Above the Bridge Page 10

  She skimmed through the rest of the paper, which consisted of a variety of notices. Some indicated claims filed for homesteading sites, while another advertised new merchandise at Deloney’s Store. One small article listed supplies expected to arrive in town the following week, already en route from Denver. There was an account of an unexpected meeting with a few members of the Shoshone tribe, though no problems had resulted from the encounter. Small tidbits about people around town also followed, resembling a modern-day gossip column.

  Paige clutched the newspaper and looked around her dress for some place to hide it. There didn’t seem to be any pockets and the corset didn’t allow so much as air inside, so there certainly wasn’t room for paper. Finally, Paige folded it into a small rectangle, pressed it as flat as possible, and stuck it into her left boot, where it rested just below the edge that boasted the black tassels. She could feel the paper scratch against her leg as she walked, but it wouldn’t be noticeable from the outside.

  Hearing the sound of horse hooves against the ground, Paige turned to see a wagon passing by. There were four passengers riding on benches above the turning wheels and a driver seated on a slightly higher level in front, his hands holding reins attached to two horses. The driver nodded a hello to Paige, continuing on down the road, eventually pulling into a barn of sorts. It wasn’t as large as the barns that Paige had seen in the Midwest, but it was large enough for the wagon and entourage to pull inside.

  Paige followed, approaching the building and peering in from outside. She found an open space with a high ceiling, a few rays of light pouring through the wood beams and resting against a hay-covered floor. Several horse stalls lined one side of the building. Two wagons, including the one she had seen pass by, were parked against the other side of the building’s interior. As the passengers finished stepping out of the wagon, the driver folded up a step ladder that was attached to the side. Securing it with a short length of rope, he turned to the front of the barn, at which point he noticed Paige.

  “Are you lookin’ for a ride somewhere, little lady?” the man said, brushing a few pieces of hay off his sleeves. He wore a derby type hat in a dark brown shade which seemed to match perfectly with his thick mustache. He was short, at least shorter than Paige was herself, and had a business-like demeanor.

  Paige considered the question, in view of the fact she wasn’t even sure how she had arrived where she was. It was a little hard to decide, all things considered, how she could explain where she really wanted to go. A journey of one hundred miles might be a stretch, but one hundred years would certainly be out of the question.

  Surely this short but agreeable man would need some type of directions, Paige thought, considering her options. The possibilities included returning to either the dance hall activities in The Clubhouse or the clearly anti-female territory of Tuttle’s Saloon. Or she could take the risk of ending up somewhere different, which didn’t seem any worse of a choice than the others at this point. With this in mind, she looked around and then back to the driver, telling him that she would, indeed, like a ride.

  “Well, you’ve come to the right place, then,” the man said, introducing himself as Chester. “I’ll just hitch up my smaller wagon and be right there.” He disappeared out a back door, leaving Paige to look around a little more.

  Old pieces of farm equipment hung on the barn’s interior walls and a stack of metal buckets leaned against a side door. A black crow flew in through the front of the barn, circled around a couple of the wood beams, continuing its path of flight down and out through the back door. As it flew out, Chester returned, motioning to Paige that her ride was ready. She followed him out the back, where a small wagon stood ready, hitched up to a brown quarter horse of sturdy build.

  “Just climb on up here,” Chester said, pointing to a step ladder similar to the one she had seen attached to the larger wagon inside. He reached a hand out to help her step up, which she accepted, climbing the steps awkwardly in the cumbersome dress and taking a seat on a bench inside the wagon.

  “Where to, ma’am?” Chester asked as they pulled around the barn and approached the road.

  Paige thought for minute, and then gave the only answer she could.

  “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I think I’d like to see a little of the countryside. Just go ahead and drive a little ways out of town.” She paused a minute before adding, “Somewhere that you like, Chester. That will be just fine.”

  Chester gave her a puzzled look, clearly used to people asking for rides when they had somewhere specific they needed to go. But he turned the wagon out onto the road anyway, heading south, away from the town, along a dusty stretch. To the left, an impressive mountain of evergreen trees soared skyward, looking very much like the landscape Paige recognized from present times. To the right stood the familiar, small butte that she also recalled, with rolling slopes and a brown covering of low brush.

  As they came to the end of the butte, Chester turned to his right and continued on, circling around and eventually taking a narrow road up the west side. It was a bumpy ride and Paige grasped the wagon’s side panel more than once for support as she was jolted by the uneven surface of the dirt road. But, at the end, the view paid off. Pulling the wagon to the edge, he brought the horse to a halt. From this vantage point, Paige and Chester looked down on the town together. The outline of the town’s beginning was clear, a layout of crossing roads, with buildings scattered along the dusty streets, most separated by empty lots. Behind the town, the mountain that would later be called Snow King stretched across like a backdrop.

  “This is my favorite place.” Chester said quietly. “This is where I come to do my thinkin’.” He sat still, looking out peacefully at the town.

  “I can see why,” Paige agreed, taking in the wide open land that surrounded the few buildings below.

