by Verna Clay
Across from her, Cookie laughed. "Yeah. And we give thanks to the mama who was hangin' her laundry out to dry. Soon's she turned her back, Joy was snatchin' us some new duds." She stood and preened. "Ya like mine, too?"
The morning gathering of homeless people was fewer than the night before and they all appeared to have hangovers. They paid little attention to Cookie's explanation, preferring to concentrate on their breakfast beverages of coffee, soup, and whiskey.
Crusty emerged from the trees and approached the fire, warming his hands. The frosty air painted his breath in a cloud when he said, "Well, my friends, as Shakespeare once wrote, 'Parting is such sweet sorrow.' But the day is maturing and my ladies and I must bid you adieu."
The transient next to Joy said, "We're gonna miss you, Crusty. Too bad we're goin' in opposite directions. And why are you headed north when the warm weather is south?"
Crusty replied, "I haven't been to northern Montana in ten years. I guess I just want to see it once more before I die."
Another old man piped up, "Hell, Crusty, if'n you do die, you'll just go to that place in heaven reserved for the likes o' people like us."
Across from Joy a woman snorted, "Frank, that place ain't in heaven; it's in hell."
Everyone laughed and Frank reached for the coffee pot. "Yeah, guess you're right 'cause this coffee tastes like it come straight from the pits o' hell."
That brought another round of laughter and snide remarks. Crusty motioned for Joy and Cookie to join him and they bid goodbye to their hobo hosts to followed the train tracks back to town.
After reaching the depot, their train was already boarding. Thankfully, standard class wasn't as crowded as before, and Crusty was able to stretch out on three seats across the aisle from Joy and Cookie.
Joy sat beside the window watching the passing terrain. Montana, here I come.
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Aliza
Their arrival in Whitefish was in the early hours before daylight, and Crusty said, "Ladies, follow me. I once had a friend in this picturesque town that I visited often. Let's see if she's still around." Joy and Cookie followed him for several blocks without question, until Cookie said, "No way, Crusty. You ain't gittin' me in no whore house."
Joy had been so tired she'd paid little attention to her surroundings. Now she became instantly alert. Looming over them was a huge Victorian home. Joy saw no reason to believe it was a bordello, and whispered to Cookie when Crusty stepped up the porch steps, "How do you know it’s a bordello?"
Cookie said, "'Cause I been on the road long enough to know these things, and for another, it's on the side of town where that stuff goes on. We passed the saloon a half block back."
Crusty turned to face them on a porch dimly lit by electrical lamps on either side of the ornately carved front door. "Ladies, I would never bring you into a situation we could not extricate ourselves from. If you prefer sleeping alongside the train tracks, that's your prerogative, but as for myself, I want a soft bed after a soak in a tub."
At the word "tub" Joy moved forward.
Grumbling, Cookie followed. "I ain't fightin' off no lecherous cowboys if'n you git into trouble, Joyrider."
Crusty rang the bell several times before an inside light flicked on. The door was opened by an aged, heavyset woman wearing a white nightcap and blue terrycloth robe. She said in a stern voice, "We ain't open for business until six this evening and no amount of begging or money will change that."
"Hello, Ida May," said Crusty.
She paused in the midst of closing the door and leaned forward, "Crust? Is that you?"
"Yes, my beauty, it is I?"
Joy was shocked when the lady burst into tears and pulled Crusty into a hug. Then she stepped back and said, "You aught to be tar-and-feathered, leaving like you did. I hope you finally got the run out of you. For ten years, Miz Aliza's been talking about how she's gonna torture you if you ever returned, and she's very creative."
A voice behind the elderly woman said, "Ida May, I'll take over."
Ida May stepped back from Crusty, swiped her tears, gave him a look that said, "You're on your own," and moved into the shadows.
Joy glanced at Cookie, and Cookie glanced at Joy before returning their attention to the unfolding scene. A woman of about Crusty's age stepped into the lamplight and Joy decided she was just about the prettiest lady she'd ever seen, even at an advanced age. She and Crusty just stared at each other.
