Disclaimer: This is an Uber story. The two main characters are the creation of my own imagination though they are inspired by a well-known TV program. No copyright infringement was intended in the writing of this novella. The story contains non-graphic scenes of violence and descriptions of sex between consenting, adult women.

I would appreciate comments on how to improve (please be on the look out for clichés) and expand the story. Enjoy!

MONTANA JOURNEY

Amelia_Sedley@yahoo.com

CHAPTER 1

The two men on the train platform were obviously not gentlemen by anyone’s standards. Their cheap suits, bowlers and the large cases at their feet identified them as traveling salesmen. Watery, bloodshot eyes bulged from beefy faces red from whiskey. In loud voices they shared stories and jokes of the most vulgar kind oblivious to the women and children who shared the platform at the Lathrop station with them. Yes, this was western Montana where manners were not as prescribed as in the East. Yet even in the remotest corners of the state, men did not boast of their relations with the fairer sex where respectable women could overhear them. Unfortunately for the women on the platform that morning, only a timid man waited for the train with them. And he most certainly wasn’t going to remind the loutish peddlers of their manners.

All silently breathed a sigh of relief when the train finally pulled into the station. The women quickly herded their children into the train and hoped the salesmen wouldn’t settle anywhere near them. The two men made their way into a half full passenger car and chose an empty seat near the front of the compartment. As the train left the station, they pulled flasks out of their coat pockets and fueled themselves with whiskey for the trip to Cameron.

Then they saw her sitting three rows in front, her seat facing theirs. The peddlers’ eyes narrowed and smirks formed on their lips as they nudged each other. The woman was dressed in men’s clothing! She was definitely a woman, in fact a beautiful woman. High sculpted cheekbones and full lips defined her face. Raven black hair twisted into a braid fell from below a narrow brimmed Stetson. But she was wearing trousers!

When the woman boarded the train earlier that day in Missoula, she had not escaped the attention of the passengers. Even in 1910, it was astonishing to see a woman in public wearing trousers. Yet when the woman in trousers entered their car, its occupants exhibited the common sense of westerners that told them not to confront grizzly bears and kept their thoughts to themselves. Eyes darted for quick glances as the powerful looking woman walked down the aisle searching for a seat. She was at least six feet tall, taller than most men. Startling blue eyes in a face brown from the sun swept the car as if daring the passengers to say something. She found a seat and made no attempt to exchange pleasantries with her seatmates. Once the train left the station, the dark woman stared silently out the window.

"Are you wearing your husband’s trousers?" shouted the older of the peddlers. His partner quickly joined in. "What so you have in those trousers lady?" He asked as he grabbed at his privates.

Their crude insults filled the car as all chatter suddenly ceased. The other passengers, shocked by the peddlers’ coarseness, stared at the tall woman and wondered what would happen next. Would she flee red-faced from the car? Would she cry? They did not have long to wait to see what her reaction would be.

In a movement so fast many of the car’s occupants missed it, the tall woman came out of her seat, bounded down the aisle and smashed the two drunks heads together. All did hear the crack that resulted from two heads forcefully colliding together. Many would later describe the sound as similar to that of two billy goats butting heads.

The woman returned to her seat and resumed staring out the window. The two louts spent the rest of the trip to Cameron slumped against each other and of no further offense to anyone. The conductor, assuming they were sleeping when he entered the car, fished their tickets out of their pockets. And the passengers in the car that day would have a story to tell that would entertain family and friends for years to come.

Having dealt in her usual direct way with the peddlers, Jesse Tyson gazed out at the passing scenery and speculated about the assignment waiting for her in Cameron. For the last three years Jesse worked for the US Forest Service. She was a member of an elite group who surveyed millions of acres of public lands in the West for their suitability for designation as National Forests. Working in Montana and Idaho, she spent months alone on horseback exploring and mapping remote mountains and pristine forests. It was a hard and lonely life but one Jesse willingly chose for herself.

The tall woman was working in the White Goat Mountains during the summer of 1910. The local ranger had rode out and informed her she was to report immediately to the District Forester at district headquarters in Missoula. Jesse was to bring her saddle and personal gear. The ranger could offer no explanation for the unusual summons to Missoula.

As the train rolled toward Cameron, Jesse thought back to her meeting in Missoula. The tall woman knocked on the District Forester’s door and stepped purposefully into his small, sparsely furnished office. As Rod Tyson stood up and stepped around his desk, Jesse strode quickly to him. "Uncle Rod," she said warmly as she wrapped her arms around the tall man and gave him a hug.

Ed Kearney was waiting for Jesse when she stepped off the train in Cameron. About a year out of Yale, he was one of the many young university men brought west to provide the technical expertise needed to administer the new National Forests. He was a tall, handsome man anxious to prove himself to the forest rangers he worked with.

The look on his face was not welcoming. They met before on a project in the Assiniboin National Forest. There he made the mistake of rudely commenting about her masculine attire. Jesse promptly knocked him to the ground with a punch. Ed had been a member of the Yale boxing team. He gamely tried to get up twice before Jesse’s blows put him down for the count.

The young easterner never forgot what the laughing ranger said who helped him to his feet. "I’d rather twist a cougar’s tail than tangle with that woman."

"We’re at the Liberty Hotel two blocks west of the station. Your horses and supplies are at the livery stable behind the hotel." Ed turned abruptly and briskly walked away.

Thanks for the warm welcome. Jesse went to the baggage car to retrieve her saddle and gear. The two peddlers were also getting their cases. They avoided her stare and scurried off without looking at the tall woman.

The young forest assistant was still angry about the telegram in his coat pocket. The previous day he sent an urgent message to the District Forester pleading to be allowed to accompany Miss Thomas on her trip. Ed fell in love with Annabelle Thomas as soon as she stepped off the train the day before. She was an attractive young woman in her mid-twenties with blonde hair and impossibly green eyes. He introduced himself to her and the warm, inviting smile she greeted him with convinced him it was love at first sight. The young woman’s manners and speech made it obvious she was both educated and refined. The thought of this woman riding into the mountains alone with Jesse Tyson was unbearable. The District Forester’s reply arrived that morning; "Miss Thomas is to travel alone with Miss Tyson as discussed."

A smile broke the tension on his face as he entered the Liberty’s lobby and spotted Annie sitting in a chair. She was dressed in a stylish, white-linen walking suit. Her blonde hair was pinned up in the latest fashion.

"Annie, I wasn’t sure you were ever going to leave your room."

Annie smiled, recognizing immediately the infatuation shining from his face. Yes she thought, Ed’s manly, upright, an honest gentleman…. The same words could describe a young man now lying in a small church cemetery on the coast of North Carolina.

