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JESSIE, HER FEET FAIRLY skipping as she walked along the boardwalk with Lena, pointed ahead to the livery stable. “Let's go see Evan's stallion. Bart says he's a beauty.” She wrapped her arm through Lena's, tugging her away from the boardwalk into the dirt street. “Come on! We have plenty of time to do our shopping.”
With an indulgent smile, Lena allowed herself to be towed to the open doorway of the livery. The scent of newly milled lumber intertwined with the fresh fragrance of hay and earthy horse manure greeted them even before crossing the threshold. Lena breathed deep, enjoying the wholesome warmth of it. The snuffling and stomping of the horses sounded muted in their well-bedded stalls.
Releasing her hold on Lena's arm, Jessie peered into the first stall where a sweet-faced chestnut bay lifted its head to stare out at the two women. “Oh, aren't you a dear!” Jessie ran her hand down the mare's soft neck. “You remind me of my little Sugar, only she had a blaze right there.” She touched the horse's forehead, prompting the animal to toss its head to the side.
“She's a small one, isn't she?” Lena cautiously reached out her hand to stroke the mare's nose. Having lived in cities for most of her life, her knowledge of horses could have been contained within a few paragraphs. Most of those facts would have centered around the type of horse most suited for carriages or those used for deliveries. She liked to look at them and could appreciate their beauty, but had never had the opportunity to interact with any for any long period.
“My Sugar was the gentlest thing! I'd had her since she was a foal. Daddy detested the way I spoiled her, dressing her in my bonnet and feeding her carrots from Mama's garden.” Jessie rested her head against the mare's neck and in return received a soft huff. “I do miss her so.”
Lena marveled at the velvety softness of the mare's nose, the perfect curve of her nostrils, surprised by their size. “It must have been hard for you when she died.”
“Oh, she didn't die. Daddy sold her to a man in town in exchange for a couple of pigs.” Jessie stepped back, folding her arms across her waist. “I hope you've got yourself a good mistress.” She spied a bucket of grain and looking about her scooped up a handful, offered it to the horse in her open hand.
“What makes you think it's a mistress. Why not a man?”
“From the size of her I'd guess she'd be best suited to a lady. Too small for most men.”
Lena tilted her head to observe the animal with this new information. She turned to Jessie with a flash of a smile. “Do you suppose I could try? To feed her?”
Jessie demonstrated how to open her hand, fingers extended. She placed a handful of grain into it. The horse sniffed once before using her lips to gather the grains into her mouth.
“Oh my, but she has large teeth!” Lena enjoyed the sensation of the mare's whiskers brushing her palm. “Did that taste good?” She stroked the mare's neck, marveling at its silky, smooth texture.
Within moments of feeding the mare, a chorus of whinnies rose from the other stalls deeper inside the stable. The scent of freshly ground grain would not go undetected by any horse's sensitive nose.
“We're in for it now.” Jessie scooped another small handful to offer the next horse.
Lena followed her example and did the same for the next one, a blue roan. “Ouch!”
Jessie laughed at her. “Forgot to keep your palm open?”
Sucking her injured finger, Lena nodded.
Nine horses watched them with their heads poking out of their stalls, munching like curious old men chewing tobacco.
“Wonder where this horse has gone?” Lena peered into the empty stall.
“That'd be Gambit's bunk.” The familiar voice brought her head around much like the mares had at the sound of their voices. Evan stood silhouetted in the doorway, leading a horse whose head barely cleared the open door. He tipped his hat. “Morning, Jessie, Miss Sommer.”
Jessie brought her hands together in a soundless clap. “Evan! That must be the horse Bart told me about. He’s just as fine as Bart said! May I pet him? Is he comfortable with other people?”
Evan glanced at the giant beside him, giving Lena the impression the man and horse exchanged some understanding. Something had passed between man and horse. Fascinating.
