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Within Maddie's limited experience, gardens were mysterious things, formal places to admire while strolling with a friend. She could appreciate the artistry of a perfect tulip, or the pastel peach of a rose, or the amazing variety of foliage that framed each flower, but she had no appreciation for the work involved for the gardener—until today. Walking through a manicured garden such as those on the grounds of her school or in the city arboretum had not prepared her for the labor needed to produce those perfect feasts for the eye. Neither had it prepared her for the intimate knowledge of dirt required.
Pulling back a layer of moldy hay, she gave a cry of delight. Peering up at her, the infant green shoot of a daffodil delivered what Jessie sought—a promise of spring. “Jessie, come see!”
Jessie scurried over, following Maddie’s gaze she said, "Oh, there she is! In just a few weeks, we’ll have a blaze of color all around the house. Exciting, isn't it? I love daffodils!" She took Maddie’s hands in hers and swung her in a circle. "I love spring!" She released her and wrapped her arms about herself. "Winters are great for cuddling up before a fire, but spring just makes life look grand. If I had a toothache, I'd rather have it in spring than any other season, wouldn't you?"
Maddie studied Jessie for a moment, as usual, not sure if the woman was teasing or simply making an honest Jessie-style observation. In response, she said, "Well, if I had my choice, I'd say, I'd rather not have one at all."
Jessie patted her arm. "You're funny."
Lena called out to them from the side of the house, "I do believe this lilac has some life left in it! I thought it was dead for sure."
"I love lilacs!" Jessie's voice lilted, dreamy.
Lena laughed that bell-tinkling laugh that Maddie had come to recognize as hers alone. "Jessie, you're just plain in love with everything you set your eyes on, this spring more than ever. I declare, one would think you’d been drinking some witch’s love potion."
Jessie patted her stomach. "Can't be anything wrong in the world when you have such joy to look forward to. Just think! I’ll be holding this baby in my arms come summer! How else could a person feel?"
Lena grinned, but Maddie detected a shade of wistfulness in her eyes. Wistfulness seemed an epidemic in Ketchum.
"'If people did not love one another, I really don't see what use there would be having any spring.' The quote sprung to Maddie’s lips before she could stop herself. Lena stared at her, eyes wide. She’d slipped again into Madison Jennings’ head. Maddie shrugged her shoulders, returning to her digging. "I seem to remember someone saying that."
Lena’s face wore an expression of delight, her eyes studying Maddie far too intently. "I believe that's a quote from Victor Hugo's, Les Misérables."
Maddie dug into the dirt with the zeal of a dog burying a bone. "Really? I guess the author must have known something about spring."
An uncomfortable moment passed before Lena resumed her pruning. Maddie let out a breath.
Lena said, "You've received a fine education, Madison. I'm very keen to read some of your stories."
"Oh yes!" Jessie said, "You should read to us!"
Lena asked, "Are you working on anything now that you could read aloud to us in the evenings? I’m sure you’d find us an interested audience."
With her head down, Maddie mumbled, "I'm not sure it's ready." What she didn't want to confess were the doubts that had recently besieged her. She was beginning to think no one would take her writing seriously.
"I think it's wonderful that you're not allowing your gender to keep you from pursuing what you love." Lena waved her pruning knife in Maddie's direction. "And don't allow anyone to tell you women can’t be writers. There are far too many who have become successful, published authors. True, some disguised the fact that they were women by using initials or even a man's name, but, the point is, they found a way."
Maddie remembered her own list of successful women authors. She risked a glance up at Lena who had turned back to her cutting. A few moments later Lena stood with her hands on her hips, staring off into the distance. Picking up her skirts, she trotted across the lawn to the back porch. "I'll be right back," she called over her shoulder.
Maddie looked to Jessie for explanation.
"She's got something on her mind. Lena is nothing if not determined. You'll see." Jessie returned to her furrow, digging energetically through the soil.
"Here they are!" Lena stood on the back porch a stack of magazines in her hands and a triumphant look painting a smug smile on her face. "Maddie, come look at these."
Settled together on the steps, Jessie and Maddie wiped dirt-smeared hands on their aprons before each taking a magazine in her hands. The Century Magazine
Lena handed Maddie an open page, pointing to an article. "I knew I'd saved these for a reason. It must have been for you."