"I’ll have to admit it took longer than I thought to rest from my train trip to Montana." What Annie would not admit to him was the terrible guilt that held her captive and made it at times so difficult to leave the safe confines of a room.

" I met Miss Tyson, your guide, at the train station. She’ll be here shortly."

Ed blushed while nervously fingering the rim of the hat he held in his hands and sheepishly continued. "Miss Tyson is different from most sort of women. I don’t think you have to worry though. She never would have been sent to guide you if anyone thought there would be problems." Would she believe him when she met Jesse? Did he believe what he just said?

Suddenly Ed realized Annie was no longer looking at him and knew Jesse had entered the lobby. The young blonde’s eyes saw only the tall, dark woman. Annie’s face showed no sign of what she was thinking. Somehow the young forest assistant would have felt better if she had been shocked.

Jesse put her saddle and pack down, and stared across the lobby at the woman sitting by Ed. Is she the woman I’m guiding? Is she the reporter?

Their eyes met and all Jesse could think was how pretty the young blonde was. The guide suddenly realized whatever spell had been cast must be broken immediately. Jesse reached the young woman in a few strides.

Annie stared at the woman approaching her. Annie recognized the confidence in her walk. The tall woman was dressed in grey trousers and a light blue cotton shirt with a vest. She wore a cream colored Stetson with a narrow brim and short crown, and lace-up leather boots with heels for riding. She must be my guide. So that’s what Ed was trying to tell me. She wears men’s clothing.

Women dressed in masculine attire were no surprise to Annie. She thought of London, Stephen and the lesson she learned. Relations with women like Stephen were about power, domination and sex.

And there was something else. A vague recognition fluttered in her mind. Had she met this woman before?

Ed glared at Jesse. "Miss Anabelle Thomas, this is Miss Jesse Tyson."

Jesse ignored the young man and spoke directly to Annie. "Miss Thomas, we will not be traveling to Lost Soldier Butte in a carriage nor will there be hotels along the trail. I hope you have more appropriate clothes for the trip."

"Please call me Annie. I assure you that I’m ready for the trip," and then she smiled.

The smile once again reminded Jesse of how attractive the young blonde was. Annie looked directly at her. There was no hint of nervousness or embarrassment in the young woman’s gaze. Jesse stared back into lovely green eyes that seemed so familiar.

Unsettled by a bond she felt to Annie, Jesse kept her reply short and clipped. "We’ll be leaving early tomorrow morning. I need to check the horses and supplies". She turned, retrieved her saddle and pack, and left the lobby without a goodbye.

Ed watched as the tall woman left the hotel. I know he’s her uncle, but what could the District Forester be thinking sending a lady like Annie out into the wilds with her?

"Annie, if it worries you being guided by Miss Tyson please tell me. I’ll telegraph the District Forester with your concerns. I’m sure he’ll let me accompany you."

"I don’t have any concerns about being guided by Jesse."

The young blonde came from pioneer stock. The women in her family were well known for their strength, independence and willingness to buck convention. In 1864, her grandmother, Ruth Crawford, gave shelter at the family ranch in eastern Colorado to a small group of Cheyenne fleeing the infamous massacre of Black Kettle’s band at Sand Creek. Annie’s grandfather had been gone for a month on a cattle drive. She put the Indians in the barn and then ordered her oldest daughter, Annie’s mother, to fetch the medicines and muslin from the house.

When a patrol of Colonel Chivington’s soldiers showed up at the ranch tracking the Indians, Ruth ordered the blue coats off her land. Holding a Henry repeating rifle, Annie’s grandmother told the men that only cowards and blackhearts could have slaughtered the friendly Cheyenne camped at Sand Creek. The sergeant in charge decided killing a few more Indians wasn’t worth the risk of a bullet from Ruth’s rifle in his guts and ordered the soldiers to leave. When Cheyenne war parties roamed eastern Colorado seeking revenge for the massacre, only the Crawford ranch remained untouched.

Annie looked up at the tall young man, "Ed, can we go to supper now?"

They strolled down Cameron’s wood sidewalks to a nearby restaurant. Cameron was a proud little city located in the foothills of the Sleeping Child Mountains. It had a public school, bank, hotel, four churches, telephone and telegraph service and even a drug store with a soda fountain. Ed and Annie made an attractive couple as they dined in the Bon Serra Restaurant. Their fellow diners assumed they were married. The young couple chatted as a smartly uniformed waitress served them their meal. At the Bon Serra, 75 cents bought a complete meal including coffee and pie in the most modern of dining rooms. Ed told Annie about Yale and his work with the Forest Service. Annie said little about herself.

"I hope I haven’t bored you. I’ve done all the talking. Were you a reporter in North Carolina?" asked the young man.

Annie could sense his frustration at her unwillingness to share her life with him. And what would he think if he knew about London and the murder in North Carolina?

"No, I wasn’t a reporter though I did write articles for local newspapers. I worked for the National Audubon Society. My work was to organize junior Audubon Clubs for school children living on the coast of North Carolina. The slaughter of birds for plumage for women’s hats and for the food markets of the North could result in many species disappearing from North Carolina forever. The Society hopes that by teaching children to value birds we can stop this from happening."

Their conversation was interrupted when the door of the restaurant flew open. A man dressed in a ragged black suit with the stains of many previous meals on it staggered in. Boone Hyatt was a man who would have been unwelcome at any restaurant. He was in his 50’s, lean and had bulging, watery eyes. Under a battered hat there was an unruly mop of long, gray hair tied behind his head. From a distance one might think a large furry animal was sitting on his head.

Boone was a government trapper. He spent over 40 years as a market hunter in the West and had participated in the final slaughter of the buffalo. And now his job was to exterminate the last few wolves, mountain lions and grizzly bears that roamed the wild lands of the West.

Boone looked around the restaurant and then spotted the young couple. He quickly made his way to their table and slid into a chair as they stared at him. The trapper smelled of whiskey. It was obvious he was drunk. Ed was not a timid man but had not been in the West long enough to know how to deal with men like Boone Hyatt. And Boone knew this instinctively.

He stared at Annie in a manner that no gentleman would look at a respectable woman. "You be about as pretty a gal as I seen in a long time."

Certainly it was perfectly proper in a saloon to approach a woman you didn’t know, plop yourself at her table uninvited and start a conversation without being introduced. It was an insult though to Annie and a challenge to Ed. Before either Annie or Ed could respond, Boone flew out of the chair as if someone had yanked a chain attached to him.

