Chapter 6

THURSDAY, MAY 12, 1904—KALISPELL, MONTANA

Driven by her thirst for answers and some way to rid herself of this weird melancholy and restlessness, Eleanor parked her bike on the porch and entered the Ashbury mansion, hoping it was time for tea. Perhaps a conversation with her hostess would help ease the weight in her chest. She needed to talk to someone. Her thoughts felt like a tangled ball of yarn. Every string she pulled seemed to make the tangle into a knotted mess. The butler bowed ever so slightly. “May I take your things, Miss?”

She removed her gloves and hat. “Is Mrs. Ashbury in? I’d like to speak with her.”

Tobias shook his head as he held out his hands for her hat. “My apologies, she’s not available at the moment.”

“Well, this is a fine kettle of fish.”

“Pardon, Miss?”

Eleanor plopped her hat back on her head. “I’m sorry, Tobias. You’ve done nothing wrong. I appreciate your help, but I’m going to take my bicycle out again.”

“Very well, Miss.” Another bow and then he opened the door for her.

Once she was astride her two-wheeled conveyance, she pushed her legs to the limit in all hopes of working out the frustration. But frustration with what exactly? And why couldn’t she put her finger on it? Never had she dealt with these kinds of feelings before.

Almost like she didn’t even understand herself anymore.

The more she pedaled, the more it built. In all her years, she’d been a lover of research and facts. To not have the answers annoyed her.

Father had said and done a few odd things lately as well. Maybe they were both simply going through a season of...

She couldn’t find a name for it. Yet another question without an answer.

With a shake of her head, she focused on the streets before her. She needed to pay attention or she would get lost.

People milled about, strolled the sidewalks, and walked in and out of businesses. Kalispell really was a quaint little town.

All the news in town was about the railroad. Since Kalispell was the economic center of the whole area, it made sense that the railroad was here. But she also understood why the railroad was moving their main line division point up to Whitefish. If the rails west of Kalispell were worse than what she endured on the way here, then she, of course, was in full agreement. It would also be better for the creation of a national park.

Winding her way through Kalispell’s streets, she turned right on Third Avenue East and headed for the depot. Not for any particular reason, but it was on her mind. At the end of the road, she found herself facing the tracks. She turned left and rode up to the building.

The two-story depot was clean and neat. No grand piece of architecture, but it was welcoming and practical as it bustled with activity. Something she’d come to appreciate more the past couple years. She parked her bike outside the door and saw the same man behind the counter. The man who obviously knew Carter Brunswick well.

He hadn’t seemed all that impressed with her after her first arrival, but he’d been nice enough. Maybe she should smooth things over. Since things weren’t busy for him at the moment, she walked up to the counter. “Gus?”

He glanced up from his paperwork and blinked several times. The hesitation in his eyes couldn’t be mistaken. “Miss Briggs. How may I help you?”

“I was simply riding my bicycle about town and found myself curious about the building here.”

“Oh?” He went back to his papers and scribbled something else on one.

“It’s an excellent depot.”

He continued to write. “Yes, it is. We are pleased to have it.”

“May I perhaps look around?”

“What for?” He frowned. “Forgive me. It’s just a train depot. Built in 1892. Had a fire in 1899 and we had to rebuild the interior.”

She blinked, then shrugged. Why did she want to look around? This strange boredom of hers was leading her nowhere. “Just curious.”

“You’re welcome to look here on the main level, but upstairs are private quarters. And the basement is off-limits. Too much equipment down there. Wouldn’t want a lady to get injured or covered in dirt.” He shifted his gaze to her but didn’t really appear like he cared what she chose to do.

“A basement?” How very intriguing.

“Off-limits.” He drawled out the words. “It doesn’t have lights and is pretty scary if you ask me, so a lady of your station wouldn’t care for it.” Going back to his papers once again, he released a little huff when she made no move to go. “Anything else, Miss?” His tone had lost what little patience it had held.

Maybe because she hadn’t been very nice their first meeting. She swallowed. Carter had been correct, her manners had been lacking that day. “I apologize, Gus. I was in quite a fret when I first arrived, and I didn’t treat you well. I’m afraid you received the sharp edge of my tongue, and I’m sorry.”

He chuckled a bit and shifted the papers in front of him. “If I recall, Carter received the worst of it, but he’s got a thick skin. Don’t worry about me, Miss Briggs. I’ve dealt with worse than the likes of you. All’s well.”

