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AS THE SETTLEMENT OF Galena came into view, Evan breathed easier. The pass behind them, the road down to Ketchum and on into Hailey posed fewer of the threats that the first part of their journey had presented with its steep ascent and narrow twisting trail hugging the face of the mountain. With the worst behind them, he smiled reassuringly at his anxious passengers. “Should make it to Ketchum just after sunset.” He shot Naomi an uncertain look. “As long as there aren't any breakdowns.”
Naomi's pale, pinched face reflected the tension that had churned in his gut for the last five miles. “That's sweet news. Couldn't take much more of that. I can understand why folks find a piece of land and just hole up. Don't know if I'll ever pull up stakes again.”
“At least not in winter, right?”
She laughed dryly. “If I was a cursing kind of lady, I'd emphasize that statement with the strongest one I could think of, and I can think of quite a few.”
Evan chuckled and touched the reins to the horses' rumps, urging them to step out. Traveling down the grade at a slightly faster clip cheered the three ladies who must have found the ride less than luxurious. Anxious as they were to be out of the mountains and in the warmer climate, they'd suffer the additional buffeting.
As he'd predicted, they pulled into the outskirts of Hailey an hour after sunset, guided through the streets by oil lamps. Naomi directed Evan to turn up an alley at the far side of town, through what was obviously the livelier part of town. She had him pull up outside a three-story building, one of the oldest on the street. Evan helped Naomi from the wagon, waiting to the side while she knocked on a newly painted green door. In a short time, the door opened a crack, light and laughter pouring out in equal proportions.
“Will you let Helen know Naomi's here?”
The face at the door lifted to take in Evan and the loaded wagon behind. In a less than friendly tone, she instructed Naomi to wait where she was. Naomi looked over her shoulder at Evan, something like an apology written on her features.
For the second time the door opened, this time fully, revealing the buxom figure of a woman who from her warm greeting must be Helen. A round, pink-cheeked face nodded at the travelers shivering in the cold, waving them inside with a sweep of her plump, white arm. “Come on in.”
Two hours later, after unloading the girls’ belongings, Evan climbed back onto the wagon seat. Naomi stood outside the green door, her arms covered in a thin knit wrap, more appropriate to the surroundings than the man's coat she'd worn down the mountain.
Evan picked up the reins and gazed down at her. “You going to be all right here?”
“Sure. It's only for a little while. I'll get to Boise come spring, thanks to you.” She patted the pocket of her skirt. “I'll pay 'ya back, Evan. I'll find a way.”
“Don't worry about it. Next time I'm in Boise City, let me pick out one of those fine hats you'll be making.”
“I'll make you more than one, but you bring me a lady to wear that hat. I expect you to marry soon. If you don’t do it pronto, I might have to marry you myself, since I'll be a respectable lady by then.” She waved as he spoke to the horses, urging them into a walk. She called after him, “You're a good and decent man, Evan Hartmann. God'll bless you. I'm for certain of it. If He don't, we'll be havin' us a little chat.”
Evan chuckled as he slapped the reins on the horses' rumps.
A few blocks farther and he pulled up the horses under a streetlight, squinting at the paper in his hand. He looked up the street where the business buildings thinned out yielding to scattered residences. Clucking to the team of horses, he drove farther up the road until he came to a white two-story house that matched his scribbled notes.
Evan heard a man's footsteps heavy on the wood floors approach the door from inside. The curtain covering a side window lifted an inch, and a shriveled face peered out at him a moment before the door was opened. “If you're lookin' for a room, I'm sorry, but we're full up. You might try the yellow house up the street, four doors up on the right. Thelma usually has a room for a night.” The aging man began to close the door, but Evan gently placed his hand on it.
“I'm looking for a young couple who gave me this address. Do you have a Mr. and Mrs. Long living here?”
The expression altered. The man peered up at Evan with bright curiosity. “You a friend of Jessica and Bart?”
“Evan!” Jessie came bounding down the stairs, Bart a few steps behind. Squeezing past the old man, she flung her arms around Evan's neck. “How wonderful to see you!”
His voice, muffled by locks of blond hair covering his face, came with a laugh. “It hasn't been that long. You only left a couple of weeks ago.”
“Oh, but it feels like months! How's Lena? Did she come with you?” Jessie pulled back looking beyond Evan to the team and empty wagon waiting on the street.
Bart clapped his hand on Evan's shoulder. “Come in!” He hurriedly explained to the quizzical landlord that Evan was a close friend, near as a brother.
The old gentleman nodded, his face indicating a more amiable personality than he'd first presented. “Well, any friend of yours is welcome. You make yourselves comfortable in the parlor there. I'll be turnin' in.”
Jessie looped her arm through Evan's, steering him to the small parlor at the front of the house. No fire burned in the fireplace, but it was cozy and immaculately clean.
“Tell us everything!” Jessie flopped into the settee next to Bart and reached for his hand.
“Guess, I'd be wanting to know the same of you.”
Jessie said, “Oh, we couldn't be happier, unless of course you and Lena were here. That'd make it near perfect, I guess. But I'm working here! It helps with board. And Mr. Simpson may seem a bear at first but he's really quite dear.”