"Time to leave. Don’t come back until you’ve learned some manners," Jesse snarled.

The tall woman had encountered the trapper several times in western Montana. She knew exactly how to deal with him. She tightened her grip on his collar, easily dragged him to the restaurant door, and then slammed his head on the doorframe. A powerful kick propelled Boone out of the restaurant and onto the dirt street. Jesse followed him to the street. As he groggily tried to stand, she saw the trapper pull a pistol from his waistband. Could she reach him before he aimed and fired?

Suddenly a loud voice commanded, "Drop the pistol".

Both Jesse and Boone turned to see Town Marshal Brent Foster standing near them with a large Colt revolver in his hand. Marshal Foster came at a run when a waitress from the Bon Serra telephoned saying there was trouble at the restaurant. The marshal had been a lawman for 25 years. The fact he was still alive was testament to his prowess with a gun. Boone knew this and gingerly placed his pistol on the ground. Ed and Annie’s waitress approached the marshal and quickly told him what had happened.

He grabbed Boone by the arm; "You’ll be my guest for a couple nights." As the lawman led the trapper to the town jail, he gave Jesse a quizzical look.

It’s a damn sad day in Montana when a woman’s honor has to be protected by another woman.

Jesse turned to Ed and Annie who were standing in front of the restaurant. They make a nice looking couple.

"Everything’s ready for tomorrow. I’m sleeping in the stable. We’ll leave at six in the morning." She walked back toward the stable without waiting for a reply.

Jesse had not seen the young blonde slip a pistol out of the holster of a cowboy standing next to her outside the restaurant who was also watching the commotion in the street. Annie moved so quickly he never realized his pistol was gone. As Boone put his revolver on the ground, Annie carefully slid the unsuspecting cowboy’s gun back into its holster.

Ed saw what happened. He was surprised how easily she handled a pistol. He looked at Annie. "Would you have shot him?"

She looked him directly in the eyes. "Yes. Yes, I would have shot him."

CHAPTER 2

Ed met Annie in the hotel lobby the next morning. They ate a quick breakfast in the hotel’s small restaurant and then walked to the stable. The horses were saddled and the packhorse loaded by the time Annie and Ed arrived. Ed was still embarrassed by his failure to deal with Boone Hyatt at the Bon Serra. He wasn’t afraid to use his fists; he just hadn’t known what to do. And then to have Jesse come to Annie’s rescue!

"Good morning Jesse. Looks like a good day for a ride." Annie smiled at her guide.

Annie’s stylish clothes had been packed and left behind at the hotel. She wore a split riding skirt that daringly ended mid-shin. An elaborately beaded buckskin vest over a white cotton shirt, a red bandana around her neck and a broad-brimmed hat completed her outfit. She wore her hair twisted in a braid that fell down her back. The young woman carried a satchel in her hand and saddlebags over her shoulder. Those watching from the street might have thought she was riding in a Wild West show.

Jesse fought the desire to return the smile the young blonde greeted her with. She must remain focused, purposeful and fight the appeal of Annie’s deep green eyes and the warmth that flashed from her smile

"We need to get riding. It will be a long day before we get to our first camp."

The tall woman took Annie’s satchel to secure it on the packhorse. It was then she saw the young woman was carrying a Winchester repeating rifle in a leather scabbard. The Winchester was short as if made for a woman and had intricate designs made of brass tacks on its stock.

I have a lot to learn about Annie. "That’s your horse," she indicated with a nod of her head toward a small bay gelding. "Do you need help getting on it?"

"No, I don’t any help." The young woman lashed her rifle and saddlebags to the saddle. As Jesse watched, Annie untied the horse and mounted the animal quickly and easily. She’s no tenderfoot. The tall woman put her foot in the stirrup, stepped up and onto her horse, large buckskin. They were ready to leave.

"Annie, I’ll be waiting here for you when you return," Ed called out as he watched the two women ride off. I wonder what Annie thinks of me?

Their first day’s ride was on a rough wagon road that took them out of the foothills Cameron was located in and up into the Sleeping Child Mountains. One would think the long ride that day would give the women the opportunity to talk. But that’s not what happened.

It was an unusually hot day even for August. It was a day better spent in the shade of a porch than on a horse under a cloudless blue sky. They rode through open pine forests that provided little protection from the sun. Their horses kicked up dust and large horseflies buzzed around them waiting for the opportunity to land and inflict a painful bite on rider and horse. The smell of smoke lingered in the air from the forest fires burning to the north and south of their route. Only the occasional shrill call of a hawk wheeling overhead broke the silence. Hot and uncomfortable, the women rode without conversation immersed in their own thoughts.

And Jesse’s thoughts were in Paris. Shortly after her eighteenth birthday, Jesse left Montana to join her parents in New York. The Clifford Tyson’s were now well established in New York society. They wanted the prestige and satisfaction of introducing their beautiful daughter to society in the most highly anticipated parties and dances of the social season. The luxuries the Tyson’s wealth purchased seduced Jesse into an idle and frivolous life. The adoration and gifts lavished on her by an army of young men captivated by her beauty and wealth made the transition into a debutante surprisingly easy for her. The independence and self-reliance she learned in Montana became in New York a vanity that delighted in being the center of attention.

In 1902 when Jesse was 22, Mrs. Gertrude Borden Tyson decided it was time for her daughter and her to spend a year in Paris. There Mrs. Tyson could search for the final feather in the Tyson cap, a titled husband for Jesse. What better way to confirm the social standing of the family than to have a duke as a son-in-law?

Like most Americans, Mrs. Tyson had only a dim understanding of aristocratic titles. She wouldn’t have been able to describe the difference between a duke and a marquis to save her life. She did know that for the last 30 years rich young American women had been crossing the Atlantic with their mothers and marrying husbands with noble titles. Mrs. Tyson was determined to be as equally successful as those who sailed before her. While she evaluated suitable candidates, Jesse would learn the skills a young woman from a refined background should know including how to order from a menu in French.

She realized it had been a mistake to allow Jesse to spend those years in Montana with her brother-in-law. Jesse learned skills such as using an axe and packing a horse that were most certainly of no value in either society or finding a suitable husband.

Her husband had been almost as bad an influence on her daughter as her bother-in-law. Having inherited a vast fortune, he saw no need to work and lived his life in clubs and on the sporting fields. Perhaps because of guilt about the long separation, he shared his passion for sports with Jesse. She hunted and fished with him in the Adironacks, sailed off Newport in his yachts and learned to drive the family’s motorcars.

