In the News: Winchester House (Geroux Hotel)

THE PRIDE OF OLD PEMBINA. 

The Most Elegant Hostelry in Dakota, North of the Columbia at Fargo.
Special to the Globe. 

PEMBINA, N. D., April 21. – One of the most superb and popular hotels in North Dakota is the Winchester House, of Pembina. It is prominently located in the heart of the city, at the corner of Cavalier and Roulette streets, and has a frontage of fifty feet on Cavalier street and sixty feet on Roulette street. It is built with white Crookston brick, and is three stories high. It is at present one of the most elegant and substantial hotel structures north of Fargo, North Dakota. Supplied and equipped with all the modern hotel improvements of metropolitan cities, it is highly prized by all our citizens and the traveling public. Built in the year 1882, at a cost of about twenty thousand dollars, it is a most fortunate investment for its present owner and proprietor. 

J. W. Winchester, after whom the house is named, is the owner and present proprietor of this most popular public resort. The management of this hotel has been given the personal care and attention of J. W. Winchester and his bright and popular wife. Mrs. Winchester has ever been distinguished as one of the most popular and entertaining of hotel matrons, and her popular parlor entertainments have always been most highly appreciated by all the patrons of this hotel and many invited friends, and to her own careful labor in the culinary department in preparation of meals this hotel owes much for its well-earned popularity for its table luxuries. So acceptable are the meals served in this house that the southbound Northern Pacific vestibule train often stops at Pembina sufficiently long enough to enable passengers to obtain their meals here in preference to those furnished by the dining car attached to these trains. This whole structure is occupied as a hotel, and the house can, with adjoining hotel accommodations, accommodate several hundred guests at a time in a most comfortable and acceptable manner.  

This hotel has been for years the “head center” of the political, social and festive activity of the northeast corner of Dakota. In and about this charming resort are clustered some of the most interesting memories of the past political history of this section. Here it was, in this hotel, that the late Jerry Tuohy, one of the most gifted Democratic leaders of his party, planned some of his most successful political conquests in this district, and here it is where, today, the present Republican leader, Jud LaMoure, sways his numerous political cohorts, and plans his most important political battles. Here, too, Jud often “flushes” with great success and raises the “downs” with less than a pair of “breakers.” This hotel is patronized by the very best class of boarders and travelers and for neatness and comfort this house enjoys a most envious reputation. Many of the county officers are remembered among its guests, and as a hotel bonanza for its owner is the Merchants’ hotel of Pembina and this entire section of the Red River Valley. 

Source:
The Saint Paul Daily Globe
Monday Morning, April 22, 1889
Volume XI, Number 112, Page 6

 __________________

From: Pembina and Turtle Mountain Ojibway (Chippewa) history: from the personal collections and writings of Charlie White Weasel

So as you can see, Charlie White Weasel's testimony concerning who built the Winchester House (originally the Geroux Hotel) and first ran it, confirms what Chuck Walker wrote in SHERIFF CHARLEY BROWN.

Also from the same source:

Lucien Geroux ... was then keeping a hotel in South Pembina, the same building, (improved) now being the one in which the county poor are being boarded and cared for, usually called our poor house. 

The large, 2-storey building just east of the Pembina Bridge, sitting in the area where the future Selkirk Park will be, is what I think is the building mentioned above (i.e., Lucien Geroux's first hotel, later repurposed and used as the Pembina Poor House...)

Sheriff Charley Brown: Chapter X

Chapter 10

On December 14 as Charley plodded through last night's heavy fall of snow he realized that any sudden strong wind could whip up a raging blizzard. He judged it time to check with Marguerite on their plans to attend the fort Christmas ball. Another ball was planned at Geroux's Hotel, but Charley, because of his many army friends, favored attending the party at the fort. He found Marguerite in the hotel dining room, placing cutlery on tables, preparing for the evening meal.

She seemed surprised to see him, exclaiming, "You look half frozen! Take off your overcoat and sit down. I'll bring hot coffee."

"Can't stay long, just wanted to settle our plans for the Christmas Eve party at the fort."

Marguerite suspected that Charley's mother wouldn't attend the fort social, since most of the town folks had little contact with the military. Locals would attend the gathering at Geroux's hotel where all were welcome. She decided to press, knowing she was risking an argument with Charley. Returning with the coffee, she said, "Let's go to the social here. I'm helping with the decorations, and Mrs. Geroux will be disappointed if we don't show up. In fact, she made a point of asking if we are coming." Marguerite looked at him anxiously.

