by Vivi Holt
As she ran past the chief’s tent, she saw Ky standing beside it. Her friend held a basket under one arm and anger burned in her eyes. She glared at Sarah and shook her head slowly. “How could you?”
“Ky, I didn’t!”
But Ky turned on her heel and marched away.
Sarah sobbed loudly and held her hands to her face. What had she done? She should never have come.
Angela scanned the goods lining the walls of the general store. Away from the ranch, she wasn’t sure what to do with her days now. Her and Ost’s rooms were so tiny, she had them clean as a whistle by nine in the morning. Then after a morning cup of coffee and a roll, she’d take a walk. After lunch, she’d go for another stroll, then take a nap before starting on supper and the evenings would fill up with conversation and readying themselves for bed. But when Ost was at work, it was boring.
And it was lonely. Ost was so busy with his two jobs that she didn’t see much of him. The better part of each day was spent in silence, with no one to talk to and not even a book to read. She wondered if she should ask him for an allowance so she could buy a few books and perhaps some things to knit or sew with, but she hadn’t worked up the nerve. It was still so strange to be married – in part because she’d just recovered her memory, but mostly because her new state of matrimony still felt like a lark, not the way the rest of her life would be.
She sighed and ran her fingertips around the opening of a barrel of striped candy. Usually she’d enjoy a piece of candy, but in her current condition she could barely stand the sight of it. All she wanted to eat were potatoes with gravy, and bread and butter. And now she had plenty of both – Ost made sure there was an abundance of food in the house. She wanted for nothing … at least not food.
“Are you gonna buy some?” asked a woman who suddenly appeared by her side. She had thick chestnut hair piled high on her head and fitted with a small fashionable hat, a smile full of large white teeth and overflowing bosoms that jiggled as she chuckled.
“Oh … I, uh …”
“I’m just having fun with you,” she laughed, then stuck out her gloved hand. “Joanna Philpott.”
Angela smiled with relief. She’d thought she was about to be reprimanded and she’d never been one to take discipline well. “A pleasure to meet you, Joanna. I’m Angela … Oster.”
“Oh? You mean, as in Hank Oster?”
“That’s right. I’m Hank’s wife.”
Joanna’s eyes widened and she tipped her head to one side. “Is that so? I had no idea he was married. A number of ladies ‘round here will be sorry to hear that.” She eyed Angela’s girth. “How long …?”
They were interrupted by the rapid arrival of a lady in a green sprigged-muslin dress with a parasol in one hand which she was waving around like a wand. Her long brown hair was drawn back from her face in waves and large brown eyes took Angela in with one quick sweeping glance. “Who’s this?” she quipped between gasps.
“This is Angela Oster. Why are you so out of breath?”
“I ran all the way here from Mrs. Sumner’s … Oster?”
Angela knew what the next question would be. “Yes, I’m Hank Oster’s wife. And you are …?” She held out her hand.
The woman shook it slowly. “Patrice Fitzgerald. So glad to meet you, Angela.” Patrice shot Joanna a look. “We don’t get many young ladies around these parts. But I’m sure we’ll be fast friends.”
Joanna added. “Angela was just about to tell me all about how she and Hank were married … and when.” Both women turned to Angela with curious eyes.
“Oh, well …” She didn’t want to lie to these nice ladies, but didn’t feel comfortable telling strangers the truth. “About a year ago. But my sister has been ill, so I stayed with her while Hank went back to Paradise Ranch without me. Now that she’s well, it was time for me to join him. And with the baby on the way, I wanted to be with Hank as I’m sure you can understand.” She laughed, praying they wouldn’t question her story.
“How about that?” Joanna responded with a smile.
Patrice arched an eyebrow. “He’s good at keeping secrets, that husband of yours. He sees my husband Art down at the bank all the time, and I don’t believe he’s ever mentioned his wife. Huh.” She laughed and laced her fingers together in front of her bodice.