Maddie scanned the short story which filled two pages. Along the margins were detailed drawings of miners bent to their work. She found the author’s name beneath the title—Mary Hallock Foote.
Lena pointed to a beautiful illustration at the bottom of the page. "See? She even illustrates her writing. She's a talented writer living here in the west who writes about the western experience with the eyes of an eastern born and highly educated woman."
Maddie, enchanted by the woodcut depicting a miner outside his shanty, ran her finger over the printed image. "This is wonderful."
"She's been writing for this magazine and others. I read that she's even written a book, maybe more than one." Lena’s face took on a look of eager animation. "Maybe we could make some inquiries and find out where she's living. Perhaps you could correspond with her."
In a moment, her doubts seemed inconsequential. She held in her hands tangible evidence that she could pursue her dream even living outside the eastern publishing world. Here, standing with her boots covered in dirt, was another forward-thinking woman, here on the frontier. Her teachers were right to encourage her to push beyond her insecurities about being a woman pursuing unconventional work for her sex. Maybe she wasn't just a hopeless dreamer.
Lena opened another magazine. Settling herself back against the porch post she began to read to them. In moments, the three were transported to the camp where Mary had lived, hearing the sounds of rock crushers and the curses of workers. Eloquent and evocative, her writing captured the atmosphere in all its raw sensory details.
Closing the magazine, Lena touched Maddie's arm with her fingers. "You're young, Madison. Many will try to discourage you, but you mustn't give up what you feel called to do."
"That's right! Lena knows what she's talking about," Jessie chirped.
Lena's voice softened. "It's different here than it is back east. Some things are more difficult."
Jessie screwed up her face, then rolled her eyes. "Much more difficult!"
Lena exchanged a glance with Jessie that suggested some difficult miles shared between them. "But different isn't necessarily bad. Right, Jessie? Opportunities are here that we never saw when we were living in cities. We just need to keep our eyes open to see them. I think you do."
Maddie wanted to believe that. She also greatly desired to believe that she had a future involving more than pretending to be someone other than who she really was.
Maddie's pencil flew across the page, scratching ruthlessly across the paper the details of a gruesome murder. She sat back, shaking her hand to relieve the stiffness in her wrist. Picking up the page, she positioned herself where lamp light better illuminated her carefully crafted words. She read aloud to the cat watching her with practiced disinterest.
She put down the page, seeking Havoc's quiet opinion. "Oh, that's deliciously brutal! What do you think?" The cat blinked once, her green eyes disappearing for an instant into her black face.
Gnawing the inside of her lip, Maddie tapped the tip of the pencil against her temple. "Perhaps the mining supervisor should discover the body instead of the Chinaman. That way the reader may suspect the Chinaman. Mustn’t make the crime too easy to solve."
Havoc blinked twice.
Taking another piece of paper from the stack, Maddie scribbled a second version not stopping until she heard Jessie call for dinner. Reluctantly, she rose to her feet, stretching her stiff arms over her head. Before leaving the room, she returned to the desk, carefully folded the papers she'd written and tucked them into her skirt pocket.
As had become their habit, the men retired to the front porch after dinner. The women followed later after dishes were cleaned and put away. The couples found each other, leaving Dr. Reynolds, Ely and Maddie to make their repose apart but within proximity to participate in the conversation.
During a lull in news exchanges for the day, Bart leaned around Jessie to catch Maddie's attention. "Miss Alexander, I hear from Jessie that you're writing now. Any chance you'd like to entertain us with your words?"
Ely said, "Ja, Miss Alexander. I have played for you. Now will you play for us?"
"Yes, Maddie. Did you bring something to share?" Jessie asked.
As Maddie pulled the pages from her pocket, Jessie clapped her hands. "Wonderful!"
All eyes were upon her as she cleared her throat. She began in a soft voice. Two sentences and Bart interrupted her to ask that she speak louder. She began a second time, voice a little louder. With each page she became more animated, managing to adapt a separate voice for each of her characters. The Chinaman's accent presented a challenge since she'd never actually conversed with one.
