The Scrimshaw Set: Books 1 & 2

by Gayle Hayes

  Frances had attended a summer camp for girls every summer until she turned seventeen. Her parents wanted her to learn some practical skills, and they enjoyed having the summer to themselves. Frances learned equestrian arts along with fencing, painting, and basket weaving. She dreamed of being on the stage in New York. She'd read that many of the well-known actresses took fencing classes. She had no qualms about riding a horse into the Bob Marshall to scatter Claude's ashes. She was less enthusiastic about camping. Whether it was her sense of duty or a twinge of guilt, Frances made up her mind to rough it for the week, which was the amount of time required to ride to Claude's favorite spot and back again.

  Carole had told Harold that Frances was returning to Buffalo Jump long enough to deposit Claude's ashes. She did not intend to see anyone except Carole. Harold was not surprised Frances planned to come and go without seeing him. He did not want to force a meeting with her. He was curious about how she might have changed over the intervening ten years, so he watched from his office window as she arrived at the inn, departed with the outfitter, returned again, and then left for the airport with Carole. She was still beautiful in his eyes, and he fought the temptation to talk to her. If Frances hadn't made the choice to avoid him, he might have given in to his curiosity and approached her.

  Now, he regretted letting her leave without a word from him. Perhaps she had wanted to see him, too. He could have contacted her at any time during the last twenty years, but once she was out of sight, he got on with his life and put the idea of Frances out of his mind. Now she was dead, and there would be no other opportunity to heal the rift between them. Faced with the finality of her death, he had the courage to do what he was unable to do when she was alive. What if he had ignored Carole's caution and approached Frances? What if both had learned something? Maybe she would have remained in Buffalo Jump. Possibly, she would not have been crossing the busy intersection in New York City. Perhaps, she would be sitting here with Harold on the swing, her head on his shoulder as they enjoyed the peaceful Sunday morning in Buffalo Jump. That last thought brought him back to reality. Frances would have been "suffocated" by this life he loved. They had enjoyed a brief and intense love affair. It had been nothing more than a sexual attraction.

  Harold reluctantly stopped the swing and went inside to shower. He would go back to the office this Sunday so he could take some time away from it on Monday when Emma would need some company. He wondered how she and Phyllis were getting along. He wondered if Phyllis would tell Emma about his relationship with Frances. He wondered what it was that Frances hoped Emma would learn from Phyllis. He had Frances' answer in a sealed envelope, but it was not to be opened until Emma brought Harold her essay explaining what she learned from Phyllis. Even in death Frances was in control. It reminded him how irritating she could be.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Emma waited until the congregation had dispersed before she got up from the bench on Main Street and walked to the church. The sign showed it was an interdenominational church with Baptist, Methodist, and Catholic services held by traveling ministers and priests. The Baptists held their service that day, and Mass was scheduled for the next Sunday. For a moment, Emma wondered what would happen if all three congregations confused the dates and converged on the church at the same time. Would they decide to put aside their differences and worship together? Perhaps they would defer to the rules on the sign and allow only the scheduled church to stay. She thought that was the most likely outcome. Rules were far too important to those who belonged to a church. Emma had not yet decided whether or not she believed in God. It seemed joining a church was mandatory if one believed in God. Emma did not see herself going to church, although she had hummed along that morning to In the Garden.

  The front doors were still open on the church, and Emma could see several people inside. She did not want to be seen, fearing someone might try to convert her. Feeling a little like a criminal avoiding the police, she moved out of sight of those inside and walked along the path to the cemetery behind the church. She thought it was too bad the location was a cemetery instead of a park. The carpet of grass was surrounded by pine and deciduous trees. The silence was broken by the occasional bird song. She wondered if the residents knew where they were.

