Chapter 10

THURSDAY, JUNE 2, 1904

Grant stepped out into the scorching heat of a record-hot June day. There was no relief inside or out. Sweat dripped down his temple, adding to the moisture already gathered around his collar. A good shock of cold water would help clear his mind and cool him off.

He followed the worn path to the water pump at the side of the building, trying to sort his thoughts. He needed to decide about moving to Whitefish soon. But like he’d told Mr. Hill, a move for him and Alvin took money they didn’t have. Which was why he hadn’t cleared out yet. If he could stretch his time at his current position until the last minute, every cent of that pay would help them get north or keep him and Alvin going until they figured out what they were gonna do.

Alvin.

Even thinking his brother’s name made his shoulders tighten. He was getting crazier with his ideas to stop the railroad leaving Kalispell. Alvin’s frustration and anger were understandable. Grant felt that way too. But the mayhem his little brother was scheming ...

It was crazy.

Lately Alvin’s rage had turned against the national park. After hearing about all the fancy plans for Whitefish and the opening of the park, Alvin decided Mr. Hill and those conservationist fellas—Mr. Grinnell and ... was his name Braggs? Briggs?—were on his list for troublemakin’. Kept sayin’ the two went hand in hand. That the people supportin’ the national park must be in cahoots with the railroad.

Grant grasped the handle of the water pump and worked it a few times until a stream of water spilled from the spout. He bent over and stuck his head under. Water poured down his neck and soaked his shirt. After a minute he stood and slicked his hair back off his forehead. He pumped a couple more times and cupped his hands, drinking in the cool water. It felt good racing down his throat. Settled him down.

“Is that his carriage over there?”

Grant stilled. Was someone talking to him? He glanced around. There was no one he could see. He swiped his forehead and turned to head back to the depot when another voice stopped him in his tracks.

“That’s it. But keep your voice down, dummy. Want the whole town to hear ya?”

Grant stifled a groan.

Alvin.

Grant backtracked a few steps and peeked around the corner of the back wall of the depot. Alvin and a young man Grant didn’t recognize were crouched low, several large rocks in front of them. Grant’s jaw slackened. They couldn’t be this dumb, could they?

“Now, Tom and Horace are waitin’ for us to make the first toss. Once we do, the hor—Hey!”

Grant yanked his brother to his feet and dragged him away from his hiding spot. Alvin struggled against his brother’s grip, but Grant held sure. Finally, when they were back by the water pump, he let Alvin go. The shorter man stumbled backward, landing in the wet grass with a thud.

“Grant! What’d you go and do that for? We were just about to send a strong message to that Hill fella!” Alvin glared up at him.

Grant rubbed his face. “Are you an idiot? You’re in broad daylight! If the marshal catches you, it’s jail for sure.”

Alvin pushed himself into a sitting position and brushed the grass off his sleeves. He picked up his hat and plunked it back on his head. “So what? We aim to get our point across. If you don’t like it, fine. But you leave me to my own business.” He stood and poked a finger in Grant’s face. “You’re goin’ soft.”

“No.” Grant slapped Alvin’s hand away. “I’m goin’ smart. Throwin’ rocks like brats ain’t gonna change anything. It’s—”

A scream and a horse’s loud whinny split the air. The two brothers exchanged glances and ran back to where the kid had been sitting. He was nowhere in sight. Neither were the big rocks they’d had piled.

Grant glanced down the main street, his eyes growing wide. Mr. Hill’s carriage was rolling at a fast clip down the street. Two men bounced back and forth on the bench seat. A derby hat flew off one of their heads and tumbled in the dirt. They rounded a corner on two wheels and disappeared from view.

Alvin chuckled. “Guess young Johnny’s got some grit after all. They must’ve pelted the horses good.”

“Other people might be hurt, Alvin.” Grant nodded toward the crowd gathered on the other side of the street still staring at the spot where the carriage disappeared.

“Just a bunch of busybodies over there, brother. Everyone’s fine. ’Sides, I can guarantee you there are plenty of men you’d consider to be upstandin’ gents as mad as us about this whole railroad business.” Alvin pulled the brim of his hat low over his eyes. “You’ll see. The folks of Kalispell won’t take this layin’ down. If you don’t fight with us, you’re against us.” Without another word, he crossed the street and disappeared behind a building.