“I'm working in the sawmill a mile or so out of town. It beats the mine for pay and hours I have to put in.”
“But what about you? And Lena?” Jessie leaned forward, her hands restless in her lap.
Evan slouched against the stiff-backed chair, weariness suddenly overtaking him. “I'm thinking this might not be the best time to explain all that. Need to find a livery or a place to bed-down the horses first and then find a place for me. Right now, I'd be happy to bunk with the horses; I'm that beat.”
Jessie leaped to her feet and rushed to Evan's side, her face creased with compassion. “Oh, of course! You must be done in. You traveled all day, just like we did. You poor man.” She turned back to Bart. “Can't you take care of Evan's team for him?”
“Sure.” Bart obeyed immediately.
Jessie said, “And I'll talk to Mr. Simpson about letting you stay in that empty room at the back.”
“But I thought he said he didn't have any rooms.”
“Oh, don't mind him. He’s just a little suspicious of strangers coming in the night. Don't worry, I'll take care of it.”
She left him there in the warmth where the strain of the trail and the lateness of the hour tallied up its due. Jessie had to shake him awake to lead him to his room for the night.
The next morning, feeling rested and eager to get on with his plans, Evan joined Jessie in the sunlit kitchen. She'd prepared a feast of eggs, sausage and donuts. She stood resting with her back against the sink, beaming at him while he dug in to her breakfast.
“These are really good.” He shook the donut skewered on his fork in her direction. “Does Lena know how to make these?”
“She should. The recipe is on page twenty-six of Mrs. Parloa's New Cookbook.” She waved a hand toward the counter where Evan saw the familiar book.
He gave her a puzzled look. “Did she give that to you?”
“No. I found it at that adorable bookstore she told us about, the one that buys and sells old books.”
Evan put his fork down. “Can you show me where it is today?”
“Why of course! I'll bet you want to buy Lena a gift, don't you?” Her freckled cheeks opened into a broad, knowing smile. “I know you're sweet on her, Evan, even if you don't.”
He took a long draft of coffee, framing his words carefully. “She's a lovely woman with big dreams. Think I might have just the thing to give her a leg up.”
The trembling of the shopkeeper's hands betrayed his excitement. Reverently, the owner turned over the pages. “This is exquisite.”
“Does it have any value besides as an old book?” Evan asked, his impatience only barely restrained after the man's inspection of nearly twenty minutes.
Looking up at Evan with an incredulous expression, he said, “You have no idea.”
“That's right, I don't.” Evan tapped an ill-concealed code of irritation on the countertop with his fingers.
“I mean to say, Mr. Hartmann, that it's difficult to put a price on something as sought after as this. Your copy, Mr. Hartman, with all three volumes in such remarkable condition . . .” he trailed off, a little dreamily.
Evan drove his hands into his pockets. “Are you willing to buy it or do I have to wait for you to advertise it in a catalog? That's what my friend told me was customary for vintage collectables.”
The man nodded slowly. “Your friend is correct.”
“Unfortunately, Mr. Cartwright, I have need of the cash now.”
“Yes, I understand.” He picked up the third volume, stroking the cover. “To be very honest, I would like these for myself, but the prices I'm thinking it would fetch in a broader market, well, it doesn't seem fair to you to offer what I could pay.”
“Why don't you make an offer, Mr. Cartwright. You'll never know if you don't ask.”
With a wallet in his pocket considerably thicker than it'd been at the beginning of his day, Evan located the brick building where Mr. Baxter's new office was located. He climbed the stairs to find a small, but comfortably furnished room at the end of a narrow hallway.
“Mr. Hartmann, good to see you.”
Evan was surprised to be greeted at the door by Baxter himself. Evan doffed his hat and bobbed his head. “Thank you. I was hoping I could talk to you about Miss Sommer and her offer.”
Baxter's countenance fell at the mention of Lena's name, and with it, so did Evan's hopes for Lena's dream of owning the lodge.
“She gave this to Mr. Baxter? Oh, she must want that house real bad.” Jessie held the brooch in her hand, but looking up at Evan’s dour expression she asked, “What’s wrong? Oh, I can just tell the rest didn't go well!” She clapped her hands over her ears and did a frustrated little jig. “No don't tell me! I can't bear to hear you say it.”
Evan sagged into an old ladder-back chair by the stairs. It creaked mournfully. He held the brooch loosely cradled in his palm. Bart awkwardly patted his shoulder. “She won't sell?”
A sigh expanded his chest. “Can't blame her, really. Sawtooth is dying. With the way things are going, no way Lena could make enough this next year to pay for it in full. Only living things in that town come next winter will be walkin' around on four legs.”
Jessie balled her fists. “The old spinster! What's she going to do with the place then? Just let it fall to pieces?”
“Now, now,” Bart soothed. “Be fair. Sounds to me like she's looking out for our Miss Sommer as much as herself. Seems she could just as easily take that money without a care for what happened to Lena.”
A little puff of dust erupted around Jessie as she dropped heavily into a faded armchair. She gnawed on the corner of her fist. “When you put it that way, I suppose we should be grateful to the woman.” There was still an edge of spite on 'the woman'.
