Chapter 7

WEDNESDAY, MAY 18, 1904

The exact arrival of Mr. Louis W. Hill had been kept a secret.

Mainly because after the town meeting turned into an outdoor brawl, the railroad didn’t want to risk any danger to the owner’s son. Eleanor and her father had been sworn to secrecy so that the railroad tycoon could arrive at the Ashburys’ without event. She didn’t mind. The poor man would probably be bombarded the whole time he was here.

Putting a hand to her stomach, Eleanor took several breaths. She’d barely had time to change from the split skirt she wore to ride her bike into her lavender gown. There’d been no time for a bath, so she felt rather unkempt. And now she had to meet this new man, whom Father had been anxious to meet.

The Judge stood in the front parlor with his hands in his vest pockets. The man portrayed wisdom and confidence and yet quiet humility all at the same time. How did he do it? She’d only known him a few short days, and already she respected him far more than any other man she’d met. “The peace and quiet of our little town will be interrupted for a bit. Let’s pray for calm heads to prevail.”

“Excellent suggestion, my dear.” Marvella shifted on the settee. “I can’t say I’m in agreement with the railroad on this matter.”

Mr. Grinnell grunted from the window.

What a rude thing to do!

Marvella, of course, was the picture of courtesy and ignored the man.

Time to redirect the conversation. For all their sakes. Eleanor inclined her head to Marvella. “Do you know Mr. Louis Hill, Mrs. Ashbury?”

Her smile was broad. “No, but the senior Mr. Hill is a dear friend. He and his wife have been our guests on many other occasions. They love to travel.”

“They own the railroad so I would expect as much.” Father smiled. “I’m looking forward to meeting their son.”

At that moment, Eleanor heard the front door open and Tobias’s low, calm voice. Their guest must have arrived. A hush fell over the room and Eleanor held her breath. What would he be like?

After the butler announced Louis Hill to the room, Father stepped forward. “Stewart Briggs, at your service. I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Hill. I’ve heard a great deal about you and your father.”

“And I’ve heard a lot about you.” Goodness, such a gracious man. “George has kept me apprised as to your work and support of our dream of another national park in Montana. Although in fairness Yellowstone mostly resides in Wyoming.”

“It is amazing how vastly different the two places are.” Father moved back to his seat. “My daughter, Eleanor, and I spent an entire summer in Yellowstone a few years back. There are a great many differences and that will entice people to want to conserve this area as well.”

“Yes, these American Alps, as I like to call them, are worthy of being set aside, especially for their glaciers. Certainly as worthy as last year’s addition in South Dakota.”

He must be referencing Wind Cave National Park. Eleanor loved that area.

She opened her mouth to reply, but Mr. Hill continued.

“Of course, they’ve done nothing with it to actually establish viewing, but the area is at least set aside.”

Mr. Grinnell stepped closer, apparently not wishing to be left out of the conversation.

As he put in his two cents about South Dakota, Eleanor licked her lips and shared a look with Marvella, who picked up a scone and took a bite. It seemed neither of them was needed for this introduction to the important Mr. Hill, after all. Marvella didn’t seem to mind, but had Eleanor known she wouldn’t be needed, she’d rather have taken that bath.

Hill clasped his hands behind his back. “Mark my words, it will be years before they are able to set up a proper way to explore the area, while our glacial lands beg for visitors and will have a proper railroad running through it.”

Eleanor picked up her own scone and nibbled at it. Judge Ashbury came and sat down beside his wife. He hadn’t said a word, but it was clear he’d been listening to everything the men had to say on the matter.

She’d love to ask him his thoughts, but the men rambled on about how the nation’s citizens needed to see these national lands. Then Hill’s dominant voice took over again.

“President Roosevelt should have little problem motivating Congress to set this land aside. It’s already perfectly arranged. With the exception of a few changes and additions. I have great plans for concessions and hotels throughout the park. We’ll talk about it tomorrow, of course. When I can show you the plans I’ve had drawn up.”

