Chapter 3

TUESDAY, MAY 10, 1904—KALISPELL, MONTANA

Marvella Ashbury took a sip of her lemonade and watched her husband peer at her over the top of his newspaper.

“Yes, my dear?” His bushy eyebrows lifted. “Was I not listening?”

With a chuckle, she winked at him. “I appreciate your interest, but I hadn’t said anything.” He’d just returned home, and they’d settled in for their customary teatime. It was best to catch him now, before he was completely engulfed with whatever the newspaper detailed.

As expected, he set the paper down and wiggled his mustache. Clearly amused. “Yet. You haven’t said anything yet, my dear. But I know that look on your face all too well. You do have something to say. And since I know that, you have my rapt attention.”

It worked every time. And why not? She was a master after all these years. Smiling her sweetest smile, she offered him a tea cake. “I’m concerned about this railroad business.”

His amusement faded. “My dear, it is out of our hands. The best thing I can do is help our community through this time.”

“I respect all that you’ve done, Milton. Truly, I do. But we can’t allow our town to die.” Sometimes she had to be a bit more forceful to ensure her opinions were heard.

He sighed. “I don’t believe Kalispell will die.”

“How can you be certain? We know what happened to Demersville.” She sat up straighter and leaned forward. “Perhaps I need to get my ladies involved. Rally the troops, so to speak.”

“There is still much to be seen. But I’m certain the citizens of this town will do their best to keep everything running. Forgive me, but the meeting this afternoon was enough on the subject for me. We should pray about it and keep our attitudes positive. If you believe your ladies’ groups can be of a benefit, I’ve never stood in your way before and I shan’t begin to do so now.” With that, he picked up the paper. He clearly had no desire to continue this conversation. And why would he? It was depressing.

A yip from the right side of her chair tore her attention away from her husband. Smiling down at the little white ball of fluff, she stroked the dog’s silky hair. “Sir Theophilus ... I believe you and I have our work cut out for us.” She glanced at her husband one more time. “If you’ll excuse me, dear.”

“Of course, my dear.” The words were slightly muffled by the paper.

Marvella stood and picked up her little companion. If no one else was up to the task, she would not shy away from it.

Someonehad to save Kalispell.

“Train just got in.” Carter’s friend had his gaze focused on the sheaf of papers on the counter he was flipping through. The tall red-headed man often had his head buried in papers after a train arrived. “But your part was the first thing I checked on. It’s being unloaded as we speak.”

Carter started to nod, and winced. His whole face hurt but he didn’t have time to worry about that now. “Glad it made it in, Gus. That machine at the mill has been down for over two weeks. Slowed our production something fierce. I figure we’ll be back to grinding on a stone if we don’t get that part.”

Gus chuckled as he shuffled another stack of papers. “I can just see it too. We can’t let that happen, now can we?” He looked up ... and frowned. “Whoa. What happened to you?”

“Town meeting riled everyone up.”

“So you thought it was a good idea to shove your face into the middle of it?” Gus released a low whistle. “I had a feeling it wouldn’t be pretty. Just didn’t know it would be your ugly mug that would take the brunt of it.”

Carter laughed and then moaned. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“You really should go take care of that.” His friend pointed at his mouth and cringed.

“The part is more important. I’ll deal with my injuries later.” He needed to change the subject, so he leaned in. “Doesn’t look good for us, does it?”

“Nope.” The man looked around the room and then leaned forward as well and lowered his voice. “Don’t tell anyone, but we’ve already been told we’ll need to move to Whitefish. Things are really hopping up there and they intend to have everything done by August.”

The news was like a blow to Carter’s gut. “I was afraid that was the case. Does the mayor know?”

“I don’t know. If he doesn’t, he will when Mr. Hill gets here. It’s kind of funny. You know the Hutchinson and Baker logging companies used to float their logs down here for processing. Now our mills are gonna have to find a way to get theirs up to Whitefish.”