Grant sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. His gut churned.

This wasn’t gonna end good.

FRIDAY, JUNE 3, 1904

After nine days on the trail, Eleanor’s exposed skin had browned. She wore a wide-brimmed straw hat to shade her face but figured it too had probably grown darker. It wasn’t really all that important. It wasn’t like she had anyone to impress after the trip. If she was tanned, so be it.

The ride, though arduous, had been glorious. Her horse, Ulysses, was as good a horse as she’d ever ridden on a camping trek. The landscape was truly magnificent as they climbed narrow trails of loose shale and rock. They never wanted for fresh, cold water, as tiny waterfalls seemed to appear at every turn as they moved higher into the mountains.

At night when they camped, Eleanor found herself listening for the various animals that Mr. Grinnell and Mr. Stanton pointed out. Coyotes yipped in a relentless fashion as if desperate to tell their story. Occasionally a wolf let out a lonely howl and from time to time they had heard a mountain lion’s scream, leading Mr. Stanton to share tales of encounters he’d had the year before when one of the beasts had actually stalked him.

On the fourth day they camped by a wide stream. Several men came down to fish for trout, and more than one of them widened their eyes to find her already there with a string of trout she’d caught.

One of the men whistled. “Never seen a woman outfish us afore.”

She shrugged. “Hope you’re hungry.” Her smile seemed to come from deep down inside her.

Yes, this land had a calming effect on her. And the more she reflected on the note from Marvella and the Scripture the older woman enclosed, the more Eleanor’s inner restlessness abated.

Mr. Stanton and his men fried up her fish for supper that night and compliments abounded. Fishing might not be the most ladylike hobby, but she did love it.

She got to be good at catching sight of black bears too. They seemed curious about the visitors, but not aggressive. Of course, Mr. Grinnell told them the black bears were more inclined to avoid people, whereas the grizzlies didn’t fear anyone or anything. They were to be avoided at all costs. She trembled at the thought of an encounter with a grizzly. Mr. Stanton had told a story just a few nights back about a grizzly mother who attacked an entire camp of people because her two cubs had wandered into that area. He told them that if something like that happened, they were to get to their horses and vacate the camp as quickly as possible. Stanton and his men had firearms, but none of them wanted to kill a bear unless it was the only way to survive.

No wonder her father and Mr. Grinnell wanted to see this place become a national park. The longer they were there, the more she fell in love. She could only imagine what might happen to the place if they failed to see it protected. No doubt people would come in and kill the bears or push them farther west and north as they had back east. They would build houses and industries and tear down the trees and even the mountains themselves to put in roads and other marks of ownership.

But then she remembered hearing Hill speak of his chalets and depots. What was the difference between what he wanted to do to the land and what others might do if it didn’t become a national park?

Still, she couldn’t fault the idea of living in such a place. She didn’t know that she would want to live right in the mountains as they were just now, but perhaps Kalispell might be a pleasant town to settle in. In fact, when her father mentioned a couple of times that he really had a heart for this area, she began to think she could be happy here. She certainly didn’t want to return to a big city. Neither she nor Father were happy living that way.

And the society in Kalispell was much friendlier than out east. The West lacked the upper-crust pretension her group of acquaintances displayed in New York. Though there were struggles and futures were uncertain, the townspeople in Kalispell seemed to genuinely care for the well-being of their neighbors.

And with people like the Ashburys and Mr. Brunswick—well ... the older Mr. Brunswick. Not Carter—

Eleanor frowned. Carter? When had he become Carter in her mind? His familiarity was rubbing off on her. That simply wouldn’t do.

And why in the name of all that was good and decent did she think of him?

Of course, he had helped her out of the shrubs. They’d managed a halfway civilized conversation. Didn’t end all that well ... but...

Heat filled her face just thinking about it.

Perhaps she might concede to liking him after all. But just a little bit. And only to herself. Marvella could never find out. Her comments the night of the town hall meeting and the grin on Carter Brunswick’s face caused her chest to tighten even now. She could only hope no one had noticed!

