Above the Bridge (22 page)

Paige had to think quickly before replying.  She thumbed through mental images of the buildings she’d seen when she had first stumbled through the arch.  The fledgling town bore little resemblance to modern-day Jackson. 

“I’ve got a room at the Jackson Hotel,” she said, remembering the lodging establishment not far from The Clubhouse.  “And a key to my room,” she added rapidly, “so it won’t be any trouble to just slip in.  I’ll walk over there myself.  It’s only a short distance.  You go on home, Chester, you must be exhausted.”

“I have to admit my bones are feelin’ weary,” Chester agreed.   “But I’m mighty pleased to have been of help to you.”  Had she been able to see in the dark, she would have caught the slight blush that crept onto Chester’s face as she leaned over and placed a friendly kiss on his cheek.

Together they pulled the barn door closed and walked out to the roadway.  Paige again took notice of the surrounding, empty land, the absence of street lights and the dust below her feet.  It was a stark contrast to the scene that would evolve over time.

“You have a good night, now, ma’am,” Chester said, as he and Paige parted ways and headed in opposite directions.

Paige walked slowly toward the hotel, gradually taking smaller steps and glancing behind her down the road.  As soon as Chester disappeared from sight, Paige turned back, returning quickly to the barn and slipping inside.

She had hoped that Jeremiah would be there when she and Chester returned from the trip up the mountain, though at such a late hour she had known the chance of seeing him was slim.   Just as there had been no sign of him that afternoon, there was no sign of him now.  Crouching down, she searched the hay-covered floor for the skeleton key and then checked the walls for hooks or shelves where it might be, but found nothing.

She walked to the door of the barn and glanced up and down the road.  The town was still and quiet.  Lanterns had long been extinguished and only silence hovered over the old western buildings.  Feeling exhaustion creep in, she stepped back into the barn, pulled a horse blanket off of a wooden railing and curled up on a stack of hay in an empty stall.  To the soft breathing of Cinnamon, Fire and the other horses, she fell asleep.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Jake paced back and forth across the front room of his ranch house.  The sun had been up for an hour already, enough time for him to drive to Paige’s cabin and back twice. He was discouraged and more than a little nervous.  It hadn’t worried him that she was away for the evening.  But when the midnight hour rolled around and she still wasn’t anywhere to be found, he started to grow increasingly concerned.

He’d slept fitfully and sporadically, waking often and walking to the front door to look around.  Each time he hoped to see her car in the driveway, but each time he gazed out it only raised his level of anxiety.  There was no sign of her anywhere.

After a restless night of failed attempts at sleep he skipped both coffee and breakfast.  He’d had no appetite when he first awakened and, in several hours of being awake, this hadn’t changed.  Tearing his jacket off the hook in the entry way, he jumped in his truck and headed quickly into town.  Still early, the town square was deserted.  Early morning light was just settling against the lush green pines of Snow King’s slopes.  The rain from the day before had let up.

Out of habit, he parked near the Blue Sky Café, but didn’t go in.  He had no desire for coffee and even less for the idea of facing Maddie and Frank.  Instead he walked to the center of town and circled around, heading up and down side streets until he found Paige’s car parked half a block from the town square.  The sight of frost on the windshield only made him more concerned.  It was clear the car had been there all night, but there was no sign anywhere of Paige.

Trying the door on the driver’s side, he found it locked.  He cupped his hands and peered through the window.  Nothing seemed to be amiss.  There were a few books scattered on the back seat and a brown, portable, accordion-type file folder resting on the front passenger seat.  He circled the car and tried the other door, feeling the cold of the metal handle against his skin.  To his relief, the door was unlocked.  He pulled it open and picked up the folder.  Feeling like an intruder, but weighing his concern for Paige’s safety as a priority, he lifted the folding cover and looked inside.

