Chapter 9
WEDNESDAY, MAY 25, 1904
“I’m glad you made it.” Marvella ushered Rebecca Andrews into her small parlor and shut the door. “We have our work cut out for us.”
The mirthful grin on the new bride’s face was telling. “Us?”
“Yes, us.” Marvella winked and pointed to a chair. “We are in a dire situation, and I need your help. Now wipe that cheeky grin off your face so we can get down to business.”
“Dire, you say?” Rebecca’s brow crinkled, and even though the young woman tried to hide her sarcasm, it wasn’t lost on Marvella. “Which young man in our community are you attempting to match to the conservationist’s daughter?”
“Carter Brunswick.” Marvella waved a hand. “But that doesn’t matter at the moment. I’m more concerned about Eleanor’s faith. She walked away from God when her mother died.”
“Oh dear.” Rebecca put a hand to her throat.
“Never fear. I have a plan.”
“I would expect nothing less.” She folded her hands in her lap.
“We don’t have much time, as our guests are getting ready to depart.” Marvella leaned forward and filled Rebecca in on the pertinent details. Rebecca then offered to pray for Miss Briggs, for healing and restoration.
Armed for the next step in her plan, Marvella led the way up the stairs. At the rooms designated for Eleanor, she stopped at the open door. The young woman flitted around the room, neat stacks on top of the bed.
Marvella cleared her throat. “Miss Briggs?”
Eleanor’s gaze darted toward them, and she pushed some escaping blond hair behind her ear. “My goodness, I didn’t realize I’d left the door open. Please come in.”
“Thank you, my dear. I’d like to introduce you to Montana’s very first female court reporter, Mrs. Rebecca Andrews.”
Eleanor moved away from her packing, her demeanor frazzled. “It’s nice to meet you. I apologize for the upheaval, but I must finish packing for our camping trip, and my father isn’t the most patient of men.”
Rebecca stepped forward. “How can I help?”
“It’s all right, you’re—”
“Nonsense.” The other young woman approached the suitcase. “It’s clear to see that you have a great deal to do and not enough time. Put me to work. I’m excellent at packing.”
Eleanor glanced at the clock, bit her lip, and then nodded. “Thank you. When Father moved up the time to leave, I became a bit frantic. It takes a lot of planning for this kind of trip.”
“Well, it looks as if you are organized.” Rebecca’s hands were on her hips. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”
“I try to pack as light as possible, and in such a way as to keep water out in case we have to cross swollen rivers, which happens a great deal.” Eleanor gave instructions to Rebecca and the two packed.
Marvella watched for several moments. “I’m so excited for you to see the area that is so special to us. Milton has taken me up there several times. He knows how much I love to see glaciers. They are impressive and glorious.”
“Mhm.” Eleanor darted to the closet and then dashed back with several items in her hands.
“It’s the most wonderful thing to sit under the great big sky and simply stand in awe of God’s creation. The mountains, the glaciers, the trees, the water”—she released a long sigh—“it’s simply magnificent.”
When no response came from the young woman, Marvella caught Rebecca’s gaze. The young wife shook her head.
She didn’t like to think of herself as the pushy sort, but the urgency of the moment spurred her on. “‘The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handywork.’” She stepped closer to the bed. “That’s from the Psalms.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Eleanor finished up her packing and glanced up. Blowing a lock of hair off her forehead, she faced Marvella. “My mother used to love reading the Psalms to me.”
Perfect opening. “Well, I took the liberty of writing out some of my favorite verses about the glory of God’s creation for you.” Marvella stepped forward with the envelope. “I’d love for you to read them under the myriads of stars, or beside the pristine waters.”
Eleanor’s shoulders drooped a bit. “Mrs. Ashbury, this is very kind of you, but I’ve already shared where I stand with God.” She didn’t take the envelope.
Marvella stepped closer. “Where you stand at the moment doesn’t mean that’s where you’ll be standing next week.”
Eleanor wrapped her arms around her waist. Her lips clamped tight.
Rebecca sat on the trunk at the end of the bed. “I understand you’ve been through a great loss. Pain and grief can cause us to shield ourselves from more hurt. Fear and doubt keep us even more closed off to the beauty and truth of love around us. It took me a long time to understand God’s grace—”
“Please. I appreciate both of you coming to help.” Eleanor snatched the envelope from Marvella’s hand. “And I appreciate you caring about me. I’ll read this later, thank you. But my father is surely waiting for me, and I don’t wish to hold him and Mr. Grinnell up any longer.” She marched over to the bell pull and gave it a good yank.
Marvella stood. At least Eleanor took the envelope. “I pray you have a blessed and fruitful time, dear. We look forward to your return.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Ashbury.” Eleanor’s smile was tight. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Andrews. Thank you for your assistance, it was greatly appreciated.”
