Click!
Effie’s eyes flicked open.
The room was dark, but she knew she was no longer alone.
Fear shot through her instantaneously. She froze, fright taking its toll.
After a short while, her mind began to function and reason asserted itself. Though panic leapt through her, she realized she could not give rise to it. She must stay calm. Slowly, so as not to make any sound, she turned her head on the pillow.
A figure in black stole through her room. It was a slender man. What did he want?
The artifacts. Someone had broken into her room to steal the artifacts. It was the only thing that made sense.
But how would anyone know of them? Let alone that she carried them on her person. The only people who even knew of them were in her crew.
“You will not discover them here.” Perhaps she was insane, but Effie found herself speaking to the intruder as though she might, with simple words, change his mind. “Do you really think I would be so stupid?”
The figure faced her, even advanced toward her, but he said nothing.
“Who are you?” asked Effie. “How do you know of them?” She didn’t name what it was she referenced, certain they both knew exactly of what she spoke.
Silence.
Timidly at first, she sat up in bed, picking up an object that always stayed close to her. “I should warn you,” she spoke as though with ease, “that I sleep with a gun. I have done so since I was a child.”
Holding the weapon with both hands, she cocked the pistol to give emphasis to the fact. The sound of the catch was loud in the otherwise silent room.
She continued, “I have this pretty little Colt revolver pointed at your head. If I were you, I would leave as silently as I came. For if you don’t, you will soon not have the means to do so.”
The figure made no further movement. However, the sound of another pistol being cocked shot through the room.
Effie’s heart leapt into her throat. Summoning her courage, she kept her voice steady as she said, “My father always encouraged me to expect the best in people and to give fair warning, and so I will with you. I will give you only until I count to ten, and if you are still here then, I promise that I will shoot you. One…two…”
The black figure crept closer.
“Three…four…five…”
The figure darted to the side, but in doing so, had come one step closer to her.
“I am not pretending a skill I do not have,” Effie elaborated. “I may be a woman, but I have no reservations about shooting you. Six…seven…”
The man in black leapt forward but was still too far away to reach her.
Shocked, but with the gun held steadily in front of her, she counted down more swiftly, “Eight…nine.”
A blast filled the room, but not from her revolver. Her assailant’s bullet must have hit the bedding close by her. Feathers flew everywhere.
Pretending a calmness she was far from feeling, Effie said, “You missed. Ten.”
Effie pulled the trigger, and the sound of the explosion was deafening.
Had she hit her target? She peeped around the bedpost.
No. But then what should she have expected? She had not aimed to kill, only to hurt, to disable.
But the intruder, as though a mere shot had taken away his boldness, turned, and executing a rather classical pirouette, opened the door and disappeared beyond it.
Gun still clutched with both hands, still pointed toward a now absent “guest”, Effie sat quietly in the aftermath. She let out her breath, hardly able to account for the fact that someone had to know what treasure she carried. Indeed, someone had to know what her project intended to do.
How had this happened? How had this news leaked out to society’s unsavory element?
A few moments passed, and Effie became aware of the sounds of people—probably other hotel guests and her crew—who were on the other side of her door. However, it was beyond her ability to move, let alone speak or explain what had happened. Briefly, she was glad they were out there, not in here.
She was unnerved. True, she slept with a gun. True, she knew how to use one.
But never had she been forced to take action against another human being with one. She found the experience far from pleasant.
Gradually, someone opened her door—it wasn’t, after all, locked. Not anymore. One of her colleagues, Carl Bell, was followed immediately by another one of her associates, Henry Smith. Then came the rest of her crew, Lesley and Madeline, who were followed by a few others Effie didn’t know. As people began to filter into the room, it occurred to her that the worst thing that could have possibly happened to the project just had.
Not only were the artifacts no longer safe, neither was she.
I… We need protection.
On this thought, she steeled herself to explain, as best she could, what had transpired only a moment earlier.
