A few weary-looking passengers began to get off the train, but she didn’t see Linda. Several couples, a family with two children, a few men in suits, but no single women. The conductor was standing outside the forward passenger automobile as the passengers departed.
Still no Linda. Where is she? Bess thought.
Bess was dismayed when a passenger got off the train and the conductor signaled, as if there would be no more passengers departing. She waited a few more minutes but no one else got off the train. She began to worry. Where is Linda? Bess wondered, as her level of anxiety swirled in her stomach.
Some passengers, who were obviously waiting to get on the train, began to move toward both cars and the conductor was asking them to board. Nervously, Bess walked over and asked the conductor if all of the passengers who were getting off the train had disembarked.
“That’s all of ’em, miss,” he said as he looked at his watch. “No more.”
“Wasn’t there a young woman on the train?” Bess asked. “I’m waiting for her.”
“No, miss. No young woman aboard.”
Bess was shocked. She walked past each car looking carefully through the windows to see if she could spot Linda, but there was no sign of her. Fear clenched her gut. Where is she? Did something happen? she wondered. Surely she must be on board. But she wasn’t, and as soon all the eastbound passengers had boarded the train, the conductor picked up the small boarding platforms at each of the entrances. When he said in a loud voice, “All aboard,” Bess’s heart sank.
Linda wasn’t on the train.
After the train slowly pulled out of the station, Bess walked back to the Carter Hotel in a daze. Why wasn’t she on the train? she asked herself. Why? When she got to her room, she sat down and wrote a letter to Linda. Bess tried not to be emotional in the letter, but she expressed that she was disappointed that Linda hadn’t shown up. She felt a mixture of anger, disappointment, and concern as she tried to keep her handwriting steady. She asked if Linda had changed her plans at the last moment and had been unable to make contact. Bess reread her letter several times, then went to the post office and mailed it.
Bess didn’t know what to do with the rest of the day, so she saddled up Annabel and they went for a ride up to the top of the Western Twin Butte. The view of the countryside was beautiful. Bess could see the little town of Bowman resting in the late-afternoon sun and could barely make out the tops of the Cave Hills far down in South Dakota to the south. The view toward Haley was blocked by a large butte just south and east of Bowman, but Bess imagined that she could see it from her vantage point. She had dismounted Annabel and walked around the loose rocks, watching carefully for rattlesnakes. Somehow being high up on the butte made her feel closer to Linda and thoughts of her raced through Bess’s mind. The fresh air and clear skies brought her some relief. She looked westward toward Miles City, wondering.
Where is she? Why didn’t she come? Maybe she’ll arrive tomorrow morning. That’s it! Tomorrow morning!
After some time walking and thinking on top of the butte, Bess mounted Annabel and slowly trotted back into town where she returned her to the stable, went to the hotel, and had a small supper even though she did not feel like eating. She had visions of having supper with Linda and engaging in a wonderful conversation.
Bess had trouble sleeping through the night and twice got out of bed and sat in her chair looking out in the dark northern sky at the shadows of the Twin Buttes. All sorts of scenarios went through her head. What was the explanation? She didn’t know.
The next morning, Bess put on her dress, and with some slight hope, met the eastbound train from Miles City. Again, no Linda. Feeling quite sad, disappointed, and somewhat forlorn, she changed into her work clothing, checked out of the Carter Hotel, and began the 25-mile journey back to Haley, sad, alone, and occasionally angry.
Bess arrived back home shortly after sunset, stabled Annabel, paid her respects to Hiss, checked on the sheep and chickens, and went to bed, where she slept only fitfully.
The next morning, Bess spent the day wondering why Linda hadn’t come to Bowman to meet her. She seemed truly excited, Bess thought. At least that’s what her letter said. Bess didn’t feel like dressing up and going to church, so she and Annabel went for a long ride toward the Teepee Buttes where she had never been before. From the top of one of the buttes, she could see the Twin Buttes of Bowman. She looked toward the west, toward Miles City. She bowed her head, felt the tears coming, and her heart ached as they flowed down her burning cheeks.