“My pleasure.” Rebecca took Marvella’s arm and steered her toward the door.
SATURDAY, MAY 28, 1904
A few days later, Eleanor pulled the envelope out once again. It was the third time today she’d read it.
Marvella’s loopy and perfect script filled the page. Eleanor’s hands shook as she read.
Dear Eleanor,
As I think of our great God—Creator of the Universe—I can’t help but be in awe of all He has done. I pray as you see His handiwork—His fingerprints—all around you, that you feel ensconced in His love, grace, and mercy. These verses are some of my favorites, I hope they bless you today and always.
Love, Marvella
Psalm 147:4–5, 8 He telleth the number of the stars; he calleth them all by their names.
Great is our Lord, and of great power: his understanding is infinite.
Who covereth the heaven with clouds, who prepareth rain for the earth, who maketh grass to grow upon the mountains.
Psalm 90:2 Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst formed the earth and the world, even from everlasting to everlasting, thou art God.
Psalm 8:3–5 When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained;
What is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him?
For thou hast made him a little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory and honour.
Psalm 19:1 The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handywork.
Colossians 1:16 For by him were all things created, that are in heaven, and that are in earth, visible and invisible, whether they be thrones, or dominions, or principalities, or powers: all things were created by him, and for him.
Psalm 95:4–6 In his hand are the deep places of the earth: the strength of the hills is his also.
The sea is his, and he made it: and his hands formed the dry land.
O come, let us worship and bow down: let us kneel before the LORD our maker.
Each time she read the words, she felt like her heart was cracking. As if the hard shell around it—which she hadn’t even realized was there—was slowly crumbling.
Though she was more than a little tired after trekking into the mountains, she felt lighter. And could even breathe better.
The men’s voices around the horses brought her attention back to her surroundings.
Mr. Grinnell had hired a guide, as well as a couple of men to handle the set up and break down of camp and the cooking. Which took a lot of worry off her shoulders. However, being in the saddle for nearly fourteen hours...
She could scarcely walk!
Once she was able to stretch and move around a bit, she felt better, although her backside would be sore tomorrow. Thankfully, Marvella sent them with a great deal of food that needed only to be warmed over a fire. Eleanor had been delighted to find that those stocks included some of the delicious chocolate cake they’d had the night before.
After enjoying a thick slice of roast beef between two pieces of bread, she took her piece of cake and settled down by the fire. She glanced to where her father sat across from her on a stool. It was getting harder for him to sit on the ground like the rest of them. She stared into the fire. Was he hurting? Was this trip too much for him? She wanted to ask but didn’t want to embarrass him in front of his friend.
George Grinnell was the same age as Father, but somehow, he seemed younger. Her father had been changing over the last year or two. He was slowing down. More than she’d allowed herself to consider.
Two years ago, when he’d been invited to make a trip to South America to explore various places along the Amazon River, he had declined. She hadn’t questioned him about it because his schedule had been so tight, but now...
Had he refused because of ill health?
She ate another bite of cake, though now it tasted like sawdust. What if Father had a disease of some sort? Something terminal like Mother had had. What would she do if she lost him?
All of a sudden, her stomach didn’t want any more cake.
Besides his suggestion they consider settling down, he had talked about selling family items that he’d put in storage. Paintings and ancient rugs he’d acquired over the years, as well as other bric-a-brac. He’d even arranged for some of his pieces to be given to various museums. Were all of these clues of what was to come? Had she not picked up on the fact?
She snuck another glance at him. He seemed all right, aside from being tired. He was eating well and not complaining about any particular troubles. Not that he necessarily would. He wouldn’t do anything to compromise the work he’d set out to do.
The chill of the night was upon them and even with her layers of clothing, a shiver raced up her spine. Time to retire to her Norwegian sleeping bag.
Over the years, they’d been on too many of these types of adventures not to know what was needed to stay warm and dry. Father had been dedicated to finding a bedroll or sleeping bag that would afford them the very best protection from cold and damp.
On a trip to Norway four years ago, he’d found a man who was able to skillfully produce a down-filled bag with a rubberized bottom. It was perfect for placing on the ground and even better when used in a tent. Not long after her father had worked with the man to create the bags, Eleanor saw an advertisement for them in one of the outdoor adventure magazines. The ad even mentioned that the bags had been used by the famous conservationist Stewart Briggs, although it made no mention that it was his design.
“Well, I believe it would do us all good to turn in early.” Grinnell stood and stretched.
“I agree.” Mr. Stanton, their guide, tossed the remainder of his coffee on the fire. “We’ll want to get an early start in the morning. We won’t travel as far tomorrow since we will be steadily increasing our altitude. We’ll also pass through Columbia Falls so we can pick up any additional supplies we’ve forgotten.”
