppy marks in the ledgers Wren had made. Tobiasons last letter and the deed to 70 acres in California was on the bottom of the tin. He carefully unfolded the letter telling about the great green valley with a mountain stream running over cliffs to the sea. In the letter it talked about the view from the top of the cliff, the long lazy sunsets, the dive-swoop birds and other sights you could see. With the story of gold having been found in California, the deed, his desire to go West, and loosing his job there was nothing holding him back anymore. Like thousands of others he was going West.

In April he left Independence with a hundred of other people, mainly farmers looking for land though there were a few intellectuals like the Doc going west to start his own business. There were a total of 19 lawyers going West hoping to become judges in small towns or go to San Francisco and try some cases. Personally Wren thought they all were allowed on the trail so the trail master could offer them to the Comanches to eat. He split the cost of the wagon and the oxen and other supplies with a carpenter that had built him desks, shelves, and a table set. The man loved books and had borrowed every single book Wren ever owned. They had been friends for years, going to plays and music shows whenever they were able to. Wren had enough money that he could pay for them both but the carpenter always paid him back. The custom shelves that held every book they took on the trail was a "gift" from him. Wren paid for the most supplies on the trail while the carpenter took care of the work, like the axles and the tongues and the yoke all of which Wren didn't understand. The wheels came off whenever the wagon hit a rock so he was glad to have the carpenter along on the Santa Fe Trail. Wren would have been ridding the whole way to California with only the supplies in his saddlebags if it weren't for the carpenter's skills.

It happened soon after they crossed into Colorado country. A girl got the pox and soon after Wren caught it. He rode in the back of the wagon coughing and scratching and wishing he was dead for the next day till the trail master heard. His skin was blotchy and bleeding and soon after he was dragged out of the wagon, tied to a horse, and ran off. His friend the carpenter didn't even raise a protest.

After a time the horse threw him off and ran out of sight. He sat out in the desert sun watching large birds' gather around him dancing like specters out of one of his books. His skin turned deep red and peeled away in huge chunks whenever he scratched a pox sore. The air burned around him while the dirt crackled and crunched like logs in a fire. His tongue swelled up till he could only breath through his nostrils and the light burned his eyes shut. Something nibbled at his clothes and he shooed it away several times. Wren was ready to die in this arid place when he heard a scrap of music. Adeline music like the singers in the barbershop would sing. It was a waft, a scrap that could have been the wind but soon the voice got louder. He saw through the shimmer of light a bright green dress dancing. One, two, three, swoop. One, two, three, swoop. It danced and sang over the cracked dirt closer to him. It danced around him singing as loud as a voice could get. The birds shrieked and cackled then flew away from the green angel. Wren had only a glimpse of soft ivory white skin with deep blue eyes that echoed the heavens before he allowed himself to sleep and leave his vigil over the desert.

He awoke to hear some woman talking, softly arguing, probably so they would not disturb him.

"We don't know who he is. He could be a dangerous man."

"I couldn't leave him in the desert. He would have died. I did what Jesus would have done, help a fellow human in need."

"Jesus is not three woman stranded in the desert with a strange man."

"Jesus is also not three woman with a riffle and a pistol with a strange man who can't move or see what is going on. We have to take care of him. We can leave him when we leave."

"She has a point there, Hanna. The man is sick and in need of help. We would be killing him if we did not help. The man is in no condition to harm us. His eyes are swelled shut and he is sick from the pox. He is not a danger to us except as a test of our good natured souls."

"Martha is right. How is it Christian of us to leave a man to die in the desert."

"All right he may stay but I will leave him behind if there is any trouble from him. Got that Alexandra. Also Martha and I will care for him. I don't trust you alone with him. You will have to pick up the extra chores that we can't do while we are looking after him. Go get some extra water and make soup for him. He'll need a lot of water if he is going to survive."

"Yes, Hanna."

Footsteps approached him and he heard a splash of water before he felt the coolness on his face. He sucked at the drops eagerly, thankful for the water. After his mouth was wet he quietly tried to thank her.