  Emma remembered people saying her parents were watching her with pride when she received her law degree. She thought it was unlikely the dead were interested in the living. Would there be rules in the afterlife, too, so dead people could see the living only under certain circumstances? Possibly heaven operated much like Facebook. You might be able to see only those with whom you were friends while you were alive. On the other hand, the best part of Facebook is that one can socialize without worrying about one's appearance. Are the dead only allowed to see us when we're dressed and out in public? If the dead could see the living anytime, it would be too much like having one's Facebook page set to a public privacy level. Emma decided people say things to make others and themselves feel better without really thinking about the practical consequences.

  As she meandered through the cemetery enjoying the fresh air and quiet, Emma noticed a grave marker for Eloise Babineaux Lowe. She was born in 1914, so Emma assumed she was Harold's mother. She looked for more graves, but she did not find another with Lowe on it. She always enjoyed reading a mystery, so Emma's curiosity was aroused by the single grave. She would have to ask Harold about his father and siblings.

  Once the remaining Baptists had left the church, Emma felt safe in going around to the front of the cemetery and following the path to the street. There were more people on Main Street, and about half the businesses were open. Emma wandered in and out of a few shops looking for ideas for gifts to give her hosts. Then she thought they might appreciate something from Colorado more. She would pay attention to favorite colors and styles as well as any collections the three were building. Then she wandered away from Main Street and headed over a bridge spanning the Missouri River.

  Emma had walked to the middle of the bridge when she heard two voices. They seemed to belong to young men who were very angry. She continued in the direction of the shouting and stopped when she saw two boys who were in their late teens and shoving each other on the river bank. The taller boy with red hair turned and started walking away from the confrontation. The shorter boy was darker and pursued the other boy. He put his hand on the boy's arm. The red-haired boy swung around and hit the other boy with his fist. The darker boy was knocked to the ground, but the redhead kept yelling at him to get up. Finally, he turned to leave, and Emma walked toward Main Street. She hoped to avoid being seen by the boy who left the park and also to find someone who would return to the park with her to help the boy on the ground. She noticed the boy with red hair did not cross the bridge but kept walking in the other direction until she lost sight of him. Emma stopped the first vehicle she saw and asked the man inside to drive to the park. He seemed trustworthy, so she got in the vehicle and told him what she had seen. By the time they arrived at the park, the boy on the ground was gone. She thanked the man and told him she wanted to continue her walk. Once the driver had returned over the bridge and was out of sight, she headed back to the inn.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Emma was enjoying her continental breakfast in the lobby of the Buffalo Jump Inn Monday when Harold walked in with a package underneath his arm. The return address was for Marilyn Tucker in New York City. Harold pulled up a chair at Emma's table, set the package down, and then got up again to get coffee. He dumped the contents of a cream packet into the cup and stirred.

  "'Morning, Emma, you're up and at 'em pretty early," Harold said.

  "I'm used to waking up early to get to the office. The walls are thin. It's hard to sleep in." Emma laughed.

  "How're you getting on? Did you have a good time with Phyllis yesterday?" Harold asked.

  "Phyllis had an emergency. She left a photo album at the desk, so I looked through it and took a walk. It was very relaxing. I realized how stressful my life usual
ly is once I had time to do whatever I wanted for as long as I wanted," Emma said.

  Harold moved the package to the empty chair at the table.

  "A friend of Frances in New York sent me something, looks like. You may be interested yourself," Harold said.

  "I'd like her address so I could write to her. I need to find out more about my grandmother's recent life. Sounds like the three of you hadn't seen her in years," Emma said.

  Harold took a business card out of the inside pocket of his suit coat and copied Marilyn Tucker's address from the package. He handed the card to Emma.

  "Thanks. Maybe we can go through the items in the package together one day when you're free," Emma said.

  Phyllis entered the inn, saw Emma and Harold having breakfast, and joined them.

  "Emma, I'm sorry about yesterday. I hope you found something to do," Phyllis said.

  "I looked through the album and went for a walk. It was a relaxing day. I'm sorry about your emergency, though. Is everything all right today?" Emma asked.