But what Mrs. Tyson would never forgive her husband for was teaching Jesse to box. She would never understand what possessed Clifford to teach their daughter the most unnatural of sports for a woman. And worst of all, she excelled at boxing. The rugged demands of working outdoors in Montana had resulted in Jesse being astonishingly strong for a woman. This combined with her height and fists that would never be described as dainty made her a feared sparring partner.

Mrs. Tyson worried about her daughter. Though perfectly acceptable suitors in New York besieged the black-haired beauty, Jesse showed no interest in marriage or even a courtship. During her years in Montana, Jesse never joined the idle chatter of her cousins about boys and loathed the romance novels they devoured. She avoided the picnics, dances and parlor visits that comprised the courtship rituals of young people. The endless speculation by her cousins about lovemaking bored her

After her return to New York, Jesse enjoyed the power she held over the men who courted her. She sharpened her skills of seduction with them but never rewarded her suitors with anything more than a chaste kiss and rarely that. She quickly earned the nickname "Ice Beauty".

Mrs. Tyson hoped Jesse would thrive in Paris far from the influence of her father and uncle. And so she did but not in a way intended by her mother. Jesse’s youth, beauty and money caught the attention of more than titled bachelors from Europe’s royal families in search of rich American wives. The admiring glances of attractive women did not go unnoticed by the tall woman. The thought of a physical relationship with a woman both intrigued and excited her. With the practicality of an American, Jesse thought, "Why not?"

At the beginning of the 20^th century a sexually open society that could be found nowhere else in the world flourished in Paris. Artistic and literary women from America and England settled in Paris with their inherited wealth in search of the freedom to love who they chose. And the center of their social lives was the rich American expatriate, Edith Spaulding.

Edith’s home on Rue Dauphine in the Left Bank was always filled with writers, painters and scholars of both sexes enjoying the freedom and excitement her home offered. And above all else, Edith was the most famous lesbian in Paris. She loved the excitement of the chase of beautiful women and professed to worship only at the temple of love. Her natural charm and empathy, her intelligence and sensual manner made her irresistible to both men and women. She was only 26 years old but she was already a promiscuous and very experienced seducer of women. It was into Edith Spaulding’s world that Jesse entered.

Within a short time of the Tyson‘s arrival, word quickly reached Edith of a magnificent young Amazon from America who rode horses astride in the Bois de Boulogne. Her name and address was determined, and an invitation quickly extended for a party at Rue Dauphine. Mrs. Tyson pleaded unsuccessfully with Jesse not to go. She had heard the stories about Edith and sensed whatever was waiting for her daughter at that house, it was sure to be scandalous.

Jesse’s arrival at Rue Dauphine was gossiped about for months afterwards. She did not walk into the house but stalked in unannounced, her icy blue eyes sweeping the faces of the men and women who filled the rooms. Jesse was well aware of Edith Spaulding’s reputation and why she had been invited to her party. Murmurs followed the dark woman as she made her way to Edith, Jesse’s beauty and power startling her fellow guests. Wagers were quickly taken on how long it would take Edith to bed this magnificent Amazon. Those who bet on sooner rather than later won. All were wrong though in thinking Edith would be the seducer.

Guests at the party that night remembered it was the first and only time any of them ever saw Edith speechless. When Jesse suddenly appeared, towering over her as she sat talking to an aspiring poet, Edith ended her conversation in mid sentence and stared at the beautiful American.

Unfortunately Edith also nurtured the dark side of Jesse’s soul - the pride, selfishness and cruelty. From the beginning of their relationship both women agreed they would share each other with many lovers. They justified their promiscuity by announcing they were letting the world know the love of women was a pleasure and not a sin. What they thrived on was the challenge of seduction, the triumph of conquest and the power of sex.

And how did this happen to Jesse? Why did she yield so quickly, so eagerly to a life unchecked by morality and so indifferent to love? Perhaps it was because women of her era were prohibited by their sex from any type of professional career. Where was an adventurous woman like Jesse to find challenge in life? A man with a buccaneer’s heart would have found his challenges on Wall Street or the New York Stock Exchange. Instead, Jesse became a jungle cat stalking women. Beautiful to watch, soft to stroke and with claws ready to tear the hearts of unwary women. And this was to lead to the tragedy that would send the dark woman back to the wilds of Montana.

"Jesse, let’s stop here for lunch. The horses need a rest and I need a break from the sun." Annie voice brought Jesse quickly back to the present.

CHAPTER 3

Annie pointed to a grove of trees by a creek that ran alongside the wagon road. It offered shade and protection from the fierce heat they endured on the road. The guide nodded and reined the buckskin toward the trees. The two women dismounted, let the horses drink from the creek and then tied them to trees after loosening their saddles.

They sat on the ground against a log and unwrapped the lunch provided by the hotel.

"Jesse, are you going to say more to me than a sentence here and there? It’s going to be a very long trip if you won’t talk to me."

The blonde’s abruptness startled the dark woman. "I’m sorry. I usually work alone. I’m not use to riding with someone." And I’ve chosen to live my life alone. And I don’t want my life to change.

"Jesse, I want to thank-you for coming to my assistance last night. But did you really need to throw that man out of the restaurant?"

Jesse thought for a moment and then responded, "That man is Boone Hyatt, a government trapper. He lived a rough life on the frontier among hard, violent men. Boone doesn’t realize the frontier is gone and there’s no place for his type in the West anymore. When he’s in the mood to cause trouble, only violence or the threat of it will stop him. Anything else to Boone is a sign of weakness and only invites more trouble."

Annie stared at her guide with a look that indicated she was not entirely convinced. Jesse decided it was time to change the subject.

"You don’t have a southern accent?"

"I’m not from North Carolina. I was born and raised in Denver." Annie hoped her guide was in a mood to listen because Jesse was going to hear more than she asked for. Annie felt almost as if they were old friends long separated and with much to share.

"My parents sent me to a women’s college in the East. After I graduated I traveled throughout America and then in Europe before I was offered work in North Carolina."

Annie continued as they ate lunch. She hardly stopped talking to eat. She talked about her parents and her life in Denver. Her father was a successful banker. Surprisingly her mother was an attorney and of course an ardent suffragette. Annie’s grandparents raised cattle in eastern Colorado and she spent much of her childhood on horseback at their ranch.

Jesse listened intently and watched how Annie’s face changed, how her hands moved as she talked. But all too quickly it was time to leave. She could have stayed for the rest of the day in the cool shade of the trees listening to the young woman. But it was still a long ride to their camping spot for the night.

"Annie, we need to pack up and get going. We still have several hours of riding left."