“He's not so friendly with other men, but I've noticed he favors the ladies. You could pick up a handful of that grain over there and offer it to him. He’d be certain to take a liking to you, then.”
Jessie scooped up another handful. Taking slow steps and speaking softly as she approached, she crooned, “Handsome boy, I've got something you'll like.”
The horse jerked his head up just as Jessie was within reach of his muzzle. “Whoa, boy, steady.” Evan stroked the stallion's neck. “You know you like what she's offering.”
Lowering his head, the bay sniffed at Jessie's hand, threw his head up, then blew once. A moment of caution passed before he mouthed the grain with his lips. A good portion fell to the ground. Neck extended, he chewed the rest, appearing decidedly content.
Jessie slowly lifted her other hand to his nose. “Nice boy. Bart says you have plans to buy a ranch and use Gambit to start your own herd.”
Still stroking the stallion's neck, Evan nodded. “Been ruminating on it.” Redirecting his attention to Lena, he asked, “Would you like to give the boy a pat? I'm sure he'll be quiet for you, too.”
Pulling her hands behind her back, she straightened her shoulders. “I'm quite sure he would, Mr. Hartmann. But we have errands to run. Perhaps another time.”
Jessie looked back over her shoulder. “Lena, you must touch him. He's like silk.”
With Evan, the horse, and Jessie standing between herself and the livery door, she had little excuse to refuse.
“Very well.”
Jessie stepped aside as Lena moved closer. “Just take your time. Don't come up to him straight on, 'cause he can't see you as well. Come over this way and let him take a good long look at you before you touch him.”
Moving to where she could see the stallion's dark eye appraising her, she waited until Evan nodded for her to move closer.
Evan said, “That's the way. Just slowly move your hand to right behind his ears. That's his sweet spot.”
Gambit stomped a foot, tossing his black mane as he did, prompting Lena to jump back.
“Whoa, boy. It's just fine,” Evan soothed.
The stallion quieted, blew once, and lowered his head as if inviting her approach. She tried again, brushing the soft hair behind his ears with two fingers. In spite of her intended reserve, she smiled at the pleasant sensation. “Nice, Gambit. Good boy.” She glanced at Evan, asking, “Do you ride him?”
“I’ve always thought any horse not worth riding wasn't worth owning. Yes, I ride him from time to time. Mostly I ride my horse, the gelding over there. I know him and he's gotten used to me after all these years.” He patted the stallion's neck. “But Gambit and I are getting on.”
“I see.” Clasping her hands in front of her, Lena had to ask. “Interesting name, Gambit. Do you play chess, Mr. Hartmann?”
Evan chuckled. “Not me. That was the name he was given by the Scotsman I bought him from. I know it's a chess term, though, having something to do with giving up something small to gain something bigger.”
“Yes.” Lena studied Evan as he indulged the horse in more scratches. The man seemed different this morning. Even at breakfast she thought she detected a change in his manner. He made eye contact with her when he brought his plate to the sink for her to wash, thanking her with the barest hint of a smile. Curious. She took a step back, looking at Jessie, said, “Jessie, we really must be going. We've not made bread yet.”
Lena edged carefully to the side between the door and Evan, then side-stepped her way out the opening. “Good day, Mr. Hartmann.”
Catching up to her on the other side of the street, Jessie said, “Wait up! What’s the hurry?”
Lifting her skirt an inch above the toe of her boots, Lena strode with purpose down the boardwalk. “I told you. We’ve work to do.”
Jessie tripped along beside her, a smile drawing the dimples to her freckled cheeks. “Evan seemed quite nice, friendly even, don’t you think?”
“Did he?” Lena considered the politeness of his greeting, the barest suggestion of a smile tugging at his lips, a difference that made his handsome features even more appealing. Yes, he did seem different.
“I wonder if he's having lady friend troubles.”
Lena glanced at Jessie. “Oh? Why would you think that?”.