  “It’s building up fast now, this little town. Got our own telephone system, the Jackson Valley Telephone Company,” Chester added with pride.

  “So, you have a telephone?” Paige asked, genuinely excited for him.

  Chester threw back his head and let out a laugh the size of the valley itself.

  “What in the world would I need one of them modern contraptions for?” He shook his head with amusement. “Everybody knows where to find me.” He glanced around, debating other tidbits of information worthy of a little boasting.

  “Do most people live here in town?” Paige asked nonchalantly, already knowing the answer, but wanting Chester to get a chance to brag a little more.

  “No, ma’am,” he replied quickly. “This whole valley’s fillin’ up with homesteaders. Why, just last year the president of these United States opened up a whole lotta land north of here, up for grabs. Folks started filing claims right quick. Now ranches are springin’ up so fast the elk can barely find food these days, all their grazing areas blocked off with buck-rail fences.”

  “I worry about them animals,” he continued. “We got a whole lotta dead elk up there in the valley, seein’ as they can’t find enough to eat. Some folks in town are workin’ on a petition to send to the government, askin’ them to set aside an area for the elk to feed. I hope they get it.”

  Chester paused to consider what he’d just said before adding a few more examples of the town’s developing status.

  “But, as I was sayin’,” Chester continued, picking up the topic of conversation again, “Jackson’s Hole is growin’ and it’s gonna continue to grow, I figure. We’ve already had a ferry crossing the river for six years, thanks to Bill Menor. And it’s been ten years already since Pap Deloney opened his store. We even had one of them new-fangled automobiles come through this year, way north of here, trying to go through Yellowstone. You’re a smart lady, it seems, so I’m bettin’ you know that’s been a national park since 1872. Anyway, they were fools. I heard they found out them things ain’t allowed in the park. Had to take it through on a wagon. No, Tuttle’s place wouldn’t be hoppin’ the way it is if not for a
ll them folks comin’ into this valley.”

  He crossed his arms, clearly satisfied with his portrait of the growing valley.

  “Now, look over here,” Chester said, motioning for Paige to turn her head to the far left. “Back there behind us a ways we got ourselves a dude ranch, the JY. Just set up operations a couple years ago. People are thinkin’ it’ll bring visitors in, fetch us all some extra dollars. Sure would help me, more folks needin’ to git around.”

  “I thought most people here were cattle ranchers.” Paige watched as Chester nodded his head in agreement. “And others grow oats and barley,” she added, trying silently to run through her recent research of Jackson Hole, but coming up short with specific chronology.

  “Well, now, they do that,” Chester agreed, nodding his head. “They grow alfalfa and clover, too, even some wheat. But it’s not enough for most people to get by. And there’s lots to see around these parts, things more folks ought to see. So they’re hoping visitors will come.”

  “I have a hunch they will,” Paige reassured him, holding back a smile. She wished she could tell Chester what Jackson would look like one hundred years in the future, but knew it would sound unbelievable.

  Quietly, they remained on the butte, observing the activity of the townspeople below. Some rode horses towards the outskirts of town. Others walked with arms full of supplies. After some time, Chester picked up the reins and signaled to the horse that it was time to go. Taking the same bumpy road back down, they returned to the livery barn, where Chester jumped down from his driver’s seat and helped Paige out of the wagon.

  She thanked him and then suddenly realized she must owe him a fee for his services.

  “Oh, my,” Paige exclaimed. “I’m sure I need to pay you something for the ride.” She felt a sudden panic. She’d been unable to find any pockets when she’d picked up the Jackson’s Hole Courier. It was unlikely she had any money.

  Chester held his hand up and shook his head.

  “No, ma’am,” he replied. “You did me a favor, letting me take you to my favorite sittin’ place. I’m the one who owes you a thank you. I know you’re new to this here town. I hope you’ll think to stop by again.”

  “I’ll be sure to do that,” Paige replied, not sure if this was a promise she’d be able to keep. Thanking him again, she crossed the barn, heading for the front door.

  Just before she reached the exit, however, her attention was caught by some movement to her left. Looking over, she saw Jeremiah, from the saloon, working in one of the horse stalls. Surprised to see him again, she wandered over, causing him to look up as she approached.

  “I just wanted to thank you again for your kindness in the saloon,” Paige offered. “I’m not from around here and I’m afraid I don’t know the local customs. I’m glad you were there.”

  “It was my pleasure,” Jeremiah responded, tossing a slight grin in Paige’s direction, while continuing to sweep up hay with a long-handled rake.

  “I take it you work here,” Paige said, wincing at the obvious as soon as the words crossed her lips.

  “I help with the chores here a few times a week, cleaning stalls and feeding the horses.” Jeremiah replied, setting the rake aside and lowering his voice. “Chester’s getting on in years and can use an extra hand. Don’t tell him I said so, though. He’s got a hearty portion of pride.”

  He straightened up and attempted to brush his clothing down, though without much success. Loose strands of hay clung to his pant legs and smudges of dirt decorated his wrinkled shirtsleeves. Paige realized with a start how familiar his features were. He’d been wearing a hat inside the saloon and, sitting at the end of the bar, she hadn’t noticed the resemblance at that time. But now, though his hair style and clothing were different, there was no question he looked very much like Jake.