Still, Mr. Brunswick was handsome enough. She liked the way his sandy brown hair fell over his right eye sometimes. She liked it too that he seemed unpretentious, not at all needing to impress her. He was almost casual in his appearance and manner. Many times when she and Father had been in mixed company, young men would go out of their way to impress her. Not so, Carter Brunswick. If anything, he was the total opposite.

A smile crept to her lips. She liked that about him. He seemed so genuine. Somehow she knew if she spoke with his most intimate friends and family members she would learn that this was exactly who he was and how he functioned.

“Well, Ellie girl, I hope you’re feeling less taxed than I.” Her father brought his stool to sit near her at the fire.

She studied him in the fire’s glow. “Are you in pain, Father?”

“A little. My back is not in approval of all this riding. I should have known better.”

“Why is that?” She almost feared his answer.

He put the stool down and took a seat. He held his hands out to the fire. “I’m not young anymore. Try as I might to be just as limber and active as I was ten years ... even five years ago, my body is less inclined to cooperate with me.”

“Is that why you’ve been talking about settling down?”

Her father gave a sigh. “That and other reasons.”

He glanced around, causing Eleanor to do likewise. Mr. Stanton and the boys were seeing to their final check on the horses, and Mr. Grinnell had already gone to his tent. From the illumination shining through the canvas flaps, it looked like he was probably reading or writing.

Eleanor looked at her father. “Is something wrong?”

He sighed again. “Not really, and yet...” He said nothing for several minutes. “I haven’t wanted to say anything, but I received another telegram as we left.” He sighed. “It’s best to just come out with it. We’ve had some bad investments, Ellie. We’re not without funds, so don’t worry overmuch, but we need to be reasonable. I think it would be wise for us to buy a little house before there are any more financial downturns. And I do want to write. I’ve had several offers from publishers in New York, and one in London. I could make a decent wage and perhaps make up for some of the loss.”

Finally, an explanation for his strange behavior. Why hadn’t he shared this burden sooner? “Are you worried, Father?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his expression impossible to read. “Only for you. I have done you no favor in keeping you from a normal life of marriage and children.”

Eleanor picked a leaf off her skirt. Father’s concern made sense in light of his confession, but still. Why was everyone so fixated on her marital state? “You haven’t kept me from that. I’ve chosen to delay it, but I haven’t given up the idea of a family of my own. I’m only twenty-four.”

“I suppose it was your former beau marrying that gave me pause.”

When Father sat back, Eleanor got a good look at his face in the firelight. Her breath caught in her throat. The lines around his eyes seemed deeper, making him look wearier than she’d ever seen him.

“My child, I want to see you happily settled with someone and feel that perhaps you’ve told yourself that you can’t do that just yet. Because of taking care of me ... working at my side.”

She took his hand and gave it a squeeze. How could she help him understand that these years with him were treasured memories that she would always hold dear? “Traveling and enjoying the chance to experience amazing things?” She laughed and let go of his hand. “Father, I’ve had a wonderful life with you. When I think of all that I’ve had a chance to do and see, I know that I’m blessed beyond what most people experience.”

“Blessed.” He whispered the word like a prayer. “Your mother always used that word. She talked all the time of how blessed she was. Even on her deathbed.”

That had never made sense to her. “I couldn’t understand how a woman in such dire pain could call herself blessed.”

“I’m beginning to think that perhaps she had the secrets to it all, Ellie. Perhaps I’ve been blind. Blinded by my own desires and ambitions. I didn’t want there to be any restrictions to what I could or couldn’t do. Having a relationship with God definitely restricts.”

Another memory of her mother made its way to the forefront of her mind. “Mama said it was liberating to belong to God. I never understood her logic and reasoning. After she was gone, it was hard to grasp. It seemed that, if you accepted God’s ways and rules, you were bound to a regimen that required constant scrutiny and precision.”

Father nodded. “I felt the same. I must admit we had many discussions about it, but your mother never got angry. I’ve seen grown men come to blows over religious views, but your mother was at peace. I told her once that I had trouble believing there was a God, and she only promised to pray harder for me that God would help me in my unbelief. She wasn’t oppressive or difficult. Never threatening as some could be.” A smile played at the corner of his mouth, and his gaze fixed on some far-off spot in the sky.