Chapter Sixteen
On Monday, Bess checked with Mr. Currie, the postmaster, to see if she had received a letter from Linda, but there was none. Disappointed again, Bess returned to her homestead and spent the day in her garden, pulling carrots, digging potatoes, and gathering the lush tomatoes that she had successfully been able to grow. Her feelings were a mixture of sorrow and occasional anger. She put the carrots and potatoes in the root cellar on the shelves she had built for storage, just like her family’s root cellar in Cando. Fortunately, the root cellar was dry even though Haley had experienced several hard rains the previous couple of months.
Bess kept busy during next week cleaning around the homestead and mowing some of the prairie grass in the open field with the help of Ken Fisher, who had a mower pulled by a horse. They stacked the hay at the side of the corral near the shed, and Bess thought she would probably have enough to last over the coming winter. Pitching the hay and building an almost perfectly round haystack was hard work, but it kept her occupied.
Each day during the week Bess rode into Haley to check to see if she had received a letter from Linda. There was none. On Friday, when still no mail arrived, Mr. Currie said, “Expecting something important, Bess?”
“Yes, I think so,” she replied. She didn’t want to tell Mr. Currie anything specific. “Nothing urgent, though.”
Sunday morning brought the first frost of the season. It came earlier than the early frosts that Bess remembered from Cando. The tan prairie grass blended well with the soft white sheen of the frost, and the Teepee Buttes over to the west looked like distant mountain ranges that Bess had seen only in paintings and in her imagination. When she went outside to feed the chickens, she could feel the sharp cold that gave hints of the winter to come. Maybe the winters here will be milder than in Cando, thought Bess.
Bess went to church where she met Martha, who seemed happy to see her, but her face looked bruised, this time a bit more severely. It’s her husband hitting her again, thought Bess. They had planned for another Sunday supper. Knowing that she would be spending a pleasant afternoon with someone who was becoming a good friend was a relief to Bess, but she was becoming increasingly worried about Martha.
After the service, Mr. Currie came up to Bess and said, “Bess, there’s a letter here for you. This might be what you have been looking for.”
It was from Miles City, but not from Linda. It was from a Mrs. Joan Herbert—probably her aunt. Bess thanked Mr. Currie and put the letter into her handbag. She took the letter back to her homestead, wondering what it might contain. She was anxious to read it, but she wanted to wait until Martha left after supper.
Bess and Martha put their horses into their stalls and walked into the house. Suddenly, Martha began to cry. “Bess,” she said, “I didn’t fall. It’s Don again. I don’t know what to do.”
“Don?” Bess said. “Don did that to you again?” Bess felt real anger rising in her.
“He does it nearly every night,” she said. “He gets drunk and angry. He left yesterday and didn’t say when he’ll be back. Please don’t tell anyone that I told you this.”
“Where’d he go?”
“I don’t know,” Martha said tearfully. “I’m afraid, Bess. He’s hitting or slapping me every day. It’s getting much worse. Would it be all right if I stay with you for a while?”
Bess thought for a moment. Stay with me? What if Don comes back and finds her here? Bess’s mind was racing. Ma
rtha needed her help and appeared desperate.
Martha put her arms around her, and Bess responded with an affectionate hug. “Of course it’s okay,” Bess said. “What will Don do when he comes back and doesn’t find you home?”
“I don’t know,” Martha said. “And don’t care.” She put her arms around Bess. “Thank you. Thank you.”
Then Bess thought about the letter. She thought of Linda. She felt torn by the real attraction to Martha and the memories of the wonderful experience with Linda. She stepped back for a moment. “I was expecting an important letter,” Bess said. “I need to know what it says.” She took the letter and walked outside to read it.
With a bit of hesitation, she carefully opened the letter.
Dear Miss Parker:
We received your letter to my niece, Linda Herbert, today. I understand you were good friends. She spoke fondly of you.