  Realizing she was staring, she stopped and offered an apology.

  “I’m sorry to stare, it’s just…” Paige paused. “It’s just that you look very much like someone I know.”

  Jeremiah smiled, gathering his rake and other work supplies and heading across the barn to set them against the side wall.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” he said, after a pause. “I’m not sure if that’s good or bad, but I’ll take it as a compliment. At least I sure hope it is. It was a pleasure seein’ you again, but I must be gittin’ along now.” He took his hat off a hook on the wall, tipped it towards Paige and turned away, crossing to the front of the barn.

  Just before Jeremiah disappeared through the door, Paige saw something fall from his rear pocket. She walked quickly over to the spot to retrieve the item, intending to catch up with him to give it back. But when she came within several feet of the object, she stopped suddenly and stared. There, caught in a glimmer of light shining down from the barn’s rafters, was the same skeleton key she had seen through the antler arch before. For a second she caught her breath and froze. Was it the arch that had brought her here, or the key itself? A fleeting quiver of fear ran through her as she realized there had been no antler arches around the dusty center block of town. There had to be a way to make sense out of what clearly seemed beyond reason. She just needed to find out what it was. Without even having to think twice, she stepped forward, reached down and grasped the key.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Jake didn’t trust Frank. He didn’t trust him at all, not at this point. For all he knew, Frank might have just given him another useless piece of paper. After downing the rest of his beer, he grabbed his hat and stood up. He ducked around a wayward cue stick, nodded a quick goodbye to Billy and stepped out onto the wooden slat sidewalk. Without wasting any time, he made his way back to his truck and headed towards the outskirts of town, slowing down just once to let late-season tourists saunter across the road.

  Driving north through park territory, he hit the brakes sharply at one point to allow an elk to cross the highway and again, another mile later, to wait for a trio of deer to move off the road. He’d learned long ago to drive with extra caution, especially during twilight and evening hours. It was common for wildlife to cross the roads unexpectedly, often causing damage to vehicles, humans and wildlife alike. As eager as he was to look over the paper Frank had just given him, it wasn’t worth the consequences of driving too quickly.

  Turning east, he thought over the various interactions he’d had with Frank, from the first time he had been contacted by the old man right up to that evening’s meeting at The Million Dollar Cowboy Bar. Was there any reason Frank might be feeding him false information? Is that what he’d been doing from the start? Maybe the map was a fake, the paper processed to appear old. Or maybe it was truly an original map, but had been altered somehow to throw him off track.

  No, it didn’t make sense. What would the motivation be? If the treasure didn’t exist, Frank would’ve had no reason to bring him to Jackson. Was the buried gold real, but Frank was diverting him from the actual location with a map that wasn’t authentic? That didn’t make sense, either. Frank had clearly grown too old to search the mountains himself. And if he’d had someone else to do it, he wouldn’t have come all the way up to Cody to plead for help.

  Jake took a sharp left into the ranch driveway, screeching to a stop just long enough to let himself through the front gate. With a heavy foot on the gas pedal, gravel scattered sideways and clouds of dust billowed up behind him as he headed for the ranch house. Parking the truck abruptly, he jumped out, kicked the door shut and walked quickly inside, slamming the front door of the ranch house in the same manner. Whatever Frank was up to, he wasn’t about to let him get away with it.

  Grabbing the familiar book off the shelf, he pulled the first map out and unfolded it. He then took the new portion of the map out of his pocket and sat down in his chair, bringing the two together and studying them.

  What had looked like a map on its own before had obviously just been part of a whole, as he had suspected. Together, the two pieces seemed to tell more of a story, though there was still much to figure
out.

  In the center of the map, where the two sides came together, it was now clear that the zigzag line continued into several sharp peaks of differing heights. These were almost identical to the shape of the Tetons. A winding line followed just to the right of the jagged lines, possibly a trail or stream or the boundary of a section of land. Several groupings of arrows were clustered in different areas. There appeared to be a plus sign in the center of the page, just to the right of the area where the two halves of the map connected. Perhaps it indicated that the map’s sides should connect at that point. Or maybe it meant clues on both sides needed to be connected in order to determine the location.

  There were no other markings to the left of the large zigzag and there was nothing to give any hints as to what the smudge on the right might mean. Jake still felt there must be something that tied the circular spot in with the rest of the marks. He had hoped to figure it out by piecing the map together, but so far it didn’t make any more sense than before.

  Additional lines and figures stretched across the bottom of the connected papers, but not in any way that clarified other parts of the map. Arrows, oval shapes, more zigzags and a set of short, parallel lines all seemed arbitrary. The haphazard smattering of shapes didn’t appear to correspond with the other markings.

  Jake set the two halves of the map aside. He considered taping them together, but thought better of it. The paper was yellowed and fragile and there were additional tears on both the left and right sides. No, it was best to keep them in two pieces and just bring them together whenever he needed to analyze them further.