The tall woman got up and walked toward the horses. Then Jesse saw the rattlesnake curled up under a bush near where the horses were tied. Annie followed her gaze.

"Don’t worry Annie. I’ll get a shovel from the pack and kill it."

"Don’t kill it. The snake isn’t a threat to us." Annie’s voice was quiet but firm.

Jesse froze; she couldn’t believe what she heard. In the West, if you saw a rattlesnake you killed it. Who ever heard of not killing a rattlesnake?

"What! They’re dangerous!" she sputtered.

"That snake isn’t going to rush over here and bite you. It’s frightened of us. There’s no reason to kill it unless you’re planning to eat it."

And it was then to Jesse’s great surprise she realized how important it was to her what Annie thought. How could this have happened so quickly? She only met the young blonde yesterday. "Well Annie, I can’t say I have a taste for rattlesnake meat."

Annie bent down and picked up a rock she tossed at the viper. Both women silently watched it slither away.

Unlike the morning, they talked as they rode to their first camp.

"Annie, why wouldn’t you let me kill the snake? I’ve never met anyone who didn’t kill a rattlesnake on sight."

Anxious not to appear foolish to her guide, Annie hesitated before speaking. "There’s a reason rattlesnakes are here. They’re part of the natural order of things. We need to learn how to live in harmony with nature."

Like most Westerners, Jesse viewed nature as a storehouse of commodities for men. Most certainly she loved the freedom, solitude and beauty of pristine forests and rugged mountain wildernesses. Yet to her trees were valuable for the lumber produced, grasslands for the cattle fed and wildlife as food and pelts. The idea of protecting nature for is own sake was quite frankly something the guide never considered.

The skepticism in Jesse’s face was obvious. "You’ve been reading John Muir."

"Yes, I’m an admirer of Mr. Muir. I agree with him that all creatures are essential to the completeness of creation. I don’t believe the world was made for just man."

Jesse obviously was not yet ready to convert to the teachings of John Muir. "If we meet a grizzly bear on the trail I hope it wants to live in harmony with us."

And so their conversation continued until they reached their camping spot. That evening they set up camp in a small meadow brilliant with alpine flowers. White barked aspen with leaves shimmying in the breeze ringed their camping spot. The two women worked together to unsaddle and brush the horses then let them graze in the meadow after hobbling them. Only after the horses were taken care of did they prepare their own meal. Beef stew from a can and potatoes were cooked over a campfire. Supper ended with canned peaches as desert. Both women thought to themselves how comfortable, how familiar it felt to cook and eat together. It was if this had happened a hundred times before.

Following supper Annie began the ritual she was to repeat every night. She wrote in her journal documenting the day’s events while there was still light. Jesse quietly mended a harness and then checked on the horses. The tall woman surprised herself again when she returned and realized how reassuring it was that Annie sat at her campfire.

Darkness and cold came quickly after the sun dropped behind the mountains and the evening star appeared in the sky. When Annie put down her journal Jesse asked, "Why were you sent to write an article on Lost Soldier Butte?"

"I’ve worked for the last two years for the National Audubon Societies in North Carolina organizing Junior Audubon Clubs. Mr.Gilbert Pearson, the president of the Audubon Society, arranged for me to write the article. He liked the stories I wrote for the society’s national magazine and newspapers in North Carolina. Mr. Pearson is a strong supporter of the teaching of evolution in schools. He hopes to help the general public understand the theory of evolution by exposing them to the fossil record.

He thought The Century Magazine readers would be more interested in reading about fossils if the story was written from the perspective of a woman traveling through the wilds of the West to fossil beds." Not the complete story but enough for now.

"Annie, I have to ask. Why are you carrying a rifle? There’s no buffalo left in this part of Montana." In fact the sad reality was there was almost no buffalo left anywhere. The last wild herd in America was in Yellowstone National Park. There were 21 buffalo in that herd.

The young blonde laughed. "No, I wasn’t planning to hunt buffalo. Before I went to North Carolina, I was a performer with Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show. I was a trick shot and I used the rifle in my act."

The guide would have been less astonished if Annie told her she had been chief of the Sioux Nation. Now it was Jesse’s turn to laugh. "What fun! How on earth did you come to join the Wild West Show?" And that explains her outfit.

"Colonel Cody is a close family friend. He dined with us whenever he visited Denver. Colonel Cody was in New York City on business shortly after I graduated from college. I arranged to meet him and asked for work with his show. He knew I could ride and that I’m a crack shot with a rifle. Colonel Cody is a good man who always tries to help his friends and their families." And Annie could have added that Buffalo Bill knew a pretty young woman was always good for business.

"I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I did know that I didn’t want to return to Denver and I had no interest in marriage. The show gave me the opportunity to travel and be independent. I was paid $25 a week and whatever I could make from the sale of autographed photographs of myself. My parents weren’t happy but they didn’t try to force me to return to Denver. I started with the show in 1905, and toured in America and England."

Jesse had many more questions to ask. "How did you learn to shoot?"

"I was told my mother was frightened by a rifle when she was pregnant with me." Annie laughed at the puzzled look on her guide’s face.

"That’s an old wives’ tale. I learned to shoot on my grandparent’s ranch. I had a natural skill for it. I can’t say where it came from." If Annie’s mother had been there, she would have proudly told Jesse that the young blonde was born to the skill. It came naturally and easily to her from the day she picked up her first rifle.

"I’ll be the first to admit I’m no match for Annie Oakley. That’s why my face isn’t on a cigarette card. My act was the standard tricks. I shot glass bowls tossed in the air while on a galloping horse, dimes at 50 paces, that sort of thing. I never used buckshot in my cartridges if that’s what you’re thinking."

"No, I wasn’t thinking that," Jesse replied with a laugh. "Annie, how did you get from the Wild West Show to North Carolina?"

"I quit the show at the end of its stay in London in 1907. I met Mr. Pearson at a dinner in London with Colonel Cody. He congratulated me for wearing a hat that didn’t have bird feathers on it. We talked about nature, birds and the need to protect wildlife. I told him I wanted to leave the show. He offered me a position in North Carolina and I accepted. Now Jesse, it’s your turn to tell me how you got your job with the Forest Service. I had no idea women worked in the forests."

Jesse stirred the coals of the campfire. "You’re right. Usually the Forest Service only hires women to work in the office. My uncle is the District Forester for the district that includes Montana. When I was a child, he and my aunt raised me along with their own daughters. I went back to live with my parents in New York when I turned 18. Later I went with my mother to live in Paris. When she returned to America, I remained in Paris. I lived there for five years before I returned to Montana in 1907.

