Chapter 6

6

L eah skirted two boys playing jacks on the sidewalk and an elderly gentleman helping his silver-haired companion alight from a carriage. According to a street vendor she'd asked, the telegraph was located in the Post Office at the corner of Eighth and Olive Streets. Just a few blocks north and away from the water.

She was pleasantly surprised to find a new four-story granite building at that location. It was an impressive structure with the words U.S. Court and Post Office across the front.

The pungent aroma of fresh-cut lumber and paint wafted to her as she entered. While the clerk helped a stout middle-aged woman mail her letters, Leah pulled the now-worn newspaper page from her reticule, pressing the many folds firmly. When she approached the counter, she looked the clerk in the eyes, just as Emily had always instructed.

"How can I help you, miss?" The man looked exactly the way she'd imagined a telegraph operator would, slender and balding with a smudged apron and rolled up shirtsleeves.

"I'd like to send a telegram, please."

"Sure thing." He reached for paper and a quill, dipped the pen in an inkwell, then eyed her expectantly over the top of his spectacles. "Where to?"

Leah glanced at the advertisement in her hand. "The town of Helena in the Montana Territory. The telegraph should be addressed to Abel Bryant at the Bryant Ranch near Butte City."

The man scribbled, nodding as she spoke.

"And what should the wire say?"

Leah took a deep breath. She'd practiced the message several times in her mind during the walk here, but hoped she got the wording right. "In response to advertisement in the Richmond Inquirer. I am twenty-two years, pleasant and God-fearing. Will be traveling to Butte City via steamboat to arrive late June. I will locate you upon arrival. Signed L Townsend."

The clerk didn't look up with surprise or scorn as she'd expected. She had carefully worded the message so it wouldn't be obvious she was responding to a newspaper advertisement for a bride, but he must suspect such a thing. Why else would she send a description of herself?

He counted the words and announced the exorbitant total cost, then copied the information into his log. Leah placed the money on the counter.

When the clerk finally did look up to receive her payment, his gaze—cool and judgmental—bore into her. Still, he didn't speak to condemn, only took her money, nodded stiffly, and moved toward a machine in the corner.

"I'll send the message now. Have a good trip."

Leah's cheeks could have boiled water as she flew out the door.

The De Smet proved more lavishly appointed than Leah had expected. The porter led her to her cabin, which was small but appeared to be clean. A narrow bed was tucked against one side of the room, while another wall held a washbasin and door to the outer deck. Leah's trunks had already been placed against a third wall, and the fourth held a small straight-back chair and the door to the interior hallway.

No closet or even a wardrobe. Where could she hang her gowns? Perhaps she could lay out the gown that she planned to wear next so any wrinkles would loosen…hopefully. She prayed the ship provided a laundry service. Since there wasn't much to unpack, she headed back outside to watch the ship leave land.

As she stood at the rail, the towering city of St Louis slid away until it was nothing but a memory on the horizon. Then a bend in the river obliterated the metropolis completely, leaving fertile banks covered in foliage of all kinds—flowering trees, bright green grass, and an unfamiliar leafy vine that covered whole sections of land and brush. The scenery was mostly untouched by human hands, although every so often they would glide past a farm or two.

After watching the passing beauty for almost an hour, she turned to explore the ship. On the upper level, a long narrow salon took up the center, surrounded by the ring of passenger cabins. She moved to the lower level, which was more of a horseshoe shape, closed at one end. It supported extra cargo storage, with crates and bundles filling much of the space on the deck. Only a single walking aisle around the perimeter was open. The minute she made her way inside, her nose told her the purpose of rooms on the lower level—food.

The rest of the lower level appeared to be for the crew and more cargo storage, so Leah wandered back to the upper deck to enjoy the passing landscape. It reminded her a little of the Virginia countryside, but with a bit more tropical feel.

At last, the bell finally sounded for the evening meal. Leah found herself seated at one of the round tables next to a Mrs. Schmidt and her husband. Mr. Schmidt was a merchant from St Louis who specialized in purchasing raw goods from towns along the Missouri River, then reselling them to factories in the city to be processed into finished goods. On this particular trip, he traveled to Glasgow to purchase tobacco and hemp, and his sweet wife had accompanied him.

Mrs. Schmidt was robust, with a motherly manner and chocolate eyes that sparkled when she spoke. Their children were grown and settled with their own families in St. Louis, and Mrs. Schmidt was probably the ideal grandmother.

A younger man she guessed to be in his mid-thirties sat next to Mr. Schmidt. During introductions, Mr. Henry Crenshaw proclaimed himself to be a journalist traveling all the way to the Washington Territory to write a series of articles for his home newspaper.

"And where is home, Mr. Crenshaw?" Mrs. Schmidt inquired.