“Jerod McVey spoke on the mill’s behalf at the meeting, he said it will ruin them. Maybe triple their prices and put them out of business.”

“I suppose it was inevitable.” Gus shook his head. “I’ve been on the route into Kalispell over the Salish Mountains. It’s not for the faint of heart. It’s a laborious chore to be s—”

“Excuse me, but are you the freight master?”

At the feminine voice behind him, Carter turned—and felt his eyes widen. A beautiful young woman dressed in a dark green traveling suit stood there. Her hat appeared to be missing something from the top, but it was perched in a fashionable manner atop a nest of blond hair. Her blue eyes glared at him in a most unnerving way.

“I’m the assistant.” Gus’s tone was polite enough, but Carter could tell he didn’t appreciate her interruption. “Be with you in just a minute.”

Her gaze darted between the two men, her eyes narrowing. “But it really can’t wait. I’m here with my father and we’re meeting a very important man. I need to arrange for our luggage and my bicycle.” She stepped closer.

“When I’m finished with Mr. Brunswick, I’ll get right to whatever you need.” Gus turned back to Carter and gave him a knowing look.

It took everything in Carter to keep from snickering at his friend. So he kept his face turned away.

The woman cleared her throat. “You two have been talking for some time now. I have tried to be patient, but you seem more caught up in your conversation than doing your job. I need to arrange for our things to be delivered and I insist you help me.”

Who was this woman? Carter turned. “Where are you from, Miss?”

Her blue eyes widened a fraction. She took a step back and clutched her bag to her chest. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

“I was just curious as to where it is folks like you come from.”

Her trepidation vanished at his tone. She stiffened and one eyebrow arched high on her forehead. “Folks like I? What do you mean?”

“Well, most folks are taught manners ... to wait their turn. It would seem wherever you come from ... well ... that apparently wasn’t important.”

Oooh, she did not like that.

“I am not without manners, even though it appears you are, sir. Dripping blood all over the place and looking like you just came from a saloon brawl.”

He cringed and opened his mouth to respond, but she plowed on ahead. “I simply am in a hurry and figure your chitchat and hometown gossip could wait. My father is inside even now meeting with his friend and I’m certain he’s concerned about my delay.”

In truth, her father was probably grateful for a break from this demanding young woman. “Perhaps he’ll consider that you weren’t the only ones on the train and that maybe you had to wait in line.” He motioned to the numerous people milling about the platform behind her, then pulled out his handkerchief to dab at his lip.

“Or maybe he’ll hope that a polite gentleman will see my need and attend to me.” She lifted her chin. “Or are we too far west for that type of man?”

Carter narrowed his gaze. If she wanted a gentleman, she’d get a gentleman. “I do apologize. I’m Carter Brunswick, m’lady.” He tipped his hat and gave a sweeping bow, ignoring the throbbing in his eye. “And you are?”

Gus laughed, but when she pointed a stare at him, he swiped it away.

She gave both men a curt nod, a frown fixed on her face. “Miss Eleanor Briggs. My father is the famous conservationist Stewart Briggs, and we’re meeting the even more important George Grinnell. Perhaps you’ve heard of him.”

Rubbing his chin, Carter shook his head. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard of either of them, and certainly not you, Miss Briggs. But I will point out, you’ve stood here arguing your point and wasting my time as well as Gus’s. If you’d just practiced some manners and waited your turn, I would have been long gone.”

“And as pleasant as that sounds, instead I’m stuck here waiting for you to make your point and attend to whatever it is you’ve come to do.” She crossed her arms.

Gus chose that moment to walk away.

Smart man.

She huffed. “Very well, Mr. Brunswick. I will wait.”

“See. That wasn’t so hard.”

Gus came back to the window and slid a sheet of paper toward Carter. “Sign here for the part. It’s out back near the rear loading dock.”

Normally, Carter would have rushed off his signature. Normally.

