A Most Unsuitable Match (20 page)

The screeching woman was right. The news of what Samuel had done beat them back to the
Far West
. Fannie saw more than one face from the crowd that had gathered to watch the fight . . . and then drifted away. As she and Samuel crossed the levee, men muttered to one another, nodding at Samuel and shaking their heads.

When they set foot on deck, Lamar walked up, smiling. “What’s this I hear about a tall stranger defending some woman up the street and almost getting himself killed?”

Samuel shook his head. “I was never in any danger. You must have heard about some other fight.”

“Word is you offered to rent her and her child a room,” Lamar said. “Makes you sound like a high roller.”

“Anyone who thinks that will know the truth soon enough.” Samuel grinned. “Had she taken me up on the offer, I’d have been embarrassed to inform her that she could only stay one night. That’s about all that’s left of my pay from the
Delores
.”

Fannie looked at him in disbelief. “You offered your last penny to house a—to house
her
?”

“It seemed the thing to do.”

Lamar spoke up. “While you were gone, I asked about another place to board. There’s a place behind the fort. Fewer fleas, good food, and an honest owner.” Lamar paused. “Some even thought he might let
me
have a room.”

Samuel glanced down at Fannie. “How about you stay here while Lamar and I investigate?”

She hesitated. Fort Benton was like a foreign country where she didn’t speak the language, but if she couldn’t so much as take a walk in Fort Benton without needing to retreat, how would she ever stay long enough to look for Aunt Edith?

“I see what you’re thinking,” Samuel said. “There’s no dishonor in being rattled by this place. Anyone would be.”

Fannie relented. She had had enough of Fort Benton for the moment. Back in her cabin, she retrieved Aunt Edith’s photograph and stretched out atop Mrs. Tatum’s comforter. She wondered if the woman in the photograph had had the same reaction to Fort Benton as she had.
Probably not. She’d traveled all over the world by then. She’s adventurous by nature. I’m . . . what?,
Fannie wondered.
What am I, exactly? If Aunt Edith ran into a woman like that on the street . . . would she react like Samuel did and want to help her . . . or would she stand with her back pressed against a wall, just waiting to get away?

Fluffing her pillow, Fannie turned on her side. Once again, she wished for Hannah to reassure her, to say something wise, to tell her she was going to be all right. Her mind raced from letters to steamboat wrecks, and finally landed where it usually did . . . on Samuel. His kind eyes . . . his deep voice . . . his patience . . . understanding . . . sense of purpose . . . faith . . . She would never have tried to help that creature on the street. Never would have stood up to that awful man. Never would have offered her last dollar to help any of them. Maybe she never should have come here. She would never be as good as Samuel, never be good enough to deserve him. . . . She drifted off.

Samuel and Lamar returned just as Fannie awakened from her nap and stepped out onto the hurricane deck for some fresh air. If Samuel’s height didn’t catch a person’s eye, his long black coat most certainly did. Knowing he was coming to her made Fannie smile. “
Land sakes
,” she whispered to herself, “he is a handsome man.” Reaching up to smooth her hair, she descended to the main deck.

“Lamar found a good place,” Samuel said. “Come see for yourself.”

“I’ll see to your trunk,” Lamar said, then hesitated. “You all packed up?”

Other than Mrs. Tatum’s comforter, Fannie was. Lamar said he would see to it, and Fannie and Samuel headed across the levee in the direction of the fort, then past it. Once past the fort, the noise from the levee faded into the background.

“That’s it,” Samuel said, pointing to a log structure with an overhang shading the front wall. The first thing Fannie noticed on the rustic porch was the pot of wild flowers propping open the front door. She paused to read the regulations posted to the left of the open doorway and smiled. Whoever ran the place obviously had a sense of humor.

Fort Benton Hostelry

Established September 1, 1868, a.d.

Honest Abe Valley, Proprietor

HOUSE RULES

I
F YOU CAN’T KEEP ’EM DON’T COME THROUGH THE DOOR

• S
  PIKED BOOTS AND SPURS MUST BE REMOVED BEFORE RETIRING.
  
• T
  OWELS CHANGED WEEKLY.
  F
  REE BATHS PROVIDED BY THE
  M
  ISSOURI.
  
• N
  O MORE THAN ONE DOG ALLOWED TO BE KEPT IN EACH SINGLE ROOM.
  
• A
  SSAULTS ON THE COOK ARE STRICTLY PROHIBITED.
  
• G
  UESTS ARE FORBIDDEN TO SPIT ON THE CEILING.
  
• E
  VERYTHING CASH IN ADVANCE.
  B
  OARD $25 PER MONTH.
  B
  OARD AND LODGING $50 PER MONTH.
  B
  OARD AND LODGING WITH BED $60 PER MONTH.
  
• A
  DEPOSIT IS REQUIRED ON ALL CANDLES CARRIED TO ROOMS.
  D
  EPOSIT REFUNDED AT CHECKOUT ON ALL CANDLES OR PARTS OF CANDLES NOT BURNED OR EATEN.
  
• I
  F YOU DON’T KNOW ASK
  H
  ONEST
  A
  BE.
  I
  F HE DON’T KNOW HE’LL MAKE SOMETHING UP.
  H
  ONEST.
  