Eleanor almost choked on her scone. She lifted a cup of tea to her lips and prayed the bite would go down. What had the man just said? Concessions and hotels?

Didn’t that defeat the purpose?

Swallowing her tea, she lowered her face to study the carpet lest the others see her frown. What good was setting aside the land so that it remained in a natural state if a person was only going to turn around and build a lot of hotels? And something so intrusive as concessions?

The more she thought about it, the more she fumed. All these years ... all this time spent on conservation. Every statement she’d made on the subject, every debate she’d had with people who dissented so that they could understand. And then it all came down to this? What were they even fighting for?

She eyed her father, but he was smiling. How could he be all right with this?

“The benefit of a national park here in this great state is two-fold, Mrs. Ashbury.” Mr. Hill’s voice invaded Eleanor’s thoughts. “I am as passionate as Mr. Grinnell and Mr. Briggs in seeing our great country preserved.” He flashed the group a smile. “But funds and investors are needed. Congress likes to see that these national parks have support to help them continue. While Father has no use for a national park personally, he was pleased to hear that it would be possible for the southern boundary of the park not to cross his plans for future tracks. And that it will obviously drive up the number of passengers.”

The unsettled feelings that had plagued her now made her world feel completely upside down. If money and profits were the direction they were headed, she didn’t know what to believe anymore. Didn’t know what to feel. Didn’t know what to stand for.

Nothing made sense.

Without a word, she fled the room and ran up the stairs to her chambers.

If only she could go back to simpler times, when her mother was still alive and could guide her through this mess.

But no. She couldn’t do that. Because God had taken her away.

She had no one to turn to.

No one.

Carter leaned on the railing of his porch and listened to the sweet sounds of Kalispell.

This place had been his home for twenty years. It was hard to imagine that it could soon dwindle and die ...

Perhaps he was getting ahead of himself. They were only at the beginning of this journey. He doubted any of the other businesses in town wanted to pack up, leave, and start over.

Besides, he’d come here with his family long before there was an actual town. They survived then. They would survive now.

God, just don’t let me get too big for my britches. It’s important that we listen to one another and help each other through this new trial. I pray that You will guide me and all the leaders in this town.

He gulped the last of his coffee and watched the kids across the street playing tag.

A longing for a family of his own rose up within him as their joyful laughter filled the air. What would it be like to have a family? To teach his own children about the land and God’s creation?

A bit of sadness rolled over him and he shook it away. The Lord hadn’t provided an open door in this area yet. Mark’s words came back to him and made him laugh. Yeah, he had been kind of waiting for God to just plop the right woman in his lap. Which was ridiculous. It was probably time to take action. Pray about it. Ask the Lord to guide him and then get up off his duff and do something about it.

So rather than wallowing, he should get out there and play with those kids.

Carter set his cup down and jogged across the street. “Need an extra player?”

“Sure, Mr. Brunswick!”

“Be on my team!”

“Come play with us!”

He laughed at their exuberant welcome. “I’d love to play, as long as you call me Carter.”

“Mama won’t let us do that.” The littlest of the group chimed in. Her hands were clasped in front of her. “You’re an adult so you hafta be a mister.”

“All right. How about Mr. Carter, then? Will that work?”

Each kid nodded.

“Good. Okay, so let me guess ... I’m it?”

Squeals of delight filled the air as he chased the kids. In the slowest motion he could. Which only made them giggle more.

After half an hour of tag, he was plumb worn out. Leaning over his knees, he worked to catch his breath. But the kids just kept on running.

A sweet little girl stood next to him. He smiled at her. “Where’d you get all this energy?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. But Mama said we had to get it all out before we came inside.”

Carter chuckled. “Yeah, I can imagine she did.”

“Look!” Little Charlie waved his hands. “It’s the new lady on her bicycle.”

All the children stopped and watched as Ellie headed down the street toward them.

