to publish, and that would no doubt anger its owner, Emmanuel Beal. Beal prided himself on having the most influential and most subscribed-to newspaper around and took great joy in poking fun at those lacking his funding and readership. If the Crier could show Beal up just once, Garrett’s being subjected to the stiff saddle and the agony of his new boots would be well worth it.
He’d exchanged a few wires with Dr. Lee to set up the interview, and hoped the man was still open to being questioned. He didn’t relish having come all this way only to return home empty-handed. If that occurred, he’d at least have the memories of Wyoming’s mountainous beauty and meeting the remarkable Spring Lee.
After downing the last of the tea, he set the cup aside and wondered how his hostess was faring outdoors. Hearing a scraping sound, he glanced around the room to determine the source. When he heard it a second time, he turned to the snow-covered window beside him and saw a square piece of wood drag the snow down the pane. His hostess was clearing the windows. Aided by the light of the moon and bundled up in the hat, muffler, and burly brown coat, she resembled an eerie apparition. The gentleman in him felt guilty watching her work alone, then reasoned, she’d still have to accomplish the task were he not there, but it didn’t make him feel any better. Men worked. Women rested. At least where he was from. After a few more passes the window was cleared, and she moved on.
Although his nap had restored him somewhat after his long unnerving day, he needed more sleep. Much more. The weariness coupled with the effects of the bark tea and his full stomach had him on the verge of nodding off when he heard her return.
“I heated the boiler,” she said, freeing herself from her outerwear. “Water should be hot enough for a bath in a few hours if you’re willing to wait, or have one in the morning.”
That her cabin had indoor plumbing also raised questions, but he kept his curiosity for another time. “How long has your family been in Wyoming?”
“Since the twenties. My grandfather Ben was a trapper. He and his friend Odell opened a trading post that eventually became the town of Paradise.”
Her response gave rise to more questions. He watched as she removed her boots and set them by the fire.
“Where was your grandfather born?”
“Canada.”
“Was he enslaved?”
She shook her head. “His parents were indentured servants to a French fur trader in Quebec. After they cleared their debt, they founded a small trading outfit of their own. My grandfather became a trapper and a guide for the French and English wanting furs.”
“And your grandmother?”
“What about her?”
The tight tone of her voice matched the frank, dark eyes. He almost told her to ignore the question, but his curiosity propelled him forward. “Who was she?”
“A Shoshone woman who left him soon after my father was born because Ben has always been a terrible person. Anything else?”
Her abruptness gave him pause. Having interviewed many people, Garrett had learned to delve beneath the surface of their answers to gain a truer sense of the response, and what he saw and heard under her tough, no-nonsense exterior was bitterness and pain. “No. Nothing else.”
“Good. I’m exhausted and going back to bed. If you’ll be up for a while, make sure you douse the lamps and throw more wood on the fire. It gets cold in here at night.”
“I will. And thanks again for the rescue.”
She responded with a terse nod and left him alone.
As he sat there, the crackling of the fire played softly against the silence. There were so many things he wanted to know about Spring Lee. What kind of life had she led? How had she been shaped by it? She’d mentioned her grandfather twice now, giving Garrett the impression that they were at odds. Was the acrimony tied to more than her refusal to marry the man she’d described as an old snake? He had no answers. He was intrigued though. Yes, she was beautiful with her ebony skin, jet-black eyes, and the thick braid down her back, but what drew him more was the fierce granite-like strength. Deciding to head to bed, he remembered her request and added more wood to the fire before dousing the lamp.
The next morning, after a good, long soak in the tub filled with hot water, Garrett’s knee was