I felt in my bones Silver was right and I ordered those two pieces put back into the safety deposit box. But the rest of the jewelry went to pay debts just as the diamonds of Queen Isabella of Spain had previously. My wedding present! What a sad memory! I never could bear to go back to that vault—I was afraid I should burst into tears. But Silver returned in 1911 and brought the two pieces to me at about the time we decided to make our permanent home in Leadville, living at the Matchless cabin to save rent. “I met Mr. Edgar McMechen coming out and I showed him Papa’s fob,” she told me. “He thought it was gorgeous and said to be careful of that—that it was of great historical interest. I told him I wanted you to see it again—that you needed cheering up—and just to see it, would help you from getting discouraged and blue.” “You are a sweet, thoughtful daughter,” I answered, kissing her. “I will look at them for inspiration. Then I will give them to the sisters at St. Vincent’s hospital in Leadville. They are always so kind to us and will store anything I ask.” But it was the year before that, in 1910, that Silver had given me my greatest happiness about her. In 1908, President Roosevelt had visited Leadville and Silver had ridden into town to see him. That evening when she came back to the cabin, she wrote a lyric entitled “Our President Roosevelt’s Colorado Hunt.” A. S. Lohmann of Denver later set it to music and we had it published. The _Denver Post_ wrote up her accomplishment and printed a picture of Silver two columns wide. I was so pleased! Two years later President Roosevelt, although no longer in office, returned to Colorado and made an address in Denver. Silver was there, close to the platform, and when the speech was ended, was presented to him as the author of the Roosevelt song. The ex-president willingly posed with my daughter and the next day, the Denver newspapers printed photographs of Silver and President Roosevelt shaking hands. “My darling, brilliant daughter!” I exclaimed in natural maternal pride when I saw the account. “Again a Tabor associates with a president of the United States—the Tabor luck is coming back!” But I was wrong—that was the last day I was to experience great joy. My dearest treasure, Silver, with her piquant profile and sweet demure ways, was marked already with the shadow of tragedy. She had grown up very fond of horses and riding. I could not afford anything for her to ride but a burro that I used for hauling out ore from the mine. She used to hang around the livery stable hoping for better things.