"Columbia, South Carolina, ma'am." His strong southern drawl sent a ripple of homesickness through Leah.

"I traveled to Columbia for business a few years back." Mr. Schmidt stroked his white beard. "I remember the people there were quite friendly."

Mrs. Schmidt leaned across her husband to address their fascinating guest. "And which newspaper do you write for? We'll make sure to watch for your articles when they're reprinted in the St. Louis papers."

"The Daily Phoenix, ma'am, and thank you." He sat a little straighter. "I hope to find interesting stories to send back to our Eastern readers."

Leah's curiosity was aroused. "And what type of stories do you anticipate finding, Mr. Crenshaw? Tales of gold and wild Indians?"

His brown eyes widened and met Leah's, his serious manner exuding courtroom honesty. She'd been mostly joking, but he seemed quite serious. "That's entirely possible. A reporter from the Charleston Daily News traveled to the Montana Territory and was almost scalped by real Indians."

"Oh my," breathed Mrs. Schmidt.

Despite Leah's interest in the topic, especially as it included Montana, she had to hold back a smile at the younger man. His luminous eyes and hair slicked to one side, along with his clean-shaven face, gave him a school-boy look, despite the faint wrinkles that were beginning to form around his eyes and forehead.

He shook his head, clearly eager to carry on with his sensational topic. "They say the country out there is absolutely wild, with five Indians to every white man. And the Indians would just as soon scalp you as shake hands. Why, a reporter from the Savannah Tribune was traveling with a wagon train a few years ago when the whole train was attacked. Half the men were killed before the soldiers showed up."

And so the meal continued, with Mr. Crenshaw regaling them with stories of how other reporters had experienced the wilds of the Northwest. After each story, Mrs. Schimdt would exclaim in reverent wonder and Mr. Schmidt would shake his head in amazement.

For her own part, Leah didn't credit three quarters of Mr. Crenshaw's wild accounts. Still, the country did seem rather un-tamed. What exactly was she getting herself into?

The next two months proved exceedingly pleasant for Leah. When the weather was nice, she spent most of her time on the upper Promenade Deck, reading and re-reading either her Bible or one of the dog-eared novels she'd brought from home. Over the weeks, the scenery changed from mostly forest to miles of tall grass with a scraggly tree tossed in for good measure. The air also shifted from the muggy feel of St. Louis to a cooler, thin atmosphere.

The passengers disembarked at the various stops, with new travelers taking their places. By the first week in June, though, the passenger count had dwindled, being replaced by crates and bundles.

"Why do you need so many supplies if the trip is almost over?" she asked one of the crew. He was a tall lean man, with a thick curly beard that reminded her of a wooly black sheep.

"Ta sell." He said it as if she should have known that bit of information. "That's where the Cap'n makes most o' his money, from sellin' goods to the Terr'tory."

"At Fort Benton?" It made sense, she supposed. Probably a lot of supplies had to be shipped from the civilized states.

"Sure, then they ship ‘em on down the Mullan Road to Helena and the rest o' the towns. Folks pay a purty price fer ‘em, fer sure."

"I can imagine." Although, she really couldn't. She didn't have a good knowledge of how much supplies cost, even back east. She'd never had to purchase food or household goods. Those were the responsibilities of the housekeeper and steward. So naturally, she really didn't know how much more expensive things would be in Butte City. But logic predicted the additional freighting charge would increase costs.

Perhaps her money wouldn't last as long as she had anticipated. Especially since she'd spent so much of her cash on the steamboat fare. It would be more important than ever to find work soon after she arrived in Montana.

Or maybe Abel would be the man of her dreams, and they would marry right away. For a moment, she let herself dream. She'd read the advertisement over and over until the words drifted through her mind even while she slept. She could picture a strong, lean rancher with curly red hair and laughing green eyes that sparkled like a jade ocean.

Did he have a good sense of humor? Did he like children? Did he want children? That last thought made her stomach drop to her toes. Maybe she was moving into this way too fast.

Two days later, Leah stood at the rail as the De Smet floated into the dock at Fort Benton. From watching at the other ports, it would be a few minutes before passengers were allowed to disembark, allowing her time to step back into the cabin to make sure her trunks were locked securely.

Satisfied with the trunks, she glanced around the room a final time to make sure she'd not forgotten something. Her gloves and reticule lay on the corner of the bed, ready to go when she was.

There was just enough time to slip out onto the deck and say a final goodbye to the gentle noise of water lapping against the sides of the boat. The sound was loudest when the paddle wheels were moving, but even now she could hear the quiet splashes. It was balm to her soul, and she reveled in the peacefulness.

Voices from the other side of the boat drifted into Leah's reverie, signaling it was time to go. She pulled her wrap tightly around her shoulders against the chilly mountain air, then stepped back into the cabin to gather her gloves and reticule.