I must regretfully inform you that on Wednesday, September 2, there was a fire at the clothing store where Linda worked. She was trapped in the basement and by the time the volunteer firemen got her out, she had already suffocated from the smoke.
Yours in sorrow,
Joan Herbert
Bess was stunned. Dumbstruck. She dropped the letter and stood there in shock. Her vision blurred and her heart raced.
Then she picked up the letter and looked westward toward Miles City in the sunset.
She read the letter again in disbelief as tears began to flow.
She dropped it again and fell to her knees.
Then she screamed.
Chapter Seventeen
Bess didn’t know how long she had been screaming, but her throat felt raw. She was pounding the ground with her hands, shouting, “No! No!” Someone knelt down beside her and placed an arm around her.
“Bess!” the voice cried. “What’s wrong?”
Bess clenched the dirt in her hands and saw that her knuckles were bleeding. “Oh God, no … no … no …” she whimpered.
“Bess, what’s wrong?” the voice said weakly.
Bess turned and saw Martha. It took her a moment to remember that Martha was here.
“What happened?” Martha said. “Here. Come inside.” She took Bess’s hand as she rose. Bess then knelt down and picked up the letter, turned, and walked inside the house with Martha. She couldn’t stop crying.
Once inside, she needed help sitting down at the table because her knees were so weak. Her head was swimming. When she was able to breathe, she managed to choke out, “A friend … childhood friend … died in a fire.” Bess started to cry again. Why she lied and said “childhood friend,” Bess didn’t know. It had just come out. She just couldn’t say that she lost someone whom she thought was her true love.
“I’m so sorry. Maybe some tea would help?”
“Yes, thank you,” Bess said. “Teapot’s on the stove. Coals should be warm but needs some kindling. By the side.” She pointed to the kindling. Tea sounded comforting, but Bess didn’t have the strength to make it. Her mind was spinning and racing. Everything has gone so well up to now—my plan was working, she thought. I have my land and a home. I had hopes of a friendship—or something far deeper—maybe homesteading with Linda. Having her live here. Killed in a fire? The thought made Bess sick to her stomach.
Martha put the kindling in the stove along with a few lumps of the coal that Bess had in a bucket on the floor by the side. It would take a few minutes for the stove to get hot enough to start warming the teapot, and she turned and went over to Bess.
“How did it happen?” Martha asked as she knelt down beside Bess.
“Fire. Letter was short. From her aunt. Must have happened last week.” Bess sobbed.
“Friend from home?” Martha asked.
“Yes,” Bess lied. Again, Bess didn’t know why she was lying about Linda. “I was going to meet her in Bowman.”
“It’s hard to say that I know how you feel because I’ve never lost a friend. But I felt tragedy when we lost our baby. It hurts so.” Martha looked deeply into Bess’s eyes. They were wet and red-rimmed. “It’s all right to cry, Bess. It’s okay.” Martha gave Bess a hug.
“I’ve never lost anyone before,” Bess said. “My grandparents, yes, but they didn’t live near us. But this!” She began to cry again.
Martha gently rubbed Bess’s head and let her cry. It was just what she needed right now, to be coddled and comforted. The water in the teapot was getting warm, so Martha went to Bess’s cupboard and fetched two cups and saucers. She put the tea into the teapot and let it steep for a few minutes, then poured it into the two cups. She set a cup in front of Bess and sat down beside her.
Martha didn’t say anything as Bess began to drink her tea. Bess was in shock and confused. “Want to take a walk?” Martha said softly. “Sometimes getting some fresh air helps.”
Bess finished her tea and wiped her eyes. “Probably a good idea. Let’s go up to the stone Johnnie.” Somehow that might make me feel comfortable, she thought.
“Stone Johnnie?” Martha said.
“It’s up back on the top of the hill, remember? You can see it from Haley. A good walk. Too cold for snakes!” She forced a smile and tried vainly to laugh.
“That’s a relief!”
Bess finally laughed a bit. “I mean rattlesnakes. All snakes aren’t bad. Remember the snake in the shed. Its name is Hiss and it’s a harmless bull snake. It kills rodents and sometimes hisses at you when you walk in.”