“Well, he works over at the brewery with my brother Jacob, and Jacob would’ve told me if … oh, who am I kidding?” Joanna laughed. “Jacob would forget his head if it wasn’t attached to his neck.”
The two women laughed, and Angela let out the breath she was holding to join them.
“But now that you’re here, you’ll just have to join our society!” Joanna lowered her voice and stepped closer as though inviting Angela to enter a conspiracy. “The Bozeman Christian Women’s Temperance Union.”
Angela frowned. “But your brother owns the brewery. And my husband works there.”
Joanna chuckled. “That just makes it all the more fun.”
Patrice nodded. “Indeed. We’ve all got ties to men with vices, that’s true. But as Christian women, it’s our duty to temper those vices. And the longer you live here, the more you’ll discover the vices of our menfolk are many and varied.”
“Well, not so varied,” Joanna argued.
“True.” Both women chuckled.
Angela frowned. “And what does the union do, exactly?”
“We meet every fortnight and discuss ways to make our town a better place,” said Joanna with a smile. “All the ladies in town are there – it’s quite the social gathering.”
Angela’s heart lifted at the thought of a gathering – she didn’t care what the cause might be. The idea of not being alone was too tempting to pass up. “I’d love to join,” she said with a grin.
“Wonderful!” said Patrice, laying a hand on Angela’s arm. “The first meeting is tonight at my place. You can ask Hank to accompany you – he knows where we live.”
12
That night, Angela walked with Ost to the Fitzgeralds’ tidy cottage in the center of Bozeman. She carried a butter cake she’d baked that afternoon. She was quite pleased with the outcome, even adding a little sugar as decoration on top. She remembered Ma doing the same when she was younger back in North Carolina.
“You’ll be all right, then?” he asked as they reached the front door. His hair stood up at odd angles where his hat had been all day long. She wondered what he’d been up to, but hadn’t taken the time to ask. He’d come home only long enough for her to gather her coat and reticule and ask if he’d walk her into town. And all the way there, she’d chatted non-stop about the ladies she’d met and how excited she was to be making friends. He’d listened quietly, with a quick nod or smile to show he’d heard.
Now she felt bad that she hadn’t asked him about his day too. He stood beside her, so handsome and solid, and she felt a rush of affection for him. She wished they could go back to their cozy rooms and talk the way they did when he was home in the evenings. But this was her chance to make friends, and she wasn’t about to pass up that opportunity, no matter how much the dimple in his cheek made her knees quiver.
Patrice answered the door after one knock. She wore a blue gown, trimmed with lace around the neckline, and her hair shone in the glow of the lantern hanging on the porch. “Angela, do come on in – it’s so good to see you again. Oh, is that for me? Thank you ever so much.”
Ost waved goodbye and set off, having promised to return in two hours.
Patrice took the cake and led Angela through the small entryway into a cozy living room filled with ladies. All of them turned to watch Angela enter, and she smiled as warmly as she could while her stomach did flips. What if they all despised her? Or discovered the truth about her? They’d never accept her into their group then.
“Everyone, this is Angela Oster, Hank Oster’s wife.” Patrice’s introduction was met with a roomful of smiles and calls of welcome. Angela’s eyes flooded with tears and she ducked her head to hide them.<
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She soon found herself huddled with Patrice, Joanna and another older woman who introduced herself as Irene Stanton. “I’m so glad to meet Hank’s wife,” said Irene. “Ya know, my dear Ed’s the sheriff and he ain’t one to talk much about marriage and such, but I woulda thought he’d mention you, dear.”
Angela swallowed hard under the intensity of Irene’s gaze. “I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting Sheriff Stanton just yet.”
Irene nodded. “I see. Well, I for one am very glad ya joined us. And looks to me like we’ll be welcomin’ a baby soon too. I do love babies!” Her eyes glimmered and she clapped her hands in front of her ample bosom.
Angela nodded. “Yes, it’ll be a joyful time.”
“Have you told her about our suffrage agenda yet, Patrice?” asked Joanna, her eyebrows arched in excitement.
