Most of the successful private prospectors who’d struck it rich during the California and Nevada gold rushes during the mid- to late-1800s, had journeyed westward with a specific plan from which they never deviated. Upon achieving their pre-defined goals, they packed up and returned to their original homes in distant regions of the United States. There were also plenty of others, who’d been unable to pull the plug after striking it rich, believing their lucky streak to be a never-ending one.

Time and again, history had repeated itself by sending individual fortunes spiraling into the clouds before lady luck abandoned them and reality brought them crashing back to earth, broken beyond repair. Many such prospectors departed the region with their tails tucked between their legs, wishing they’d left while their bank accounts were still filled to overflowing.

Others remained and turned to more dubious means of acquiring riches, namely, stealing it from those who’d earned it by the sweat of their brows. For the cost of a single 45-caliber bullet, fortunes could be gained and lost in the blink of an eye, and from the moment a prospector discovered that first enticing nugget, the clock began to tick.

Oliver had both a plan, and a compelling reason to stick to it, and after five years and an accumulated five-hundred-thousand dollars' worth of silver and gold in his treasure chest, the time had come for him to cash out and return to Boston. However, fate had other plans for him.

When faced with the choice of leaving Virginia City, Nevada on his own terms, or answering the plea of a recently orphaned child, Oliver’s plans are set aside, and for a young girl in desperate need of a guardian angel, Oliver would become one.