While Ryan unloaded the wagon, Tilly chatted with Scotty, not surprised to find that she did like him. She had yet not to like any of the people Ryan had introduced her to so far. When he was done, he looked up at the hillside behind them.
“We have to go up there,” he said, pointing to the faint outline of a trail. “It’s a bit of a scramble, but I think you’ll manage.”
The sun beat down on the back of her neck as she followed Ryan up the steep track. She stumbled and the sound of gravel skittering off the path made him turn to her. Without a word he held out his hand and she took it, surprised at how satisfying a sensation it was to have her hand gripped by his larger one.
“It stinks of rotten eggs.” The steamy, moist air that hung beneath the trees and filtered through the scrub in diaphanous clouds almost choked her.
“That’s the sulphur. Some days it smells worse than others.” Ryan came to a stop and pulled Tilly to his side. “Do you trust me?”
Surprised, Tilly looked up at him. Despite being shaded by the brim of his hat, she clearly saw the slightly anxious expression in his eyes as he awaited her answer. “It never occurred to me not to.”
“Then close your eyes.”
She did and shivered as his hands gently cupped her shoulders and turned her around. The ground beneath her toes dipped away. She had an overwhelming sensation of falling. Was that why he asked if she trusted him? She breathed in deeply, concentrating on the weight of his hands on her shoulders, the closeness of his body behind her. No, he wouldn’t let her fall, but what was he going to do?
“Now open your eyes.” His whisper in her ear sent tingles down her spine, but that wasn’t what brought a gasp of surprise to her lips.
From where they stood she could see from one end of the deep, green valley nestled between the crags, to the other. The hazy bulk of Tunnel Mountain shimmered in the distance and beyond it stretched range after range of mountains for which she did not have names. Narrowing her eyes against the strong sunlight, she squinted across the pool complex below her to the long chain of mountains on the far side of the river. A train, pulling a long line of freight cars, rumbled past and just beyond the railway line the glint of sunshine on glass indicated traffic on the highway.
“Oh, this is spectacular,” Tilly said on a sigh. “No wonder people come from all over the world to see this place.”
Standing beside her Ryan, obviously delighted with her reaction, nodded his agreement. “That’s what William Van Horne intended.”
“You’d better tell me all about him,” Tilly invited but chuckled as she added, “just so you can continue to practice your conversational skills of course. I wouldn’t want you to fail the grade on the subject.”
“Aren’t you the cheeky one?” Ryan laughed and tapped the end of her nose with his forefinger. The intimate little gesture caused heat to rush into Tilly’s cheeks. She blushed even more when she looked up into his eyes and saw the soft expression in them. His smile was gentle as his gaze travelled over the contours of her face. “And even prettier when you blush.”
“Oh, I hate that I do.” Tilly closed her eyes and shook her head. “It makes me feel like I’m twelve years old, not twenty.”
“Thank you,” he said. “Now I don’t have to ask you how old you are.”
For a moment Tilly hesitated. She feared she might be flirting in the way Miss Richards had warned her against but then gazed at Ryan from under her lashes and asked, “What about you?”
“Oh, as old as my tongue and younger than my teeth I reckon.” His eyes danced with merriment as Tilly tightened her lips and puffed out her cheeks, but then he took pity on her frustration. “Fair’s fair, I suppose. I’m twenty-three next Friday.”
She thanked him for that information but then insisted that he continue with his story. Ryan glanced around and spotted a fallen tree-trunk.
“Come and sit down,” he invited, brushing debris off the bark. Once Tilly had made herself comfortable, he took up his narrative. “William Van Horne had a reputation of being a big man with big ideas and was a railway man through and through. He came up from the United States in ’82 to head up the CPR in Canada. By all accounts he wasn’t the easiest character to deal with, but he got things done. He reckoned that if he couldn’t export the scenery from here, he’d import the tourists. It was his idea to build a chain of luxury hotels along the line. He was something of an architect too, and came up with the designs for the hotels.”