Carter had never been on a bicycle before and wasn’t sure he would ever want to try it. But she handled it with ease. Seemed pretty good at it, too.

Honk!A horseless carriage careened around a corner right into Ellie’s path. Honk! Honk!

She rang her bike bell several times, but the car continued on its path. Straight for her. Ringing the bell some more, she swerved and barely missed the car, but the tilt was a bit too much for her and she flew into Mrs. Sidler’s bushes. “Ah!” Her strangled cry was muted by the thick foliage.

Carter raced down the street and pulled back the shrubbery in which she was ensconced. “Miss Briggs! Miss Briggs?”

Moaning was her response.

“Miss Briggs ... are you all right?”

The horseless carriage disappeared down the road. What on earth? Who was that?

An arm poked out of the greenery. “Help, please.”

He tugged on it, but she was stuck on something. “Is perhaps a piece of your clothing attached in there somewhere?” He couldn’t see through the thick branches, but her stockinged feet stuck out by his legs.

A few unladylike grunts and groans escaped the shrub. “I’m in need of your assistance, Carter Brunswick.” The voice was a bit more agitated this time. She stuck her hand out again. “Just pull as hard as you can.”

“You got it.” He grabbed onto her arm with both hands and tugged.

It took a couple of hard yanks, but she came loose, and he flew back onto his backside with the momentum.

“Oomph.”Miss Briggs fell in a great heap down at his feet, covered in pieces of Mrs. Sidler’s bush. Ellie pushed her hair, which was in disarray, away from her face and stared at him. Then she burst into laughter. “Thank ... you.”

“You’re welcome.” He attempted to stand, and pain in his backside made him go down on one knee. “Ow!” He rubbed the offending part of his body and grimaced.

She covered her mouth, but her laughter only increased. He joined in, and pretty soon, they were laughing so hard, tears streaked down both of their cheeks.

Carter finally calmed and took a deep breath. He found purchase with his feet and kept a hand on his backside. His tailbone was gonna be sore for a while. “You sure you’re all right?” He helped her to stand.

“Oh, other than some scratches and a million pieces of shrubbery attached to me, I believe I’m just fine.” She began to pick each piece off one at a time. “Thank you for your assistance. That car came out of nowhere! Heavens, I’m used to seeing them in Chicago and the other big cities, but I wasn’t expecting to see one out here in the wilds of Montana. Especially not aimed right for me! They must not understand how to steer yet.”

“You handled yourself just right. If you hadn’t swerved when you did, you’d probably be badly injured.” Who could have been driving one of those contraptions here? Perhaps Ellie was correct, and it was someone learning how to drive. Carter hadn’t taken time to really see who’d been driving. His focus had been on Ellie.

The neighbor children surrounded them.

Eleanor stiffened and blinked several times. “Well, hello there.”

The kids stared. Then the oldest piped up, “Is your bicycle all right?”

“My bike!” She jumped and looked around for it.

But two of the children had already pulled it out of its shrubbery cocoon.

She put a hand to her chest. “It appears to be in working order.” Crouching down, she examined the pedals and wheels. “But I do seem to have a flat tire.” She put her hands on her hips. “Bother.”

“Anna! James! Caroline! Michael! Charlie!” The children’s mother called from her doorway. “It’s time to come inside.”

“Gotta run, Mr. Carter. Thanks for playing tag with us.” Anna squeezed his hand and then ran off with her siblings.

Ellie peered around him as she watched the kids. “I guess it’s a good thing you were out here playing tag. I might not have been able to extricate myself from that bush without you.” When she glanced at him, her blue eyes shimmered with the remnants of her laughter. “Thank you, again. I truly needed the laughter. It’s been a trying afternoon.”

“You’re welcome.” He cleared his throat. Funny. It seemed she was opening up to him, and he had no idea how to respond. “Why don’t you allow me to walk you back to the Ashburys’ since your tire will need fixing.”

She looked around. “I appreciate it. Especially since it is getting a bit later.”