However, the meeting today, getting hit in the face not once but twice, and now Miss Briggs’s attitude left him feeling rather ornery. He carefully signed his name, giving attention to every detail. When finished he just as thoroughly perused the paper before handing it back to Gus.

“Ellie! Are you all right?” Two well-dressed men approached.

Carter grinned. “Ellie?” Now that wasn’t near as stuffy as Eleanor.

“It’s Miss Briggs to you!” She turned to the two men. “My apologies. I’m just fine. It’s just taking a long”—this time she pointed her glare at Gus—“time to arrange things, Father.”

Carter tipped his hat and looked at the gentlemen. “You must be the famous conservationist Stewart Briggs.” He heard Eleanor give another huff.

The older man looked a bit confused. “I am. Are you all right?” He pointed to his own eye.

“Rest assured. I’m fine.”

Mr. Briggs turned to his companion. “This is my friend and fellow conservationist, George Grinnell.”

Grinnell tipped his derby hat at Carter. The man’s bushy mustache twitched with a fascinating rapidity. Whether it was with amusement or irritation, Carter couldn’t say. Most likely the latter.

“Pleasure to meet you both. Carter Brunswick. Hope you’ll enjoy your stay in Kalispell.” He touched his fingers to his hat. “Nice chitchatting with you ... Ellie.”

With that Carter left them, smiling to himself at the look of shock on Miss Eleanor Briggs’s pretty face.

“Wish I had better news, Grant.”

Grant Wallace pressed his lips together, unable to look his boss in the eye. He’d hoped the Great Northern Railway would keep him in their employ in Kalispell. But from what his supervisor, Collin Hoffman, just told him, that wasn’t to be—at least not in the position he’d worked up to. “I’ve been with this railroad for over six years now. Been a good worker too, and they’re just gonna let me go?”

Collin’s forehead creased. “Not necessarily. You have as much a chance to work in Whitefish as anyone.”

“But I’d hafta start at the bottom again, right?” Grant glanced up at Collin.

His boss nodded. “I’m sorry, Grant. It’s the way things are right now. I’m sorry ... but I’m being transferred to Whitefish and will be assistant foreman in the shops.”

Ah. The knife wedged itself deep in his gut. Collin—the boss—had been forced to take a lower position up at the new location. Probably everybody would have to.

The only problem? That lower position was Grant’s position. The position he’d worked six years to attain here. There wasn’t much hope for him staying here and no chance to transfer to the same job.

“You can probably hire on as a section hand. If you volunteer now and help with laying the line into Whitefish, you’ll be ahead of some of these other men.” His boss’s tone was encouraging, but it didn’t help.

Grant picked at a hangnail on his thumb. He’d already done his time as a section hand when the railroad was being built west. His brother, Alvin, was a section repair worker. He went out with other men to fix the track whenever rockslides, snow, or wear and tear altered the line. It was hard work, especially in the mountains, and Grant had no desire to return to it.

It was clear—for now the options were limited. He pulled his cap low over his eyes. “Maybe I’ll see what other work is available.”

Collin shrugged. “Well, keep in mind Kalispell will probably be nothing more than a widening in the road in a few years. There are worse things than moving to Whitefish and starting over with the railroad.”

There might be, but at the moment Grant couldn’t think of a single one. He gazed out across the shop. So many men were going to lose their livelihood.

Maybe it was time to move on. Maybe head down to Missoula. He heard that was quite the place now.

Hoffman was still talking. “...besides, you’re a good tracker. I hear tell that the push to get a national park up in the mountains is going well. You could probably be hired as a guide. You’d probably like that a whole lot better than working here anyway.”

Grant was good at tracking. It was something his father taught him when Grant had been just a boy. He hadn’t really thought of it as a full-time job, but hearing Collin suggest it caused him to give it serious thought. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Collin pulled on his coat. “You’d probably have to move to Whitefish for that as well. Or even farther into what they call the Forest Reserve. Hard to tell, but I’m betting that the officials who have the final word on making a national park will probably go there rather than Kalispell.”