There were several compartments, each with a plastic tab sticking up and a white paper tag inside to identify general contents.  One held maps of the area, several marked with various notations, but none of much importance.  A second compartment held sheets of paper, all containing historical information about Jackson Hole.  The notes were organized in chronological order, starting with accounts of homesteading during the 1800’s and continuing on into the development of Jackson as a town.  The early post offices of the area were listed.  Dates that indicated when prominent buildings were established followed that.   Well-known figures in the town’s history were also listed, along with characters less known.  As the papers continued, a large amount of the research seemed to center on the early prospectors and miners of the area, including sections along the Snake River where small traces of gold had been found.

Paige had said she had come to Jackson Hole to do an article on the area, so it wasn’t a surprise to Jake to find that another division of the folder held copies of email correspondences with an editor, a Susan Shaw from New York.   Hoping to find some clue as to where Paige might be, he skimmed through them.  Most of the early emails were just brief descriptions of her arrival in town, accompanied by comments from her editor intended to direct her toward the type of article that would be of most interest to readers.  Her editor had suggested finding some type of local story.  It seemed reasonable to Jake that this would be more interesting than a basic history report.

As Jake continued through the emails, though, it became clear that Paige felt she had stumbled onto something more.  She mentioned the prospecting history specifically and implied she was close to solving an old mystery.  In response, her editor had encouraged her to pursue the lead.  This explained her recent determination to be involved.  Coupled with the conversation she had overheard between Frank and Maddie inside the Cowboy Bar, it was all starting to make sense.

This brought Maddie to mind again.  How on earth was she involved with all this?  Tucking the folder underneath his arm, he closed the door to Paige’s car and headed to the Blue Sky Café.  Since Maddie had no idea that he knew anything about her involvement, it would be safe to keep with his usual morning pattern.  And Frank, as always, would sit at the end of the counter and pretend he didn’t know him.  There was no reason to avoid going there for coffee and, after his sleepless night, the idea of a fresh cup was now starting to sound appealing.

True to habit, Frank Thompson was sitting in his usual spot, hunched over his coffee in his usual manner.  Jake mustered up whatever acting ability he could manage and approached the counter, smiling and joking as he always did. Maddie, clearly used to playing the same role, did the same, already pouring his black coffee as she spoke.

Jake paid for his coffee and thanked Maddie, which seemed to take much more of an effort than usual.  Cupping one hand around the mug and grabbing a daily paper with the other, he retreated to the far corner booth.  Accustomed to liking the privacy of this particular spot, it was especially convenient this morning, as it afforded him an opportunity to look over the paperwork in Paige’s folder again.  He pulled a few of the papers out and read through them, continuing to glance at the door in hopes of seeing Paige walk in.

As he read, he started to see why she had become more and more interested in the history of prospecting in Jackson Hole.  It was true that there hadn’t been any large findings recorded.  But there were many instances of mining trips along the river where nothing was recorded at all.  There were many loose ends, leaving open the possibility that more gold had been discovered than reported.  Prospectors had often split into small groups, or even gone off individually for hours at a time.  Gathering together later to discuss their findings, or lack thereof, around a campfire, it was very feasible that a greedy man might not share his fortune with others.  He could easily have hidden his stash, returning later on his own to retrieve it.  This all fit in with the story he had heard so many times as a child.

He sat back and thought this through.  Paige, with her twinkling eyes and thick, auburn hair, had somehow fallen into all this.  He again found himself worrying for her safety and watching the door of the cafe.

Focused on reading, he jumped a little when Maddie approached his table to refill his coffee.  He shuffled the papers casually, attempting to appear disinterested in them.  It was not until he thanked Maddie for the refill and watched her walk away that it occurred to him that it was out of character for her to bring out a refill.  As was typical in a trendy coffee house, drinks and food were served from the counter.  Feeling uneasy from this change in pattern, he sipped a little of his coffee refill, pretended to skim the local paper and then headed out the door, waving what he hoped came across as a casual goodbye.