"Shush, don't talk. You lost a lot of liquids in the desert. You need to rest and don't worry about Hanna leaving you in the desert to die. She is a tough woman but would never leave a fellow human behind to die. I must say you are quite a lucky man though. You seemed to have survived the worst of the pox and survive the worst of the desert. It has left you weaker then a newborn but with the three of us you should be able to recover just fine. Don't worry about three women babying you. We are all alone in the desert with no one to assault your manliness, though Hanna might. Just rest and enjoy letting us do all the work for you."

Martha blotted the cool water over his head, arms, neck, and chest. The skin burned under the water but he was thankful he could feel it. It was like pinching oneself to see if you were awake though it was more like a pinch to see if he was dead. With confirmation he was alive he did let himself enjoy the sensation of rest. Martha was humming softly a church ballad that Wren's mother used to sing to him. It was easier then to view these women. From what he had heard Alexandria is an impulsive young woman. She reminded him of the troublesome sex kitten he used to date back East. Hanna was obviously an old maid of a woman who had seen hard times. Kind of like the Negroid wash woman who attacked the floors and walls. Some how personally affronted that the dirt would have the guts to get on HER walls. Martha was motherly. There was only one way to completely describe her. She was a mother who kept the peace, was sensible minded, and some one you could count on in a jam.

The days started to go by and Wren got stronger and stronger. His pox sores no longer itched or a cause of irritation but the sun burn was another matter. His skin peeled off in great big flakes and it was hard to sleep on the mattress. He wanted the air flow around his skin to cool him off but all he could do was rest on a wet blanket. He didn't hear much about Alexandria because she was never allowed in the wagon or tent he was in. She was constantly singing old classical ballads or would sing a Christian psalm. She didn't talk much except to argue with Hanna. Her voice however kept him from going crazy. He couldn't see anything because of the damage to his eyes. It was so boring not to be able to read or talk with anybody. Hanna was the main one who took care of him. She would shovel food into him or dump water onto him to help keep his temperature down. She never talked to him or told him anything. She mainly left him alone. The only things he could tell she did was fix things, argue with Alexandria, or make things. Martha was different. She would talk to him about what it was like back home. She had read some of the same books and seen a few plays. She was exciting to talk to and though he hated the heat of the mid day he looked forward to it because Martha was always there to cool him down and talk to him.

This seemed to go on for a year though it was probably less then a month when he was strong enough to go outside and enjoy the night air. Released from the "jail" he was immediately attacked by Alexandria. Through the long usually peaceful night she talked non stop about this and that. Eagerly trying out old conversations on new ears. He just let her talk while he enjoyed the zephyrs of the night. Anything was better then that stuffy bed.

Alexandria talked all night but towards dawn she stopped. "I just live for a sunrise. Over the desert you can see every piece of it. In the city there was always smog or a building wrecking the view. I will miss this place when we leave."

"When are we going to leave. I hope I haven't delayed your trip any."

"Oh, no Wren you have not delayed our journey any. We got stranded in the desert when our oxen died. Hanna's husband and Martha's Beau left to get us new oxen. They haven't come back yet and Hanna is really worried. I think that is why she is being such a grouch all this time. Martha thinks they were unable to get back because the desert killed them. She is sad about it but with you coming along she was able to put it out of her mind."

"Wait a minute. If your oxen died how are you going to get out of the desert? How are you going to survive?"

"We caught a horse. It is down by the creek tied to a branch. There it is out of the shade and it has lots of water to drink. We have made a small wagon that we are going to hook up to the horse to carry our supplies. We are going to follow the creek up stream in hopes it comes from a mountain lake. If it is worse there then here we'll follow it down stream in the hope it empties into a river. We'll have to leave a lot behind but it is the best way on how to survive that we can come up with. It isn't a bad plan except that we will have to leave most everything behind. We were going to open a clothing shop in San Francisco. Lots of what we will leave behind are expensive cloths from Italy and lace from France."