Finally, Crusty said, "Hello, my darling Aliza."
Tears formed in Aliza's eyes, and she said, "After I finish kissing you, I'm going to start torturing you."
Joy looked at Crusty and saw a softness enter his eyes. He said, "Let the kissing begin."
The woman named Aliza darted forward, wrapped her arms around Crusty, and kissed him passionately. Crusty returned her embrace and the fervor of her kiss.
Cookie poked Joy in the arm to get her attention and then rolled her eyes.
Joy thought the kiss would never end, but finally both parties came up for air. Crusty said in a raspy voice. "Aliza, my love, do you think you could house my lovely companions for a few days? We've been traveling the rails and sleeping in the worst places imaginable. My friends are exhausted and would appreciate baths."
Joy held her breath waiting for the woman's response.
Before Aliza could answer, Cookie said, "I ain't joinin' yer ladies. I ain't that kind o' girl and neither is Joy. So's if you think yer gonna change our minds, yer–"
Aliza lifted a finger to silence Cookie. She said, "You have nothing to worry about. We don't have any positions available, anyway. However, because you're friends of Crusty, you may stay with us. My housekeeper will show you to your accommodation. There's a water closet with a bathtub next to the bedroom you'll be sharing. Please follow Ida May." After speaking, she returned her attention to Crusty, slipped her hand through his arm and said in a husky voice, "You're coming with me."
Crusty grinned at Joy and Cookie, nodded his head in a polite gesture, and allowed the lovely lady to lead him into the house.
Voices in the hallway outside her room woke Joy and she stretched, bumping her hand against Cookie. The other woman said, "Please say we're in heaven and we never hafta go back to sleepin' next to the train tracks. Soakin' in that tub last night was better'n eatin' a whole apple pie."
Joy sighed. "I know. I fell asleep in the water until it got too cold. It's a good thing you went first."
Cookie replied, "Joyrider, if'n I ain't said it before, I'm sayin' it now, I like workin' fer ya."
More voices distracted Joy, and she said, "I suppose we can't stay in bed and sleep all day. It would be terribly rude. We need to thank our hostess for her generosity."
"Yeah, well, you better watch yerself so's ya don't end up bein' one o' her whores."
Joy gasped. "Cookie, how can you speak so profanely?"
Cookie rolled over and sat on the side of the bed, glanced back at Joy, and shrugged. She winked. "I bet ol' Crusty'll have a grin on his face today. I got the feelin' Aliza is his long lost lady love."
Joy said, "Maybe he'll stay and they'll live happily-ever-after."
Cookie rolled her eyes and snorted a laugh. She stood and stretched. "So, what are we doin' today, boss?"
Joy pushed up on her elbows into a half sitting position. "We continue on the railroad to Glacier National Park and then hire a guide to lead us to Thunderbird Mountain."
"Are you ever gonna tell me why you're so dead set on goin' to that place you been talkin' 'bout?"
Joy puffed a breath. "My father doesn't talk much about it, but he was married to a Blackfoot Indian and they had two children. He met her while he was painting in a meadow below the mountain. One day, she insisted he return to his family because she had a premonition his mother was dying. He didn't want to leave, but he wanted to see his mother one last time. His mother was indeed on her deathbed and he stayed until she passed on. On his return to his wife and children, he learned that there had
been a massacre of their tribe by rogue soldiers."
Cookie gasped and covered her mouth.
Joy said sadly, "It just about killed my father. He said the only thing that kept him from killing himself to join them was painting. He became crazed with it. He said he painted every day from dawn until dusk." Joy puffed another breath. "And, well, those paintings are sort of famous now. Some are in museums."
Cookie's eyes widened. "Really? He must be good."
"Oh, he is. And so is my mother. But back to my father's story. He eventually moved to New York with his dead wife's cousin, Soaring Eagle, and they started an art academy. It became very successful. My mother attended the academy and that's were she met my father."