"Well, I'd prefer going to the fort ball, still, if you'd rather attend the ball here, I agree. It should be fun."

Instinctively, Charley realized her intent, and was amused at her boldness. What the heck? He knew his mother would no doubt be invited to attend the hotel ball by Mrs. Geroux. He also knew his association with Marguerite couldn't be kept a secret from his mother forever. On previous occasions he had felt no guilt or embarrassment while escorting Marguerite. Why should he now? He knew his mother would find out sooner or later about their relationship, perhaps she already had. He smiled to himself, wondering what her reaction would be when she saw them together at the party.

Marguerite gave him an inquisitive look. "What are you thinking?"

"Sure we'll go, but which ball are Ian and Susan planning to attend?"

"Oh, Ian's just like you. He'll want to go to the fort ball, but I'll work on Susan. We're invited to their home for Christmas Eve supper, so it makes sense for the four of us to spend the evening together. We're all well known in town and there won't be any embarrassment -- at least not from my point of view." She sounded determined, "If some of those old English biddies give me dirty looks, they can go to perdition!"

Charley changed the subject. "Have you heard from Kirby and Mary? Is he still stationed at Fort Leavenworth?" Mary was Ian's younger sister, now married to Lt. Kirby Ralston, a lieutenant from Fort Pembina. When Kirby had been ordered to staff school at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, the previous spring, Mary had surprised him by boarding the same train he was taking to Kansas. They had stopped briefly in Minneapolis to be married.

"Kirby is to graduate in March. He expects to be posted somewhere in the Southwest. If so, Mary will come home until he finds quarters for her." Marguerite seemed concerned. "Isn't it quite a dangerous and desolate country out there?"

"You bet it is! When it's hot, it's hot; and when it's cold, it's mighty cold! I was stationed in Texas and we chased the Comanche for months. Then they moved us further west to tangle with Apaches. We never were able to catch up with them! Thank the Lord they moved us up here in '70! It was the little things that aggravated me, mostly the heat and constantly blowing sand."

He hesitated momentarily to sip his coffee. "Has Mary visited Kirby's folks in Washington. I understood his father has something to do with railroads."

"She mentioned she might visit them just before rejoining Kirby. I'm told his family is well to do. Kirby's father is an owner-manager of a railroad according to Mary."

"Well, why don't you talk it over with Susan. You can expect a mob here at the hotel. The Emerson coronet band is playing, and I've heard they've picked up some string instruments to form a sort of orchestra. Let's make plans for the New Year's do too. We can take in the fort party then. I'll see Kirby about a invitation."

The blizzard Charley anticipated struck just four days later, on Tuesday, December 16, followed by a northern blast that stopped all stage lines and the railroad for days. He realized the exceptionally high winds would leave little snow on the open prairie, but pile deep drifts in bush areas and in the town. During the storm the temperature dropped to a minus 40 degrees. The tremendous northwest winds finally diminished on the fourth afternoon when merchants with stores facing to the north and west found their front windows almost completely covered by deep drifts, cutting off nearly all outside light.

On the first morning of the storm Charley waded in waist-deep snow from his staircase to the door of the saloon, a matter of only a few feet. The snow level outside the door was already above the doorknob, forcing him to rake snow away from the keyhole. Unable to close the door because of the pressing blanket of snow necessitated his shoveling out the door area, all the while besieged by a howling, turbulent, snow-laden wind.

Because of the storm Charley knew that John, who lived just two blocks to the south, would not venture out of his house. Still, the two stoves must be fed often to keep heat in the building. After adding coal and checking the stove dampers, Charley decided to lock up and return upstairs. A sudden vigorous pounding preceded the opening of the door. As it swung inward, a cold blast of flakes swirled into the room, followed by a tall apparition covered with snow. It was heavily bearded Bill Moorhead, clad in a long buffalo coat. He was wearing snowshoes, which clattered on the floor as he entered.

"Bill! What in heaven's name are you doing out in this storm -- and wearing snowshoes?"

Moorhead tugged off his scarf and fur hat, shaking them out, tossing snow in all directions. "Why ask me? How come your bar is open? Mine is locked up."

