Chapter 1: Room & Board

As they read the unexpected telegram, Molly clapped her hands, “Our first adventure!” She was the oldest of the three lively Gilmore Girls.

My mother, Riley, looked at me speculatively.

Emma, the youngest, said, “I wonder if he’s cute?”

A lone eagle seemed to soar above the train every time we got off to stretch our legs and see the sights. Of course it wasn’t possible, but it looked to me like the same eagle at each Montana stop on the transcontinental railway system. However, the West was full of the majestic birds, so there wasn’t really any mystery to it.

We pulled out of Billings on a snowy Sunday morning and I wondered where we’d be in a week — on Christmas day. And not knowing gave me the same little jolt of pleasure that I’d felt when I left Indianapolis to head out west for the first time.

I’d been by myself back then. This time, there were seven of us. Cayuse Valdez and me. Plus five women — The Gilmore Girls and the Robinsons, Rebecca and Rose of Sharon. On our way to San Francisco. But as eager as we all were to get there and see the Pacific Ocean and everything else, there was no urgency to our journey. We’d take our time, see what there was to see along the way.

Molly and Riles were taking turns teaching Cayuse and Rosie how to read. They limited the lessons to about an hour a day, keeping everything fresh. My mother had taught me to read before I’d gone to my first day of school. I wondered if it were easier or more difficult for grownups to learn.

Although Rosie was only 14, sort of in-between. She and her mother, Rebecca, looked more like sisters these days.

I had enjoyed my year in Little River — guarding saloons and whorehouse ladies at first; then as town sheriff. But the same yearning that had pulled me west from home in the first place ... well, now we were all heading for California.

Riles explained the plan, “No hurry, we’ll get there when we get there.”

Molly said, “When we see something interesting, we’ll hop off and explore.”

Emma, perhaps the boldest of the three, “Or someone interesting.”

Our group created a bit of a stir among the other passengers. The Gilmore Girls — so vibrant, so striking, so spirited. They were tall and slender, with vivid blue eyes. Dark hair in long curls. An easy, confident way about them.

Rebecca and Rosie Robinson were sort of plain looking until they smiled. And they smiled a lot now that they were free of the constant worry that the homesteading life had imposed on them.

Cayuse Valdez — Kiowa mother, Mexican father — was dark-skinned and strikingly handsome with coffee-colored eyes. But I think it was mostly his air of quiet competence that drew attention.

As for me, well, I was usually the largest person in the room. And I certainly was on this train.

All in all, our trip had a sort of festive air to it. The Gilmore Girls had sold our Indianapolis furniture store when their father, Clive, died. And they rented out our family home as well. Molly said, “We’re unburdened.

Riles, “But not unmoored.”

Emma, “Maybe a little unmoored.”

Rosie and Cayuse were definitely a couple now. A few days before we set out on our trip, they’d moved in together at the Bighorn Hotel back in Little River. I wondered if Rosie was still having nightmares. Maybe sleeping with her rescuer from an earlier kidnapping ordeal helped some.

Rebecca and I? Also a couple, one the Gilmore Girls had plans for. Plans that involved a church ceremony and babies. We’ll see.

Our horses, Cayuse’s and mine, were riding in the freight car behind us. We let Sugar and Scarface out at every stop; even if it was just for a few minutes. They’d gotten to know each other over the past several months and had always gotten along. Both were pretty mild mannered, but more than ready to race full tilt when we let them. Sugar and Scarface had an easy trot and a hard lope. Hard on the rider, I mean. And, when a full gallop was the gait that was called for ... well, they seemed to enjoy that the most.

The other passengers were a mixed lot. Some drummers on their regular sales routes. A couple of bankers. A group of four prospectors in search of gold and silver further west. Three ranching families with small children on their way back home after visiting relatives.

I knew about these people because the Gilmore Girls simply walked right up to everyone and introduced themselves. After a few minutes there was usually a burst of friendly laughter from the new acquaintances.

Many of the men, even the bankers, had at least one pistol with them. Cayuse wore his Smith and Wesson Model 3 on his concho-studded belt. Along with his ever-present Bowie knife. And I pretty much never went anywhere without my scattergun. An 8-gauge from Parker Brothers. The sight of it seemed to have a calming effect on anyone who encountered it.

