“It’s heavy,” Susan said as she lifted it out. “Whatever’s in here might not be as damaged as some of the other things we’ve found.”
The metal box showed signs of age but no rust. When Susan opened the hinged lid, they saw an oiled cloth that was packed with carefully folded papers.
“These are in much better condition,” Kathleen observed as Susan gently lifted out the top document. “The box must have protected them from the dampness.”
The sheet of paper was thick and of high quality. The elegant handwriting in brown ink had faded but remained clearly legible. At the top of the page, it said: “Record of Services Provided - Florence Buckley, Certified Midwife.”
Susan looked at her friends. “Did Florence own the house or was she paid to be here?”
Kathleen shrugged. “I don’t know yet. When I spoke to Percy, he said he’d do some background research about the house before he came tonight. Chloe has already seen the basement and has sent one of the documents to the Smithsonian to have it analyzed.”
“That’s great,” Lynda said. “Chloe worked at the Smithsonian for so long that she’d be the perfect person to look at what you found.”
Susan picked up another record. “Look at this. These aren’t just birth records. They’re complete case files.”
The document in Susan’s hands detailed the care provided to someone identified only as “M.R.” The notes described a young woman who had arrived in the third week of October, 1889, “in distress and without resources.” Florence Buckley had recorded the medical details of the pregnancy and the birth, and the steps she’s taken to help the woman create a new identity.
“Florence provided false documents,” Kathleen said, re-reading the careful notations. “Look what it says here. ‘Arranged lodging in Missoula under the name Mrs. Margaret Roberts, widow. Provided references from fictional deceased husband’s employer. Child to be known as legitimate heir.’”
“She was helping the women become widows,” Susan said in awe. “No one would have known the truth. Instead of being ostracized, the women might have been able to find work, rent rooms, and live independently.”
They carefully examined more documents from the box. Each told a similar story. Young women arrived pregnant and desperate. They received medical care during their pregnancy, and left with new identities that would allow them to support themselves and their children.
“Florence Buckley wasn’t just a midwife,” Lynda said admiringly. “She was running an underground network to help women escape social destruction.”
Kathleen read another case file. “The detail in these records is amazing. Florence documented everything—where the women went afterward and what names they chose. Some of them even have follow-up notes about how they were settling into their new lives.”
Susan pulled out a thicker document from the bottom of the box. “This looks different. It’s written on official letterhead.”
The paper bore the seal of Montana Territory and was addressed to Florence Buckley. As they read the formal language, its significance became clear.
“It’s her midwifery certification,” Susan said breathlessly. “Issued in 1883 by the territorial government. She was legitimately trained and licensed.”
“Which means she wasn’t some back-alley practitioner,” Lynda added. “She was a qualified medical professional who used her skills to help women who would have been abandoned.”
Kathleen bit her bottom lip. “I wonder if Florence had any help or if she did all of this on her own.”
Susan carefully counted the documents. “There are at least forty case files in here. Because of the years they span, she could have been working on her own.”
Kathleen pointed to the documents she’d found with Patrick. “There could be more in there, but the ink’s faded.”
“Kathleen’s right,” Lynda added. “There are probably a lot of records that didn’t survive. What Florence was doing could have gone on for years.”
Over the next half hour, they carefully examined each document, piecing together the story of Florence Buckley’s remarkable work. The records documented nearly two decades of secret service to women in crisis.
“Percy will be beside himself when he sees all of this,” Kathleen said finally.
Susan took some photos of the metal box and the documents they’d found. “I’ll send the photos to Isabel tonight.”
Kathleen looked around the room. “We should leave everything else until Percy gets here.”
Lynda nodded. “Good idea. I’ll make everyone a cup of coffee while we wait for him.”
As they climbed back up to the main floor, Kathleen thought about Patrick and wished he could have been here. He would have appreciated the historical significance and understood how much this meant to her.
But Patrick was in Manhattan, fighting corporate battles and living the life he thought he’d left behind. And she was in Sapphire Bay, uncovering the secrets of women who, like her, had learned to build new lives.
Chapter 15