She stopped to stare at the bed, letting her eyes adjust to the dimmer light. Surely that would make the image before her change. There, on the corner, lay her white gloves, but not the reticule. Where had it gone? With all her money inside…

She began a frantic search underneath the bed and around the sparse room, but found nothing else. Her trunks had already been taken off the ship, apparently. Had the same porter taken her reticule along with the trunks? That would be strange, but maybe not impossible.

With a knot wound tight in her stomach, she picked up her gloves and hurried toward the docks. Men were everywhere, hiking up and down the gangplank, loaded down with crates and bundles. Craning her neck, she finally spotted a small pile of trunks off to one side. She hurried over to a man standing near the pile, holding a paper and lead pencil in hand.

"Is this luggage from the De Smet?" As she said the words, she spotted one of her trunks and breathed a small sigh of relief. She needed her reticule, though. All the money she had left was folded and clipped in a small wad in that little black purse.

"Yep, just let me know which 'r yers an' I'll pull 'em out." He spoke slowly, dragging his words, then turned his head and spit a long stream of brown juice. It was amazing any of the mess made it through the thick curly layers of his beard.

She pointed as she spoke. "That one is mine with the pink ribbon, and also the one beneath it. And there should be a small reticule with them, as well. Do you remember seeing that?"

"Well…" The man stopped to think, tapping his jaw as if that would help him remember. "I don't reckon' I remember seein' anythin' but trunks."

Doing her best to maintain a grasp on the edge of her patience, Leah increased the strength of her southern charm. "Could you please help me search, sir? I really need to find it."

The old coot softened like butter. "I reckon' I could help." And with that he dove in and started un-stacking trunks and kicking them out of the way until they had a scattered mess.

But no reticule.

"Sorry, miss." He wiped his brow, then looked around at the jumble. "Hate we couldn't find it."

Leah forced a smile through her gritted teeth. "Thank you. I'll send someone for those two trunks shortly."

She spun around to study the army of men still working hard to un-pack and re-pack the ship. She wasn't sure who to ask next, but she had to find that bag. Lord, let it be misplaced and not actually stolen.

Just then, Leah spotted Captain La Barge across the shipyard speaking with two men who wore leather clothing. Squaring her shoulders, she marched toward the group.

The captain had his back to her approach, but his two companions saw her. They stopped speaking and gawked as she strode up. Both wore long leather cloaks and leather pants, and the smaller man wore a fur cap over his long, loose hair. The effect made him look positively wild.

The captain turned and offered a slight bow. "Miss Townsend, I trust you've enjoyed your trip. Have you found lodgings yet? I can arrange for an escort to one of the local hotels, if you'd like."

Leah took a breath to steady herself. "Captain La Barge, may I please have a word with you?"

Without skipping a beat, the captain turned to his associates. "Gentleman, if you'll excuse me for now, I'll meet you down at Mill's Cafe for dinner."

"Course." The taller man nodded, then elbowed his partner and they strode away.

The captain turned to Leah. "Now, what can I help you with?"

"I'm missing my reticule from my room. I believe your porter may have taken it when he removed my trunks."

Neither frustration nor anger darkened his eyes. Instead, his brows knit together in deep concern as he stroked his beard. He studied Leah for a moment, his eyes not revealing the direction of his thoughts. "I'm assuming you've checked the area where your trunks were placed?"

She threw a quick glance toward the trunks then quirked a brow at the captain. "Yes, we examined the area around the luggage."

A sadness flowed into his eyes to join the concern there. Finally, he sighed. "Miss Townsend, of course I will check with all of my staff, but I'm afraid you've been robbed. That particular porter was new to my ship. He only signed on to work while he traveled to Montana. He collected his pay before we docked and left immediately after the trunks were removed. I don't expect to see him again."

The icy fingers around her stomach reached up to squeeze her lungs, as well. "So my money is gone? You're not going to find him and make him give it back?" She wanted to stamp her foot, but that was out of the question for a lady.

He sighed again. "I'm very sorry about this. He's likely long gone, but the best thing for you would be to see the sheriff about it. He can handle the search and make an arrest if he finds the scoundrel. The sheriff's office is right down this street, about a block on the left."

Leah's heart sank. Lord, please help me not to cry. "That's the best thing I can do?" Her voice sounded weak, but she felt like her bones had been jerked from her legs, leaving only a mass of skin and jelly.

He nodded, the skin around his eyes pinched. "While you speak with him, I'll take a look around the ship and talk with my men. If I find anything, I'll be sure to let you know."

Her shoulders slumped, and Leah turned to trudge down the street. For once, she didn't care that she'd lost her all-important poise.