“I’ve only heard about the Banff Springs Hotel,” Tilly said. “Where are the others?”
“There’s the Mount Stephen House at Field, the Fraser Canyon Hotel at North Bend, and Glacier House up in the Rogers Pass, all built to attract the wealthiest guests.”
“Well, as interesting as that is, what has all that got to do with the Cave and Basin?” Tilly’s brow wrinkled in thought as she tried to connect the two threads of his story.
“When the railway came through, all these mountains had to be surveyed to determine the best route for the railway. Surveyors carry an awful lot of gear and that’s when the packers started getting real busy. They, and railroad workers, were scouting all through these mountains for years and here’s the exciting part, Tilly,” Ryan took her hand, stood up and guided her towards a steaming hole in the ground. She held on tight to his hand as she peered into the depths. “The Indians had known about these hot springs for centuries, but it wasn’t until ‘83 that three railroad workers found it. Can you imagine coming across this vent and wondering what was down there? Brothers William and Tom McCardell and their friend Frank McCabe certainly did.”
“But how did they get down there?” Tilly wrinkled her nose at the strong smell of sulphur rising from the hole.
“They dropped a tree through the vent then shinnied down it, using it like a ladder. There was enough light for them to see the pool at the bottom and a bit of the cavern around it.”
“So what did they do then?” Tilly finally drew back from the edge, having seen as much as she could in the dim interior.
“Well, although they worked for the CPR, they decided to make some money from their find. They staked off an area around the site, built a log cabin close by to use as the entrance, and started charging folks to come see it, but that didn’t last.”
“Why not?” In spite of herself, Ryan’s enthusiasm for his story intrigued her.
“Ah, well,” Ryan continued, really warming to his subject now. “The claim was in dispute from the get-go. That led to the government getting involved, especially after the McCardell’s and McCabe showed the site to William Pearce, who was the Superintendent of Mines at the time.
“Now, Van Horne had already spoken to Pearce about setting up a national park system. Early in ’85 Pearce talked to Thomas White, the Minister for the Interior, about Van Horne’s idea. Later that year, White called Pearce to Ottawa and on November 25th, 1885 the Federal Government established a ten square mile site as the Banff Hot Springs Reserve.”
“And the town and the hotel grew because of these springs?” Tilly could now see where the story was heading.
“They sure did,” Ryan enthused. “The government went on to extend the original area of the park and White and Pearce then suggested that if the town-site had a sanitarium near the springs, it could be advertised like European spas.” He shrugged, as if the idea was obvious and simple. “It worked. It brought people here in droves. And what’s more, two years later in ’87, the government extended the park again and called it the Rocky Mountains Park, making it the first national park in Canada. It wasn’t known as Banff National Park until a few years ago when the National Parks Act took effect in 1930.”
“All this information is making my head spin.” Tilly put her hands over her ears and grinned at him. “Where do you learn all this stuff?”
“I read a lot and—”
“You ask questions,” Tilly finished for him, laughing.
“Come on.” Ryan didn’t seem at all perturbed
by her teasing. “Are you ready to see the cave now?”
Chapter Eight
Tilly nodded and set out behind him down the steep trail, noting how easily he avoided tree roots or small rocks. It was as if his feet had a mind and eyes of their own, and the rest of his body simply followed their lead. She wished she had his sure-footedness and, as if sensing her faltering steps, he stopped and waited for her.
His smile encouraged her as much as his outstretched hand. He caught and steadied her and, when she recovered her breath and the tremor in her knees had stilled, she thanked him with a smile of her own. The trail was now less steep and she was able to divert her attention from the path to the steaming water coursing downhill beside her.
It chattered and babbled its way over moss-covered rocks and pooled in unexpected hollows beneath fallen trees or slapped up against slate-gray boulders. Ryan didn’t hurry her as she stopped to investigate each mineral-encrusted pool. It intrigued her that so many varieties of mosses and weeds could survive in this alien environment, their finger-like multi-colored fronds waving gently in the constant current.