Tears suddenly clouded Joy's eyes. "Several years before my mother and father met, though, my father saved a little girl from being struck by a runaway carriage, but his painting arm was mangled and had to be amputated."
Cookie gasped again. "Oh, yer poor daddy."
Joy met Cookie's gaze. "But there's a happy ending. My father became a left-handed painter and although he is unable to paint with the same detail as before, he is a master at muting colors and creates mystical works that are very much in demand. He also fell in love with my mother and even though they didn't see each other for a few years, they finally reunited and married. You see, I was born out of wedlock."
Cookie shrugged. "So was I. So I guess we have at least one thing in common. But all that don't explain why you're so dead set on goin' to this mountain."
Joy crawled out of bed and walked to the window. She said with her back to Cookie. "I don't know if I can explain it, but I've had a consuming desire to find my father's meadow since I was young. And after I left Walker…" She hadn't meant to reveal anything about Walker and clamped her mouth shut.
Cookie waited a second, and then said, exasperated, "Are you gonna tell me about Walker? Please don't leave me hangin' now."
"All I'm going to say is that Walker was my fiancé and it didn't work out."
"Okay. I won't be nosy, but I will say that if Walker caused you to leave, he's a stupid man."
Joy brushed tears from her eyes and didn't respond. Instead, she said, "Let's go find Crusty and his lady love to say goodbye."
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Walker Meets Ryder
Walker stepped off the train in West Glacier, a small community near the entrance to Glacier National Park and searched the depot landing. His eyes alighted on a middle-aged man who was missing an arm and he knew he was looking at Joy's father. The man's serious expression did not soften when Walker lifted a hand in greeting. The gentleman nodded his head in acknowledgment. Walker approached him. "Mr. Ryder, sir, I'm Walker Flemming. It's a pleasure making your acquaintance."
"Dr. Flemming, please call me Ryder and I'll call you Walker. Under the circumstances, I don't think formality is necessary." He stretched his one arm out to shake Walker's hand.
Walker immediately liked Ryder, although Ryder's opinion of him was not discernable in the older man's eyes. He knew Joy's father had every reason to dislike him, and once again, he berated himself for not being sensitive to Joy and sending his aunt away sooner. However, recriminations would not solve their problem—finding Joy.
Ryder said, "I'm lodging at the Belton Chalet and I've taken the liberty of asking them to hold a room for you."
"Thank you, sir. That is most appreciated."
"Do you have baggage to claim?"
"No, sir. Everything is in this valise."
"I hope you brought clothing for roughing it."
"I did, just as you instructed."
"Good."
Walker stopped beside a Model T. "I've rented this automobile. Driving my own would have taken too long. I traveled here on the rails just as you did." He motioned for Walker to climb inside the car.
Ryder started the vehicle with the hand crank, jumped in the driver's side, and sped away from the depot. After navigating around a slow moving buckboard pulled by two swayback horses, he said, "I'll take you to the hotel to get settled in and then we need to talk. There's a nice dining room across from the hotel with private seating. We'll order supper and discuss this strange turn of events."
"Yes, sir."
An hour later Walker and Ryder had placed their orders with a solicitous waiter and Walker decided the time had come to clear the air. He said, "Sir, I need to explain some things."
Ryder placed his napkin in his lap and inclined his head slightly, indicating that Walker should continue.
Walker said, "First off, I want you to know that I desperately love your daughter. My wife only died a year ago, and so my feelings for Joy came as a surprise." He thought he saw a slight tic in one of Ryder's eyes. "And this whole mess is partly because of a misunderstanding, but mostly because of my stupidity." This time Ryder raised his brows in a questioning response.
The waiter returned and poured coffees.