"Is that what you had on when you found me in the desert. I remember hearing you sing and then seeing a beautiful green dress dancing with the heat."

"Shush, Hanna will hear you. She doesn't approve of me singing or dancing in such a shameful manner as I did that day. I snuck out with one of her best dresses and was pretending to be at the Christmas Dance with one of my Beaus when I saw all those birds. I danced over to look and found you. I was in trouble more for having that dress on and wandering out in the desert then anything else I have done in my life."

"I do want to thank you for saving me. I owe you my life."

"Don't thank me, just don't tell Hanna I was dancing like that. She'll leave us both behind if you do. I'll owe you my life if you don't talk. Deal.."

"Deal."

Several days past and Wren was getting stronger. The camp also got busier. All three women had to make choices on what to leave behind and what to take. Martha got Hanna to let them make a mock house as she called it. They set up the dinning table and chairs to have a fancy meal. They all dressed in the fanciest clothes and pretended they were back east or in San Francisco already. All the furniture and the cloth had to be left behind but there was no rule, at least by Hanna, that they couldn't have some civilized fun before they left. It was most exciting for Wren and Alexandria who danced like they were at a church function. It was awkward to have her lead but every time he started to lead they would bump into something. Now that the "jail time" was over Alexandria tried to monopolize his time and he was helpless against her because he couldn't even see his hands. His eyes were still swelled shut from the sun and the pox. Martha was worried that his eyes would never heal but Alexandria saw the tremendous opportunities it gave her. He was totally at her mercy much of the time.

He realized it soon enough. He was falling in love with these woman. Each one had her attributes that he was attracted to. After they reached San Francisco he would sell his land and buy a shop for them. He would either marry Martha or Alexandria. Hanna would always be the spinster of the woman but he would take care of them like how they took care of him. Alone and dying in the desert was probably one of the best things that ever happened to him. He was in love.

He panicked when he heard the scream. Alexandria was singing in harmony with Martha when she just stopped. The quietness was filled up with a buzzing insect sound that stopped after the scream. He tripped over chairs and got tangled with a cloth strewn on the ground running towards where he heard the scream. Martha kept chanting "Oh my" while Alexandria was panting heavily.

"What happened? Why did you scream? What's wrong?"

"Alexandria was just bitten by a snake. Oh my, she doesn't look good."

"Cut out the poison quickly before she dies."

"I can't. I'm afraid."

"Alexandria will die if you don't help her. Hanna! Hanna, where are you? We need a knife."

Wren heard her thundering footsteps race over the cracked dirt. Hanna was a strong woman. She would have the courage to cut the poison out.

"I can't cut into human flesh. That would be sacrilegious. Martha you do it."

"Oh my. I can't stand blood. Oh my. Oh dear."

"Hanna, hurry up and do it."

"I can't cut into living flesh."

"She will die if you don't. Give me the knife, I'll do it."

"Oh, your eyes, your bandage." Martha whispered, seemingly from far off.

Wren unwrapped the bandage and opened his eyes as best they could. The light was blinding at first but slowly his eyes adjusted. He took a firm grip on the knife and looked down to where Alexandria lay.

Except she wasn't there. A bright green scrap of fabric, heavily faded by the sun was wrapped around a bolder. He looked around for Martha and Hanna but they were not in sight. He called out to the silent desert but there was no answer. Nobody was there with him. A ways off stood a dresser and a tent. Three models were standing fully dressed in the desert sun. All three were made out of fine porcelain and wore dresses one would expect in the Paris shop fronts. He gazed at the hollow masks somehow seeing and not seeing the women who had saved him. One wore a bright green dress with lots of ivory lace. Another was sitting at a table in a deep blue dress. A small heart shaped locket was placed around her neck. It held a picture of a man and a child. The third dress was a black morning dress heavily laden with veils and a white silk rose.

Nobody was here in the desert but him.

I appologise for all the colors but it helps seprate the paragraphs and helps if you have to jump around.

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