Eleanor looked away, Father’s wistful expression tugging at her heart. Even now, the love he had for Mama permeated his features. Eleanor plucked a blade of grass from the ground, threading it through her fingers. “Mama was gentle in her faith. I suppose the last few days have caused me to ponder Him all the more. Ever since Mama died, I felt He was harsh and unfeeling—unkind, and yet I always felt He was there ... somewhere.”

Father fell silent, then looked at her. “Yes. I agree. Your mother helped me to feel it too. With her absence ... I pushed Him away. I was so angry I gave it my best to be a full-fledged atheist.” He chuckled. “It didn’t work. How could it when I was angry at Him? So I did the next best thing and declared that I didn’t need God.”

Eleanor understood those feelings all too well. Except, being here in the mountains, and reading Marvella’s letter almost every day, the anger was abating. Still, her heart ached for understanding. “When Mother got sick, I prayed for her healing, but it seemed so hollow—so empty. I watched her grow worse and worse. I couldn’t fathom why a good and loving God would allow for such a thing, and then ... she was gone.”

The silence stretched between them. Had she shared too much? Been too honest? She worried her lip and waited for Father to say something. Anything.

Finally, he let out a long breath. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you with your grief during that time. And to be honest, I didn’t know what to do. Your mother was so good with you, helping you with your emotions and feelings. Especially about God. I was completely lost.” Her father’s voice was barely audible.

Thick cotton seemed to have coated her throat. Grief over her mother’s death and thankfulness for her father’s vulnerability sat heavy in her heart. “But you did help me, Father.” Her smile trembled. “You showed me how to put one foot in front of the other and move forward, even when our hearts were breaking.”

His expression softened as he gazed at her. “Have I told you lately that you grow more lovely, more like her every day?”

Hot tears sprang to her eyes. It had been a long time since he’d complimented her like that. “Thank you, Father.”

“In personality, too. Your mother was sweet and loving, but she was also full of life and didn’t mind sharing her opinion.”

Really? Eleanor couldn’t remember that side of her mother. She’d welcome a memory like that rather than the memories of Mother on her sickbed. That he saw bits of Mama’s personality in her was a compliment she would cherish.

Silence fell between them again, but this time it felt a bit lighter. Eleanor closed her eyes for a moment, and the sounds of the forest came to life. The chirp of crickets was like a symphony surrounding camp. In the distance, owls hooted back and forth, their call and response echoing to the sky. The heat of the fire was waning, a sure sign they should be readying for bed, but she didn’t want this conversation to end.

She looked at Father. “Do you want to settle in Kalispell? Do you think you could be content there?”

He looked up at the sky for a long moment, then back at her. “I think I could be. I kind of like the idea of sticking around to see the national park put in place. Perhaps even be more intricately involved.”

There was excitement in her father’s voice! That had long been absent.

“What do you think, Ellie? Could you be happy in Kalispell?”

She shifted in her seat. “I don’t mind the idea of settling down. The longer I’m in this part of the country, the more I dread going back east for anything.” She let out a laugh. It was true! She actually wanted to stay in Kalispell.

“Then let’s do it, Ellie girl!” His enthusiasm was contagious.

“I’ll speak to Marvella when we get home.” Eleanor grinned, the idea taking root. “She seems to know everyone and every bit of news about the town. She could probably tell us about a half dozen houses for sale.”

Father reached over and took her hand between his. She could feel the calluses on his palms from using the reins the last several days. “You’re a good daughter, my dear. And I’m glad we talked tonight.”

Happy tears burned the corners of her eyes. “I am as well.”

Father gave her hand a pat and let it go. “Let’s get some rest, shall we? Tomorrow will be another big day.”

Eleanor followed him to the tent. Would this conversation bring a new openness between her and Father? How wonderful that would be. No more secrets. No more surprises. She let out a happy sigh as another thought hit her.

They were going to put roots down in Kalispell!

Marvella was going to be as pleased as punch at being right.

Again.

Oh, this couldn’t be good. Grant’s stomach sank. “What’re you plannin’ to do?”

