HEART OF GOLD

Matt Sutherland arrives in Blasted Pine mining camp, determined to make his fortune gold mining.  Dreams of winning his wealthy girl back home fill his head and his first act is to stake a claim.  On arrival, he comes across an auction for a claim, that comes with an unexpected addition, a grubby urchin with violet eyes.  ***************************************
           "Now, you men, you all know Lafe Connolly here. Well, Lafe has decided to quit his claim and move on west. Says he wants to be a mountain man."
    A roar of laughter rose from the crowd at this remark. Men slapped their knees and each others' backs. Up on the wooden stand, a heavy-set man dressed in a dusty black frock coat and ornate brocade vest waited for the crowd to quiet. When the laughing continued for over a minute, he pulled his revolver and fired a single shot in the air. Quiet descended on the group.
    The odor of unwashed men in front of him kept him on the fringes of the crowd. Matt dropped his valises into the dust, crossed his arms over his chest, and waited to see what would happen next. The man in front, an auctioneer Matt decided, began to speak again.
    "Now, Lafe here wants to auction off his claim, but there's a condition that goes with it."
    A murmur rose from the men, but died away when the auctioneer reached down and pulled a young girl dressed in filthy overalls forward to stand next to him. The crowd pushed Matt closer to the front. Matt strained to see around the bulky shoulders of a taller man who had stepped in front of him. Who on earth was that raggedy looking person?
    "Now, this here is the condition." The heavy man spoke as though in answer to Matt's inner thoughts. "Some of you may know Dee here, Lafe's sister. Well, Dee owns half interest in the claim, and she don't want to move on. So anybody that wants this here claim's got to share half interest with her. 'Course she'll be working the claim, as always..."
    "An' she's a helluva cook, too." Shouted out a tall, cadaverously thin man wearing tattered denim overalls and a worn plaid shirt. "And I should know, I been eating her grub for th' past ten years."
     This must be the footloose brother Lafe. Not much of a specimen of humanity with his prominent adams apple bouncing up and down in his throat, and his greasy brown hair flopping over his forehead. He look perfect match for the filthy ragamuffin standing on the platform. Her hair, though black as a moonless night, hung in dull, greasy strands around a dirt-smudged face. 

(continued)
 "Fifty dollars." A whiskey-thick voice called out.
     "Come on now, folks, let's be serious about this. You know Lafe has taken at least that much a day out of this claim." 
    "Right, George, but how do we know there's anythin' left?" The same voice called out again.
    "Cause I'm sayin' so, that's how," retorted the auctioneer.     "One hundred dollars." Matt called out.
    "Wha'? Who said that?" Lafe perked up and scanned the crowd.
    George banged on the side of the platform with the handle of his gun, and tried to regain control of the now excited crowd.
    "Okay, folks, here we go. Now we're cookin'."
    "One-hundred fifty."
    "One seventy-five." Matt countered.
    "Two hundred." Came a creaky voice off to the left.
    "Oh, shut up, Pappy. You ain't got two hunnert dollars," shouted Lafe.
    During this exchange, Matt judiciously pushed passed the few men between him and the platform until he reached the front row. Curious, he looked up, and tried to see under the hedge of greasy hair that shadowed the girl's face. Maybe another bid would buy him a glimpse.
    "Two hundred and fifty." Matt called out.
    The girl's head snapped up and Matt saw huge eyes framed by long, sweeping dark lashes. A deep shade of violet, her eyes widened as she looked at him, then narrowed speculatively. Then, she quickly lowered her gaze to the rough planks under her feet.