Carter took charge of the bicycle and wheeled it between the two of them. Neither one of them said anything and the awkward silence grew.

They’d walked two whole blocks before he couldn’t stand it anymore. “I didn’t think you were the silent type.”

“Pardon me?” She turned her face toward him. Little pieces of shrub still stuck out from her hair .

“You just always seem to know what to say.” There. Maybe that was nicer. But it was hard to concentrate on being nice when every step made him wince. Could a man break his tailbone? Or had he done some other sort of damage?

“You know, Mr. Brunswick—”

“Carter.”

“Fine. Carter.” She huffed. “I realized that I was partly responsible for us getting off on the wrong foot. I apologize. I apologized to Gus as well. Neither one of you deserved my irritation. It was rude of me.”

His eyebrows shot up higher than he knew they could reach. “That’s awfully kind of you to apologize, Ellie—”

“Eleanor.”

“Fine...” At least for now. “Eleanor. I believe I owe you an apology as well. It wasn’t right for me to take my frustration out on you. I wasn’t exactly planning on getting sucker punched that day.”

She stopped and turned toward him. Then she stuck out her hand. “I forgive you.”

He took her hand and shook it.

She narrowed her eyes. “What is that wry grin for, Mr.—er, I mean Carter?”

“I told you, one day you just might like me.”

The most unladylike groan he’d ever heard accompanied her swat to his arm. “You, sir, are incorrigible.”

“I will take that as a compliment.”

“You would.” But she laughed and he laughed with her.

For the first time, he glimpsed behind the facade and great walls that had surrounded Miss Eleanor Briggs. He’d thought she was a snobby little thing, albeit attractive and feisty. But now? There was a different side to her. Something deeper.

They walked several paces before he dared to dive in. “You said it had been a trying afternoon. I’ve been told I’m a good listener, and we’ve got a good walk in front of us...” He let the invitation hang in the air, hopeful she’d respond without snapping at him.

She clasped her hands in front of her and took in a loud, long breath. “I’m examining my life.”

He kept his features neutral. But who said things like that? He blinked several times and tried to figure out how to respond.

“I see I’ve perplexed you.” A smile tipped up the edges of her lips. “Do you not ever sit and ponder your very existence?”

He stopped walking for a moment and stared into her eyes. Her candor was refreshing, though a bit surprising. On the other hand, he had asked. And she deserved an equally honest response. “I do. Every time I watch the sunrise or the sunset. When the winter wheat first sprouts up out of the ground, all green and lush, then snow covers it. It goes for months in dormancy and then it continues on again in the spring. Or when I sit in awe of the mountains, Flathead Lake, or see a baby for the first time. I thank God for these miracles and can’t fathom His love for little ol’ me.”

The longer he talked, the farther her face dipped into a frown.

What had he said to displease her?

“You really believe that, don’t you?” Her face was so hard, like flint.

“I do.” What on earth had caused the hurt that swelled in her eyes?

“Good for you.” She yanked the bicycle from his grasp. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Brunswick. I’ll take it from here.” With rapid steps, she marched away, the weight of the world seeming to lay on her shoulders.

Carter’s jaw dropped.

He’d seen the full gamut of emotions in Ellie in the short span of half an hour. His heart ached for the pain he’d seen in her eyes. There was so much more to her than he’d ever imagined. Now, more than ever, he wanted to spend time with her. Get to know her.

But his gut held him in check.

Eleanor Briggs was clearly wrestling with God. Carter wasn’t about to get in the middle of that battle.

Still, the one thing he could do was get down on his knees and pray.

Marvella took her time ascending the stairs before she headed to Eleanor’s room. After watching the girl storm out of the parlor earlier, then race out not half an hour later to ride her bike, then return covered in foliage with a tear-streaked face and looking madder than a hornet, Marvella knew it was time she took matters in hand.

She rapped on the door.

“I don’t need anything, thank you.” The forced cheer was clear even through the door.

