Dreams of Gold is a historically accurate yet fictional work set in the Rocky Mountain area of Cripple Creek Colorado. The book takes place in the mining town during the late 1800s. It is a story of redemption, love, and family. This action-packed page-turner will take you on an incredible journey of discovery through historically accurate events. Pinkerton Operative Brady Gressett searches for his long-lost sister but finds something more in the process. Dreams of Gold By Royce Dalton Elms, David tatum Elms AuthorHouse LLC Copyright © 2014 Royce Dalton Elms All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-4969-3711-7 CHAPTER 1 "I am searching for a tall, robust and buxom woman who has a round face and is warm and compassionate. Her hair is silver-gray, her eyes are dark and she dresses elegantly and often with a string of white pearls around her neck," Brady asked the old man. "I have been told this woman will help me find my sister." "Do you know of a woman in this town," Brady Gressett asked, "who might fit that description?" The almond-shaped, dark eyes that he was looking into were very sensitive and sympathetic. He was glad he had approached the slight, smartly dressed owner of Johnny Nolon's Saloon and Gambling Emporium. The amiable, derby-hatted man had agreed to keep their conversation in complete confidence. Nolon bowed his head toward the table in sober contemplation of Brady's question. "There's a half-dozen women," Nolon said, the ends of his twisted handlebar moustache bobbing with each spoken word, "who might fit your description. But the most likely one is a Madame in the red light district." "Madame?" Brady said, frowning at the implication of the term. "Madame Bonavent." "What is her business?" "Owns a house of prostitution called `The Penthouse' on Myers Avenue, in the red light district. Has the best underground telegraph in the whole state of Colorado." Brady cringed at the thought of having to go into a red light district. He only went into a red light district when it was absolutely necessary in the line of duty as a Pinkerton operative. His God-fearing mother would turn over in her grave if he ever went into a red light district to one of the girls for carnal pleasure. "You mean," Brady said, "she has connections in Leadville, Fairplay, Aspen, Silverton, Uray, Telluride and the other mining towns?" "Out here we call them camps, not towns. Yes, she's been in all of those camps. She knows key people in every camp. Always moves her ladies to the fastest growing camp." Thirty minutes before Brady had pulled a telegram out of his vest pocket that he had received from the Denver Pinkerton office. Two weeks earlier, with permission from his Chicago boss, William Pinkerton, he had wired them the description of the town from his mother's dream. He had spoken with Pinkerton about his missing sister, but he had not revealed to him or to Denver the source of his description. He was glad he couldn't reveal the source, because they would have considered him foolish for believing it. He had requested that the Denver office match the description to a specific mining town in Colorado. Quickly, he read the main text of the telegram, again: mountain range from north to south would be rocky mountains stop pikes peak is highest peak stop town in bowl like indention west of Pikes Peak with strange sharp pointed peak would be cripple creek stop sharp pointed peak would be mount pisgah stop can see pikes peak from mount pisgah stop mountains of gold could refer to mountains around cripple creek and victor which are producing a lot of gold stop much gold stop After receiving the wire, he had requested a two-week leave of absence from the Pinkerton's. His boss had reluctantly granted his request, asking him to return sooner if possible. Pinkerton had stated that he needed him for a special assignment involving the campaign for the President of the United States. That afternoon he had boarded a Rock Island and Pacific Railway passenger train to Colorado. On the last leg of his journey, on the Florence & Cripple Creek Railway up Phantom Canyon, he had asked a friendly old miner where to go for information. He had recommended that he go to Johnny Nolon who was known far and wide for helping people. Upon arriving in Cripple Creek, Brady had swiftly spotted Mount Pisgah and had been amazed at how much the gold camp looked like the description in his mother's dream. Across from him, the contemplative saloon keeper brought the palms of his small hands together in front of his oval face. The diminutive man periodically shook his head as he continued his pondering. Turning toward the rowdy music that was echoing in the saloon, Brady momentarily watched the musicians. A round-faced, bald-headed piano player was bouncing on the stool while grinning and pounding the keys passionately. Nearby, a lanky man was sitting on a higher stool and plucking a loud banjo. They were playing a scorching version of, "There'll be A H