The very next day the man she had hired as their guide quit, stating that she had misinformed him of the exact sort of danger her project entailed.
“How on God’s green earth did my guide hear about the raid on the project? On me? And so quickly?”
“Bad news travels fast, ma’am.”
“Within hours?” Effie stared at the gentleman who called himself Sheriff Hopkins, the only law in this town. He was seated before her in his office, his booted feet propped up on his desk.
“This is a very small town, ma’am,” said Hopkins, whose mustache was so long it appeared as if he had no upper lip. “Who was the first person you told about your nightly visitor?”
“There were several people staying at the hotel, Sheriff, including my crew. All were awakened by the shots. And of course I had to make a report to the manager of the hotel. I believe he said his name was Mr. MacDermitt.” Effie swept her full, blue-striped silk dress in front of her as she advanced farther into the room. On her head was perched a little hat with a plume that hung down over her chignon in back. Because there was still a chill in the fresh Montana air, she wore a shapeless peplum over the dress. “But I only told him of it first thing this morning. There was no manager on duty last night.”
The sheriff raised his shoulders as if to say, Well, that explains it. Meanwhile he lit his pipe.
Effie exhaled, exasperated. “Aren’t you going to do anything?”
Taking a few puffs on his pipe, Sheriff Hopkins extinguished the match then glanced up at her.
“Tell me, ma’am,” said the sheriff without answering her question. “Why is a pretty little gal like you here? All alone? And in a country that’s wild and unruly?”
“I wasn’t aware it was a crime to be here. And, for the record, I am not alone.”
“Now don’t go gettin’ all sassy with me. Just askin’.” The sheriff removed his boot-clad feet from the desk. “I’m tryin’ to understand the reason why some man would break into your room in the middle of the night.”
Effie shrugged.
“Jealous husband?”
“I’m not married.”
“Lover’s quarrel?”
“No.”
“Irate father?”
“I am over twenty-one.”
The sheriff drew a long puff on his pipe, set it to the side then slowly shifted his weight in the chair. At length he stood up, as if only now remembering his manners.
“Now, ma’am.” He skirted around the desktop. “I have to ask myself—and you—again, why is a pretty gal like you here? I know you said you was goin’ diggin’ in the mountains—”
“I’m an archaeologist.”
“Yes, miss, I heard you the first time, but any digger I’ve ever heard tale of didn’t look like you—young, pretty, even if a trifle overdressed.”
Overdressed? Effie pressed her lips together before she said, “Then I expect your experience is very limited.”
Heaven forbid that the man should smile. Yet he did, and Effie was struck at once by the fact the sheriff did, indeed, have an upper lip.
“You’re sure a cheeky little thing.”
“And you’re not helping me, though I’m certain you mean to. Now, Sheriff Hopkins, what I really need to know is what is going to be done to discover who entered my room last night—and also where I might hire myself another guide.”
The sheriff took a step toward her. Effie backed up.
“’Fraid I won’t be able to assist you, ma’am, less’n you tell me what it is someone might be lookin’ for. And as far as a guide, you’ll just have to ask around town…but don’t expect much.”
“Don’t expect much? What does that mean?”
The sheriff backed up to lean against his desk. “It means that no one here wants to take on a job that’s jinxed.”
“Jinxed? Who said the job was jinxed?”
Sheriff Hopkins shook his head. “Too much bad luck. Someone breaks into your room in the middle of the night and shoots at you. Then your guide quits on you right sudden. What’s next? Shootin’ your guide?”
“But—”
“We have a sayin’ here in the West that goes like this: Trouble comes in threes. Don’t rightfully reckon you’re goin’ to find many folks here who want to take on that kind of liability. What you really need isn’t a guide. It’s protection.”
“I see.” Hadn’t she had a similar thought last night?
“Do you?” The sheriff squinted at her.
“I think so. And you’re going to provide me with that protection?”