“None of yer business.” Alvin shoved things in a satchel. “I’m sick and tired of you standin’ in the way. I told ya that you better stand with us, and I meant it.”

“I can’t let you do anything stupid. You’re my little brother and I gotta take care of you.” He stood in front of the door and blocked it, crossing his arms over his chest.

But Alvin paid him no mind. Just packed his bag and grabbed several things around the room.

“Alvin!”

The frying pan came out of nowhere. Pain flared in the left side of his head, and Grant couldn’t keep his eyes open or stay on his feet.

Falling to the floor, he grasped for his brother.

But everything went black as he floated down, down, down.

MONDAY, JUNE 6, 1904

On their tenth night camping, Eleanor gasped when several visitors entered their camp.

“Indians.” The whispered gasp escaped her lips.

They were dressed in regular trousers and shirts, but beneath their felt hats was their long hair either loose or braided. George Grinnell was immediately on his feet to greet them.

“Oki, Fisher Hat.” One of the Indians extended his arm.

Grinnell took hold of the man’s arm, and the native man took hold of his. “Oki, Jack Big Moon.”

Eleanor watched the exchange as Grinnell nodded toward each of the other men and held their arm. Was Oki a hello of some sort?

Grinnell motioned Stewart and Eleanor to come. “Meet my friends, they are noble Blackfeet, and I’ve known them for a long time.”

Jack inclined his head. “We are happy to meet Fisher Hat’s friends. We have brought deer to eat.”

“Thank you, that is a great gift to us.” Grinnell took the bundle of offered meat and handed it to Mr. Stanton. “Come and we’ll see it cooked. I can offer you some of the sweet cookies you enjoy.”

Jack smiled. “I’m glad you sent word that you’d be here. We were glad to see you again.”

Eleanor sat down on a rock and pulled out her journal to record the encounter. These men were ... majestic. Almost regal the way they held themselves. And their English was impeccable. Every once in a while, one would speak in another language to one of the others, and it rolled beautifully off their lips. Frankly, it put her to shame. She didn’t know another language.

Well, other than all her studies in Latin, but that was a dead language. That surely didn’t count.

She listened as their visitors talked about their families and what had been happening in their villages as they enjoyed a long dinner together. The roasted meat was delicious.

Far too soon, the Blackfeet stood to go. Eleanor sighed. She was in the middle of sketching their party and wouldn’t be able to finish now.

No sooner were good-byes said than they vanished into the woods as quietly as they’d appeared.

“Fascinating.” Father pulled his stool close to her. “Such strong and impressive men. Did you hear how well they spoke English?”

“Yes! I was astonished by it as well.” She kept her voice low. “It seems Mr. Grinnell has known them a long time. What a powerful testimony to the rest of us. The wild stories that still circulate about the Indians being savages and attacking settlers need to be put to rest once and for all.”

“Agreed. Perhaps I should write about that in my book, Ellie.”

She couldn’t help it. She spoke up. “I notice you call me Ellie all the time now.”

He turned to her, his brow furrowed. “Have I? I guess I hadn’t noticed.”

She smiled at him. “It’s all right. It doesn’t bother me when you do it.”

And for the first time in ten years, it truly didn’t.

The next day they were more than halfway through their trip. Eleanor slipped from her saddle and rubbed her hand along Ulysses’s neck. He tossed his head, black mane waving with the motion. She smiled and fished a sugar cube out of her pocket. For all her travels with Father, she’d never really taken a shine to horses. But this gentle giant had carried her miles and miles without throwing her from her seat.

A sugar cube was the least she could give him.

She tugged his reins and led him to where the others had tethered their horses to munch on fresh grass. Pulling her comb out of a saddle bag and tucking it in her pocket, Eleanor made her way to where camp was being set up. A fire had been kindled and men were moving around, setting up tents and pulling out foodstuffs for dinner.

As much as her backside hurt, Eleanor couldn’t wait to sit on something that wasn’t swaying. She walked about twenty feet past camp to a large tree. With a groan, she sat down and leaned back against the trunk. She stretched her legs out before her, digging her knuckles into her leg muscles.