After reading the last line, she looked up at her audience. She found a variety of expressions watching her. Bart and Evan's faces matched perfectly, mouths slightly ajar and brows knit together as though working out a troublesome conundrum. Ely held his pipe suspended to his side, a cloud of smoke expelled in one long breath. Lena’s smile appeared frozen in place, her eyes unfocused. No one spoke for several uncomfortable moments.
Jessie was the first to break the silence by clapping her hands. "That was really exciting. I can’t begin to guess who killed the man, but I don’t think it would be the Chinese man. Do you, Bart?"
Bart sat unresponsive, looking mildly baffled.
Evan made a strangled sound as Lena extracted her elbow from his ribs. He cleared his throat and said, "Well, the story is certainly full of some dangerous types. Glad they don’t live in Ketchum."
Lena lifted one eyebrow at Evan’s remark.
He glanced at her, then added, "It has a lot of action, for sure. I just never heard of a woman doing detecting work like that. That kind of threw me."
Maddie sat a bit straighter, her lips pressed into an even straighter line. A finger tapped her leg in a rapid cadence. "Surely, you’ve heard of the famous Pinkerton agent, Kate Warne? It was in all the papers. She was the woman who foiled the early attempt on Abraham Lincoln's life?"
Bart let out with a loud guffaw before Jessie could stop him. "Guess she got that wrong then. Cause last I checked, he died."
Jessie punched Bart’s arm. “Bart Long! I’m ashamed of you! That was a tasteless remark!”
Maddie threw him an icy stare. Now her foot began to tap to the same rhythm as her finger. She continued, "She was successful in 1861 when he was on his way to Washington to take the oath of office."
Another awkward pause passed before Ely said, "I think your prose is quite lively."
The line between Maddie's eyebrows deepened. She pulled her hands tightly together into her lap and put one foot on top the other to keep it from tapping.
Lena smiled and offered, "I thought your protagonist was quite brave and very clever, Maddie. She didn't fall into the natural trap of thinking the Chinaman had committed the crime."
The room grew deathly quiet.
The only one who had refrained from comment was David Reynolds. Maddie's breath came in shallow puffs as her eyes turned to him, her ears felt as though a candle flame were burning beneath them. He appeared keenly focused on removing a stray thread from the button on his coat.
Maddie rose to her feet and smoothed her skirt. She teetered there for a moment more before announcing, "I have work in the morning so I'll be retiring now. Thank you for your honest reactions." As she hurried to the door, she tripped on a chair leg.
She fumbled with the door handle to her room. Through blurred vision she jerked the pages from her pocket, tearing them into eight precise pieces. Flinging herself onto the bed, she curled up next to the cat, burying her face in its fur. She mumbled, "I should have listened to you, Havoc."
As much as the comments had hurt her, Dr. Reynolds' silence stung worst of all. In his eyes, she knew she must appear an immature little fool to think she had some talent for writing. She rubbed the tears away with the back of her fist, then stared up at the ceiling until the cat's purring ceased. Rolling to her side, she slid from the bed and sat at the tiny desk. Bright stars, the guides to sailors and seekers of wisdom, filled the frame of her window. She surely wished that one would guide her now.
From here she could see the Methodist church steeple and a portion of the river, both reflecting silvered moonlight. She knew that just beyond the hotel the train station stood as the terminus for the rail line stretching from one ocean to the other. The town, grown from discoveries of rich ore, stood now as the gateway to the wild Sawtooth range to the north.
Her breathing calmed as did her pulse, giving her time to take hold of more rational thoughts. Those turned to the people in the rooms below her.
What were the stories that had brought all these people together? Within this house were stories she had scarcely considered. Who was Ely, the talented violinist with the wry sense of humor? What had happened in Sawtooth City to bring Evan and Lena here? What had turned the young doctor so solemn? What melancholy experience with the young woman doctor caused him to seek a new beginning here? Each was a fascinating story to contemplate. Her imagination began to form the answers.
As more questions came to mind, Maddie picked up her pencil and held it balanced between two fingers. What would Mary Hallock Foote find to write about if she lived in Ketchum?
Maddie reached for a fresh sheet of paper. The cat stretched, yawned and curled itself into a tighter ball. Even the cat had a story to tell if anyone would bother to ask her.