I asked my uncle for outdoors work. He hired me to survey public lands for designation as National Forests. My uncle took a big risk hiring a woman for the job but he knew I could do it and was willing to deal with the complaints from his rangers. I work alone and most people think I’m a man anyway because of my first name. The rangers learned to work with me. I proved to them I could do the job. The fact I’m a woman doesn’t seem to matter much anymore."

The women continued to talk beside the crackling campfire and found a hundred things to share with each other. They could have talked all night as the time flew by. Annie and Jesse recognized the attraction telegraphed by their eyes and that their lives might be changing in a way neither of them would have expected only a day ago. Both women though held secrets. And these secrets formed a wall that protected them from the pain they feared love would bring.

The moon rose above the mountains casting a pale light on them.

Jesse looked to the sky and then stood up. "It’s late Annie, we need to get some sleep. We’ll be leaving at daybreak."

Tomorrow would have to be an early start if they were to reach their camp in the Buffalo Lick Grasslands before nightfall. The women curled up in their blankets near the campfire. Jesse quickly fell asleep but too many thoughts flew through Annie’s head for her to sleep. The young blonde looked up into the night sky glittering with a blanket of stars and it was 1907, and she was back in London.

Chapter 4

And with that image in her mind, the young woman finally fell asleep under the black night sky of Montana.

Chapter 5

The next day Annie and Jesse made breakfast and broke down their camp in the cold darkness of the early morning just before the sun rises. At daybreak when the last of the stars vanished, the horses were saddled and packed.

Both women shivered though they wore coats. The saddle creaked as Jesse swung up onto her horse that was mouthing its cold bit. "It always seems like it’s the coldest just before the sun comes up. By noon we’ll be complaining how hot it is."

Yesterday’s conversation marked a change in the two women’s relationship. There now was a warm companionship missing at the beginning of the trip.

"I promise I won’t complain for the rest of the trip how hot it is," laughed Annie from her horse.

"About a mile from here we’ll leave the wagon road and ride up a trail that will take us to Peep Sight Pass. From there the trail drops down into the Buffalo Lick Grasslands. I’m hoping we can reach our camping spot early this evening. We’ll be camping at an abandoned homestead with a well that still has water. It will be another long ride today. Let’s get going."

The stands of conifers became open and scattered as they climbed to Peep Sight Pass. The higher they went, the smaller and more twisted the trees became. The two women rode through granite basins carved by glaciers and dotted with small alpine lakes filled with pale green water. Jagged ridges rising hundreds of feet above them framed the landscape. Scattered mats of small yellow and pink flowers brightened the grey rock. The high country sky was a thin kind of blue that made Annie think she could see through it to the stars.

Their horses carefully picked their way up the steep rocky trail as the high-pitched whistles of marmots followed their progress. After a long climb they reached the pass. From there the two riders looked down on a sea of mountains with peaks that formed waves topped by white caps of snow. The broad open grasslands of the Buffalo Lick spread to the east. They drank in the cool, bracing air at 10,000 feet.

"Oh Jesse, I could stay here all day."

"I knew you’d like the view from here." And somehow the view seemed better now that Annie was there to share it with.

After a long ride down the eastside of the Sleeping Child Mountains, they reached the grasslands. It was a vast, wide-open country that spread as far as they could see. Low rolling hills covered in short grass turned brown and dry by summer appeared to merge with the open sky at the horizon’s edge. Men who wanted nothing but the big sky over their heads, who wanted only the company of the wind rode this untamed land.

The two women traveled a trail first used by Indians, then the Army and later settlers. Large prairie dog towns lay scattered along their route. The little rodents stood guard on the mounds of dirt surrounding their burrow entrances and barked warnings as the riders came closer. Jesse reined her horse to a stop. They watched as prairie dogs cautiously poked their heads out of burrows to evaluate the threat.

Jesse turned in her saddle toward Annie. "Prairie dogs exchange kisses with members of their family group. It’s a greeting and a way of determining if a prairie dog is family and friend. If the other prairie dog doesn’t return the kiss then it’s identified itself as a stranger and trespasser."

Annie’s response was quick and not particularly well thought out. "Should we be kissing?" Why did I say that? Jesse will think I’m a fool. Blushing Annie continued, " I mean like the prairie dogs to show we’re friends." I need to keep my mouth shut.

The young woman’s comment startled the guide but then she smiled, kicked her horse and the journey resumed. It was early afternoon when the crack of gunshots snapped them out of their daydreams.

Annie looked at her guide. "What’s that all about?"

"I don’t know. Whatever it is, it’s trouble. I need to go see what’s happening. Stay here with the packhorse."

Jessie reached behind her, pulled a revolver in its holster from the saddlebag and buckled it around her waist. It was still the unwritten law of the West that you must go to the aid of those in trouble even at the risk of your life.

Annie then reminded the tall woman that she had a mind of her own. "No Jesse. I’m going with you. You might need help."

"Annie, it could be dangerous. I don’t want you getting hurt."

"We can stay here all afternoon arguing or we can go find out if someone needs our help."

Jesse could see there was no changing her mind. She would have to hogtie Annie to make her stay. "Looks like we’re in this together. Let’s go."

They rode toward the sound of gunfire that echoed in the distance. The two women stopped at the bottom of a rise in the grasslands. They listened to the crack of rifle fire that seemed to come from the other side of the hill. Jesse got off her horse and looked at Annie. There was no uncertainty in the young woman’s face, no sign of fear. The guide saw only determination to join the fight.

"Those are real bullets. Buffalo Bill and the cowboys aren’t going to be coming to the rescue if we get in trouble."

Annie jumped off her horse and pulled her rifle from its scabbard. "I’m ready." And by her actions the young woman announced she was always ready to be at the tall woman’s side when there was trouble.

Jesse pointed to the top of the rise. "We’ll go up there and get a look at what’s happening. Keep low to the ground and your head down when we get to the top."

They crawled the last few feet and then peered down onto what was happening below them. A man with a pistol was trapped in an old buffalo wallow. Several hundred feet away, two men with rifles were slowing working their way toward the trapped man, skillfully using the terrain to conceal themselves. They alternated firing shots to keep the man in the wallow pinned down as they moved closer. A short distance behind them, another man held three horses.

Annie whispered, "Do you have any idea who those men are?"

"No. I don’t know what’s happening down there. The man in the wallow doesn’t stand a chance. They’ll pick him off with their rifles. They’re too far away for him to get a shot at them with his pistol."

"We need to even the odds."