Father pursed his lips. “I still think it would have been easier to take the train to Columbia Falls and start out from there.”
Grinnell chuckled. “Yes, but you would have missed out on all the things we saw today. Not only that, but I was able to show you some of the various farms and ranches in the area. You told me you wanted to know more about that.”
“It was certainly an informative ride. Tiring, however. I’m not getting any younger.” Father’s voice was edged with humor. “I think Ellie’s suggestion that I settle down and write my book is becoming more and more appealing.”
Eleanor glanced away and frowned. Her suggestion? What was going on with him? And why had he asked to see the farms and ranches?
“We’ve long been awaiting a book from you, Stewart. I think your daughter is right. The world has need to hear from you.”
She looked at her father once again. He caught her gaze, then looked away. She chewed on the inside of her lip. They needed to talk. Maybe not tonight, but soon.
Clearing his throat, he stood. “Well, Ellie girl, are you ready to retire? Looks like the fire is dying down.”
“You go ahead. I’ll help with the dishes and clean up. We don’t want to attract any wild animals.”
“Very well. I’ll head to our tent and see you later. I’ll probably read for just a bit.”
The dishes were all gathered and put into a tub of soapy water that one of the men had prepared. Mr. Stanton stopped her as she reached for a towel.
“You don’t need to help. We’re well paid to provide these services. Feel free to just head on to bed.” He took the towel from Eleanor. “Slim and Dusty can manage. They’ve been running bigger camps than this for some time. They know what to do.”
Eleanor let her hands fall to her sides. “I just felt like I should do my part.”
“You’re doing your part. Enjoy the trip as best you can. Tomorrow night we’ll camp near a hot spring. I think you’ll enjoy the opportunity to have a nice long soak.”
“That does sound pleasant, thank you.” The hot springs might benefit Father as well. “Well, good-night, Mr. Stanton.”
“Good-night, little lady.” He tipped his felt hat and turned to say something to one of the men.
The tent was just a little way across the camp and when Eleanor reached it, she gazed heavenward before going inside. The inky black sky was dotted with thousands upon thousands of stars. Once, when she was a little girl, they’d traveled away from New York City and had stayed with friends who lived out in the country. The utter darkness there was so very impressive, but even more so was Mother pointing out that God had once compared the stars to the heirs Abraham would have.
What must Abraham have felt when God told him that?
Mother’s voice enfolded her. “We’re represented up there, Ellie. One of those stars is set in place just for you. And just as God knows each star by name, He knows you by name as well. He will never forget you.”
Her throat tightened and tears burned at her eyes. If only she could believe that the God of the universe knew she existed. Cared about her. But how could that be? How could an all-powerful God even begin to care about a little girl staring at the stars with her mother? Or a young woman staring at the stars alone?
Ellie pressed a fist against her tears. For so long, she’d told herself that believing in God wasn’t important, and yet ...
Mother had said it was the foundation of everything.
As Ellie released a shuddering sigh, Marvella’s words before they left came back to her.
How could she look at all this and not see the fingerprints of the Creator?
Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up at the vastness of the sky above her. Each star seemed to dance, almost as if inviting her to join them in their celebration. Her mind swirled as she was overwhelmed with an undeniable truth.
There was a God.
Yes, she believed that.
Mama said He truly cared about each one of His children.
Tears blurred her vision. “Oh, Mama...” How could Eleanor believe that? When Mama loved Him so much and yet He let her suffer and die?
“Mama, I wish I understood,” she whispered to the sky. “I wish I could believe like you did. Have the faith that you had. You weren’t afraid to die because you believed in God’s mercy and love.”
A tightness filled her chest and she lowered her gaze. If only she could believe in those things as well.
Carter stood on his parents’ porch staring up at the night skies. The heavy stillness of a farm at rest engulfed him—cradled him as one might cradle a sleeping child. He’d always liked this time of night when the livestock and humans were asleep and a man could stand and take an account of his day ... his life.
Right now, his life seemed to have endless questions, complications that weren’t of his own making, nor his own ability to fix.
“Lord, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what’s going to happen to us now that they’re taking the train from Kalispell. Things will have to change in a big way, and that won’t be easy. I’m not even sure it will be financially prudent.”
It was a big mess. One with no easy answers.
He rolled his shoulders, trying to work out the tension building in them. Earlier that evening he’d come to the farm for supper and a discussion with his father. They were no closer to a decision on how to ship their grain and his flour than the night of the town hall meeting. He needed to trust the Lord. To have faith that He would lead them as He had before.