Marvella knocked again.

“I don’t wish to be disturbed. Thank you.” The tone was a bit more clipped this time.

Third time was always the charm. She persisted once more and leaned her ear against the door. While the thick wood kept her from deciphering anything, she did hear what sounded like huffs and a good deal of grumbling.

Perfect.

The door whipped open, and Eleanor stood there, mouth wide, about to speak her mind. But as soon as she spotted Marvella, her lips clamped shut. Her shoulders relaxed a bit. “My apologies, Mrs. Ashbury. I thought you were one of the staff.”

“Not a problem, Eleanor. And please, call me Marvella.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She held tight to the doorknob.

“I do believe it’s time we had a chat.” Marvella wriggled her way around the girl and walked into the room. “Woman to woman.”

Eleanor closed the door behind her. “What is it you’d like to chat about?”

She took a seat in one of the chairs positioned in front of the fireplace. It was really a cozy room. Marvella smiled. Oh, how she’d loved decorating each room in their beautiful home. She patted the chair next to her. “Come sit.”

“All right.” But the rigid set to her shoulders was back.

“Why don’t you start with what put you in such a snit this afternoon after Mr. Hill arrived.”

Eleanor gasped and sputtered. “I ... I...” She cleared her throat. “I wasn’t in a snit.”

Marvella leaned back in the chair and crossed her hands under her bosom. “There’s no need to get defensive. I’ve been known to be in a snit myself ... from time to time. You should ask Milton.” She put her fingers to her lips as she laughed. “But, dear, it isn’t good to bottle up all your feelings inside. The storm clouds have been chasing themselves across your face ever since you arrived.”

Eleanor wilted and blinked several times.

“Now, now. No need for tears. Unless you really need to let them loose, then I won’t stand in your way. But I’m here for you. Just as I’ve been for countless other young women over the years.” Marvella gripped the girl’s hand and squeezed.

And then the floodgates opened. Tears fell from Eleanor’s big, blue eyes, dampening her cheeks. She gripped Marvella’s hand like it was a lifeline.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” the young woman sniffled. “Everything seems to agitate me. Even those who are trying to help me.”

Marvella nodded, pressing a soft handkerchief into Eleanor’s lap. “I know it’s hard to believe since we’ve only known each other a short while, but Milton and I care about you, and your father.”

Eleanor let go of Marvella’s hand and pressed the white square to her face. “I can see it. But I can’t understand why. I’ve not been pleasant. For heaven’s sake, both my father and I argued with you and your husband about Father’s work.” She shook her head, her blond hair shining in the afternoon light.

“Oh tosh.” Marvella laughed. “That was not an argument, dear. Just a good, old-fashioned exchange of ideas. Conversations like that help us grow and think about things differently.”

“That’s just it.” The words burst out of her guest, seeming to catapult her from her chair. She began pacing her room. “After that conversation, and the one this afternoon with Mr. Hill, I don’t know what to think anymore. For years I’ve believed what Father said. What he’s taught about conserving the land. But now I can’t stop thinking about farmers and ranchers and food.” She let out a huff. “And all this God talk. You, that Carter Brunswick, the Judge ...”

Marvella studied Eleanor Briggs for a moment. Her heart broke, seeing the consternation and fear so plain on the young woman’s beautiful features. But in her experience, not many entered the kingdom of God without a fight. And that’s exactly what Eleanor was doing. Fighting God. “I know it’s not easy figuring out what you believe.” She folded her hands in her lap and arched her eyebrows. “But it’s worth it in the end, especially when you come to Jesus, finally seeing that He was the one drawing you close the whole time.” She stood and crossed the room to Eleanor and slipped an arm around her waist.

Eleanor didn’t stiffen at the contact, but she refused to meet her gaze. “You sound like my mother.”

Marvella smiled. “She must be a fine woman.”

Grief flashed across Eleanor’s features. “She was.”

Ah.