"It's not open, I was about to go upstairs after adding coal to the stoves. Since you're here, you might as well grab a chair by the stove and take off those paddles. I'll mix us both a hot rum."

Seated near the stove Moorhead busied himself loosening the rawhide ties of his snowshoes. Finally finished, he looked up at Charley. "They've got Jackson locked up in Grand Forks -- the man we couldn't find last year. He's been sentenced to four and a half years at hard labor. They want you to deliver him to the federal prison in Detroit."

"Where did you hear this?"

"Nelson at the telegraph office told me last night."

"Heck! I'll lose another two weeks!" Charley looked disgusted. "It takes nearly that long to make the trip."

"Look at the bright side; maybe it'll be warmer in Michigan. 'Sides, you won't be leaving for a few days. The railroad tracks are blocked for miles on this side of St. Cloud, maybe all the way to Crookston -- at least that's what Nelson told me. His telegraph was still working. Anyway, it's so cold; I doubt a locomotive could even keep a head of steam. At the telegraph office Nelson said his mercury thermometer froze at minus 40 degrees, but his alcohol gauge showed 54 below yesterday morning."

"Bill, I'm not about to pick up Jackson until January. I've made my plans for the remainder of the month."

"By the way, did your cousin Gene get that quarter of land east of Hamilton?"

"Yup, it was open to homestead, just as Jud said. Also he's bought that house at the corner of 2nd and Chippewa. Says he's going to build a shed out behind in the spring."

"Charley, what do you know about that daughter of Nancy LeRoque, the girl who disappeared some years ago?"

"Not a thing. It happened before I became sheriff. Weren't you the acting sheriff at the time?"

"That I was! LeRoque's missing girl bothered me plenty. I'm sure LaRose took her, used her, then disposed of her body. My search party worked for days, but never found a sign of her. We checked every abandoned well and piece of bushland inch by inch, but had no luck. LaRose is a womanizer, and he was seen talking to the girl the afternoon she disappeared. Also he had been boozing that day."

Charley said, "It would be hard to prove him guilty, even if the remains of her body are found. I know her mother swears he's the guilty one, but how to prove it?"

"I'd like to arrest him, then work him over. I believe I could make him confess, 'cause I know that under all that bluster he's a coward. Why don't you pinch him, put him in jail, then leave town for a couple of days?"

"Bill, you know I can't do that! Oh, I know a lot of others would agree with you, but it's against the law. We have a strict court system now."

Moorhead tipped up his drink, and then turned to look out the window. "Guess I might as well go home; the wind outside is not letting up a bit." He began to re-lace his snowshoes. "Think it over, Charley. It might work. I've kicked my rear I didn't do it when I had the chance."

The following three days were spent keeping the fires going and shoveling snow back from the front windows of the building. Almost zero visibility precluded any travel, so for all purposes the town was dead. At noon on the fourth day the wind began to diminish and apprehensive storekeepers returned with shovels to clear snow. By the next afternoon most storefronts had narrow walkways shoveled through deep drifts, bringing life back to the town. Teams with drags packed the snow on the streets while buggies and wagons were set aside for sleighs and bobsleds. Gradually business picked up, but at a much slower pace. The daily passenger train finally arrived in St. Vincent on December 21, five days late.

Winchester House

William and Georgina (Atkinson) Ardies rented the Winchester House from 

Judge Conmy about 1908 and ran it for many years. This is Georgina and

her daughter Maggie Ardies (scratched-out face) in the kitchen.

[Photo Courtesy: Kent Myrick]

Interior photographs of buildings were not as common a century or more ago as they are today, mainly due to lighting concerns. To come across one of a well-known local business from that time period is definitely a rare treat. The above shot shows the kitchen of the Winchester House hotel in Pembina, originally built by Lucien Geroux¹. The photograph was shared with me by a great nephew of the lady on the right, Georgina Ardies.

I didn't realize until I began my recent correspondence with the nephew - Kent Myrick - that the hotel survived as long as it did.  Kent said his father grew up there in the early 1900's...

RIGHT:  Judge Edward Walsh Conmy, owner of the Winchester House at this time

The Winchester House in Pembina was run by my Dad's "Aunt Eeny", that is, Georgina (Atkinson) Ardies, while my dad was growing up there.

