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THE LITTLE TRAVELING party of three rode in silence for a good measure of miles before the wagon driver spoke. “That there pass we just come over won't be open to travel much longer. Snows come early here and stay. I'm a hopin' you two ladies know what yer gettin' into. Sounds like ya' might have men folk waitin' for ya' in Sawtooth or Vienna. That right?”
Jessica's pale cheeks colored again, her eyes once again drawn to the handbag in her lap. “Yes, sir, Sawtooth City.”
He winked at the girl, causing her to blush a deeper shade of pink. “That's a good thing then. Vienna's got mine trouble. But that's the way it is up here, boom town today, ghost town tomorrow. And it be good you've got men folk, cause there ain't much in the way of womanly companionship up that way unless you're in the business . . .” He stopped himself in time and shot a glance at Lena whose eyes remained fixed on the mountain range. “Sorry—I just mean that a woman needs a man up there to take care of her, is all.”
Lena understood the man's thinly veiled reference. Women would find little opportunity to earn a living in a place as remote as this unless they chose to sell their charms. So, without the support of a man, well, it always came down to needing a man in some capacity. She straightened her shoulders, looking forward to stretching her legs and working out the damage done to her spine after the torturous wagon ride.
Before them stretched a wide basin where a narrow river snaked against low foothills on the north side. Scattered along the river was an odd assortment of structures, a surprising number rising a lofty two stories. This city could scarcely be compared to the older settlement of Hailey to the south where both electricity and telephones brought eastern civilization to the frontier. She recalled the lovely bookstore she'd visited there and doubted such luxuries of culture appeared here.
Jessie leaned in close to Lena's ear whispering, “Oh! It's smaller than Bartholomew described.”
“I actually thought it a bit more substantial than I’d imagined.” One of these must surely be the boarding house owned by Mr. Nash, a place soon to be her new home. Their home. That was a thought that made her throat constrict and stomach clench. She'd be expected to make a home with a stranger, because Mr. Nash was little more in spite of their letters.
Lena glanced over at Jessie and saw her bite her lip while she brushed a nervous hand at a wayward lock of hair. This anxiety they shared filled Lena with a rush of empathy for the younger woman.
“Where are you staying until you're married?” Lena asked, hoping to distract the girl from her obvious nervousness.
She glanced at Lena, her eyes wide. “I...I don't know. We didn't talk about that.”
Lena realized her question had only increased the poor girl's anxiety. “I'm sure your young man has thought those details through. I know for a fact that there is a boarding house here.”
Jessie brightened at that. “Oh yes! My Bartholomew lives in one at the edge of town.”
One last hill and the trail widened, becoming the main street of Sawtooth City.
“Here we are, ladies.” With that announcement, the driver jumped from the seat, landing with a heavy thud, his feet stirring a cloud of dust.
“Jessie?” Both women turned. A red-headed youth sprinted up to the wagon, hat in hand, breathless.
Standing so quickly that she startled the mules, Jessie lost her balance. Lena reached out a hand to steady her, but the girl's momentum spilled her out of the wagon directly into the arms of her Bartholomew. It was an accident that the young man obviously did not find objectionable as he stood there holding his young bride-to-be.
Jessie gasped, “Bartholomew!”
“Yes, Ma'am! At your service.” He lowered her to her feet then took a slow step backwards, his hands still holding her arms as if he were afraid she might shatter. Neither one of them said a word for a long moment as if by staring into each other's eyes they might see the answers to the questions each could never ask in months of written correspondence.
Clearing her throat in a ladylike manner, Lena broke into their silent communion.
Bartholomew stepped around Jessie. “Oh, here, let me help you.” He reached a helping hand to Lena.
“Thank you.” After brushing at her hopelessly rumpled skirts, Lena surveyed the dusty street and clapboard buildings lining it. She'd expected Mr. Nash to meet her. Did her last letter announcing her arrival date not come in time?
“Oh, Bartholomew . . .” Jessie started.
Bart held up a hand. “You gotta call me Bart. No one knows me by my full name here. Too long to shout.” Bart grinned at Jessie and Lena had the distinct impression he was on the brink of falling into her eyes again.
“All right, Bart. I wanted to introduce my friend, Miss Sommer.” All smiles and happiness again, she gestured to Lena.
Lena shook Bart's hand. “A pleasure to meet you. Could you possibly direct me to the boarding house run by Mr. Nash?”
Bart's face drained of color, leaving only his freckles behind clustered across his cheeks in constellations. The grin slipped into a grim line. “You're Miss Sommer?”
Lena tilted her head, confused by his sudden change of expression. “Are you all right?” For a moment, she wondered if he might be ill, overcome by his emotions at seeing his bride-to-be for the first time.
He licked his lips, his smooth brow wrinkling. “You’re the Miss Sommer that Mr. Nash was expecting?”
Lena felt a rush of relief. “Why, yes!”
She saw his countenance fall, his eyes shifting between Jessie and herself. He sucked in a breath, then said, “I’m sorry.”
As suddenly as the moment of relief had come, it departed, leaving behind the awful dread that his next words were about to alter her world yet again.
“There was an accident two weeks back.” He stuttered out the rest in a rush. “Mr. Nash got hurt real bad, dragged by his horse.”
Lena stiffened. She'd faced injuries, disease, fire. Whatever it was, she could handle this. “Please, take me to him, then.” She blinked, reading in the next moment the truth in Bart's young face. Mr. Nash would not be greeting her—ever. The man with whom she'd hoped to build a future was gone.
Gripping her elbow more firmly, Bart shook his head. “I'm so sorry.”
