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JESSIE AND BART HAD been gone for one week when a letter arrived at the boarding house carried by a young boy Lena recognized as one of those who made odd-job deliveries around town. Such a rare occasion as receiving any correspondence deserved her full attention, so she waited until she was seated at her desk to open it. The message was brief. Thomas Baxter, Mr. Nash's attorney, wished to meet with her at her earliest convenience.
Initially, she thought he might have received word from Nash's sister regarding her wishes for disposing of her brother's property. As she reread the letter, she felt more certain this was not the case or he might have referred to his desire to share good news with her. Good sense told her not to put off the requested appointment, so changing into her more business-like wool tweed suit, she started off to his offices that afternoon.
Mr. Baxter greeted her warmly at the door to his office, offering her tea and taking the time to make small talk concerning the weather. After giving her a chance to take at least a sip of her tea, he opened a small file on his desk. “Miss Sommer, you seem to have been managing the boarding house quite well for someone with limited experience in this business.”
“Thank you, Mr. Baxter, I hope that I have. I've certainly endeavored to that end.” She gripped her teacup to steady her hands.
“I wish that I could tell you that I've received communication from Mr. Nash's sister, but that is not the case. Honestly, I would have been surprised to have heard from her so soon. I'm not sure . . .” He hesitated, fingering the papers in front of him for no apparent reason. “Miss Sommer, you must have heard the rumors concerning the mining company's financial difficulties. No doubt, you are aware of merchants selling their businesses and leaving our small community.”
Keeping her countenance as placid as she could, Lena nodded and said, “Yes, Mr. Baxter. But I am attempting to provide lodging for those still employed. There are also rumors of Eastern investors who are willing to pump life back into the mines.”
Baxter placed his hands upon the desk, lacing his fingers together. “Yes, I have heard those as well. The truth is, I must take all of this information and place it before Mr. Nash's sister and allow her to make an informed decision. I cannot in good conscience suggest that she keep the property. If the town continues to fail, in a very short amount of time the property will have little or no value. Likewise, I cannot, in good conscience advise you to attempt to complete this transaction as we discussed some weeks ago. Neither one of you will benefit.”
Pulling her hands back into her lap and out of sight, she straightened her spine. “Mr. Baxter, when I came to you, I did not seek your counsel. I do not wish to be rude, but I do not do so now. Mr. Nash and I corresponded for many months and in those letters he explained to me the risks of operating a business in a boom town. He also detailed his reasons to believe that this type of business could outlast many others. He believed that this unique area will one day draw visitors who are attracted to the vistas only found here as does Yellowstone.”
“But Miss Sommer, such events could be years away. One must employ lobbyists in Washington and have roads that make it easy for people to come here, advertisements.”
She could hear the near pleading tone in his voice, but she persisted. “I want to try, Mr. Baxter. And I cannot see how my staying here will not be preferable to Miss Nash than having the property simply fall into decay.”
“But there are men who would pay for the lumber in the building, and if we were to sell the property this spring she might recover some of her brother's investment before the elements destroy it.”
Lena sat back in her chair, calculating, reconstructing her carefully thought out plans. Mr. Baxter rose from his chair and walked around the desk to stand before her. “Miss Sommer, I just don't think you see the problems clearly. I know it's difficult to give up a dream.”
“If I were to give you something as a down-payment, would that help?”
“Have you heard what I've said?” He sounded weary.
“Yes. Would you try to convince Miss Nash to wait until spring and give me the time to come up with what she feels would be fair payment?”
He shook his head. “I just don't think . . .”
Lena took off her glove and brought her hand to her throat. Unfastening the silver brooch she looked at it for only a moment before extending it to Baxter. “I know this isn't much, but it is solid silver and the stone is a genuine ruby. I was told it was valuable. It may have more sentimental value than monetary, but it is the best I can do at the moment. If I cannot pay the remainder come spring, I'll go.”
“This is really that important to you?”
“Yes.”