William Ardies was Dad's mother's oldest brother. William's sister Margaret (Ardies) Hensal and her husband George Hensal raised my dad and his brother, (Nathan and Ardies Myrick). She was always called "Auntie Hensal", in the English tradition, instead of using her given name. Probably because the Ardies family came to Pembina by way of Quebec, where they settled when they fled Ireland in the mid-1800s.

She lived in the Winchester for years after being widowed, still lived there in 1949 when we picked her up and took her to live with us. I remember going to that side door of the Winchester which faced Heneman's grocery store.

Sheriff Charley Brown: Chapter XI

Dressing warmly against the bitter cold, Marguerite left the house just as the morning passenger train was backing away from the St. Vincent depot. The sudden spinning of the engine's wheels and the belching of dark smoke briefly drew her attention. Moments later, while passing the depot, she heard a door slam at the station. Glancing up, she observed a tall man stepping from the depot platform. Over the rumble of the departing train she heard his crunching footsteps as he crossed the icy crust angling toward her. Although it was apparent he would overtake her, she felt no trepidation since it was a bright, sunny day. Surprisingly, he pulled abreast and slowed to her pace.

As she looked up she became aware of his striking good looks, his clean-cut, beardless face. She judged him to be in his mid-twenties, a bit over six feet in height. His clothes showed a casual elegance, his garments, including his overcoat, all indicated custom tailoring. He's from the city, she decided.

Smiling at her, he said, "I'm on my way to Pembina. If that's where you're headed, may I walk with you?"

"You must have come in on the morning train." She was certain she had never seen him before.

"Yes, I'm from Chicago. I'm a representative of the McCormick Machinery Company. My name is Paul Evans, and I'm making the rounds of the local implement dealers. It seems a poor time of the year to do it though." His face held a wry look.

She laughed lightly, "I'm Marguerite Grant. You're welcome to walk along with me. Perhaps you can tell me something of your big city." She noted his smooth complexion, his nicely shaped nose and vivid blue eyes. Wisps of light brown hair protruded from the sides of his stylish derby hat.

"There really isn't much to tell you about Chicago except for the great fire back in October of '71. You probably heard all about that.”

"Very little detail -- we get few newspapers here. Were you involved?"

"I lived it! I was only fifteen years old at the time and my family was burned out. My father, mother and I took refuge on the edge of the Lake Michigan--we almost stood in the water at times." His voice faltered, "There were nearly 100,000 others who lost their homes, and over 300 people lost their lives. Surprisingly, within a year the city was nearly rebuilt. Now Chicago is booming, mainly because of the railroads, packing houses and manufacturing."

"That must have been a horrible experience. We've had few dangerous fires around here." She glanced at him fleetingly.

As he studied her, his interest grew. He noted her slimness and striking looks. Her dark eyes seemed to devour him and her shapely lips awoke strange feelings. A brief silence settled between them, then he finally said, "Christmas time is certainly a poor time of the year for me to see distributors. I'll probably have to wait days before being able to transact any business." He added ruefully, “It wasn't my idea to come here at this time of the year, my blockman boss insisted upon it. Say, what do people hereabout do on a Christmas Eve?"

"Where are you staying? I see you're not carrying any luggage."

"The depot agent promised to deliver my bags to the Geroux Hotel in Pembina by one o'clock this afternoon."

She looked up at him with interest. "Geroux's hotel is where I'm headed. A Christmas Eve ball is planned for this evening. I'm going over to help with the final decorations. The party is open to one and all."

He slowed in his walk, turning, "Will you be there?"

She felt her cheeks warming. "Yes, my fiancé is escorting me." She thought she detected a sudden crestfallen look on his face.

He hesitated several moments before finally saying, "Well, if it's a ball, there must be an orchestra. Perhaps you'll save a dance for me?"

"It's possible, we'll see." She was smiling outwardly, but her emotions were suddenly nettled. Charley might not approve of her dancing with a total stranger, especially a handsome stranger. Abruptly, it occurred to her that this just might awaken a spark of jealousy in him. She tossed her head -- it'll serve him right! I'll dance with this Paul, if he asks.

Reaching Pembina's main street, Paul remarked, "For a small town it has a lot of stores."