“Yeah...” None of the ideas made him feel a lick better.

“Grant, you have to let your men know that by the end of July we’ll be closing everything out and moving it to Whitefish. They can talk to me if they’re interested in moving with it. The railroad is bringing in a few outsiders for choice positions, but for the most part they’re going to need a lot of the men here.”

“Just not in the positions they are currently working.” He grumbled the words.

Collin sighed. “Look, this change is affecting everyone. Some won’t have to change their jobs because they’re still at the bottom, but they’ll have to move. Those of us who’ve worked longer end up paying the price. I’m sorry you have to be one of them. You’re a good worker. I’ll see what I can do to help you.”

“Thanks.” But he didn’t feel thankful about anything. Not one good thing had come out of this.

He watched Hoffman head out. Grant might not have to work as a section hand, but he would have to go back to being an underling. Which was unfair. He had more experience and time in with the Great Northern. Why didn’t they value that?

Of course, Collin was being demoted too. Which should make him feel better.

But it didn’t.

He liked the position he was in. It was tolerable and he knew the job well. Every day he worked inside, out of the elements, and managed parts and supplies. It was easy compared to what his brother had to do. And now, just because someone got a wild notion to move the line, he was losing his job.

He pulled out his pocket watch, his thumb running over the etched pattern on the front. It was the only thing of value his mother had given him before she died. Pushing the sentimental thought away, he popped it open. 4:45. Nearly quitting time. He still needed to round up his men and let them know the news.

He walked into the loading area and put two fingers to his lips and gave a loud whistle. Most of the fellas heard him, and those that didn’t were rounded up by the ones who did. The men came to stand in a semicircle around Grant.

“Is it as bad as we thought, Boss?”

The respect and the title helped him shake off the feeling-sorry-for-himself cloak he’d wrapped up in. These men needed him. “’Fraid so. We’ve only got to the end of July. I’d hoped it was all still in the planning stage and that maybe we had a chance to change their minds. But apparently old man Hill wants to move fast on this.”

“They’ve been thinking toward it for a while now. At least that’s what I heard,” a voice threw out.

“Yeah, well, you’ll need to let Mr. Hoffman know if you want to move to Whitefish and remain employed with the railroad. He says most everyone will retain their jobs if they want them. There are a few who won’t, myself included. I’ll likely have to rejoin your ranks.”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd at that news. These men, his friends and coworkers, had been his companions for several years now and watched him come up through the ranks. They respected him and never failed to do the job he asked for. He knew he’d be accepted right back into their numbers, but that wasn’t what he wanted. The urge to go pout in a corner was strong.

Keller clapped Grant on the shoulder. “You’re always welcome, Boss. A bunch of us have already talked about it, and some don’t plan to move to Whitefish. Some of us are heading out to Missoula.”

“Yeah, I’m considerin’ a move there myself.” Grant pulled his leather gloves out of his back pocket. “But for now, we have a job to do. Make up your minds about the move, and tell Mr. Hoffman as soon as possible.”

One by one the men went back to their stations.

All except Alvin. His face was black fury.

Grant steadied himself for his brother’s reaction. Out of all the workers, he worried about Alvin the most. He was unpredictable most days, but this...?

This might just set Alvin off in a bad way.

And that wouldn’t be good for anyone.

The carriage approached a three-story, red-brick home, and Eleanor smiled up at the beauty of it. White columns gave it a stylish and moneyed look. The lawns were manicured and lush looking. Pink and white rose bushes lined the front of the house, softening the harsh lines of the red brick.

She hadn’t expected such elaborate architectural design in the middle of frontier Montana. The mansard roof with its white-trimmed dormer windows set it apart from other houses in the neighborhood.

Architecture had always intrigued her, and this home seemed to be of the Second Empire styling. Perhaps she could go to the library and do a bit of research in her spare time. She’d been told the Carnegie Library here was a charming building in its own right. Anything to get her mind off her tedious thoughts of late and these unsettling feelings.