“No, ma’am, I’m not. My job here is to keep the peace. I figure I’m doing that by informin’ you that there’s a double whammy sittin’ over you. If goin’ into Blackfeet country isn’t dangerous enough for a white man—takin’ you and your party through savage and perilous mountains where many men have got themselves lost—you also need someone to act as both lookout and sharpshooter.”
“No, sir, I don’t. I can shoot, and we can post a watch.”
“Yes ’em, I reckon you can. All I’m sayin’ is that you’re asking a lot of a man.”
“Am I?”
“I believe so. Now, if I was you, I might start lookin’ elsewhere than here for a guide. Someplace where they don’t know you.”
Effie’s chin shot up in the air. “Was that an insult?”
“No, ma’am. Just speakin’ the cold, hard truth.” The man returned to his chair, and it wasn’t long before his feet had once again found his desktop. “You might try Helena. You might find more men there who’ll have experience in them mountains. Nice makin’ your acquaintance.” He smiled, then tipping his hat, he placed it over his eyes while he slouched back in his chair.
Effie stood aghast, hardly believing she had been dismissed so rudely. However, seeing that there was little point in making more conversation with the man, she turned and let herself out the door.
Determined that the sheriff would come to realize his mistake, Effie marched toward the general store. Within moments, she opened the door to the establishment, let herself in and walked straight to the counter.
“Excuse me,” she addressed the man there, who had been engrossed in a ledger. Absentmindedly, he looked up at her, then smiled. Effie returned the gesture.
“May I help you?” the clerk asked.
“I hope that you can,” said Effie. “I am looking to hire a guide who can lead myself and a few other people to the Gates of the Rocky Mountains country.”
“The Gates of the Rocky Mountains, you say?”
She smiled at the man. “Yes, that’s right. My name is Effie Rutledge.” She held out a gloved hand. “I am the person in charge of the archaeological expedition that came into town a few days back.” She added another grin when the man accepted her hand. “Do you know of any man who would be willing to hire on as the guide for the project?”
“Clyde Herman’s my name, and I’d consider it a real pleasure to help a pretty little gal like you, ma’am, but that’s Blackfeet country, isn’t it?”
“Yes, that it is, but you see we’ve been there before, although many years ago, and—”
“Don’t reckon,” Mr. Herman interrupted, “that your task is going to be an easy one. Word has it that them Gates of the Mountains is terrible dangerous.” He scratched at his bearded face. “What happened to the guide you hired yesterday?”
“He… Hmm… He quit this morning.”
“Did he now?” The clerk shook his head. “Yep, thought I heard somethin’ about that, and I’m right sorry.”
“You heard about that already?”
“I did, miss.”
“Goodness,” she exclaimed, “news certainly gets around here.”
The clerk raised an eyebrow, then leaned over the counter, as though he were a coconspirator. “Nothin’ else to do, I’m afeard.”
She sighed deeply. “I suppose you’re right. But to return to my original question, dangerous though it might be, do you know of anyone who would be willing to take on the position? Someone who might perhaps yearn for adventure, for risk?”
The proprietor didn’t answer at once, though he did look thoughtful. After a time, he said, “If you don’t mind my asking, ma’am, why did Jake quit? It was Jake, wasn’t it, that you hired on yesterday?”
“Yes, it was. And he quit because…well, because he is not a brave man, and when something happened last night that—”
Again, Mr. Herman leaned in close to her. “Heard tell your room was broke into.”
“Yes,” said Effie, wondering why the man’s knowledge of her personal affairs had surprised her. Apparently one had no privacy in this town. “But you see, I can explain that, and I—”
“Don’t envy you none, ma’am, poor little thing that you are. It’s gonna be awful hard to find someone to help you now.”
“But why? There are lots of men in this town, and among them I should be able to find one who—”
“You see, it’s like this,” said Mr. Herman. “When one of the fellas quits, it’s as good as sayin’ that they all quit. We’re a mining town, ma’am. Close-knit.”