Marvella squeezed her tighter. “Go on.”

Eleanor shook her head, sobs choking her throat. Then the tears came in earnest, a wild tempest of sorrow. Marvella kept her thoughts to herself, not wanting to push her young friend too hard. Grief wasn’t something that was easily dealt with. Marvella knew that all too well from her own mother’s passing years ago.

Finally, Eleanor pulled away and wiped her face again. “I am sorry,” she whispered.

“No apologies needed, my dear. Sometimes a good cry sorts out a multitude of issues.”

“Not this time, I’m afraid.”

Marvella tipped her head. “What is it?”

“I just ... I wish I understood why my mother had to die. Why didn’t God hear my prayers to keep her alive?” Her eyebrows dipped, and her jaw tightened. “I don’t understand why God hates me.”

Well, that was unexpected. Marvella sent up a prayer, asking for wisdom, when she was interrupted by Eleanor.

“I’m sorry. I’m usually not this emotional.” She stepped back, threading the soggy handkerchief through her fingers. “Please disregard what I just said.”

As if she could forget it! Marvella shook her head. The Lord had sent her a hurting young woman who needed His love and truth. “Thinking God hates you isn’t something that is easily forgettable, Miss Eleanor. But”—she tapped her foot—“I can see right now you don’t want to discuss it.”

Relief visibly swept over Eleanor. “Thank you.”

Marvella arched both of her eyebrows. “However, don’t you think you’ve gotten out of another discussion about this. At some point, you are going to have to patch things up with God, my dear. And we will most assuredly be having that conversation soon.” Marvella gave Eleanor a firm hug. “And I’ll be looking forward to it. Now, ready yourself for dinner. I’ll see you in an hour or so.”

Marvella swept from the room and shut the door with a firm click. Eleanor’s confession still ringing in her head, she made her way to her room and sat down in an overstuffed chair. For a moment, she clasped her hands together and prayed for the Briggs family. Then she plucked the Bible off the side table, searching for verses about God’s love.

The next time Eleanor Briggs said God hated her, Marvella would be ready to show her just how wrong she was.

THURSDAY, MAY 19, 1904

Even after using cool washcloths over her eyes for more than an hour this morning, Eleanor still had puffy eyes. But Father insisted she attend another discussion in the library about the national parks. Not that she’d said one word last time.

It had been nice to get everything off her chest last night with Marvella. The woman was an incredible sounding board. And while she had strong opinions about Eleanor’s need to “patch things up with God,” she’d been relatively quiet and even offered her shoulder when the tears were the worst. In fact, she hadn’t given a lick of advice then, which shocked Eleanor. But told her they would talk some more later.

Of that, Eleanor had no doubt. Once the woman set her mind to fixing something, she usually did it.

With a deep sigh, she entered the library.

Mr. Hill was talking. He seemed particularly excited about his ideas for accommodations.

“I told George that I would like to see all the park buildings done in chalet fashion, including the depot. I believe it will accentuate the setting in a most beneficial way and remind visitors of the Swiss Alps.”

“That does sound fitting.” Mrs. Ashbury came to Eleanor’s side, cuddling her little dog. “Don’t you think, Eleanor?”

Since she’d been so deftly invited into the conversation, she offered her opinion. “I believe we should blend into the scenery as best we can, with as few buildings or alterations to nature as possible.”

“Of course, my dear. We are all in agreement there.” Her father looked from her to Mr. Hill. “My daughter is devoted to securing as many national parks as we can in our lifetime.”

Why would Father say that? She’d never said or implied that was her goal. Was he trying to impress the railroad man or Grinnell? She cleared her throat. “I would like to see more land made public and left untouched, but that would include not building hotels and concessions to further damage the area.”