“I know you’ll enjoy staying here with the Ashburys. They have a most excellent cook and spare no expense with the meals. Marvella is an exceptional hostess.” George Grinnell faced her and her father. “Although she’s opinionated and not afraid to speak her mind.”

“Ellie is the same way.” Her father patted her knee. “They should be satisfactory companions for each other.” His mischievous grin made her want to roll her eyes, but she squelched the impulse.

Had Father decided to just use the forbidden nickname all the time now?

With her mood the way it was, it might be better if they were to camp out under the stars. Dealing with a cantankerous woman wasn’t going to help matters. Not until Eleanor figured out whatever it was that plagued her.

Mr. Grinnell droned on. “They definitely support the idea of a national park. Mrs. Ashbury is in charge of a women’s group and has been instrumental in getting them to write letters to President Roosevelt. Judge Ashbury is also supportive. He will be a great advocate for our cause.”

The carriage came to a stop in front of the mansion. The driver immediately jumped from his seat to help them from the carriage as a boy came to take hold of the horse.

Eleanor could barely contain her need to escape the conveyance—and the conversation. She jumped to her feet, laid her hand on top of the driver’s gloved hand, and descended the step of the carriage. It was a bit unorthodox, but she walked right up to the rose bushes and took a deep inhale.

Heavenly. Nothing smelled quite like roses. And the air here was so clean and fresh.

“Good for the soul, isn’t it, my dear?” Father held out his arm for her.

Time to pull herself together and follow etiquette.

Grinnell led the way, but the door was opened by a uniformed butler before their party reached the door.

“Good day, Mr. Grinnell. Won’t you all come in?” The tall man bowed and held out a welcoming arm.

“Tobias, I’ve brought Mr. Briggs and his daughter.” Mr. Grinnell waved a hand at them.

“Very good, sir.” The butler took their hats and gloves and placed them on a nearby marble table. “If you will follow me.”

“After you, Miss Briggs.” Mr. Grinnell nodded at her.

As Eleanor stepped into the marble foyer, she made a quick study of her surroundings. A grand staircase. Tasteful decorations. And the scent of something marvelous baking wafted through her senses.

The butler knocked on a tall wooden door.

Then something yipped.

What in heaven’s name was that? These people had an indoor pet?

Eleanor darted her glance at Father, whose smile had turned into a frown.

A woman’s voice called from the other side. “Come in.”

The butler stepped inside.

“What is it, Tobias?”

“Mr. Grinnell has returned and brought your guests, ma’am.”

Father shoved Eleanor with his hand on her back and in the trio went.

A white ball of fur raced toward her and then jumped up and down at her knee.

What was it?

Eleanor stiffened and backed up, but the tiny thing was tenacious. Then it yipped again, and a little face looked up at her with adoration. Tongue hanging out. Eyes alight with excitement.

She’d never been a fan of dogs or cats. Or any indoor pets, for that matter. Probably because her father didn’t believe animals should be domesticated and that’s what she heard her whole life. Only one time she’d questioned him, about horses being domesticated and his response had been that horses were different.

But now, staring down at the little face that begged for her acknowledgment, she wasn’t sure what she thought. She took another step back, trying to get the dog’s paws off her dress, and studied those mesmerizing black eyes.

“Sir Theophilus, get down and come here.” An older, thick-waisted woman strode over, took the dog into her arms, and smiled at her. “You must forgive him. He simply loves company and gets so excited at the prospect of making new friends.”

Grinnell smiled and offered a slight bow. “No harm done, of course.” He turned to Eleanor and her father. “Mrs. Marvella Ashbury, may I introduce Mr. Stewart Briggs, my dear friend and colleague. And his daughter, Miss Eleanor Briggs.”

Mrs. Ashbury fed her pup a treat and gave his head a stroke. Her smile was wide and welcoming. “I’m so delighted that you’ve come to Kalispell.”