She felt lighter even though his comment stung a bit. “Thank you for that, Gus. And thank you for your assistance the other day.” A bit more of the cloud in her mind lifted. “I’ll leave you to your work.”

Back on her bicycle again, she stared at the pretty brick building before she rode toward the other end of town. It had been a long time since she had simply conversed with people she didn’t know.

And, for that matter, since she’d taken time to converse with people she did know—other than Father and his friends.

Their work took them all over the place and most of her activities included meetings with her father’s friends and fellow conservationists. There was always a list of things to accomplish. Papers to write. Correspondence to send. And, of course, all the travel.

Now that she thought about it, it had been a while since she’d had luncheon or tea with another female her age.

Had her skills become dull in that area? Was she so used to the blunt speech of the men she worked with that she didn’t even know how to be ... normal anymore?

As her thoughts spun in circles, a grave revelation sunk in. Perhaps she was a spinster after all.

And a rude one at that.

FRIDAY, MAY 13, 1904

After an awful night of tossing, turning, and reviewing her life, Eleanor was sure about one thing.

She had no idea who she was anymore.

She’d so poured her life into assisting Father with his work that his beliefs and opinions became hers. His conversations, her conversations.

It had been drilled into her that the work was paramount, so whatever they did, whatever idea they championed, it was more important than whatever anyone else was doing.

Now that she thought about it ... wasn’t that rather arrogant?

Her mother would roll over in her grave.

This wasn’t how she’d been raised. Mother was kindness, goodness, and love. It didn’t matter that she was wealthy, she shared with others. Listened to them.

Respected them.

Many times as a child, Eleanor had assisted her mother with various charities. Mother never treated anyone as someone of less import than she was.

Eleanor cringed. For some time now, she’d demanded attention because their work was important, and they were important people on an important mission. They were trying to preserve the beauty of America for generations to come! They were doing something of substance and meaning. Those facts had been the anchor of her work the last few years. Now ...

They rang hollow.

Perhaps that was the cause behind her melancholy.

That and the fact that she’d simply been going through the motions without thought to others. At all.

Well. That was going to change.

She headed to the dining room for breakfast, only to pause when she saw that Father and Mr. Grinnell were the only ones seated at the table. She’d been hoping for some creative discourse with the Judge and his wife.

“Good morning, Ellie.” Her father looked so relaxed as he lifted his coffee cup to his lips. “I hope you slept well.”

She’d stopped trying to correct him about using her old nickname. For whatever reason, it relaxed her.

Gracious. That ornery Carter Brunswick was right. She was stuffy. “Not the best, but I’m sure I’ll rest well tonight.” A footman held out a chair for her. “Where are the Ashburys?”

“The Judge had an early case to hear, and Mrs. Ashbury had a meeting. They said to enjoy ourselves and the cook would prepare anything we liked for breakfast. We’ve already ordered.” Father flipped a page in his newspaper.

Bother. This was putting a kink in her carefully-thought-out plan. She’d hoped to ask several questions over breakfast to help her figure out who she really was. Well, she would simply have to wait for lunch. Or dinner. “What are we doing today?” She took up her linen napkin and placed it on her lap.

“George and I are working on a paper to present to President Roosevelt.” Father never even looked at her over his paper.

“Will you need me?”

“No. Feel free to explore town or stay here and enjoy the day.” Another sip of coffee. Another flip of pages. “After Mr. Hill arrives, we will be discussing the railroad and the national park. I’ll want you to take notes at that meeting.”

“Of course. What time should I be ready?”

“He’s supposed to arrive today, but our meeting won’t be until tomorrow.” Mr. Grinnell answered the question and at least glanced at her. But then his attention was back on his own newspaper. “After we hear him speak to the town, we’ll set out on our expedition to see some of the southwest areas of the land I believe should be set aside for the national park. We’ll be gone for a couple of weeks.”

“I know we discussed getting a new tent”—Father folded his paper—“and George suggested an outfitter that might have what we need.”

The footman was at her side. “What would you like for breakfast, Miss?”

“I’d like a cheese omelet and toast.” She gave her order and then looked at the man. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.” It was high time she started taking notice of more than just landscape details. People deserved her respect.

“Clarence. I’ll put your order in with the chef, Miss.”

“Thank you.” Ah. There was the cream. She poured a generous amount into her coffee and looked back to her breakfast companions. “I’ll get the name of that outfitter when we conclude our meal, Mr. Grinnell.”

“Of course.”