“It's just that men can get as moody about women as we do about them. You never knew with my brothers what face you'd see staring back at you come breakfast on Sunday morning. If some girl had danced or at the least made eyes at them on Saturday night, they'd be all smiles and howdy-do. If not, oh my! And they say women are broody about such things!”
“Does he have a lady friend then?” Lena asked, keeping her voice casual.
“I’m not knowing that for a fact. Maybe I could ask Bart.”
“Oh, I should think not!” Lena’s forward momentum hitched as she threw a frown at Jessie.
“Why forever not? Seems a handsome man like Evan would make a nice catch.” It took three more steps for Jessie to realize that Lena had stopped.
“You can’t be suggesting . . .”
The mortification she felt must have shown on Lena’s face, drawing a laugh from Jessie. “Why forever not? This is a hard country for a woman to be alone in. Seems Evan might be just the man to keep a lady safe. Like I said, if Bart hadn’t stolen my heart already, I’d be making designs on him myself.”
Lena’s frown deepened. Starting forward again, she stopped to turn a flinty eye on Jessie. “I’ve been taking care of myself since well before I was twenty. I’ve not needed a man in all this time. And I would certainly not make designs to catch one. If a man can’t love me for myself without my luring him with traps, then he’s not the type of man with whom I’d care to attach myself.”
Jessie's countenance wilted. “Sorry, Lena. I just thought . . .”
“Well, you thought incorrectly.” Aware of Jessie’s crestfallen state, Lena reproved herself. Remorseful, she reached out a hand, laying it on Jessie’s arm. “I appreciate your concern, Jessie, but marrying the first eligible man I find is not a solution.” Linking her arm through Jessie’s, she started off again, pulling the younger girl along. “Let’s see if we can find a respectable establishment where we can have a cup of tea, shall we?”
Finding a small table by the window with a view to the street, both women settled themselves. The only other patrons were two older women, who nodded cordially as Lena and Jessie entered. “This is nice,” Jessie whispered. “Cloth tablecloths and china teacups make it real special.”
Lena, discretely used her nail to pick off a dried crust of food from her saucer, considered her friend’s opinion in light of the somewhat dingy surroundings. She tried to imagine the place from Jessie’s perspective instead of her own. Perhaps she might one day better appreciate the simple touches of cotton tablecloths and gingham curtains. Much about this wild country would require her to adapt, to adjust her thinking to a wider world.
If the surroundings were less refined than Lena had come to expect, the pie satisfied her palette quite beyond expectations. “This crust is exceptional!” Lena murmured as she touched the napkin to her lips.
“It surely is! Maybe the cook would share her secret with us.” Jessie looked to the door leading to the kitchen. With a mischievous wink, Jessie stood and tripped across the room, peeking through the door.
Before Lena could stop her, she was through the door. Although she could feel the eyes of the women across the room watching her, she chose to ignore them, studiously finishing her pie.
She watched the parade of industry outside. It had such a different flavor than the Chicago daily bustle. Instead of carriages, rough freight wagons and men riding by in heavy leathers and furs, their horses and pack animals laden with all manner of what she assumed to be mining gear and supplies. The few women that passed within her sight wore dark-colored homespun skirts and wraps, no silk gowns or parasols here. The horses weren't the only ones sensibly shod. Everything had a functional purpose, from head to toe. There was a harsh practicality about this place, and in that, a kind of elegance that only one of Lena's pragmatism would appreciate.
“Excuse me. We thought we’d introduce ourselves.” A round-faced, ruddy-cheeked woman, stocky and looking to be in her middle years hovered before her. Her friend, tall and vaguely skeletal, was her opposite in every way except for exhibiting the same curious expression.
Lena gave them an open smile, standing to greet them. “I’m Lena Sommer.”
“I’m Edna Jordan and this is my sister and sister-in-law, Thelma Jordan. Aren’t you the woman who Mr. Nash was engaged to marry?”