“I haven’t had a chance,” Patrice replied.
“What’s a suffrage agenda?” Angela glanced between the women.
Irene rolled her eyes. “These two want women to have the vote. As though we don’t have more’n enough to do already, they want us to run the country as well. My generation didn’t see the need, and I still don’t.” She huffed, her nose wrinkling.
“Pshaw!” exclaimed Joanna with a wave of her hand. “We should have a say in who runs our country. Why shouldn’t we? We’re just as capable of electing a president as the menfolk are.”
Irene’s eyes widened. “Y’all be tellin’ me we’re just as intelligent and can hunt as well as any man in the next breath!”
Joanne crossed her arms. “Well …”
Angela giggled behind her hand. She thought Irene might explode. She should intervene. “I’d like to learn more about this – what would I have to do to become part of it?” she asked Joanne.
“Oh, not much at the moment. We just hold meetings.”
“Another excuse for cake,” piped in Patrice with a grin, as she grabbed a plate of cake from the table and took a bite.
Angela smiled and Joanna shook her head. “And we protest to try to help the government see things our way. Women all over the world are rising up. You’ll see – we’ll get the vote, mark my words.”
“It seems you’ve got quite a broad set of goals.” Angela had only known Joanna for a few hours, but already enjoyed the woman’s enthusiasm. “So your group aims to stop men from drinking and get women voting.”
“Precisely. Among other things …”
By the time Ost came to pick her up, Angela had laughed more than she had in months. She felt as though she’d formed lasting friendships with at least a half-dozen women. Her face must have betrayed her joy, because when he saw her he grinned. “You look happy.”
She laughed. “I had a wonderful time.” She fell into step beside him and they headed for home.
“Glad to hear it. You made some friends?”
She nodded. “They were really great. I was so nervous they’d find out about us … you know, that somehow I’d let it slip that we haven’t been married for a year. But no one asked more than a couple of questions about you – they just accepted me as one of them.”
“That’s a relief. Though we should probably go over what you told them, just to get our stories straight.”
She nodded, then walked in silence for a minute before speaking again. “Did I tell you what the group’s about?”
He frowned. “No. I thought you were just having supper together.”
“They’re the Christian Women’s Temperance Union.” She laughed as she saw the look on Ost’s face.
“What?”
“We’re working hard to get the men to stop drinking and the women to start voting.” She laughed again. “Along with healthy eating and the general moral improvement of the county and a few other things.”
He scratched his head. “I don’t know about the temperance thing, seeing as I pay our rent by working at a bar.”
She nodded. “I know. That’s the funniest part, Joanna is Jacob’s sister and she knows you’re my husband.”
“And what’s that about voting?”
“We’re going to get women in Montana Territory the vote. We want to be able to help choose the president and all the other government representatives. I’m really excited about that – I’d never thought much about it before, but if we could get the vote, we could really have a good influence on society. Maybe help change laws that currently hurt women, and keep the peace – as Patrice Fitzgerald said, it’s not women that start wars.”
He cleared his throat. “Well … that sounds like a good thing. What’ll you have to do?”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure yet. I think it’ll mostly be going to rallies and meetings, things like that.” Silence fell again as they each drifted off into their own thoughts.
An owl hooted overhead, and Angela glanced up to see it disappear behind a hemlock. The air was chilly and she shivered and turned up the collar of her coat.
Ost stepped closer and took her hand, warming it quickly. “It won’t be long until the first snow.”
Her heart leaped into her throat at his touch and she smiled. “Oh yes. I know last winter …” She paused. She didn’t want to think about the last winter, at the mercy of Yannick Berger. Better to change the subject. “What were you up to today?”
He frowned and ran a hand through his hair. She noticed he’d combed it since he left her at Patrice’s house. “Made my first arrest.”
Her eyes met his, and it felt electric. “You did? That’s wonderful. Who did you arrest?”
“Mark Jackson. Known member of the Berger gang.”