“Thank you for having us, Mrs. Ashbury. We are grateful for your hospitality,” Father replied. “You have a lovely home.”

“Thank you, Mr. Briggs. And please, since you will be staying with us for a while, I insist that inside our home you call me Marvella.” With the dog still in her arms, she went to the bell pull. “You must be exhausted. I’ll have you shown to your rooms for a rest.”

Eleanor was tired, but the magnificence of this room was captivating. Floor-to-ceiling shelves held hundreds, possibly thousands, of books. At the other end of the room was a large fireplace with windows on either side. It looked like the perfect place to curl up with a book and a cup of tea. “Thank you for the offer of rest. However, we are waiting for our things to arrive from the station.”

Mrs. Ashbury shifted the dog’s position. “Well, perhaps you would join me for tea then while we wait. Supper will be at seven so it might be well for you to have some refreshment now.”

It was as if her hostess had read her mind. “That sounds delightful.”

A woman appeared at the door. She looked to be in her fifties and wore her hair in a tight bun. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Mrs. O’Neil, our guests have arrived, but their luggage has not. I believe we’ll take tea in the large parlor. When their things get here, please show them upstairs so they can freshen up and rest before the evening meal.”

“Very good, ma’am. I’ll see to everything.”

This household could clearly pass for one in New York City’s society. A bit shocking, since they were out on the frontier in Montana. But impressive, nonetheless.

The biggest difference was that it wasn’t ... oh, she should go ahead and admit it. The home wasn’t stuffy. The mistress wasn’t snooty and trying to show everyone she was wealthier or better than anyone else.

It was refreshing.

And made Eleanor feel ... at home.

“Let’s move to the parlor. I think you’ll appreciate the artwork there. The Judge has just received a shipment from back east, and the paintings were hung this morning.”

The men moved on ahead, while Mrs. Ashbury waited for her at the door. “My dear, you are rather lovely, but older than I imagined. What is your age?”

What? Had she just been insulted? The warm feelings she had a moment ago vanished. Eleanor blinked. “Um ... I am twenty-four years.”

“Goodness, and still unmarried. Well, that’s all right. Your work with your father has kept you traveling and busy, no doubt. Are you at least engaged to be married?”

Eleanor stopped. Did the woman mean to be imposing and rude?

She checked herself. Really, this was no different from many matrons in New York society. Maybe too many months on the road had thinned her usually thick skin to society’s pressures. “No, ma’am. I am not.”

“Did you leave some special fellow pining for you at your last location?”

Eleanor worked hard to hold back the sarcastic comment that wished to fly. “No. There is no one in my life other than Father.”

The older woman’s eyes seemed to light up. “How wonderful!” At her exclamation, the little dog began to wiggle and yip. Mrs. Ashbury laughed and released the dog to the floor. “See”—she straightened—“even Sir Theophilus is excited.”

Eleanor eyed the white fluff ball. What could it possibly be excited about besides treats? “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Mrs. Ashbury.”

“It’s Marvella.” The look on her face suggested she might be up to something. “Since you’ll be with us all summer, I’m certain to find you a husband.”

Her stomach began to churn. Why was everyone concerned about her marital status all of a sudden? She glanced into the parlor to see if Mr. Grinnell or Father had overheard the nosy woman’s comment. But no. They were engaged in their own conversation. Eleanor looked back at Mrs. Ashbury and shook her head. “I assure you that won’t be necessary. I have no interest whatsoever in finding a husband.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” There was such sadness in her hostess’s face. “You’ve been out in the sun too much, and it has affected your mind. Never fear, my dear. I’ll handle everything. You just wait and see.” She patted Eleanor’s arm, a confident smile turning up her lips. “Your time in Kalispell will be a great success. I just know it.” Marvella glided into the large parlor, leaving a confused Eleanor in her wake.

Affected her mind? If anyone were to ask Eleanor right then, she’d say it was the outgoing Mrs. Ashbury whose mind was affected. Because hers most certainly was not.