“Still,” Martha said, “scary.”
“Let’s go,” Bess said as she got up from the table and took a deep breath. Maybe the fresh air and a short climb up the hill to the stone Johnnie would help her clear her head. The news about Linda had stunned her. It just can’t be true, she thought.
Martha and Bess donned their light coats and went outside behind the house and shed. The fresh air felt good as the slight breeze brushed her wet cheeks. They began the short climb about a quarter mile up the hill. The temperature had been falling slowly during the afternoon and there was a distinct chill in the air. The beautiful tan prairie grass was gently waving in the wind that was gusting from the southwest over the Teepee Buttes. It seemed so cheerful and promising. How could anything be cheerful? Bess wondered.
After a short climb up the hill to the top, Martha looked at the neatly stacked pile of flat, light-tan sandstone rocks that stood about five feet high. It was almost three feet in diameter. “It’s bigger than it looks from Haley,” she said. “Must have taken quite a while to build. You do it?”
“Yes,” Bess said. “It was something to do while Ken Fisher was working on the shed and corral. And I come up here from time to time just to think and enjoy the beauty of the land. Lots of flat stones around here, as you can see.”
The flat rocks were stacked, neatly and securely, needing no plaster or dried mud to hold them together. “Do the rocks ever fall off?” Martha asked.
“Haven’t so far,” Bess said. “They’re pretty heavy. Took a few days to build and I didn’t do it all at once.”
Martha walked around the stone Johnnie. Bess looked toward the west, thinking about Miles City and the terrible news she had read in the letter. Her heart ached, not so much because of the brief time she had spent with Linda, but because of the anticipation of what might have been. It was the first time she had experienced what she thought to be real love, a feeling that had intensified over the months since they’d spent together. They seemed to be two souls united—mentally and physically—even though their time together had been far too short.
“The death of a friend or family member is hard to handle,” Martha said, as Bess looked solemnly toward the sun slowly setting in the sky. “All you have left are the memories.”
Memories, thought Bess. A person is ultimately only the memories you make of that person. “Yes,” Bess said. “When Grandpa died, Papa told me that life is a process of building memories. That’s all you have when someone is not there anymore. He said you should always try to live
your life by building good memories. Then those memories will stay with you forever.”
“Sounds like good advice,” Martha said. “You must have built some good memories of your friend. That’s why it hurts so much. Nothing can take away those memories. They’ll be with you always … always, Bess.”
Tears burned her eyes, but Bess held them back. “All I’ll have are the memories,” she said. “But the sad thing is that I can’t build any more memories.”
Martha smiled and took Bess’s hand. “Let’s go back down to the house.”
Bess weakly smiled and together they began the short walk down the hill back to the house. “Let’s fry a chicken,” she said, trying to sound cheerful and upbeat. “You heat up some water on the stove and I’ll get the chicken. Hungry?”
“Yes,” Martha said. “Fried chicken sounds wonderful. Maybe some potatoes, too.”
The stove had warmed the inside of the house and Bess took the large pail to the well near the front of the house to get some water and heat it so she could easily pluck the chicken. She poured the water into a large pot and Martha put it on the stove to heat.
“Let’s get the potatoes,” Bess said. “You can get them ready and I’ll get a chicken.”
They went outside to the root cellar where Bess selected two nice potatoes and gave them to Martha. Martha took them back to the house as Bess went to the chicken coop behind the shed. There she took the chicken hook—a long rod with a wooden handle and a small hook on the end that was used to snag chickens.
Killing a chicken wasn’t Bess’s favorite thing to do. She took the chicken hook, snagged a fat leghorn hen, then took it outside the chicken coop and wrung its neck. That was always unpleasant. She would grab the chicken by the neck and twirl it around and around quickly until the head snapped off. Then the chicken would fall to the ground and flop around, sometimes even getting up on its legs and running a few steps before flopping around again. It was always strange to see.
Bess: A Pioneer Woman's Journey of Courage, Grit and Love Page 14