Thus far Ryder's facial expressions were his only communication. Walker forged on, getting to the heart of his explanation. "My departed wife's aunt, for reasons unknown and unfathomable, has not accepted Joy. She is adamant that I not marry her, and my stupidity stems from the fact that I have allowed my aunt to remain in my home." He nervously drummed his fingers on the table. "I should have insisted she leave when she vocalized her objections to Joy, but after the death of my wife, she was invaluable to my family. I kept thinking she would have a change of heart."
Ryder sipped his coffee.
Walker inhaled and continued, "On the day Joy left, she overheard my aunt denigrating her. I had no notion that Joy was in the hallway and I fear that she only heard a portion of my response and took it to mean that I agreed with the woman. I have no doubt that if she had heard my complete reply, she would not have left." Walker suddenly felt deflated and his shoulders sagged. "All I want is to find Joy and make things right. I can't imagine my life without her."
The waiter brought their salads and Ryder didn't speak until he'd forked a lettuce leaf, chewed and swallowed. Then he said, "First off, please stop calling me 'sir.' I prefer Ryder. Secondly, you have convinced me of your love for my daughter. Thirdly, I understand how misunderstandings can separate people. I experienced something similar with Joy's mother. And lastly, I believe I know where Joy is headed. In her telegram she said she would return home after completing a painting. I know the place she want to paint, but to get there we'll have to travel on horseback."
Walker heaved a sigh of relief. He had expected Joy's father to lambast him with accusations, so his quiet words and indication that he knew where Joy was headed, soothed his tortured soul.
By the time supper was over, Walker had learned the sad circumstances of Ryder's first family and was convinced that Joy was indeed seeking to locate the meadow where young Ryder had painted and met his Blackfoot first wife.
Chapter Thirty: Thunderbird Mountain
Traveling by horseback through country so beautiful it often stole the breath right out of her, Joy reflected on the inner longing that had begun when she was a child. Her desire to follow in her father's footsteps had happened when she was twelve and visited a museum in Dallas displaying many of his Old West paintings. She had marveled at renditions so realistic she felt as if she could step into them; into the past.
Still reflecting, she turned her thoughts to the events that had brought her thus far. Had it all been fate? In West Glacier, she'd hired an Indian guide to lead her and her friends on a search for her father's meadow. However, the direction her life was to take after accomplishing this self-imposed mission was shrouded in mystery.
Her musings were interrupted by Cookie. "Hey, Joyrider, next time you have a bright idea to ride into the wilderness, please fire me. My backside is glued to this saddle and if I ever stand again, I won't be able to walk."
Crusty echoed her words. "Yes, my young Joy, Cookie is finally making sense. We will wait for you in a place accommodating to tub soaks and comfortable beds."
Joy laug
hed. "And miss all this beauty? I've decided I'll take the wonder of nature over a tub bath any day. Besides, Crusty, I tried to get you to stay with Aliza. You didn't have to come with us."
He huffed, "As if the gentleman in me would allow a woman of your delicate upbringing to wander the woods alone."
Cookie interjected, "She ain't alone. Jus' admit it, Crusty; you got a soft spot fer Joy."
Just then, Chogan, the Blackfoot Indian Crusty had decided would be a better guide than any white man catering to the many wealthy visitors to the park, halted his horse on the trail alongside Bowman Lake, and pointed. "There is Thunderbird Mountain."
Through a break in the trees, Joy saw the mountain rising majestically to a sharp peak, with trees cascading down its sides. For the hundredth time since starting out on horseback two days previous, she held her breath. Her heart pounded; she was almost there. She could feel it.
Later that day, they reached the northern edge of the lake and set up camp. Cookie grumbled and Crusty agreed with her complaints in his most eloquential language.
Joy leaned against a tree, basking in the magnificence of the wilderness, and smiled when she thought about describing her adventure to her Grammy Abby. She pushed away from the tree and approached Chogan at the campfire. He had told them at the beginning of their journey that his name meant Blackbird, and the name suited him. In her mind's eye, she saw him soaring above the treetops surveying everything and missing nothing. For some reason, the farther they traveled into the wilderness, the more active and creative her imagination became.