The trail wound its way down and joined a flight of steps that led to the entrance of the swimming pool area. The attendant on the gate greeted Ryan like an old friend and offered a friendly smile to Tilly as they entered. She stopped to watch the people in the pool, some swimming laps while others simply bobbed lazily around in groups just chatting. Sun-loungers lined the pool-side, many of them occupied by ladies wearing bathing suits, some of which seemed scandalously brief to her.
“Do you swim?” Ryan asked as he noted her interest.
“Not one of my accomplishments, I have to admit. What about you?”
“When you get thrown in a swimming hole, you have no choice,” he said with a chuckle.
“Who would do such a thing?” Tilly stared at him, aghast.
“My brothers.” Her indignation seemed to amuse him. “Josh was ten years old, Danny nine and I was just coming up to my seventh birthday. I guess they thought it was a practical present.”
“But if you couldn’t swim—”
“I learnt real fast. This way.” Ryan entered the bathhouse and Tilly hurried to catch up with him. He stood by the darkened entrance to a tunnel where he stopped to wait for her.
“You’ll need to watch your head a bit going through here.” He slapped the hewn rock and the sound the flat of his hand made rang sharply in her ears. “This was dug out in 1886 to make it easier for visitors to see the cave.”
Tilly followed him into the cavern. The sound of water overflowing from the pool and rushing along the channel beside them drowned out the sound of her footsteps.
Once she was able to stand upright, the sight of the aquamarine-colored pool enchanted her. Sunlight streamed down through the vent high above her, illuminating the centre of the pool and making the clear water shimmer. Wisps of steam rose from its surface, their moist caress settling on her skin as gently as morning dew. For one fanciful moment, she imagined the pool to be breathing and knelt beside it, dipping her hand into the water and watching the resulting ripples radiate outward.
“It’s as warm as a bath,” she said, flicking droplets from her fingers.
“Which is why it’s always been so popular,” Ryan explained.
Tilly continued to gaze into the sparkling water, aware that Ryan waited patiently for her. When she got to her feet, he took her hand again and she made no protest as they walked back out into the sunshine.
“So if that was the cave,” Tilly said, shading her eyes, “and this is the swimming pool and bathhouse, what is the basin?”
“I was saving it for last as we have to go past it to get out.” Turning at the corner of the bathhouse, they came to a naturally formed bowl at the base of the rocks. “This is the original pool. It’s not very deep, but it’s warm and despite the smell supposed to be really relaxing.”
Tilly pulled a face. “I’m not sure that I would want to bathe there and go home smelling of rotten eggs.”
“Me neither.” Ryan suddenly glanced upwards, scanning the still clear blue sky. A few cotton-wool clouds drifted overhead, but Tilly could see nothing to perturb her.
“What’s wrong?”
Ryan grinned at her consternation. “Nothing. Just checking the time. It’s going on four o’clock and I should be getting back to the barn.”
“Oh, yes.” Her years of living on the prairies had taught her the same skill. No need for a timepiece when all one had to do was measure the distance of shadows on the ground and check to see the position of the sun in the sky.
Boston seemed to be reluctant to stir himself from his afternoon doze. He shook his head, rattling his harness, as Ryan took up the reins and pointed him back down the road. Tilly could not believe that the day had passed so quickly, or that she had enjoyed Ryan’s company so much. He was so different to the boys she remembered from back home. But then, she told herself, Ryan was no boy.
He was a strong, confident young man. She slid him a sideways glance. He appeared relaxed and happy, yet there was a maturity and strength in his face that impressed her. The more time she spent with him, the more she liked him.
Late afternoon sunshine streamed through the trees along the side of the road, dappling the surface with bars of light and shadow. Boston, head up and ears pricked now that he sensed he was going home, trotted along without any encouragement from his driver.
