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Carrie got off the stagecoach when it stopped stretched her legs. She wasn't sure how far from Helena they were at the moemnt, but suspected it was still a few hundred miles off.
For the last few days, she had busied herself in conversation with the older woman she had been riding with. She was on her way to visit her daughter, who had just given birth to twins. The story had warmed Carrie’s heart, making her think of Henry and Harriet, her own twin siblings. That woman departed now, however, and two new passengers approached. They were both men. Carrie did not much care for the idea of being the only woman on the journey but the men approaching looked suitable enough.
"Slight detour coming up, miss," the driver said. He was a short man with brown hair as thin as it was long.
"Oh?" she asked.
"There was a storm come through here a few nights ago. Road's all blocked up. Not to worry, this was our last stop and I know a shortcut." He smiled at her and went to inform the new riders of their route change.
Carrie gave a final stretch and turned back to the stagecoach, resentful of the fact that her new husband-to-be had not been rich enough to afford a train ticket. She had planned on sitting in luxury on her way to Montana, not bouncing about a cramped sitting area like a piece of meat in a picnic basket. It had already taken her far too much time to begin her journey, though. Had she held out for a train ticket, it might never have come. She would still be in Valley Glen, waiting.
The money Sarah had sent from Montana had all gone to their debtors. The fact that Sarah had sent it at all indicated that she was married to Mr. Bowman. The release of their debt from the bank had not softened the betrayal Carrie still felt from her sister. She had vowed to seek Sarah out and make her answer for her deeds.
"Allow me, miss," one of the new passengers said, offering Carrie his hand. She took it gratefully and stepped up into the coach.
"Thank you."
He smiled politely and tipped his hat to her. He was an older man, closer to Tom's age than her own. Perhaps thirty? There was a shine in his eye that she rather liked, but also a shrewdness that bespoke his life experience. She could tell that he had seen and done many things.
A second man of perhaps forty-five was seated next to her in the coach. The hair upon his head was sparse, and he wore round spectacles that made his eyes seem too large for his head, but he had a kind manner and Carrie was pleased to be seated next to him. She felt herself relax as the coach started up again.
"Jake Bedielson," the man beside her said, introducing himself.
"Carrie Ackerman," she replied, offering her hand.
The man who had helped her into the coach was seated opposite her. His appearance was so drastically different from Mr. Bedielson's that she wondered if the man beside her might be jealous. It was not that the man was particularly handsome, but he had an air of authority about him that Mr. Bedielson could only dream of.
"Judge Theodore Foster, at your service, miss," he said, taking Carrie's hand as well.
"Judge?" she asked. "How interesting." She was excited to be riding with a judge. He must have many stories to tell, which would make the long ride more bearable. "You look rather young to be a judge."
"And you look rather young to be riding unaccompanied in a stagecoach."
The hair on Carrie's neck prickled. "I am eighteen," she said, her head held high. "I have as much right to travel as anyone."
"Certainly, miss, certainly. Forgive me, I meant nothing by it."
Carrie nodded, relaxing her shoulders. She did not enjoy being teased, but it was still a long way to their destination and she did not wish to argue the whole time. "Are you going all the way to Helena, Mr. Foster?"
"Yes, Miss Ackerman. I have business there."
"Oh, how interesting. Does your work often give you leave to travel?"
"No," Judge Foster said, and no more. His eyes clouded, and he turned away from her.
Carrie's lips thinned. She had hoped for some lively conversation but saw now that she would get very little out of the stolid man before her. She turned her attention to Mr. Bedielson, who was already snoring. His head sank toward his shoulder, bobbing up and down with each bump in their path. Carrie sighed and resumed looking out her window.
The land around them was still dry, but not like Valley Glen. The farmland she had grown up with had dried up like a prune when the rains had stopped. She knew it could not be as bad as the deserts in the west but it was bad enough to force the farmers from their land. The morning air had not been filled with dew for the last year. It made her skin itch and flake. Even the cold winter months had seemed dry, despite the fall of snow wetting everything down. The Ackermans would not be the first family to lose their land to a bank. She found it ironic that their own path to salvation was Sarah's marriage to a rich banker, the very type of man she had come to despise.
She had known they were no longer in her home state when things had begun to look green. Dark umber bark and lush green tree tops punctuated the land. The change was slow at first. A single tree in a vast plain of nothingness. Then the trees came in clumps. Finally, great forests surrounded them on all sides. Carrie could not help but smile. The air was thick with moisture. She could feel it on her tongue. Her skin drank it in, thanking her.
She absently twirled one finger around a stray blond lock that had come loose and caught Judge Foster looking at her.
"Have you ever been to Montana before, Miss Ackerman?" he asked.
She brightened at this spark in conversation.
"No," she replied. "It is my first time traveling by coach... or anything else."
"I see."
He was still staring. She bit her bottom lip, studying his face as he studied hers. He'd had a hard life; she could see that in his eyes. There was a darkness beneath the piercing blue that struck her as cold and hard. She did not care for the way he was watching her, as though she were a painting on a wall instead of a person.
"Forgive me," he said, noting her frown. "I know I am staring. It is just that you look so very much like my wife when she was your age. We grew up together, she and I. I've known her since childhood."
"Oh," Carrie said, relaxing at the mention of his wife. Mr. Bedielson let out a loud snore. She and Judge Foster exchanged grins. "Your wife sounds lovely. How sweet it is to hear that your love for her has not faded with time. Is she to join you in Helena?"
The grin fell off Judge Foster's face as quickly as it had arrived. "No. She is dead these many months."
Carrie's neck stiffened. "I'm sorry to hear that." She had much experience with death, having lost both her parents at the age of six. Carrie thought that a change of subject might suit them both but now that the judge had begun to speak, he did not seem to want to stop.
"She was murdered by a man I shall see hanged. I am on my way to Montana to find him."
"Find? Has he not already been captured?"
"He's escaped justice more than once, I fear. But his own men betray him now."
"His men?"
"His band of lawbreakers. They robbed a bank in Helena not long ago. Three of the four were captured. My wife's murderer was the only man to escape." His lips thinned. She could hear the hatred in his every word. It dripped from his voice like spilled milk. "I mean to find him and bring him to justice."
Carrie's heart raced. She leaned her head out of the carriage, allowing the fresh air to catch ahold of her and still her emotions. She could not imagine losing someone she cared for in such a manner. The fire that had taken her parents still angered her, but murder? The very thought of it made her hands shake.
"Have you any children?" she asked.
"Two. They are too young to know what they have lost. I must take justice for them."
The carriage came to an abrupt stop. Mr. Bedielson shook awake, his head rolling around as he attempted to steady himself. "What's happening?" he asked, clearing his throat. "Are we there?"
"I don't think so," Carrie replied, looking out the window. It was growing dark. They would not reach Helena this evening.
The driver was suddenly at their door. He pulled it open so fast that the suction nearly drew Carrie from her seat.
"Have you a gun?" the driver demanded, looking past Carrie to Judge Foster and Mr. Bedielson.
"A gun?" Carrie cried. She noted the driver was already holding one of his own.
Mr. Bedielson shook his head.
"I have a pistol," Judge Foster said. "What is the matter?"
"Get it," the driver told him. "We're about to be robbed. There are men with guns riding towards us."
"Then hurry up and get us out of here!" Carrie shouted, terrified.
"We'll never outrun them with this coach," the driver said. "They've all got horses, fast ones from the looks of it. Our only chance is to face them head on."
"Can't we just—"
"Judge Foster cut Carrie off. "He's right. We'll face them. If you have the chance to get away while we're keeping them busy, take it."
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