“But—”
“See, there’s precious metal that’s been found in these here hills—all around Virginia City—and a man’s gotta protect his stake. If’n you want him to walk away from his means of livelihood, then…” He left the rest unsaid, as though anything else that followed were self-evident.
Effie cleared her throat. Then, strictly on the off chance the sheriff was right, she leaned over the counter, and as though seeking a tête-à-tête, she said, “Are you certain that protecting their livelihood is the real reason I might have trouble finding someone to help me? It wouldn’t be, perchance, that the men here have been told that my project is jinxed?”
The man gulped. “It might’ve been said a time or two, but me? I don’t believe in jinxes.”
Tightening her lips, Effie nodded slowly. “I’m certain you don’t,” she said, but her meaning was clearly the opposite.
For an instant Mr. Herman appeared uncomfortable, and straightening up, he adjusted his collar. “Look, ma’am, I’d like to help you, but I can’t. I run a store, that’s all. Have you tried over at the sheriff’s office?”
“Yes, I have,” said Effie. “Most certainly.”
“Well…” The proprietor let the word trail away, as if the rest of the sentence didn’t need saying. However, as though he’d only realized this, he added brightly, “Are there more in your party?”
“I am not alone in this venture, if you think that might make a difference. There are four others traveling with me who can shoot.”
“Hmmm.” Mr. Herman hesitated, scratched his chin, then gazed at her over the rim of his spectacles. “And are all your crew female?”
“Why, no,” said Effie. “Does it matter?”
“It might.”
“Well, then, I have one male and one female student; they are a married couple. And there are two other friends, who are also married. Why do you ask?”
“More superstition, I’m afraid, miss.” The proprietor looked downright crestfallen. “The more women in a party, the more likely that party is to get wiped out.”
“What?” Effie stared at the man, uncertain she had heard that correctly. When the clerk didn’t elaborate or say anything else, she replied, “Why, that’s ridiculous. I can assure you that we have been on several expeditions throughout the States, and—”
“It’s also Blackfeet country you’re lookin’ to travel into, ma’am. Them Indians is just plain mean. Around here…” he glanced behind him, “…them Injuns is called the tigers of the plains.”
“Are they? But…sir, this expedition is not about those Indians, it’s about… I…” Effie’s voice trailed away. What was the point? Mr. Herman had made it clear that not only couldn’t he help her, he wouldn’t.
With a sigh that spoke of frustration, Effie said, “Well, I thank you anyway, but I guess I’d better be going.”
The clerk nodded, smiled and turned away to wait on another customer.
Effie spun around, one arm coming down to sweep her blue-striped silk skirt with her. Unwarranted, the swishing sound of her dress as it grazed over the hardwood floor reminded Effie of the sounds of her intruder last night.
For a moment she froze. After a short while reason returned, and picking up the front of her dress, she stepped toward the door.
Mr. Herman—at once the gentleman—met her at the entrance, and opening the door for her, he smiled a final apology. “Wish I could have given you better news.”
Effie returned the smile and was on the verge of adding a further comment, when she realized it was unproductive. Holding out her gloved hand once again, she said, “I thank you, Mr. Herman.”
She beamed up at the man, suspecting that because of the way she was dressed, because of the shapeless peplum thrown over her dress, she had identified herself as a woman of “masculine” taste. She had heard of this before—hadn’t her mother said as much several years ago? But perhaps the misidentification wasn’t the fault of the men in Virginia City. Perhaps the fault, if there was one, lay in the fact that women were few in these parts, and those who were here were generally the “for hire” girls, with their curvy figures and high-combed hair.
Whatever the case, Effie was aware that she was not accomplishing anything of use. Despite what these two gentlemen had confided to her, she was still saddled with a problem: She needed to hire a guide.
Apparently, this left her with no alternative but to solicit each man’s cooperation personally. All right, so be it.
Intending to do that at once, Effie swept off down the street.