He looked at her for a moment longer, a heavy sigh and then, “The other reason that I needed to see you so quickly is that my wife and I are leaving in a few days to spend the winter in Hailey. She's had enough of freezing temperatures. I was hoping to convince you to travel with us, but it’s obvious that you've made up your mind to see it through.” Looking at the brooch in his hand once again, he said, “I'll ask Miss Nash. Since in a few weeks it will be difficult to get word to you or anyone up here, you probably won't hear from me until spring. So, feel free to stay in the house and I wish you the best. It won't be easy.”
“I know. I've been warned many times.” She gave him a wry smile as she rose to her feet. “Seems everyone is quite knowledgeable on the subject of weather.”
He took her hand lightly in his, his face suddenly solemn. “It is not a thing to take lightly. Many have done so and have suffered terrible consequences as a result. I don't wish to frighten you, Miss Sommer, but look to the mountains and heed the warning signs. Lay in supplies.” Then he led her to the door, holding it open for her. “You have a great deal of what my father would have called 'spunk', I hope you have the tenacity and perseverance to face this winter.” He leaned forward, a hint of a smile peeking from beneath his mustache. “No pun intended.”
Stepping into the hallway, she gripped his hands. “I will always be indebted to you for this opportunity.”
He shook her hand, holding it for a moment more. “I hope I will not regret my decision and my sentiment does not turn out to your misfortune. Should you change your mind about staying, there are three families traveling south the day after tomorrow. I'm sure we could find room for you.”
She nodded, while a tremor of doubt shivered down her legs. Meeting his eyes with a level gaze, she said, “Thank you, Mr. Baxter. I wish you safe travels. And I will see you in the spring.”
Stepping from the building onto the main street of Sawtooth, she felt far less confident than she had just sounded upstairs in Baxter's office. But she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. Out of nervous habit she brought her fingers to touch the brooch that was no longer there. The finality of her decision struck her, not just the surrendering of the brooch but her refusal to accept the man's offer to leave the mountains.
She pressed her lips together into a thin line. This was what it meant to be the captain of one's own ship, she supposed. Whether one was a ship captain or an inn keeper, the weather could always be an issue. Storms came into people's lives in a multitude of ways. If she must face a storm to become an independent woman then why shouldn't it be this one?
Lena wasted little time shedding her suit and putting on a sensible skirt and blouse, exchanging her more fashionable boots for the sturdy ones she'd purchased at the dry goods store. She glanced into the tarnished mirror and tucked her loosened strands of hair back into the bun at the nape of her neck. Leaning closer, she touched her cheek, squinting into the dusty reflection. “Lena, where has your ivory complexion gone? You look more like a weathered frontier woman with those ruddy, sun-burned cheeks.” She shrugged and made a face at herself before heading downstairs to finish her morning chores.
Her normal chores, those she and Jessie had been doing together, seemed to take far longer, considering there were two less people to care for. Sharing the work as well as conversation had made the work almost inconsequential. The laundry seemed mountainous, and the evening meal preparations onerous.
Ely arrived home before the others. Donal and Carrick had worked their shift today, much to their relief and Lena's, while she knew that Evan was up in the hills working his claim while the weather permitted. He might not make it back to share the meal with them, but she'd be sure to keep his dinner warm, regardless.
Looking weary, eyes red, she assumed Ely had been studying figures all day in the mining office. “Ely, you look exhausted. Have a seat and I'll brew a fresh pot of tea.”
Ely sank onto the bench closest to the wood stove. “Is difficult time, new reports requested every day. The bosses are pushing to send some out this week to the investors back east. How many ways can one figure the same numbers, I ask them. But every day, there seems to be something else they wish to include. Look at my fingers, Lena, they are as black as the bottom of your kettle.” He lifted his right hand for her inspection.
She examined his ink stained fingers, clucking sympathetically. “I've made your favorite dried apple pie for dinner. Maybe that will lift your spirits.”
“You spoil us, Lena. But I am not complaining. If I had been blessed with children, I would have hoped for a daughter to be as kind as you.” He pulled his pipe from his jacket pocket along with his pouch of tobacco.
