So, as he neared Woman’s Breast, Jake realized that his biggest obstacle to finding his father wasn’t the distance or time. It was his own lack of understanding of the man he needed to find.
Jake soon spotted some low buildings on the northern horizon, so he shrugged off his jacket and let it fall onto his saddlebags. He released his hammer loop but kept his eyes on the town, if one dared to call it that. He didn’t see smoke curling above any rooftops, so it was probably deserted, but he was still a good mile and a half away.
But as he drew closer, it was looking even less likely that he’d find anyone at all in the place. When he entered what probably barely passed muster as a street in the town’s heyday, he didn’t see anyone, but continued walking Mars down the center of the space between the rundown buildings. Only a few of the dilapidated structures still had glass in their windows if they had walls at all. Some of them seemed about to collapse, but others seemed at least habitable.
He was about to turn around when an old, grizzled man stepped out of what had been a saloon of sorts and just stared at him. He was carrying a Springfield musket, but Jake didn’t feel threatened. He imagined that the old coot was probably afraid of him.
So, Jake smiled and waved as Mars drew him closer. The man didn’t budge but squinted as he watched Jake approach.
Jake pulled up twenty feet away from the man and loudly said, “Good morning. I’m surprised to see anyone still living here. My name is Jake Elliott.”
The old man still didn’t move as he replied, “I’m Joe Packard. What made you come to my town?”
Jake suspected that Woman’s Breast only had a population of one but was certain that Joe would have noticed an earlier visitor.
“I’m looking for a man that probably showed up here three weeks ago. I reckon he left already.”
“Are you a bounty hunter?”
“No. I’m looking for my father. He left our ranch near Fort Benton three weeks ago riding a brown gelding and leading another brown gelding as a packhorse. I was told in Fort Shaw that he headed north. I’m sure you would have spotted him when he arrived.”
“If I tell ya, will you just head back to Fort Shaw?”
“Yes, sir.”
The man continued to squint at Jake as he said, “The feller that showed up here told me his name was John Smith, but I reckon he was lyin’. He stuck around for more’n a couple of weeks and I didn’t trust him a lick. I figgered he was hidin’ from the law. He rode outta here yesterday.”
“How old was he?”
“A reckon he was about thirty or so. But my eyes ain’t so good.”
“Did he wear a light brown Stetson with a dark band?”
“Nope. He had a black hat, but I didn’t see no band. I ain’t even sure it was one of them Stetsons, either. Like I said, my eyes ain’t so good no more.”
Jake realized that his father wasn’t the man that Fred Stoker had seen riding to Woman’s Breast. The man who’d stayed with Joe Packard for those two weeks hiding from the law was probably the one Jake shot yesterday.
“Well, Joe, that man wasn’t my father. When I was on the road yesterday, that man tried to backshoot me, but he missed with his Winchester and I plugged him with my Colt. I only winged him, so he probably made it to Fort Benton.”
Joe displayed his few remaining teeth as he grinned then said, “It’s too bad you didn’t hit him in the nose. But I reckon it’s good enough.”
“Well, I’ll be heading back to Fort Shaw now. I’ll stay there for the night and then go on to Helena.”
“Hope you find your pa, son.”
“So, do I,” Jake replied before setting Mars to a slow trot and making a U-turn.
He waved to Joe as he passed the rickety saloon, but Joe just turned and disappeared into his less-than-palatial home. He hadn’t been surprised when Joe hadn’t invited him inside to chat. He probably enjoyed his solitude.
Once he reached the southbound trail, he nudged Mars into a fast trot. He was now anxious to reach Helena and decided to bypass Fort Shaw entirely. He could get halfway to Helena before pulling up for the night. When he’d studied the map of Montana Territory before he left, he knew that just a few miles south of Fort Shaw, he’d be entering the mountains. The road wound through those mountains as it found the passes.
The other feature on that map that he’d almost ignored until now was the intersection of another road just a few miles south of Fort Shaw. The southwestern road led to the gold fields and eventually to Missoula. He had already convinced himself that his father would go to Helena but as he headed south to Fort Shaw, the existence of other road bothered him.
His father might not want to show his face in Helena if he expected Sheriff Zendt had sent a telegram notifying them of a warrant for his arrest. If he had made the turnoff south of Fort Shaw, he had enough supplies to reach Missoula which
