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19. The Bride of Vallecito East of San Diego and not far beyond Descanso and Lassiters, is Vallecito ... little valley, as its name implies. With the coming of the Butterfield stagecoach line in 1858, the town boomed and exhausted passengers on their way to the gold fields stared up at the low-lying purple mountains and the majestic Laguna range in the distance grateful to be approaching Vallecito. Their long trek from back east was nearly over. Vallecito Stage Station, built in 1851 of sod and brown adobe brick, is today a desolate, abandoned place. The doorway of this ancient building now looms dark and gaping while everywhere there is eerie stillness. An arid landscape is covered profusely by silvery gray, leafless smoke trees, desert willows, and feathery bushes with pale green foliage. Even in the bright light of the noonday sun, the smoke tree has a ghostly look and at a distance resembles a mysterious cloud of vapor hovering just above the ground. No longer do four and six mule teams swing with a flurry of dust across the Overland up to the Vallecito Stage Station. Nor will it ever again be the refuge for desert weary travelers it was a hundred years ago ... for the old station is said to be haunted ... cloaked in mystery. Of course, if violent events produced hauntings, enough took place at many stations like this, strung across the West, to supply them with ghosts forever. They were the scene of murders, brutal attacks, robberies, and diverse violent deaths. A desertwise old man says that no one who knows the stories of Vallecito could ever sleep within these walls and, perhaps, he is right. 239 238 The Gold Seekers with her, if she could somehow have helped her during those last days. Preparations for her important tour were postponed and several weeks passed before she realized that high-spirited Lola would have wanted her to go and put on her best performances ... for her! Lotta conquered New York, but it was to San Francisco that she most often returned playing long engagements, making a gift of a fountain to the city she would always love best, and Lotta's Fountain is still there. She never forgot California even after she became wealthy and retired to the East. Her mother had managed those Mexican dollars and Rabbit Creek nuggets well! Almost eighty when she died in 1924, Lotta's fortune was worth something over four million dollars and it was in character that she had bequeathed it to hundreds of charities. If there was a key to her success, it was that Lotta Crabtree was a gifted entertainer able to charm rough miners and impress sophisticated New Yorkers simply by being herself. But she would always be known as the darling of the lonely men in the gold camps ... who were often away from their loved ones for several years at a time. She could make them forget their hardships, lift them out of their discouragement ... she could make them laugh and she could make them cry. Lotta Crabtree was one of the great, warm, unforgettable figures of American pioneer history. 142.171.180] Project MUSE (2024-04-26 08:49 GMT) The Bride of Vallecito 241 Cleanliness was another problem. She usually found a bowl and pitcher in the room and sometimes a tin tub, but often no water and would have to go to the pump and bring back bucketfuls to warm beside a fireplace. She carefully hoarded her meager supply of lye soap. As they traveled farther West, a roof over her head was a luxury for they were often forced to sleep on the ground under a tent. In the same stage with Eileen and her uncle were two male passengers also headed for the gold fields. One was a man of the cloth, from the East named Reverend Frederick Fox, who after the first week ceased his pretense of bearing the discomforts of the trip cheerfully. A small, pasty faced man with straw-colored hair and stained teeth, his few smiles were directed at Eileen. Quite talkative for the first week, he must have divulged his entire personal history and Eileen tolerated his stories out of necessity, for in the close quarters of the coach there wa& no escape. She was thankful when he began to lapse into long silences. The other passenger was an elegantly attired man in black who called himself Ronald Skinner. His eyes were dark agate marbles, completely...

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