Carrying Paige’s folder, he was already thinking through the apology he would have to give for removing it from her car.  He could always return the folder and say nothing, but Paige’s research could be helpful.  He needed to read through her papers more thoroughly. An apology would have to do.  Keeping the folder, he made his way back to the truck.  He drove home to the ranch house, built a fire and sat quietly, reading and waiting.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Paige slept soundly for a few hours, exhausted from following Cyrus the evening before.  But she was awake early, when the sun was not even yet hinting to rise.  She stretched quickly, put her hat back on, tucked her hair up underneath it again and left the barn, peering up and down the road first to be sure the street was deserted.  Still dark enough to walk through town unnoticed, she retraced the route she had taken across town with Chester the night before, continuing east until she came to mountain’s edge.

She turned north, summoning the will power to ignore the aching muscles she felt from the climb the night before.  It was going to be a long hike, especially without the luxury of a horse, but she was determined to retrace her steps.  She knew she had to get a closer look at the location Cyrus had reached.  She needed to see it in the daylight.

It was hours before she reached the steep grade of the final stretch they had covered the night before.  By now, the sun had risen to a mid-morning position and the landscape looked different in the light of day.  To her left, the valley stretched out before her with elk grazing and eagles soaring overhead.  The Grand Tetons towered beyond that, breathtaking as always in their abrupt rise from the valley floor.  Some things do stand the test of time, Paige mused.  Trees hid the terrain in front of her and sharp cliffs of rock rose to her right.  She continued on, searching in front of her for the cluster of trees and the boulder that she remembered as their stopping place.  Lodgepole pines filled most of the mountainside to her right, while aspens were scattered on the lower levels to her left.  But the trio formation she remembered from her trip with Chester was nowhere to be found.

She continued to move forward, taking one cautious step at a time, holding onto small boulders and sturdy tree branches to steady herself as the climb became increasingly severe.  Finally she spotted a large boulder ahead, with several trees to the right.  It was not until she reached it that she was certain that this was the right spot.

She leaned against the tree closest to the boulder and looked across at the two closest trees.  The distances were right, each located in the same place she remembered from the night before.  There were other trees behind them, but they were far enough away to not have been visible in the dark of night.  This was the right place.  Now she just had to locate the spot where Cyrus had stopped, which she knew would be more difficult.

Resting against the tree, she gazed up the mountainside, attempting to estimate the distance between the spot where she now stood and the location where the glow of the lantern had stopped.  It had been far enough away to become dim, but still close enough to be seen, which meant that she could see Cyrus’s destination from where she stood. And now she had the benefit of daylight. With this in mind, she continued on, proceeding with cautious steps as the rocky trail became increasingly uneven.  Taking switchbacks along rock ledges in order to climb higher, she tried not to look down, as the sharp drop only served to make her dizzy.  She glanced back occasionally in order to gauge the distance she had traveled beyond the trio of trees.  Drawing on memory from the night before, she could estimate the lantern’s distance.  Reaching a small plateau, she sat down to catch her breath.

She was overwhelmed by the breathtaking view.  The town of Jackson was no longer visible, but across from where she sat the Tetons soared into the sky, bathed in morning light.  Patches of fog lay across the valley floor. In the foreground the town of Kelly rested alongside the Gros Ventre River, diminutive from the high vantage point.  Paige took a deep breath of clean mountain air and then glanced around to appraise the area immediately surrounding her.

It was a narrow ledge, but long, curving around a slight bend to her right.  Above her the rocks seemed to rise straight into the sky.  There was no way that Cyrus would have been able to climb higher.  He would have needed advanced climbing equipment to scale the sheer rock section above the ledge.  Tentatively she stood and began to explore the side of the cliff with her hands.  The rock was solid with clumps of course brush protruding from occasional splits in the surface.  Some of the crevices were only slight indentations, while others appeared to stretch deeper into the rocks.