  "No, it's a real mess," Phyllis said. Before Harold could ask what happened, Phyllis directed her explanation at him. "You should see the cabin. Somebody trashed it big time! All the windows are broken. They kicked in the door, emptied the refrigerator on the floor, and slashed the furniture for starters. I'm sick about it. I spent yesterday tacking plastic over the windows in case it rained. I've got another day of clean up and an insurance claim to get ready. I can't imagine who'd do something like that," Phyllis said.

  "Can I help you clean up today?" Emma asked.

  "That would be great, but you don't want to spend your vacation cleaning up," Phyllis said.

  "Hey, I'm here to get to know you. I have a feeling this is just what grandmother had in mind," Emma said.

  "I can come by later. I have a doctor appointment this morning," Harold said.

  "Give me a call before you drive all the way out there, Babe. We might have everything under control by then," Phyllis said.

  Harold left for his office. Phyllis looked through the mail in her office while Emma finished breakfast. Then the two women stopped by the grocery at the edge of Buffalo Jump for supplies.

  Phyllis drove for a few miles past green fields. Then Emma's view changed quickly from open prairie to the thick growth of forest at the edge of the road. She noticed signs tacked to trees at intervals: Preserve Our Forest for Our Children! Sunrise NOT welcome!

  "What's Sunrise?" Emma asked.

  "A California developer wants to build a ski hill here. He's named it Sunrise. Not very popular, as you can see."

  "Harold mentioned it. Wouldn't a ski hill bring more jobs and tourist revenues?" Emma asked.

  "People are afraid what few jobs there are will be minimum wage. If it brings in enough tourists to help the economy, the tourists will disrupt the solitude people enjoy. Not to mention creating traffic congestion and loss of open space. The developer envisions 200 homes with access to the ski area via a sky tram. The builders like the idea. The families who depend on construction income like the idea. Others are worried about pollution, noise, rising crime, and higher taxes. The proposal has really brought out the worst in the community. People are squarely on one side or the other."

  "You already have some vandalism. Is that something new?" Emma asked.

  "What happened to me seems to be new. There have been a few cases of people losing gnomes from their yards, having cars spray painted, and so forth, but I haven't heard about anything as serious as my place. I filed a complaint this morning, so the sheriff will start investigating," Phyllis said.

  "Do you think this has anything to do with your position on Sunrise?" Emma asked.

  "I don't think anyone is surprised I'm in favor of it since I have the inn, but I'd need to expand or build a new facility if Sunrise was popular. Trouble is the tourists would be seasonal. The homeowners in the development wouldn't put guests up at the inn. The least expensive home would be worth half a million. The restaurants, gas stations, and shops would benefit most. It didn't occur to me there might be a connection between the vandals and Sunrise. There was no graffiti or threats along those lines. I've wracked my brain thinking of anyone who dislikes me enough to do this," Phyllis said.

  Phyllis had pulled off the main highway and turned onto a narrow gravel road through the pines. She made a sharp right at a mailbox with Carle on it.

  "Well, I'll be damned," Phyllis said.

  Phyllis passed six cars and trucks on her way to the garage and waved at neighbors who packed garbage bags and were picking up debris in the yard. Phyllis shook hands and hugged several people, thanking them for their help. When she and Emma got to the house, a few women were setting up a buffet in the center of the cabin's great room. Trays of lunch meat and cheese shared a folding table with condiments, homemade pickles, olives, vegetable trays, bowls of chips and dip, several salads and sliced homemade bread. A four-layer chocolate cake, cookies, and a peach pie were on the counter near the coffee urn.

  Emma was introduced so many times that she stopped trying to remember names. Eventually, she took a large paper plate and sampled a little of everything. Then she sat in a corner of the room observing everyone else. All of those present appeared to be retired. She counted nine women and seven men and tried to guess which men belonged with which women. For the most part, the hair on the men had turned white. Most of the women were still blondes or brunettes. The women tried to conceal their extra weight with shirts worn open over knit tops. The men seemed more resigned to the aging process and let their bellies protrude over a belt. It seemed everyone was talking at once or laughing. Even Phyllis seemed more relaxed and was enjoying the crowd. Emma finished her lunch and headed outside to look around.