Well, Marco Cravens hadn’t backed down, and I’d had to kill him on Washington Street, back in Little River. I guess that was sort of a final calmness for him.

There was an hour layover in Bozeman so the crew could add coal and water to the train. Emma was discussing lunch with the conductor, John Letterman. He said, “Doc’s has the best stew in the Territory.”

Emma, flirting, “What kind of stew, Johnie?”

“Whatever’s fresh — elk, deer, squirrel, rabbit. Buffalo sometimes.”

“No skunks?”

“Could be. Rattlesnake too, depending on what’s handy.”

One of the drummers nudged his buddy, “Won’t catch me eating snake, no siree bob.” He had one eyelid that wouldn’t behave. It would droop down every once in a while like a flag at half-mast.

His companion nodded in agreement.

Droopy said, “Only a fool would recommend a stew like that.”

Molly and Riles exchanged a glance. Neither one appreciated rudeness. But Emma especially resented it.

She turned to the two salesmen, “Why you two girls must have been raised on satin pillows. Don’t you know that snake is tastier than chicken? It gives you immunity from venom too.”

Droopy’s eyelid started going up and down like a bucking bronco in a corral.

Emma went on to extol the virtues of snake meat, making it up as she went along. But she sounded so casually certain; as if she were describing facts that any grownup should have known. I knew that she didn’t give a possum’s puff whether those drummers believed her. They’d been impolite to our conductor and that was that.

John Letterman stared at her in awe.

We all hopped off to see some of Bozeman and grab some lunch. Cayuse and I led our horses down the ramp to let them stretch out and get some water and a little exercise. They didn’t seem to mind the snow. Cayuse and I each wore canvas dusters — Rebecca had made mine and Rosie sewed his up right nice.

“FLINT MURDOCK! FLINT MURDOCK!”

Cayuse and I looked at each other; neither of us knew anyone in town.

A tall skinny man, around thirty or so, came hustling out of the depot waving a telegram at me. “Flint Murdock?”

“That’s right.”

He thrust the paper toward me, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, “Here. Glad I caught you. Sounds important.”

Breaking the telegrapher’s code — talking about contents.

Cayuse and I walked Sugar and Scarface around the back of the train to a corral before I opened the telegram and read it aloud, “Murdock. Meet me in Helena. Marshal George Autry.”

Cayuse said, “Autry.”

“And Helena, capital of the Territory.”

Neither of us needed to say it. We hoped whatever business it was wouldn’t involve politics. Although with Autry...

Cayuse and I walked through the snow to meet the ladies for lunch at that place called Doc’s. The five of them were already eating, laughing and teasing each other. A waitress brought big, steaming bowls for Cayuse and me. Tasty, with just-baked crusty bread for dipping, and reasonably fresh coffee.

I handed the telegram to Riles and she read it aloud. Probably for Rosie’s benefit — to save any embarrassment in case she would have had any trouble making it out by herself.

“Murdock. Meet me in Helena. Marshal George Autry.”

Molly clapped her hands, “Our first adventure!”

My mother looked at me speculatively.

Emma said, “I wonder if he’s cute? This Marshal George Autry?”

My mother and Molly exchanged a glance — typical Emma.

Rebecca said, “What do you suppose he wants, Flint?”

“No idea, but we’ll find out tonight, it’s only a hundred more miles or so.”

Rosie reached for Cayuse’s hand.

Emma ordered another stew, “For Johnie.” She smiled at the waitress, “He’ll return the bowl on the way back.”

She smiled back, “I think we can trust Mr. Letterman.”

As we left to head back to the depot, Riles nudged me and pointed to a sign posted outside of Doc’s, “Sound familiar?”

I read it aloud, “City Ordinance Number 18.” I winked at Cayuse, “It’s a misdemeanor to ‘draw or exhibit any gun, pistol, dirk, dirk-knife, sword or sword-cane, or other deadly weapon, in a rude, angry or threatening manner, not in necessary self-defense.’”

Emma, “What if I did?”

“A hundred dollar fine plus 30 days to three months in jail.”