Carter rubbed his jaw. It wasn’t the first time his family had faced a tough decision. This time, however, a practical solution that didn’t raise their prices sky high wasn’t presenting itself. And August felt like it was tomorrow instead of a couple months away.
“God, I trust in You alone. I know You have all the answers I need, but I’m gonna need them soon.”
Carter heard the front door creak open and looked over his shoulder.
Dad stepped outside. He moved forward to the banister and leaned against it with a sigh. “I knew I’d find you out here.”
“I figured you’d find your way out here as well.”
Dad clapped him on the shoulder, giving him a brief squeeze. “Glad you decided to stay the night. I never like you making your way back in the dark.”
It didn’t matter how old he got, Dad would still worry. “I wanted a night out here. Besides, I’m tired.”
For several long minutes they stood in the silence, staring out into the darkness. They shared a companionship that went deeper than any other relationship Carter had known. He was close to his mother, but in a completely different way.
Dad gave a deep sigh. “You come up with any great solution?”
“Nope. You?”
“Nope.”
Carter shifted and leaned back against the railing. “I don’t think we have any other choice than to put together our own transportation. We can buy wagons like you suggested and hire men to drive them. Maybe rent them out when we aren’t using them. But I figure we’ll probably be using them most of the time.”
Dad leaned against the railing. “It’s going to really cut into the profits. Won’t be able to give as much away.”
“I’ve always admired your giving and tried to do the same.” Carter sat on the rail. All of his life his father and mother had been committed to giving away their profits after giving to the church, paying the bills, and saving a little bit back for emergencies. Mostly, they liked to help area folks who were down on their luck. Countless widows had been saved from losing their homes or children by his folks’ generosity. Few knew it came from them apart from Carter, and likewise for his own giving. They hadn’t even confided in Carter’s sisters.
“Still, I have to believe that because it’s something we do for the Lord, He’ll see it through. He’ll provide the money needed. I must believe that. It’s not a selfish thing we’re doing by buying wagons and hiring men to drive. Fact is, we’ll be able to help a few of those railroad men who don’t want to leave Kalispell for Whitefish. That makes me feel good. Of course, it isn’t about me feeling good.” Dad went to one of the rockers on the porch and sat down.
“God’s got a plan for even this, Carter. We must remember that. I think about a dozen stories in the Bible where God went ahead of folks and caused things to happen in such a way that it served His purpose. He’s never caught off guard, even when we are.” The chair creaked as his dad began to rock. “I think of Proverbs sixteen, verse nine, ‘A man’s heart deviseth his way: but the Lord directeth his steps.’”
“I keep reminding myself of that.” He couldn’t really see much but his father’s outline in the shade of the porch, despite the moon being three-quarters. Still, he could imagine his father’s calm countenance and gentle smile.
“Things could be a whole lot worse. We’ve seen it bad and know what it is to really suffer. This is difficult, but not suffering. Others will suffer, though, and that makes me want to do whatever I can to help them.”
“I know. This will likely hit our community hard for a good while. Like you said, God has put it in us to give what we can, and we’ll go on doing that. If He wants us to do different, He’ll let us know one way or another.”
The chair creaked for a few minutes before Dad spoke. “There’s an exceptional wagon maker down in Missoula. He also repairs and sells used wagons. I’ll send a telegram and see what’s what. Could be he has what we need.”
“How many do you think?”
“I’m guessing at least ten wagons to begin with. We’ll need to buy horses too, but there’s a few draft teams for sale in the area. And what’s not here we can probably pick up in Missoula as well. If we plan it right, you and I could go down after we harvest the winter wheat and get it shipped out. Can Jack manage the mill for you a couple of weeks?”
“Jack could take over the mill and not miss me at all. And Bill Preston is becoming a big help. It will be a good chance for him to learn a bit more about running the mill. Jack can teach him.” Carter grinned.
“Bill Preston, huh?” Dad leaned back. “He seems like a good kid. Shame about his dad.”
Carter nodded. “Bill takes good care of his sisters and mother. He’s a hard worker and doesn’t complain, no matter what he’s asked to do. I’ve gotten the better end of the bargain.” Yes, this plan was coming together. Why had he been so worried? “I came out here to pray and it feels like God has answered before I’ve asked. Guess we’ve got work to do.”
“I’ve got some sleep to catch up on.” His dad rose and gave a stretch. “Come on, son. You need your rest too.”
“I’ll be right behind you.”
“Don’t stay out here too long. ... I know you have a penchant to overthink things. Leave it in God’s capable hands.” The door creaked again as his dad entered the house.
Carter turned and gave the night sky one last look. A verse from Psalm 121 came to mind. “My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth,” he whispered, peace washing warmth over him. It reminded him of the day his pastor and elders had prayed for him when the mill opened.
Thank You, Lord.
The Lord would help them get through this.