It wasn’t but a minute or two before another footman brought in steaming plates of food. Ham steaks and eggs for the men. Toast in silver racks shaped like swans. An assortment of jams, jellies, and plenty of butter. Then Clarence returned with her omelet.

For several minutes the silence continued except for the occasional clank of silver or buttering of toast.

It brought her thoughts back to what kept her awake last night.

Boring indeed. No wonder she was restless.

There had to be more to life than this.

There had to be more to her than this.

If only Mrs. Ashbury hadn’t left. More than anything, Eleanor needed another woman to talk to. The mistress of this home had something in her eyes that Eleanor longed for.

Peace.

The Judge had it as well. Mrs. Ashbury was jovial and full of life. No matter how opinionated she might be, or that she was determined to marry Eleanor off, something in the woman drew Eleanor like a magnet. And the Judge was full of wisdom and yet calm even when he disagreed on a subject.

Mr. Grinnell set his fork on his empty plate and interrupted her thoughts. “Have you had a chance to ride your bicycle around town?”

“A bit. It’s a delightful place. I rode past the Carnegie Library—which I still intend to visit—and the Brunswick Flour Mill. Yesterday, I went back to the train depot. It’s an inviting building. The town seems to be bustling.”

“That, of course, is about to change.” Grinnell shook his head. “What with the railroad pulling out. Such a shame. But it will be to our benefit.” He stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I must get ready for the day. The letter to the president is our top priority.” He handed her a slip of paper. “Here’s the information about the outfitter.”

“Thank you.” But his words made her stomach sour. Is that what she sounded like to others?

“Do you think you could enjoy living in a town like this, Ellie?” Father’s voice was low and warm.

She blinked several times, still pondering Mr. Grinnell’s careless words. “I’m not sure I understand. For a few weeks? Months?”

His eyebrows shot up with his smile. “Permanently.”

Permanently? In Kalispell? That was a large jump from what he said to her on the train just a few days ago. She grappled for a response.

“I am wearying of all the travel, and you know I hope to write a book one day.”

She thought it through. What if they were to settle ... to give up their nomadic existence and stay in one place? “I don’t know a lot about Kalispell yet, but it seems like a wonderful place to live. I love the mountains. And Flathead Lake isn’t far.” The first time she’d seen the Rockies, she’d talked about them for days, until her parents finally asked her to stop. There was just something about the mountains and water that ... nourished her soul.

“We can talk about it later, I just thought I’d ask while we were alone.” Her father stood. “Oh, my dear, would you drop my watch off at a repair shop?”

“Of course, Father, I already had it on the list. I just need the watch.”

He left, and Eleanor lifted her chin. It seemed she had some errands to run. Might as well make the most of it.

After fetching her hat and gloves and Father’s watch, she asked for her bicycle to be brought around. Bart, the stableboy appeared moments later with the bike at his side. He seemed enthralled by it.

“Thank you.” She took the bicycle in hand and grinned at him. “Have you ever ridden?”

The boy shook his head. “It looks too complicated.”

“It’s just a matter of balance really. Oh, and keeping the pedals going. If you don’t do both at the same time, you will fall over.”

“Wow. Have you ever fallen over?”

She grinned. “Several times in the past. Especially as I was learning. But that’s all right. You just get back up and start again.”

His eyes were wide as he watched her hop on the bicycle. She gave him a little wave and pedaled down the street.

The ride to town was brisk, with the crisp mountain air in her face. Eleanor dropped off the watch at the repair shop and then made her way to the outfitter Grinnell had recommended. She had to ask for help locating it, but recognized some of the places she’d passed the day before and felt that perhaps she would soon have her bearings. And then, all at once, she had arrived. Johnson’s Outfitters, the sign announced.

Seeing no good place to leave her bicycle, she leaned it against the front of the brick building and made her way inside. Immediately she had the attention of the clerk.

A middle-aged man with a balding head and bushy mustache offered her a slight bow. “May I help you? We carry all of the most up-to-date supplies for outdoor needs.”

“I would like to see what you have available in tents.”

“Of course. Come right this way.” He turned and headed toward the back of the store.

Eleanor followed him. Canteens, wool blankets, hatchets, and a large display of new duck canvas shoulder packs caught her eye.

“These are our very best tents.” The clerk came to a stop in front of rolled and bagged tents. He released the drawstring on one end of a tan-colored bag and slid the tent out. “The canvas is waxed to keep out moisture and although you can’t see it, the wooden tent poles fit into each other with a clamping mechanism to tighten it down and hold it in place. It keeps the tent steady and secure. And instead of just six stakes, this tent has eight. Makes for a very comfortable stay. I’ve used one like it several times myself.”