Evan doffed his hat and scrubbed at his disheveled hair. “I just don't know how I'm going to break it to her. She had such dreams for that place.” He swallowed hard, imagining how her face would fall when he told her. Maybe he could just wait until Baxter sent official word in the spring. After all, she hadn't known of his plans for Ivanhoe.
“Well, maybe it won't be so bad.”
Evan looked into Jessie’s face; a sharp glint was in her eye.
Bart spluttered, “Not so bad? She came all this way to marry into a good business, only to arrive and find her man cold in his grave. Now this? Her livelihood pulled out from under her again?”
Evan ran his thumb over the scalloped edge of the brooch. “Jessie, I've been running this up, down, over, and around my head for a good long while. If you have some insight into our Miss Sommer, I'd be much obliged.”
“It's just that . . .” She rubbed her hands rapidly up and down her legs. “Well, maybe it's not my place to say, but if neither of you are going to face up to it on your own, then your friends have got to lay it out clear!”
Evan's eye twitched, and he felt his foot threatening to start tapping. “Then by all means,” he gritted.
She stood up in a whirl of skirts and curls. “You're thick as a brick, Evan Hartmann. And Lena's as stubborn as a mule. Together you make up half a lousy homestead!” Huffing like a steam engine, she stamped from the room. A fearsome clanking and clattering took up in the kitchen.
Bart's shoulders had migrated towards his ears. Or perhaps his head had tried to retreat into his body. “Sorry about that. Don't know quite what she's so twisted up about.”
Evan felt a stinging in his palm and relaxed his grip on the brooch. “I think that might be the point.”
With saddle bags packed, Evan prepared to leave the following day. He'd hoped to make his absence from Sawtooth City no more than a week. But when he awoke that morning of his scheduled departure, the day dawned with dark gray clouds, heavy with snow. He walked to a rise at the outskirts of town where the dark fury of a storm in the high elevations north of town made it evident that travel would be imprudent if not a deadly proposition. A knot tightened in his gut.
As much as he wanted to be on the other side of that mountain, to be sitting warm and comfortable by the hearth with Lena, Ely, and the brothers, the prospect of breaking the news to her was a constant knife in his side. He'd hoped for so much more. Far better to have been the one to carry back to her good news, or at least hopeful news.
If only that was his only qualm. An ugly fear was wrapping tight about his bones, digging its way into his marrow as the snows deepened every passing hour. It was about this time last year that Jimmy had gone missing. Evan was not a superstitious man, but love and grief can ravage reason and leave the heart open to all manner of attack.
Four days passed without a glimpse of the sun. In those days, Jessie's coolness toward Evan seemed to wane with the storm. As Evan's mood darkened, Jessie's seemed to soften on the fifth day. She plopped onto the dining chair opposite him that morning. “Evan, you got to stop worrying about what Lena will say or do. If you can't see it, more's the pity. But having you back safe will be enough. I promise.”
While very little snow accumulated in the flatter lands around Hailey, no one would argue that feet of it were mounting in those wild upper valleys. When a week had passed, a dusting of snow covered the roof tops and roads, but the sun was shining on the mountain peaks. He wouldn't wait. It had to be now or never. He'd take the risk that the worst of the storms were still weeks out.
Bart and Jessie tried to persuade him to stay a while longer, fearful for him. Jessie insisted on his taking her little mare to get him as far as Galena. From there he’d have to snowshoe or ski. Jessie argued that Becky was sturdy and surefooted. When Evan realized she would not be refused, he agreed, promising to leave her at the Galena wagon station where someone traveling south could bring her home to Jessie.
“I've talked to a number of men who've made this trip in past years,” Evan said, while Jessie held onto Bart's arm, her face anxious. “They've made the trip by snowshoe over the pass. They've made it, Jessie. There's even a mail carrier who's been doing it for a couple of years now, once every few months in the winter.”
“Oh, Bart, can't you talk him out of this?” Jessie was nearly to the point of tears.
“Jessie, I couldn't do that anymore than I could talk you out of some of the crazy things you've wanted to do. You're both a bit alike, you know.” Bart nudged her with his elbow.
“I promise to be careful. I'll talk to the folks in Galena and wait there if I have to until conditions improve higher up.” He reached out to her, gathering her into his arms. “Don't worry.”
“Of course, I'll worry. Don't tell me a thing like that. It's just plain foolish.” She broke from him and turned back to Bart, clutching his arm even tighter.
“I'll send word as soon as the passes clear.” He swung into the saddle, looking somewhat out of place, his long legs hanging well below the little mare's stomach. He'd taken her, knowing she was exactly the kind of trail horse that wouldn't shy of a little snow.
“God speed, Evan. Give our love to Lena,” Jessie let her tears fall as they waved Evan on his way.
A wagon had passed along the road on its way down from Galena since the last snowfall, making the trail easier to navigate. The mare picked her way through the beaten tracks with precision. With the clear sky above them, the sun made a welcome companion for the lonely trek up to the pass, but it did little to ease the knot ever tightening in his gut. Between him and Lena's door lay ghosts and a shifting sea of snow.