“Let’s get going, I don’t want Johnie’s stew to get cold. He might try to dirk me.”

Back on the train, Molly took out her diary and wrote for a while. Probably about our stopover in Bozeman. And probably about the telegram from Autry. She’d written in her diary every day for years and years. A different book for each year. This one was green and just about completed; only a few more days until the end of the year. Would probably make some interesting reading; Molly didn’t sugarcoat life.

As the train chugged north, I thought about Autry. A good man, basically. Fair; he’d treated Cayuse and me with respect. Overlooked the fact that Cayuse was a breed. Autry was almost certainly romantically involved with Mrs. Chambers back in Little River. But that was his business. And hers.

The complication, well potential complication, was that Autry was politically ambitious. And, apparently well connected, all the way up the line. These days, most of the Territory politicians had their eyes on statehood. No longer much question that it was on its way.

Well, no sense in speculating; we’d learn what was what in a little while.

As the conductor unloaded our luggage at the Helena station, Emma gave John Letterman a flirty hug. He looked a little dazed; the Gilmore Girls can have that effect on a man.

Marshal George Autry was waiting for us on the platform, his Stetson doing a pretty good job of keeping the snow off his head. I introduced him to the Gilmore Girls and he doffed his hat and made a courtly bow. As always, he was dressed neatly with built-up boots adding a little height.

“I took the liberty of booking you into the Lenoir Hotel, top floor. It’s in the Steamboat Block, brand new.”

I didn’t state the obvious — we were on our way to California. Autry knew that. So something pretty serious was on his mind. Then he surprised me by saying, “I’d like to speak with all of you, once you’re settled in.”

He looked at the Gilmore Girls, at Rebecca and Rosie, “If Flint agrees to help out, you’ll all be inconvenienced. And, I hope, involved.”

I said, “If Cayuse agrees too.”

“Of course, of course.”

“He stays in the hotel as well.”

“Of course, of course.”

The Steamboat Block turned out to be a single building that took up an entire block. A magnificent structure at the intersection of Main Street and Neill Avenue. Three stories tall with huge arched windows on the second and third floors. The front corner of the building was shaped like a ship’s prow. A big ship.

Molly said, “Oh my.”

Autry was visibly proud, “A shipping tycoon, Thomas C. Power, had it built for his Montana headquarters. Opened just a few months ago. Top two floors are the Lenoir Hotel.”

It didn’t take long to get settled; the hotel staff was expecting us. I took a moment to rearrange the room assignments — one each for the Gilmore Girls, one for Cayuse and Rosie, one for me and Rebecca. All five rooms were in a row and looked out on Main Street.

Autry introduced us to a young teenage boy, “This is Barney Feiffer. He’ll see to all your needs in the hotel.”

Barney took three trips to get all of the luggage, including Rile’s steamer trunk, up to our newly assigned rooms. He reminded me in a way of Hotel Timmy back at the Bighorn. Pleasant and eager to please.

Emma said, “Thank you, Barnyard. I’ll let you know what else I’ll be needing.”

She winked at him and the boy turned bright pink. I smiled to myself; he’d be helpless around Emma, no surprise there.

Autry waited while we got unpacked; it seemed the ladies had just finished packing for the first time. Oh well.

The marshal led us down a flight of wide, curving stairs to the second floor. “This is a private meeting room; we won’t be disturbed.”

A girl, a waitress I guess, bustled in with a pitcher of water and glasses. Autry offered cigars to Cayuse and me; we declined. Emma took one and rested her palm on the back of Autry’s hand as he lit it for her. She was about his height and smiled her thanks.

After we were seated, Autry cleared his throat and groomed that thick gunfighter mustache for a few moments. He looked each of us in the eye and said, “This comes from the top. This conversation is confidential.”

I said, “The top?”

Autry sat up straighter, “Governor Leslie. Governor Preston Hopkins Leslie.”

I looked around the room. Rebecca and Rosie had their mouths open, looking more like sisters than ever. The Gilmore Girls were interested, but not impressed by titles. They never had been. Cayuse didn’t show any reaction; difficult to tell what he was thinking.

Marshal Autry spoke solemnly — we could tell the conversation was important to him.

