Carter exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The anxious energy in his chest lessened. His shoulders relaxed. Amazing how much better he always felt after talking things over with Dad. “So we have some options. We need to help the railroad see how important it is to still come into Kalispell. But we should probably be ready for any outcome. Even if they can figure a way to make the route in and out of Kalispell less dangerous and convince Mr. Hill, it’ll take time.” Carter grabbed his hat. “Speaking of time ... I’d best get on over to the depot. I have a much-needed repair piece for the mill coming in on the train and”—he checked his pocket watch—“it’s due in any minute.”
He said a quick good-bye to his father and hurried out the door, then drew back a step.
Just as he’d feared, pandemonium had broken loose.
Men from the town meeting had brought thediscussionout into the street. Only, no one was listening and everyone was yelling. Men were nose to nose, arguing about anything and everything.
Carter made it halfway through the crowd when the pushing and shoving began.
Great. Just what he needed. A brawl.
Not that he could blame the guys for getting up in arms over their livelihood being threatened, but he didn’t need to be in the middle of this mess. He moved as quick as he could to get out of the crowd.
Smack!
A punch from his left landed square in his eye. He duckedand suppressed a grunt just in time to catch a punch from the other side, directly in the mouth.
It knocked him sideways, and he crashed into another brawler, who turned and rallied to return what he perceived as a push.
Carter ducked again from his crouched position and ended up falling on his chin. Pebbles and rock bit into his face. He touched his bottom lip, the metallic tang of blood on his tongue.
Wonderful.
Growls, grunts, and the sound of flesh smacking flesh filled his ears. He pushed to his feet, shoving men away as they barreled toward him. He was in no mood to put up with this ridiculous and senseless act of aggression.
He dusted himself off as he walked, noticing a tear in his favorite shirt. He narrowed his eyes and released his own growl to the crowd as he pushed through, careful to not get blindsided again. Once he was free from the crowd, he glanced over his shoulder. The fighting men looked like one big, confused ant hill.
Carter turned and made his way to the depot, his heart heavy.Lord, this town needs Your help. Desperately.
He placed his kerchief to his mouth and sopped up the blood. This was no way to walk through town in the middle of the day. Disheveled and bloody. Good thing the people around here knew him well. He ran a hand through his hair before plopping his hat back down. He must be a sight. But there was no time to go home and clean up. He had to get that part today.
Wiggling his jaw from side to side, he cringed. At least it didn’tfeelbroken. But he was sure to have a shiner. Heswiped at his face again with his kerchief. That would have to do. Hopefully he sopped up all the blood and dirt.
As he walked, his head just didn’t feel right. He didn’t have time for this! Those fool men! What had they thought they’d accomplish? Other than blackening each other’s eyes and dishing out bruises.
Whipping his hat off, he rubbed at his forehead and ran a hand through his hair again. No sign of blood. But when he glanced down at his hat, his heart sank.
He gritted his teeth. This was the last straw.
Not only had they ripped his favorite shirt, but now his favorite hat was ruined.
It had taken three years to break in that hat and get it to where it molded perfectly to his head.
He eyed the misshapen head covering and released a sigh. This day couldn’t get any worse.
3
TUESDAY, MAY10, 1904—KALISPELL, MONTANA
Marvella Ashbury took a sip of her lemonade and watched her husband peer at her over the top of his newspaper.
“Yes, my dear?” His bushy eyebrows lifted. “Was I not listening?”
With a chuckle, she winked at him. “I appreciate your interest, but I hadn’t said anything.” He’d just returned home, and they’d settled in for their customary teatime. It was best to catch him now, before he was completely engulfed with whatever the newspaper detailed.
As expected, he set the paper down and wiggled his mustache. Clearly amused. “Yet. You haven’t said anythingyet, my dear. But I know that look on your face all too well. You dohavesomething to say. And since I know that, you have my rapt attention.”
It worked every time. And why not? She was a masterafter all these years. Smiling her sweetest smile, she offered him a tea cake. “I’m concerned about this railroad business.”