“You can drop me off at the bridge,” Tilly said. “I’ll walk from there.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. It’s my day off and you’re supposed to be working. Will you get into trouble?”
Ryan shook his head. “Nope. All my chores at the barn were done before I picked up that delivery from the station. I just need to be there in case anyone is looking for an evening ride.”
He pulled up just before the turn onto the bridge and Tilly jumped down from the wagon. She wanted to see him again but wasn’t quite sure if she should ask him or just wait until he asked her. She didn’t have to wait for long.
“On your next day off,” he called as Boston took charge of their homeward trip, “I’ll take you on a trail ride.”
She waved him goodbye and laughed to herself as she set out along the path back to the hotel. In what she now recognized as Ryan’s own confident way, he had told her what he was going to do.
Would he ever, she wondered, ask her what she wanted?
Chapter Nine
Tilly walked alongside the river, deep in thought. So much had happened to her that had not been of her choosing that she had never considered what she really did want. Now she had the time to think about herself, the effort of it pleated her brow into deep furrows.
Part of her heart yearned for her mother and her father and for the strength that came from their love and support. That strength was what she needed now. They had believed in and loved each other utterly, despite her mother’s occasional grumbling, which was offset by her father’s unruffled demeanor.
She half-smiled as she remembered the numerous times he had winked at her behind her mother’s back. It was never done in a malicious way, more making them allies until her mother’s usual good nature was restored. It never took long, especially if her father nuzzled her mother’s neck, making her giggle and half-heartedly push him away.
If she truly wanted anything, Tilly realized, it was to have that kind of a relationship. Her position at the hotel was for here and now. It was no more than a stop-gap on the way to finding something more suitable and, if the afternoon with Ryan had made only one thing clear to her, it was that she needed to be outside.
Making beds, cleaning bathrooms, following the rigid but necessary housekeeping rules at the hotel, hemmed her in as much as the mountains did. Impressive though they were, she could not shake off the burning ache for the grand sweep of the prairies where she had grown up. In her mind’s eye she saw again the long line of the endless horizon, an uninterrupted seam of land and sk
y.
She remembered a time when the rain had fallen and the sun shone in equal measure, creating the correct combination of heat and moisture to coax the crops out of the ground. There was no better sight, she thought, than that sea of breeze-rippled green, waving stalks, ebbing and flowing as did the tides. As the season progressed, so the green changed from the vibrant freshness of that first growth to the gold of ready-to-harvest grain.
But then everything changed. The sky was no longer blue but a brassy haze in which the sun hung like a burnished copper plate. The wind, when it came, was no longer gentle and cooling but stung like a hornet and bore in its passing every inch of the topsoil on which they depended. One year trailed into two, then three, repeating the droughts of the 1920’s, which she barely remembered, and no one knew when it would end.
Being so deep in thought, she missed her turning to the hotel. Rather than go back, she continued on, drawn by the whisper and hiss of the river as it rushed along between its steep banks. She peeked between the branches, amazed at the speed at which the water raced past her. Contemplating the Bow Falls from the top floor of the hotel was a poor substitute for the reality of being beside it. Tons of water plunged through the hundred-foot gap between steep banks and cascaded down a thirty-foot drop in a froth of churning white water.
She stood at the river’s edge, looking in wonder at all that water. She had never seen so much in her life nor had she imagined the sound of it. When someone touched her on the shoulder, she jumped and whirled about to find herself face to face with Burma Evans.
“You’re the new girl, aren’t you?” Burma wore a red plaid tam o’shanter with a matching scarf wrapped around her throat. She’d pulled her coat collar up to her ears and stuffed her hands into her pockets. She looked thoroughly miserable.
“Not quite so new now, Miss Evans.” Tilly smiled at her a little nervously. Miss Richards had been very firm in her instructions about fraternizing with guests, although this encounter could hardly be deemed her fault. “I understand this is your second visit here?”
Brides of Banff Springs Page 5