Before the tall woman could respond, Annie brought her rifle to her shoulder and snapped off two quick shots. Jesse saw the bullets hit at the feet of the two men with rifles. They along with the trapped man looked up at them. It was plain to all the odds had suddenly changed. The two men ran back to their horses and with the third man galloped off. The man in the wallow waved at the two women.

Annie grinned at the surprise in the guide’s face. Jesse finally spoke, "That sure worked. Let’s get the horses and find out what’s going on."

The man was standing and waiting with a big smile on his face when they reached the wallow. He was tall and sturdy looking, and wore a small badge pinned to his vest.

Jesse stared at him from her horse. "Rangers are getting thicker in western Montana than fiddlers in Hell."

Forest Ranger Bob Lynchford laughed and his smile got bigger. "Glad you came along Jesse. Things weren’t looking so good for me. Nice shooting."

"It wasn’t me." Jesse nodded toward Annie. "You can thank Miss Annie Thomas formerly of Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show for saving your hide."

The forest ranger smiled again and tipped his hat to Annie. "Thank-you Miss Thomas. As you’ve just seen, the real West is still plenty wild."

Jesse got off her horse and walked over to the ranger. "Bob how’d you almost get yourself shot?"

"I got a report that cattle were illegally grazing on this part of the Buffalo Lick. I rode out to investigate and got bushwhacked by William Statton, a local cattleman, and two of his cowhands. I think they would have killed me if you hadn’t shown up."

Rangers were not popular in the grasslands of Montana. Cattle had been grazing on the Buffalo Lick since the 1860’s. Ranchers fought first Indians, then gangs of rustlers and finally homesteaders to control the Buffalo Lick. For fifty years there were no rules, only bullets. Cattlemen reigned over the land like warlords with armies of hired guns. Now for the first time they had to abide by the government’s regulations if they wanted to graze on grasslands managed by the Forest Service. Fortunately only a few ranchers expressed their unhappiness with bullets.

"Why are you two ladies out here?"

As she always did, Jesse flinched at being called a lady. "I’m guiding Miss Thomas to Lost Soldier Butte. She’s writing a story for The Century Magazine on the fossil beds there. We’re going to camp tonight at the old homestead."

"I wish I could talk to you more but I need to get back to Ripley and telegraph the US Marshal for help."

Jesse looked at the ranger. "Bob, will you be alright riding back alone? Those cowboys won’t try and finish what they started?"

"I’ll be fine. I know Statton. He’s heading for his cattle as we speak. He’ll try to round them up and get them back to his range before I return with a marshal. Can you help me find my horse? I chased it off when I took cover in the wallow."

The two women found his horse a short distance away, returned it to him and then backtracked to the trail. They talked as they rode toward the homestead.

"Jesse, I didn’t realize being a forest ranger was so dangerous."

"Cattlemen don’t like the government telling them what to do. Men like Statton see it as their God given right to use the land as they see fit. Most of them are law abiding though and don’t shoot rangers to make their point."

"Are gunfights a regular part of your job?"

Jesse laughed, "No, frontier days are long gone. I can’t remember the last time I fired my pistol. I’m glad you were along. I can’t say I’m much of a sharpshooter."

Annie smiled at the compliment. "That ranger didn’t seem rattled about almost being shot."

Jesse turned in her saddle to look at Annie. "Bob’s typical of the type of man that becomes a forest ranger. The Forest Service wants men from the West who can shoot straight, handle a horse and take care themselves outdoors. Bob worked a small ranch here in Montana before he became a ranger two years ago. He passed a written Civil Service test that covered everything from livestock brands to cooking biscuits. Then he took a practical test on riding and packing a horse, shooting a rifle and a pistol, and surveying and mapping. Bob gets paid $60 a month, has to furnish his own horse and pay for its feed out of his paycheck. I’ve never known much that could rattle him."

Annie was strangely quiet for the rest of the ride. Jesse assumed the excitement of the gunfight had worn off leaving the young blonde tired and introspective. What she didn’t know was Annie’s mind was back in North Carolina. Annie was remembering what happens when no one comes to the rescue.

And Jesse thought about Annie and how the young woman demanded to ride with her to a gunfight. Annie didn’t know what she was getting into but went anyway because she thought I might need help. Now the guide knew that Annie would never let her face trouble alone, that the young woman would stay by her side whatever might come.

The sun was low in the sky when they arrived at the old homestead. A small, collapsed log cabin and an equally ruined barn was all that remained of a family’s failed attempt to make a life in Montana.

"Our camp for the night." Jesse knew her riding companion would have questions about the old homestead.

The tall woman spoke as they unpacked the horses and set up camp. "A family from back east homesteaded here in the 1880’s. It took a lot of work to bring logs from the mountains to build the cabin and barn. They tried to grow wheat but were ruined by drought and grasshoppers. They abandoned the land and no one knows where they went. During frontier days, thousands of buffalo and antelope grazed on this grassland. There were grizzly bears and wolves too. The Blackfeet, Cree and Assiniboin hunted and fought here.

They’re all gone. The buffalo and antelope hunted out years ago. Cattle have taken their place. The bears and wolves exterminated, and the Indians forced into reservations."

Annie thought for a minute as she rolled out her blankets. "I think that’s a sad story."

"That’s just the way things happened in Montana. Let’s get supper going. I’m hungry and I’m guessing so are you."

And once again the two women fell into the routine of camp life. Tend to the horses, lay out bedding, cook supper, clean up and prepare for the next day. They didn’t speak much to each other as they went about their work. Yet it was a comfortable kind of silence. It was the kind of silence shared by two people who don’t need words to convince each other they share a bond.

Following supper Jesse read her uncle’s field notes, every now and then glancing at the young blonde as she wrote in her journal. The dark woman knew what she felt for her traveling companion was far more than desire for a very attractive woman. She could have fought desire; she could have controlled it. The tall woman thought she had accepted the loneliness of her life in Montana. Now Jesse couldn’t imagine a life anywhere without the smile, the laugh and the stories of the woman sitting a few feet from her. How could Annie have settled so quickly, so easily into her life?

Jesse noticed the physical contact between them was becoming more frequent and lingering longer. Their hands would meet when they worked around the horses. They sat closer to each other as they ate. When they touched Annie would look into her guide’s eyes, shyly smile and then look away. Jesse tried to tell herself she would be content being the young blonde’s friend. But the tall woman knew she wanted to be much more than a friend to Annie.

Was it just wishful thinking to believe Annie felt the same way? But Jesse knew how quickly she could steal the warmth and kindness from her traveling companion leaving behind only pain and heartbreak. That was her gift to her lovers in Paris. For Annie’s sake she must keep her distance and then say good-bye forever to the young woman when they returned to Cameron.