“Wealthy folks aren’t going to always be willing to spend their time traveling and living in tents.” Mr. Hill’s expression showed a kind of bored amusement. “At least not for long. It can be a great novelty and attraction for many, and those types of guided tours will be offered. We would hire men familiar with the area to take guests into the wilderness, away from the comforts of hotels and dining rooms. My wife and I enjoyed a trip like that in Yellowstone. We lived in a tent for a week and ate around campfires. It was an experience, to say the least.”

The men chuckled, then Grinnell stood and paced. “This is exactly what we need—for Americans to experience our national parks. There are a great many dangers to be sure, but that is why we need to carefully plan the routes and pathways. We can post rangers to watch over the camping areas, where the guests can go to enjoy getting away from the routines of life. And we can have luxury lodges for those who would rather enjoy the beauty in comfort.”

“I have already designed two depots, both with defined Alpine features.” Mr. Hill’s excitement grew as he talked. “I believe visitors will be completely enthralled. We will have lodges as well as cabins to accommodate everyone. We will offer indoor plumbing and electricity as well.”

“More development and destruction on the land.” Eleanor bit her lip while the Judge made some comment that thankfully left her outburst unheard.

Then the room went silent.

Whatever Judge Ashbury said had the men’s attention.

He paced in front of Mr. Hill. “The problem of the railroad is uppermost on the minds of folks here in Kalispell.” He sighed. “I appreciate that you’ve taken time to come and speak to them personally, but I fear you haven’t come to hear them out.”

Mr. Hill shook his head. “It can’t be helped. There are too many problems with the current line. The grades can’t be reduced, and the dangerous twists and turns have caused derailments. Loss of product and life is unacceptable, and my father is adamant that the problem be resolved.”

The Judge’s chin lifted. He did not look pleased. “Well, I must give my attention to other matters, gentlemen.” He left the room, but the men continued to talk.

Marvella stood. “I need to tend my roses. Would you like to accompany me, Eleanor?”

As much as she wanted to say yes to Marvella and escape the tension of the room, she couldn’t. “I promised to take notes for Father.”

“All right, dear.” Their hostess left as well.

“I thought perhaps you two could write up pamphlets that we could sell to the tourists who come and want to explore on the hiking trails and walkways. Perhaps create some type of reference to the plants and trees, as well as the wildlife.” Hill had unrolled some sort of plans that all the men hovered over.

“Walkways?” Eleanor couldn’t believe her ears. “What kind of walkways?”

“Wooden. Probably about four feet wide—enough to allow two people to pass each other on the trail without needing to step off and damage the tundra.” Mr. Hill didn’t seem to appreciate her question.

She didn’t care. “Won’t the walkways do a fair bit of damage?”

“There will be initial damage, of course, but we will do what we can to minimize it.” The man spoke to her as if she were a child in need of calming down.

Which only served to incense her more. She glanced at her father, who frowned. Whether it was because of her questions or the idea of walkways, she wasn’t certain.

Grinnell studied the prints. “I could see these walkways making it easier for less-active people to enjoy the scenery.”

Hill unrolled another set of prints. “Further in the mountains, however, there will be natural paths to hike. We can plan those out when the time comes.”

“If they’re planned out, they’ll hardly be natural.” The words were out before she could think. All gazes swiveled to her.

Hill glared at her and then continued. “The lake is just over here, and I figure we can put in a boathouse and a fishing outfitter.”

“And is this a roadway?” Father asked. Why did he sound ... supportive?

“It will be one day. I foresee making great roads into the depths of the park so that a person could tour to the north and south of the rail line. We wouldn’t need to put the roads completely through from one end to the other. After all, that’s what the railroad is for. There’s money to be made here, my friends, and a glorious national park to share with the world.”

Eleanor could stand it no longer. “It sounds like an awful lot of changes for the delicate balance of nature this area supports. You want hotels and concessions, boathouses, and walkways. And roads. This isn’t leaving the area in a natural state at all.”

Hill straightened and looked at her. “Miss Briggs, with each national park we’ve seen the addition of accommodations. It’s necessary to allow the visitors some comforts. You can’t expect a person to come from hundreds of miles away and not eat or rest. There also needs to be ways for the park to be self-sustaining. Toll roads are necessary and perhaps one day even park entry fees.”

That wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. “But that isn’t making it free for the public. People should be able to visit at no cost. I thought that was at the very heart of creating a national park and setting aside public lands.”

“For Congress to be willing to set these places aside, they need to be self-sustaining.” Grinnell’s look to her was almost scolding.

Why was she all of a sudden the bad guy? She was only speaking of the very things this man and her own father had taught her.

Hill crossed his arms over his chest and stepped toward her. “To convince people that a trip to a national park is worth the trouble, one must provide certain amenities. And of course, those amenities can’t come for free.”

“Of course not. It’s a great moneymaking opportunity.” Eleanor didn’t even try to hide her disdain. This man was impossible.

“Ellie, perhaps you could leave us to discuss the particulars for now.”

She started and looked at her father. He was dismissing her?

“We won’t be needing you to take notes until perhaps this afternoon.”

So. She’d gone too far and this was her punishment. Getting to her feet, she smiled. “Of course. Mrs. Ashbury wanted to show me her roses, and this would be the perfect time. Good morning, gentlemen.”

It was hard to hold her tongue. Hard not to tear up. How could her own father betray her so?

This trip had changed him. First the talk of settling down and now this conversation about making money through the national park lands. It wasn’t like him at all.

Eleanor made her way outside and wandered around until she heard Mrs. Ashbury chattering about new bushes that should be arriving any day and where she intended them to be planted. The woman had endless energy as she moved back and forth amidst her budding bushes.

Sir Theophilus came running and yipping. He jumped up and seemed so eager to be in her presence that she picked him up. He immediately licked her face.

“Well, at least someone is glad to have me around.” Her mumbled words earned her another lick.

“You are a welcome sight for my poor little dog. I’m much too busy to pamper him while tending to my roses.” Mrs. Ashbury stepped over to her. “I’m so glad you could be spared from the discussion inside. I’m sure those men can be preoccupied with their plans. And just look. For mid-May, it is unseasonably warm. It will do wonders for my roses.”

Eleanor didn’t feel much like touring a garden, but she did her best to pretend pleasure.

Marvella showed her bush after bush, explaining the names and colors of each. Then without so much as a pause she straightened and looked Eleanor in the eye. “I want to know you better, Miss Eleanor Briggs.”

Eleanor hesitated.

“Come now. After baring your soul last night, there’s no need to be shy. I know you’re a very well-educated young woman. Did you have a garden when you were growing up?”

Oh good. A neutral topic. “My mother kept flowers and herbs.” The memory warmed her heart. “She showed me how to care for the plants as well, but I lost all interest after she died when I was fourteen.”

“Such a young age to lose one’s mother. I was in my late thirties when mine passed away and that was still too young. But we are only a vapor, after all.” She barely paused to take a breath. “So you took up your father’s interests in conservation after she was gone.” Mrs. Ashbury stated this more than questioned it.

“Yes. I went to college and studied what I could that might aid him in his work. I learned to type and take a style of shorthand so that I could assist him with his notes and records. We’ve traveled, and he’s spoken on so many occasions that I’ve lost track of the number of events.”

“And you enjoy this life?”

“To a degree. I worry about Father, however. I know he’s tiring and has started to talk of settling down.” Why on earth had she shared that? Something about Marvella seemed to provoke confidences.

“Yes, as we grow older, we tend to want to plant roots and feel a sense of belonging. You could be happy settling here, my dear. You should suggest that to him. Despite what is happening with the railroad, Kalispell will survive. I’ve no doubt. We ladies have met and discussed it. We have no intention of seeing this town fall to ruin. We just got a new library, after all. We have banded together, and we will do whatever is necessary to see that our town thrives.”

“And how will you do that?”

Marvella gave her a conspiratorial smile. “Well, God hasn’t exactly told me yet, but He will.”