Perhaps Father was right. Even at twenty-four, her body wasn’t handling trips like it used to. She tugged her hair out of its braid and pulled her comb out. With quick strokes, Eleanor worked the tangles from her hair and pulled it back into a tighter braid. There. That would hold for another day or two. Or until they found a stream and she could bathe privately.

The sky was streaked with oranges and pinks, the deeper blue of evening ebbing in. A breeze rustled the leaves of the trees, scents of pine mingling with grass and wildflowers. This was why she was so passionate about preserving the land. The peace that came in the quiet of twilight. Mountains jutting toward the sky, their sharp peaks harsh against the blanket of stars beginning their night twinkle. Eleanor sighed and felt the tension of the day ease from her.

She still had to sit with Mr. Grinnell and Father to take notes regarding what they’d discovered near a large waterfall earlier in the day. Whatever it was had caused them to be in deep discussion most of the day.

“Ellie! Come closer into camp,” Father called from his place at the fire. “It’s getting too dark to be outside the tent circle.”

“Coming.” She eased to her feet, every one of her muscles protesting.

Just as she reached her tent, a loud crack echoed through the encampment. Eleanor screamed and dropped to the ground, rolling behind the large canvas.

Instantly, the men in camp were on their feet, rifles in hand.

Mr. Stanton pulled back the hammer on his weapon. “Who’s there? Show yourself. We mean no harm.”

Eleanor crawled to the front of the tent. Where was Father? Oh, thank goodness. He was crouched on the ground, behind a large fallen log. Mr. Grinnell was next to him.

“Consider this a warnin’!” a deep voice bellowed. It sounded like it came from Eleanor’s left, but with the acoustics of the forest and cliffs, it was impossible to tell.

“A warning for what?” Stanton hollered back.

Eleanor peered around the edge of her tent. The trees looked more ominous now that evening had fallen. The trees seemed to whisper with movement and shadows. Rocks and twigs poked her knees through the fabric of her split skirt. Time seemed to crawl as they waited to see if the mystery man responded.

Finally, the rough voice cut through the darkness. “A warning for Mr. Grinnell and Mr. Briggs. No one wants your park or the railroad movin’ up to Whitefish. We know you’re in cahoots to make money together. So make sure you tell your friend Mr. Hill that he’ll keep seein’ trouble if he don’t change his mind and keep the main line station in Kalispell.”

Eleanor bit her lip and sat back on her heels. Thank goodness for the coverage of her tent.

“We won’t tolerate no one takin’ our jobs and livelihood.”

Was that another voice, from her right? How many of them were there?

“The railroad stays in Kalispell or there will be consequences.” Another shot rang out, sending everyone to the ground again.

The sound of hooves echoed through the camp, eventually fading to silence.

Shaking, Eleanor couldn’t convince her legs to work.

“Fire!” one of the men shouted. “One of the tents is on fire!”

Mr. Stanton barked out orders. “Ben! Joe! Will! Secure the perimeter of the camp. We’ll guard it in shifts tonight. Mr. Grinnell, Mr. and Miss Briggs, grab the buckets and fill them with water. That tent will be a loss, but we don’t want the fire to spread. Needless to say, no one rides off to explore without a guard from now on.”

When they’d squelched the fire, Eleanor stood on trembling legs as her father walked to her side. She touched his arm, her fingers shaking. “Are you all right?”

The firelight seemed to highlight the shadows on his face. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Are you unharmed?” Father’s gaze roamed her face. “To think you were so close to where the shots rang out. If you hadn’t come back to camp in time ...”

Eleanor slipped her arm around his waist and squeezed him tight. “I am safe, Father. I promise.”

He wrapped his hand around hers. “My dear girl. If anything happened to you ...” His voice trailed off.

Tears stung Eleanor’s eyes as they sat. It was the most care he’d shown her in years. Of course Father loved her, but the distance between them had grown as they grieved Mother’s loss in their own way. This trip had been good for them in so many ways.

Mr. Grinnell sat down next to Eleanor and her father, his hair in disarray. The waxed points of his mustache shifted from side to side. “Well, this is a fine situation to find ourselves in. What on earth are we supposed to do now?”