She examined the cloth. It did seem to be a quality piece. “Is it large enough for two or even three people?”

“Oh, yes. This is the deluxe model. If you need something smaller or bigger, we have those as well.”

He showed her a couple of other styles and talked about their benefits and failings, then left her to go and help another customer.

“The best tent is the one he showed you first ... if you have the money to spare.”

Eleanor whirled around to find a man a little taller than she was.

A bit grubby in appearance, he gave a shrug. “I’ve led a few folks out into the wilderness and have tried a few tents in my time.”

Did all strange men out here feel free to speak to women they didn’t even know? How disconcerting. Still, no need to be impolite. “Thank you. I appreciate your ... advice. We’ve done a great deal of camping ourselves, all across the United States.”

She turned back to the selection, hoping the man would get the hint that she wasn’t interested in having him help her.

“The name is Grant Wallace.” He moved to her side.

Eleanor glanced his way again. He seemed harmless enough. But she would keep her guard up, just in case. “I’m Miss Briggs.”

“What brings you to Kalispell, if you don’t mind my asking?”

She frowned. She did mind, but she’d promised herself to do better. Mother had always stressed it took very little to be kind. “My father is here with Mr. George Grinnell. Perhaps you’ve heard of him? He is working to see that a national park is developed not far from here.”

The man frowned. “I’ve heard of that, but not the man.”

Something in his expression drew her attention. “You don’t seem very happy about it.”

“I don’t see the need for it one way or the other.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Especially if that has something to do with the railroad pulling out.”

Grinnell’s words from earlier whispered in her mind about the railroad’s move being to their benefit. She ignored the little warning bells in her mind, her passion for the subject coming to the forefront. “But you should. Preserving our lands is most important. If we stand by and do nothing, it won’t be long at all until all the illustrious landscapes are overrun with settlers and those who will do nothing to maintain the beauty. You should see things back east. Many a picturesque area has been overpopulated and destroyed.”

He shrugged but the lines in his forehead deepened. “I suppose you could have a point, but I know Mr. Hill of the railroad supports a national park, and I can’t be for anything that man wants.”

Well ... how odd. “And why is that?”

“He’s hurting a lot of folks around here by moving the main line. I work for him, and it ain’t right that one man should have so much power as to leave hundreds of men out of work just because he doesn’t like the route he made. Says it’s too dangerous and steep and demands it be altered.”

“Safety should be an important issue to everyone.” Why was the man so set against a less dangerous set of tracks?

“Safety is important, but so is keeping a town alive. A lot of people are going to lose their jobs, me included.”

Oh. That explained his reaction to her mention of the railway. “I am sorry for that, but maybe if you worked to support a national park you could get a job there. You appear to know something of the outdoors.”

For a moment, she thought he was considering the idea. But then he shook his head. “I’ve worked for the railroad for a long time. It’s what I know. What I’m trained to do. You can’t go around telling people to get a different job just because it suits your opinion.”

“Perhaps if you considered mankind’s greater good and how preserving the scenery could benefit and bless them, you might find that a national park job would suit you better.” Oh dear. Once again, she’d allowed her opinionated self to spout off. She peered over his shoulder for the exit, willing to abandon the purchase of a new tent for now if she could simply walk away.

“Mankind has never considered my greater good.” His laugh was rough. “I’m not sure I care to worry about their greater good.”

Another man ambled up to stand alongside Grant, his demeanor less than congenial.

She really should be on her way...

The first man nodded to the second. “This is my brother, Alvin. He cares even less than I do about the greater good of mankind. We do well to see to our own good. We’d be just as happy if the rest of the folks in this country just stayed where they are and left Montana alone.”

The darkness in the brother’s eyes sent a chill up her spine. What had she gotten herself into? She had nothing to say in response, but it didn’t matter. The men turned and walked away.

Releasing her breath, she put a hand to her chest and her limbs relaxed. Goodness, when had she grown so tense?

It was impossible to understand these Montanans. Owning thousands of acres of land. Mad at the railroad for wanting a safer route. Surrounded by all this incredible beauty and not willing to do what needed to be done to preserve it.

She turned back to the tents just as the clerk returned. She pointed to the tent in front of her. “I believe I’ll take this one.”

Perhaps staying in Kalispell wasn’t the best idea after all.