"Annie, I’m turning in. It’s another early start tomorrow morning. It’s a full days ride to Badger Creek where we’ll camp. There’ll be water and trees for shade. It’s about a half hour ride from the camp to the fossil beds at Lost Soldier Butte."

The tall woman then leaned over and lightly brushed Annie’s lips with hers. "Goodnight friend."

Annie could only stare in surprise as her guide stood up, moved to her own bedroll and crawled under the blankets after removing her clothes.

CHAPTER 6

The women were up before sunrise and riding to Lost Soldier Butte as dawn lightened the night sky. After a long day in the saddle they entered the badlands, a heavily eroded landscape covering several thousand acres on the edge of the grasslands. A maze of steep canyons, gullies and ridges carved by wind and water cut through the land. It was a wilderness of startling shapes created by erosion - columns, towers, spires and pinnacles of rock. The grey, red and yellow colors of the peaks and ridges shifted with the changes of light as clouds moved across the sun. The desolate land was almost empty of vegetation except for a sparse cover of grass and salt brush. Even the Indians had avoided traveling through the stark landscape.

Tired from the long ride, they finally arrived at Badger Creek hidden in the bottom of a canyon. The creek fed by springs provided a welcome relief to the fierce heat of the badlands. Green sedges and willows covered the marshy flats along the creek. Tall cottonwoods lining the watercourse offered cool shade. Small pools of water could still be found in the creek. The tracks of coyotes and other animals that drank there covered the stream banks. Two days would be spent at Lost Soldier Butte and then they would begin the return trip to Cameron. Already the time was passing too quickly for Jesse.

After supper Annie decided to draw her guide into a conversation rather than write in her journal. There was so much more she wanted to know about the dark woman. Soon into their journey the young woman recognized she felt far more for her guide than her initial admiration of Jesse’s independence and strength, the way she seemed part of this wild, lonely land. Could there be something between them more than the expected companionship of two women alone on the trail?

Yes, there was a strong physical attraction. Annie couldn’t deny the soft ache of desire she felt when they would touch while working around the horses and in camp. But that was only part of it. It was so comfortable, so easy being around her. A lifetime with Jesse could pass in the blink of an eye. Is this where she belonged – with Jesse in this untamed land? Someday would she call home a camp in the middle of a wilderness with only the sky for a roof and walls formed by the impenetrable blackness of the night beyond the campfire?

"Jesse, what do you do during the winter? You can’t work in the mountains."

"I live with my uncle and his family, and attend classes at the University of Montana."

"What are you studying?"

"Geology. My uncle is a former professor of geology at the university and still teaches there. He got me into the department. The professors and male students fought having a woman in their classes. They seem to at least tolerate me now. " I cracked a few heads before I got there.

"What will you do when you graduate?"

"I’d like to join the scientific expeditions that are traveling the world to excavate fossils. The American Museum of Natural History is sending expeditions to the Gobi Desert in Mongolia to look for dinosaur eggs."

Once again Annie’s response startled the tall woman. "How are you ever going to settle down with someone if you’re always in some remote corner of the world." I’ve done it again! What’s gotten into me?

Jesse paused for a moment puzzled by the young woman’s comment. "I’ve never really thought about that. I’m not looking for anyone to be in my life."

Annie felt a wave of disappointment wash over her when she heard her guide’s answer. I’m fooling myself when I think there could be something between us.

Never one though to completely give up, Annie continued with her questions. "Tell me more about Paris. What did you do there?"

"I had a close friend, an American woman named Edith Spaulding, who was also living in Paris. Edith enjoyed surrounding herself with artists, writers and poets. There was always something happening at her home - salons, parties and plays. Edith introduced me to the theatre, opera and museums of Paris. I won’t mention what else she introduced me to. We spent summers in her villa in the south of France or traveling in Europe. One summer was on the Greek island of Lesbos. We hoped the spirit of Sappho would inspire us to write poetry. Sappho’s spirit must have been long gone because our poetry was pretty bad. Then it was time for me to return to America."

"Wasn’t it difficult going from Paris to Montana." Edith Spaulding sounds like more than a friend to me.

"No, I don’t miss Paris and my life there. I’d rather wake up on a mountain in Montana than any city on Earth. Annie, I need to check the horses before it gets too dark and then get some sleep." The tall woman stood up. There would be no further conversation that night about Paris.

But Jesse couldn’t help thinking of Paris as she tended to the horses. Every now and then she did miss Edith and the company of clever, attractive women. And most of all she missed a woman’s soft touch. Her world in Montana was made up of tough, hard men who worked in the grasslands and forests – rangers, loggers and ranchers. A soft touch, a kind voice, a gentle nature were not found in those who rode the wild lands.

Yes, there were times when Jesse recognized the emptiness of her life and would seek the company of others. Occasionally the tall woman would attend summer dances at the ranches of stockmen who grazed their cattle and sheep in the mountains. Neighbors from miles away would come for the party. A wood dance floor would be built, paper lanterns hung and tables loaded with food and drink. The tall woman would watch as fiddlers played, and husbands and wives, fathers and daughters, courting couples danced through the night. At the end of these evenings, loneliness would settle on the dark woman like a blanket. But that’s how she wanted it, until now.

By the time the guide returned to camp it was dark. An owl hooted in the night beyond the fire as Annie slept wrapped in her blankets. The tall woman knelt by her and listened to the soft sounds of Annie’s breathing. She reached out and gently stroked the young woman’s hair. Jesse had every intention of keeping her distance from Annie. As she watched the young woman sleep in the glimmer of the stars of an August night, she knew she was powerless to resist Annie’s smile, her warmth. With a sigh, the guide decided it was time to turn to her own bedroll and sleep.

"Jesse, Jesse. Wake-up. You’re having a nightmare."

Jesse bolted up, the blankets tangled around her feet. Wide eyed she looked at Annie who knelt beside her. She grabbed the young woman’s arm.

"Jesse, you’re hurting me."

The tall woman quickly released her arm. "I’m sorry. I’m sorry I woke you up. I’ll be all right. You can go back to sleep."

"Are you sure? Would you like to talk? I’ll stay with you."

"No. Try and get back to sleep."

Reluctantly Annie returned to her blankets. Neither woman though was able to fall asleep again before it was time to get up. Just after dawn, they rode to the fossil beds. The badlands glowed pink in the first light of the rising sun. The turret like formation of Lost Soldier Butte rose above them as the two women sat on their horses staring at the broken land that lay be