“A little history first. They discovered gold here on July 14th, 1864. Four placer miners, down on their luck, becoming desperate, found gold in a dinky little creek where downtown is now. They named the creek the Last Chance Gulch and that’s where Helena began.”

Riles, always curious, said, “Who were they?” She liked history and geography, but mostly wanted to know about the people involved.

“Four men, from all over the map. They’re known as the Four Georgians.” Autry smiled at her, “Only one was actually from Georgia, but the legend still lives on. And that day back in 1864 became the day Helena was born.”

I was curious too, “Are people still mining gold here?”

Autry nodded, “Some. Gold and silver. Hardrock mining replaced placer mining.”

Molly said, “Placer mining?”

“Basically pan-sifting through gravel to separate out pieces of gold. Hardrock mining ... well, the lodes inside a mine can be very rewarding.”

“Oh.”

“Today there are two massive claims here — the Alhambra and Gold Hill.”

He puffed out cigar smoke and studied the smoke rings. “The upshot is that Helena is one of the wealthiest cities in the entire country.”

Emma made a little humming sound. That was interesting to her. Me too.

“But more important even than all that money is Helena’s position in the state. Well the territory for now, but statehood is coming. Next year or the year after. And Helena will continue to be the capital. Despite all the noise that Anaconda is making.”

He nodded to himself like he had been having a long-running argument with the city of Anaconda, “The Great Northern chose Helena and that sealed the deal. We’ve had the line since 1883.”

Emma blew smoke rings of her own. As a boy back in Indianapolis, I’d never seen her smoke. Of course I probably never saw a lot of things the Gilmore Girls got up to. But somehow I wasn’t surprised that her rings were tighter, better rounded, than Autry’s.

Then he dropped the bombshell, “Someone is killing whores here in town. My hometown.”

That answered my question about where we’d be on Christmas.

Autry said, “Two people know about this. Know about you helping out, Flint.” He glanced at Cayuse, ‘I mean, you and Cayuse.”

Then he looked at the Gilmore Girls, at Rebecca and Rosie, “And you ladies too, if you’re willing.”

I said, “Who?” Who had he talked with?

“Governor Leslie of course. This couldn’t come at a worse time. Negotiations have been getting a little delicate between here and Washington D. C.”

Emma said, “Not very convenient for the dead girls either.” The other ladies nodded in agreement.

Autry blushed a little, “I apologize, Miss Emma. I didn’t mean to sound callous. Of course that’s the first concern. The safety of the good citizens of Helena.”

He didn’t say, and maybe didn’t think, ‘Even if they’re just whores’.

Emma puffed out another series of smoke rings, “Yes, do try to watch your step, Georgie.”

I said, “Who else did you talk with?”

“Mrs. Chambers. It was her idea to involve the Robinsons and the Gilmore Girls.”

Owner of the Bighorn Hotel in Little River. The madam for the classiest sporting ladies in town.

Rosie scooted her chair a little closer to Cayuse. The news about the whores had stirred up some unpleasant memories, scary memories, for her.

I looked at Autry, “I know the sheriff has to be looking into the killings.”

He sat up a little straighter. His good posture reminded me of Mrs. Chambers. Autry said, “I’m overseeing the investigation now. Quietly. The governor doesn’t want to declare martial law.”

Negative publicity.

“I’ll deputize you and Cayuse. You’ll be officially authorized to talk to anyone you want. And I’ll spread the word that everyone is to cooperate with you.”

“Okay.” Made sense. It also meant that if there was any gunplay, the two of us would be on the right side of the law. Although I definitely preferred other solutions, non-lethal solutions.

Autry smiled, “And the two of you won’t have to wear uniforms either. Like you didn’t wear the ones I sent to Little River.”

Hmm. He really was selling us.

“We have a new City Hall, opened just recent. That’s where the City Marshal’s office is, and the jail. Police court, city council and the fire department. You and Cayuse can have an office there or work out of the hotel.”

“If we stay.”

“If you stay. Pay is $5 a day, seven days a week. Plus room and board for all seven of you. You can split the salary however you like.”

“Half and half.”

Rebecca and Rosie nodded; that was fair.