At first, Lena was a bit taken aback. How would such personal information become common knowledge? In the next moment, she laughed to herself as she considered the population of Sawtooth City. Yes, it was quite possible for personal details to become the bread and butter of news hungry citizens.
“Yes.” She felt no need to be defensive or evasive. It was a fact just as his untimely death was a fact.
The shorter woman clutched at her cloth bag. “I’m so sorry, my dear. It must have been a terrible shock.”
Thelma leaned over and patted Lena’s arm with a bony hand. “What a tragedy for you! You have our deepest sympathies.”
A tragedy it might have been had she truly known the man, but she was hardly the grieving widow. Still, she should show some measure of sympathy at the man’s passing if only for the sake of the story these ladies might be able to embellish to their friends. “Yes, it was a surprise. His letters led me to believe he was a very kind man.”
“Oh, he was! Why, if my husband’s brother hadn’t finally gotten the hint that my sister, Thelma, was just right for him, I would have picked Mr. Nash myself for her to marry. He was one of our most respectable bachelors, not like most of these miners around here, drinking away every penny they make.”
Mrs. Thelma Jordan made a clucking noise with her tongue. “Edna’s husband and his brother, my husband, own and operate the sawmill. It’s been quite a good business for them these past three years.”
Mrs. Edna Jordan beamed. “Indeed, it has. I don’t mind telling you we’ve made a tidy little profit moving from one boom town to the next for these past twenty years. But I hardly get to know anyone and we’re off to the next one. There’s always a need for lumber to build even the smallest shacks, you know.”
Lena nodded. “Must be a little hard on you to have to pack and move every few years.”
“Not so bad as all that. Now that my sister has moved out here, I always have someone to talk to. But it does look like we might be moving on soon. What with the mines having trouble with investors and such and most of the businesses already built, seems we’ll be moving on to the next mountain with a promise of quartz.”
“I see.” The significance of her observation was not lost on Lena. How little she understood of boom towns and Western life in general. This was a land where the rules that governed the East simply didn’t hold. Adaptability seemed a much needed attribute, not only to thrive but to even survive.
Jessie returned at that moment and Lena quickly introduced her friend.
“So, you’re a mail-order bride! How charming you are!” Mrs. Edna Jordan’s eyes sparkled with this new bit of gossip. “Does that mean we’ll be having a wedding soon? Since the pastor’s probably packing up for Ketchum, it had better be soon, I’d suppose.”
Jessie glanced at Lena, then rejoined confidently, “Well, Bart and I are giving ourselves a little time to get to know each other better. Miss Sommer has asked me to work for her in the meantime.”
In unison, both women swung heads back to Lena. Edna's hand flew to her breast, as if she forcibly had to keep her heart in place. “You mean to say that you’re staying, Miss Sommer? Surely not.”
“Why, surely, I am, Mrs. Jordan. I will continue to run the boarding house until an arrangement can be worked out with Mr. Nash’s next of kin.”
“But a woman alone?” Mrs. Edna Jordan threw her sister a significant look. They looked like two remonstrative owls.
With a quick smile, Jessie answered before Lena could form an appropriate response to the obvious innuendo. “Oh, we’re quite safe, Mrs. Jordan. We have five very capable men to look out for us, you know. There’s my Bart for one, and Mr. Hartmann surely won’t let anything happen to us.”
“But . . .is it respectable? I mean . . .” Mrs. Edna Jordan began.
“Oh, I see what you mean. Why it surely is that! Miss Sommer and I look out for each other.” Jessie suddenly clapped her hands together as though she remembered something. “Oh, before I forget what I learned from the cook just now. It’s gin! Mr. Seewald said he uses half gin and half water in his pie crust. Imagine that!”
The Mrs. Jordans’ eyes grew even wider. Mrs. Edna Jordan took her sister’s arm in hers, starting for the door as she threw back a hurried goodbye to the two younger women.
“Now, I wonder where they’re off to in such a hurry,” Jessie said.