  While getting to know the area on Sunday, Emma studied a physical map of Montana displayed in the lobby of the Buffalo Jump Inn. She knew she was looking across the valley toward the Rocky Mountain Front. It is so named because about a hundred miles of mountains, some almost a mile high, form a rocky vanguard where they meet the prairie. The Front is the object of contention between those who want recreationists to have more or less access to it.

  Dark clouds hovered in the distance, but rain advanced across the landscape and became a moisture-laden broom sweeping from one side of the valley to the other. Emma could see the Missouri River snaking along the interstate highway and the city of Great Falls sprawling beside it. Emma grew up in urban areas. The sight of such a large area uninterrupted by skyscrapers, condos, apartment complexes, and strip malls was breathtaking. She felt insignificant compared to the vast, uninhabited area before her.

  Phyllis' cabin was not rustic at all and more what Emma would have described as a small house. The siding was stained gray, and the metal roof was a brick red. The deck was gray cedar like the house and wrapped around three sides. Seed and nectar feeders hung every few feet and all of them were busy with chickadees, woodpeckers, nuthatches, and hummingbirds.

  Two of the men at the party were busy nailing plywood over the window openings while two others removed broken glass in preparation for the plywood. One of the younger-looking men was patching the hole in the door. Two women lifted garbage bags into the bed of a pickup truck. A few men leaned against the deck railing or sat on the steps discussing the stock market and politics. Once the plywood was in place and the food had been saved to small containers, the couples piled into their cars and pickups, waving to Phyllis as they drove out of the yard and toward the gravel road.

  Phyllis sat down on the step next to Emma.

  "What a surprise!" Phyllis said.

  "You have an amazing bunch of friends," Emma said.

  "They cleaned up the whole mess. You should've seen this yard yesterday. And the windows are good now until the glass is ready. I still have enough food for a regiment."

  Phyllis answered her cell phone and brought Babe up to date on the cabin and surprise luncheon. They decided he would bring Carole to the cabin for a potluck dinner. Then Phylli
s went inside and began typing an insurance claim on her laptop while Emma tried out the hammock. She could see clouds through the pine trees and was reminded of summers as a child when she had nothing better to do than look for the faces of animals and people masquerading as clouds.

  Deputy Eric Knudsen pulled into the parking area in front of Phyllis Carle's cabin. Emma woke up with the chatter over the deputy's radio. She raised her head slightly to watch him walk up the stairs and knock on Phyllis' door.

  The deputy was near Emma's age, tall, and what she would describe as "hunky" to her friends. After the deputy had gone inside, Emma got out of the hammock and checked her appearance in the window of his vehicle. She didn't like what she saw and would have preferred to return to the hammock and pretend to be napping. She could not deny the need to use the bathroom, so she swallowed her pride and entered the cabin.

  Fortunately, the deputy's back was facing her, so she thought she could slip into the bathroom unnoticed. Phyllis saw Emma come in and was about to introduce her to the deputy when Emma signaled her. Phyllis got the message and kept the deputy engaged in conversation while Emma picked up her handbag and took it with her into the bathroom. She washed her face, combed her hair, and applied mascara and lip gloss.

  Phyllis introduced her to the deputy. He stood up and shook her hand.

  "I called the Sorensens and told them to keep the garbage they picked up. The deputy wants to look through it for evidence. I guess we complicated things with that impromptu party," Phyllis said.

  Emma heard Phyllis talking, but she did not hear what she said. Deputy Knudsen had been typing on his laptop. Emma noticed he was not wearing a wedding band. She liked his slender fingers and smooth hands. She wondered if he spent most of his time typing instead of punching people. He stopped typing and looked in her direction. Her eyes met his. A barely perceptible smile drew the right corner of his mouth upward. She was sure he had read her mind and felt herself blushing. Then he winked at her.