One look at the man standing behind the counter just inside explained Honest Abe’s nickname. He was taller than Samuel and sported a Lincolnesque beard, a very worn top hat, and a large wart on his left cheek. Fannie liked him immediately, both for his humorous sign and because, above the beard and below the brim of the top hat, his brown eyes looked almost as kind as Samuel’s. Another thing that recommended Mr. Valley was the fact that, in the midst of a place with ubiquitous dust and filth, he was sporting an impeccably clean blue-and-white-striped shirt.

Fannie wanted to see the rooms for herself, of course, but she had hopes based on that striped shirt, and her hope was not disappointed. Behind the large log cabin, Mr. Valley had built two rows of single rooms that faced each other across a space he laughingly called “the commons.” Down the center of that open space, a series of planks atop sawhorses provided “meeting place, dining room,” he said as he doffed his hat for Fannie, “or sewing circle. Whatever the lady pleases.” He’d strung a rope from roofline to roofline “for airing the bedding” and placed the necessary a good distance away from the rooms. The rooms themselves were minuscule, but they boasted tiny stoves and washstands equipped with a bowl and pitcher.

As Mr. Valley handed Samuel and Fannie keys to two rooms, he smiled and said that they were “just what the territory needs—good young people. What brings you to Fort Benton, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Fannie spoke up. “Family.”

“Family in Alder Gulch,” Samuel added.

Valley frowned. “Now, son, it’s none of my business, but you don’t want to take this little lady anywhere near there. It’s rough, dangerous country all two hundred some miles of the trip. The Blackfeet are fierce, and they’re none too happy about what’s been going on up here.” He nodded at Fannie. “You both need to just stay here in Benton where it’s safe.” He leaned toward Samuel and said in a stage whisper, “If I had me a young lady as pretty as that, you wouldn’t catch me looking for trouble up Alder Gulch way.”

Samuel smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind, but I’ll be looking for neither trouble nor gold. I’ll just have to trust the good Lord to smile on the trip and see it to a good end.”

Valley arched one eyebrow. “You a gospel grinder, son?” When Samuel looked confused, he nudged him. “A preacher. You mentioned the ‘good Lord’ like the two of you might be acquainted. And I guess the black coat should have given it away, now, shouldn’t it.” He shook his head. “Can’t imagine you’ll find much of a congregation where you’re headed. You stay here. Fort Benton needs a church. In fact”—Valley pointed toward the far end of the room—“we can clear out those tables and chairs on the Sabbath and you can hold your first service right here.”

“If I’m still in town on the Sabbath, Mr. Valley,” Samuel said, “I’ll take you up on that offer. I don’t think I’m what you’d call a gospel grinder or a preacher, but I’d be happy to offer a few words and lead some hymn singing.”

Valley winked. “Well, the ladies will swarm like flies to honey when they get a look at you, son, and that’s the truth. We haven’t had a real preacher up this way in a long while, and they didn’t last. The missuses didn’t take to the territory one bit.” He glanced Fannie’s way.

She cleared her throat. “Just out of curiosity, Mr. Valley, I haven’t seen but one other woman in all of Fort Benton. What ‘ladies’ would come to hear a sermon?”

“There’s a few,” he said. “And I’m speaking of real ladies, if you know what I mean.” He winked. “You never know, you just might take a liking to Fort Benton.”

Fannie smiled, even as she thought,
I just might. Right about the same time I don trousers and go to work on the levee.

“You going out dressed like that?” Mr. Valley asked the next morning, standing at the far end of the boards forming a rustic porch across the face of his boarding house. He’d been sweeping, and as Fannie and Samuel came out the front door, he set the dustpan down and stood up, broom in hand.

Fannie glanced up at Samuel before she answered. “We’re going to find Mrs. Webb. Didn’t you say she might help us?”

“Yes, ma’am. I believe she’ll be happy to help you and delighted to meet another lady of your quality in this part of the territory.” He paused before adding, “It’s like having a beautiful bird flitting about Fort Benton, seeing the morning sunshine reflect off that fancy outfit. You are going to turn some heads. Folks up this way haven’t seen fashion like that since . . . oh . . . since the after-dark gals paraded through town a few weeks ago.”

After-dark gals? Fannie stared at Mr. Valley. He returned her gaze . . . intently . . . as if there was more to be said, but he wasn’t going to say it. Fannie looked down at the gold plaid traveling suit. What could be wrong with it? Slowly . . . very slowly . . . what he was saying without saying it . . . dawned on her. She glanced up at Samuel, who didn’t seem to have any idea what was going on, and then back at Mr. Valley.

“Thank you. Very much.” She dropped her hand from Samuel’s arm and said, “I believe I’ll try to save this for the trip home. The mud and dust here are going to be really hard on this silk, and without Hannah to help, I don’t know if I’d ever be able to clean a really serious stain.” She glanced Mr. Valley’s way. “I’ve a blue calico I brought from Sioux City. Mrs. Webb won’t be insulted if I don’t wear my best silk, will she?”

“Mrs. Webb is a woman of simple means and tastes,” he said with a gentle smile.

As Fannie retreated to her tiny room and changed into the blue calico, she chuckled aloud. “Well, Hannah, I’ve just had a lesson in putting on airs . . . from a man in a worn-out top hat, if you can believe that.”