“Here you go.” She poured hot tea into a porcelain cup and then into a second one for herself. “A restorative cup of tea always sets things to right!” She lifted her cup, blowing on the steam, her face suddenly thoughtful. “Was that Jane Austen who said that? I'm not sure, but I think it is a correct assessment.”
“So, what did you do today, besides make a pie for your good friend and boarder, Ely?”
Her afternoon activities had successfully distracted her from the disturbing morning meeting with Mr. Baxter. “There are more chores to do now that Jessie isn't here to share them. I kept busy.” Somehow, she wasn't sure she wanted to share how she'd defied the man's advice, stubbornly holding onto her original plan to stay. If she spoke of them, she might have to reconsider those plans, and that was not something she felt she could afford to do.
“I thought I saw you from the office window this morning. Were you in town?” Ely walked to the stove and used a wick to light his pipe. Drawing rhythmically on the stem, he watched her through the tendril of smoke emerging from the bowl.
Lena sat back, giving Ely a narrow-eyed look. “Ely, you are a shameful busybody! Next, you'll tell me exactly where I went, because I suspect from your face you know quite well I was in Mr. Baxter's building.”
“Really?”
“You know I was.”
Ely returned to his seat near the stove, puffing energetically on his pipe, sending smoke signals to the ceiling. “Well then, what did the man have to say? Did he hear from Nash's sister?”
“Well, that's certainly direct.”
“I'm an old man. I don't have time for beating around the tree.”
“Beating around the bush, Ely.”
“I don't have time for that either. What did he say?”
She sighed, fully realizing he'd persist until she repeated the whole conversation. “I can see you will not be satisfied with my telling you that he was simply concerned for my well-being.”
“No.” A puff of smoke left his lips to form a thin cloud between them.
As close as she could recall the details, she confessed them to Ely along with her refusal to join their group of winter refugees fleeing to the lower elevation of Hailey. The knot in her stomach grew as she relayed each detail of Baxter's arguments.
“Hmmm.”
“I suppose you think I'm a foolish woman, too.”
“I did not say that. I have a better opinion of Mr. Baxter, however. He seems to be looking out for your interests as much as for Miss Nash's financial well-being. I think I might like this man.”
“But you agree with Evan that it's unwise of me to stay here,” she persisted.
“Is that what you want me to say?” He pulled the pipe from between his teeth.
“I would like to know your honest opinion.” She paused with the teacup halfway to her lips. “At least I think I do.”
“Well then.” Sticking the pipe back between his teeth he puffed away in silence for several moments, in which time Lena had emptied and refilled her teacup.
“There are many things to consider, ja? And life is full of risks, I think.”
“Yes.” She thought of the risk she'd taken simply getting on the train out of Chicago.
“It is a risk to go out the door every morning. One never knows what might be waiting there. One could be run down by a horse and carriage, or attacked by wild animals or choke on an apple, which you packed for lunch.” He sat quietly looking toward the ceiling at the cloud of smoke circling his head. “Some risks are unnecessary, ja?”
Was he going to suggest this risk she was taking could and should be avoided? Probably. She braced herself for his next words.
“But sometimes risks are necessary because what happens at the end could be wonderful and not a catastrophe, ja? Or maybe the catastrophe is exactly what we need. I think we miss much in this life that could be waiting for us if we don't face those things that make us afraid.” He paused a while, puffing with that serene expression she envied. “Perhaps the better question to ask is, what do you really want, Lena? Is it this house? Or is it something else, perhaps. Is it these mountains? Your independence? Friends? Family? So many things we poor humans desire from this life, ja?”
This was not what she expected from him, this philosophical thesis. “You should have written a book, Ely, on how to avoid a question.”
He pulled the pipe from his mouth, then chuckled. “That is very good, Lena. But there is a problem with your question, I think. I cannot answer as to whether you are foolish in your decision because I lack the facts and figures to give you a good report. The mining company gives me many numbers to consider before I write their reports. I can tell them how much they are spending and how much they are making.”
She rose and picked up Ely's cup along with her own. “I was hoping you would give me your advice, Ely.”
Ely gave her a look that stopped her cold. “I have answered your question with a question. If you can answer that, then I believe you will have answered your first question.”
