Matt Jensen, The Last Mountain Man Savage Territory

Glaring, Willis sat still and stared down at the ground between his feet.

Juanita turned and walked away from him.

“Good for you, miss,” someone said, and a few others joined in with their own positive comments.

Matt chuckled when Juanita returned.

“Feel better?” he asked.

Juanita smiled. “I feel a lot better,” she said. “Oh! Do you think I was wrong?”

“No, Juanita, I think you were very right,” Matt said. “To be honest, I’ve been standing here wishing I could do it myself. But it’s even better coming from you.”

Juanita laughed. “I hope Mr. Marcus is lookin’ down from heaven and saw it.”

“I’ll just bet he is,” Matt said.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Juanita said. She stepped back into the depot, then came back out a moment later, holding a package. “I made this for you while you are on the train,” Juanita said as she handed the package to him. “I know I’m nothin’ but a bar girl, but I’m also a pretty good cook. And I’m just particular good at bakin’ cookies. This here is my mother’s recipe. I made a batch of ’em for you.”

“Well, that’s very nice of you,” Matt said. “I don’t know what I did to cause you to want to make cookies for me, but I appreciate it.”

“Like I said, you was Mr. Marcus’s friend,” Juanita said. “And you treated me real nice durin’ the trial and all.”

In the distance, they heard a train whistle.

“Eastbound!” the station manager shouted, coming out onto the platform. “This here train is for Eagle, Sherwood, Wolcott, Allentown, Minturn, Rock Creek, Wheeler, Pano, Denver, and all points east, north, and south.”

“I reckon that’s your train,” Juanita said.

“Yes.”

“If you wanted to stay here a couple days, maybe I could—uh—well if you wanted to stay here a couple of days, you could—what I mean is…” she said, not completing her thought.

“I appreciate the invitation, Juanita,” Matt said. “But I made a promise to Lee that I intend to keep.”

“Yes, sir, and you are the kind that keeps his promises,” Juanita said. “Mr. Marcus was lucky to have a friend like you.”

The train pulled into the station then, arriving with a rush of steam, a rattle of connectors, and the squeal of steel on steel as the brakes were applied.

The station manager walked out to the engine and held a sheaf of papers up to the engineer, who took them. The engineer filled his pipe as the engine sat at rest, venting steam from the pressure-relief valve.

Arriving baggage was taken from the baggage car while departing baggage was loaded. The conductor stood on the platform, self-assured in his importance, as the arriving passengers stepped down. He pulled out his pocket watch and examined it, then put it back.

“All aboard!” he shouted.

With last-minute good-byes, the outgoing passengers began loading onto the train. Matt watched as the deputy and Willis climbed onto the first car behind the baggage car. Matt boarded the next car behind the one that the deputy and Willis had taken, then took his seat for the start of what was going to be a very long trip.

Matt watched the other passengers settle in—a drummer with his wares, an older couple, two young cowboys, and a young woman with a baby. When the young woman tried to put her grip in the overhead rack, one of the cowboys came to her aid, saluted her with a touch to the brim of his hat, then took his seat beside his friend.

Matt heard the whistle of the train; then the train started, causing a series of jerks to be distributed down through the line of cars as the slack was taken from the couplers. As the train pulled out of the station, he looked through the window toward Juanita, who, like many of the others, was still standing on the platform. He waved at her and, with a quick and grateful smile, she waved back.

For a moment, Matt wondered what there was about Juanita that generated in him a feeling of warmth for her; then he realized that it was because she reminded him of Tamara.

The train began gathering speed and, as it did so, Matt leaned his head back on the seat, closed his eyes, and remembered Tamara. Both he and Tamara had been orphans at the Home for Wayward Boys and Girls. It was run by a man named Mumford, an exceptionally evil man who insisted that all call him Captain, though he had no military experience, and all the children of the home were victims of his cruelty. Unwilling to take any more of it, Matt ran away from the home when he was twelve years old. Tamara, who was fourteen, ran away from the home with him.

Matt wasn’t sure exactly what time it was when he left.* He knew it was late at night because everyone was asleep and he could hear the snores and rhythmic breathing of the others. It was getting colder outside, and he had no overcoat, so he decided to take the blanket off his bed.

He walked down to the hall and stood just outside the girls’ dormitory. When Tamara didn’t show up, he was about to leave without her, but suddenly she was there.

“When I saw you with the blanket, I thought that might be a pretty good idea,” she whispered. “So I went back to get mine.”

“All right, let’s go, but keep quiet,” Matt said.

Once outside, they looked back toward the building that housed the Home for Wayward Boys and Girls. For a moment, he almost went back in. It wasn’t much, but it was the only home he’d had for the last three years. For some of the residents, it was the only home they had ever known.