“Oh.” Her heart dropped. It looked like the subject of Yannick Berger wouldn’t be avoided. Her memories of the outlaw and all he’d done to her overwhelmed her, and she swallowed hard. She wondered which one of his gang was Mark – during her time there, she only remembered hearing nicknames.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to bring it up, but I didn’t want to lie to you …” His voice was full of compassion, and he gently squeezed her hand.
“No, it’s fine. I do want to know, but hearing Berger’s name … it shakes me a little. Please, tell me how it happened.”
“Are you sure you want to hear about it?”
She nodded. “I’m sure. I look forward to when he and his are behind bars, and having one of them in your cell is a big step in that direction.”
Ost cocked his head to one side. “You’re right about that. We’re close, I can feel it.” He proceeded to recount the bank robbery and Mark Jackson’s arrest, and she listened with enthusiasm, though sometimes forced. She was proud of him and what he’d done, but she was afraid as well. He clearly skimmed over the part where he was being shot at, and she could sense how much danger he’d been in.
She took a quiet breath and held it as she listened. If she was going to be a deputy sheriff’s wife, she’d have to get accustomed to hearing about threats to his life – and keeping her fears to herself.
Mark Jackson stared defiantly at Ost, his arms crossed. The bars of the cell separated them, and Ost leaned on the back of the chair he sat backward on. Sheriff Stanton had assigned him the task of questioning the outlaw, but so far things weren’t going very well. “So you’re saying you don’t know Yannick Berger at all?” he asked.
Jackson shook his head and sneered. “Nope. Never heard of ‘im.”
Ost sighed and stood. “You’d do well to cooperate, Jackson. As it stands, there are lawmen in two states and three territories who want to get their hands on you. And I doubt Sheriff Stanton will stand in their way if you won’t help him out. He wants Berger and you know he’ll get him. You might as well save yourself.” He walked away from the cell to the front of the sheriff’s office and slid into the chair behind his desk with a grunt.
He’d had it with Jackson – the criminal was about as clever as a bucket of bricks. He didn’t know what was good for him and he certainly wasn’t going out of his way to help them find Yannick. Maybe it was a waste
of time even trying.
Sheriff Stanton peered at him over his spectacles. The eyewear made him look ridiculous, but he swore he couldn’t read without them anymore. As angry as Ost felt over questioning Jackson, he couldn’t help smiling at the sight of the sheriff, pistols on either side of a worn gun belt, tight faded jeans, checked shirt with sleeves push up his wiry arms, a big scar up one forearm, another down his cheek – and spectacles that looked borrowed from a spinster librarian. “No luck with the prisoner?”
“None so far. I’m heading home for dinner.” He put on his hat, stood and with another sigh headed for the front door.
Stanton nodded at him, pen poised above a sheaf of papers. “That’s fine, I’ll keep watch. See ya later?”
“No, I’ve got a shift tonight at the brewery. But I’ll be back at dawn when the posse gathers. You ready?”
Stanton nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“We’ll get them this time.” Ost frowned. They had to. They wouldn’t be able to ask the townsfolk to gather much more if they came up empty-handed again. Every member of the group had other things they’d rather be doing with their time, and if Stanton and Ost didn’t produce more arrests for them soon, they’d likely start begging off.
“Yep. We’re gonna get them. I’ve had word from several ranchers this week that the gang’s holed up in an abandoned mining hut north of town. We should find them there, or at least can track them from there. We’ll only be gone a couple days, so pack light. I don’t want to come back without the Berger gang this time.”
“Yes, sir.” Finally, Ost thought, Yannick Berger’s going to pay for what he’s done – especially what he did to Angela.
The sun was setting, and as he walked he surveyed Bozeman with contentment. He hadn’t lived there long, but it was already beginning to feel like home. The ranch had been home, and the trail before it, but he’d never thought he’d consider a town in the same way. He knew why he did, though – Angela. She was waiting for him in the musty rooms above the brewery, and it made all the difference.