"Oh, folks have been crowding into town for the past three years. Much of the land has been free to homesteaders; also the railroad has cheap land to sell. We've nearly 4500 people between the two towns." She nodded to the north; "That's Geroux's new hotel on the corner, it just opened recently. It's supposed to be the finest in the Territory. I'll introduce you to Lucien, he's the owner."

Paul took her arm to aid her on the icy hotel steps. "I'm looking forward to seeing you this evening."

As he reached out to tug on the door handle, she looked at him shyly, "I'd like that!"

"And I'm also looking forward to seeing you in future days to come!"

She felt her cheeks flush, "That remains to be seen." Minutes later she joined others in the huge dining room being converted into this evening's ballroom. Lulu Robinson had seen her enter the hotel with Paul and was inquisitive. "Who was that handsome man you introduced to Lucien. Where did he come from?"

Lulu and Marguerite had never been close friends, obviously because of Marguerite's family and heritage. A Machiavellian idea struck her; she said coolly, "He's a friend of mine from Chicago. He's coming to the dance this evening."

"Isn't Charley escorting you?"

"Certainly, but I'll be dancing with Paul, too."

She could immediately see the expression of envy on Lulu's face. A warm feeling of smugness came. It serves you right Lulu! You've always treated me like trash!

Sarah Abrams rushed gaily over to her. She carried a small paper bag partially concealed under colored crepe paper. She wore a secretive expression. "I managed to get three sprigs of mistletoe from Ned Cavalier. Where can we hang them to our best advantage?"

Marguerite smiled. "I suppose one cluster hanging from the center of the dance floor, and maybe one hanging in the foyer. But darned if I know about the third."

"How about the cloak room. It'll be a quiet place and out of the way."

"Fine, as long as Mrs. Geroux doesn't find out. She's won't want any embarrassment."

Sarah laughed gaily, "She's got her man; we've got to catch ours."

"Fine then, but we'll need a ladder."

The Christmas Eve supper at the McLaren home was gay and festive. The entire McLaren family, with the exception of Mary, who was living at Fort Leavenworth with Kirby, was present. Susan had seated her mother between Charley and Ian's mother. Grace was said and wine glasses were filled as Ian's father, Patrick, carved the turkey. Susan and Marguerite began serving platters of fluffy mashed potatoes, gravy, vegetables, deviled eggs, and cranberries. In addition, sweet and sour pickles along with small cut slices of both rye and white bread magically appeared.

A half hour elapsed before Patrick firmly pushed back from the table. "I'm plumb full of dinner and wine; it's all I can hold. You youngsters going to the dance had better be on your way. Mother and I will clean up and take care of the baby. In fact," he looked roguishly at Jerold and Knute, "You two just might make yourselves useful with the dishes, too!"

"Like heck we will!" Jerold began to grin. We're going to the dance. In fact, you and mother should come along with us," Maggy smiled, "It'll be too crowded and too much for us. I'll clean up and take care of the Susan's babe."

"No, mother!" Susan shook her head, turning to Ian, "Marguerite and I will do the kitchen, then we'll go up and dress for the ball. Ian, why don't you and the boys harness up a team to the bobsled? Marguerite is riding with Charley, but there'll be four of us, and the cutter is too small. We won't be long, we'll hurry!"

With Ian and Susan on the front seat and the two boisterous boys seated behind them, the bobsled led off. The boys began singing Jingle Bells at the top of their lungs, accompanied by the jingling string of bells attached to their team. Charley and Marguerite followed immediately behind, bundled snugly together under a buffalo robe.

The night sky had cleared with a quarter moon emitting a ghostly, foggy cast, abetted by the sounds of the trotting horses and crisp hissing of sleigh runners. Sounds of the steadily ringing bells came from the lead sleigh, gradually fading as Ian pulled far ahead.

Charley felt thwarted, "Those darn kids swiped the string of bells I had the hostler put on my horse. I might have known they'd pull that stunt."

"We'll just steal them back," Marguerite chuckled, "They'll park and blanket the team behind Geroux's. We can do the same."

Entering the hotel lobby Marguerite pretended indifference to the mistletoe hanging in the foyer. Waiting momentarily for Ian and Susan, she finally removed her wrap with Charley's assistance. Her appearance drew gasps of admiration from several onlookers, and to her delight, Charley actually whistled. She wore a snow-white décolleté dress of white silk that appeared to have no support. Then he noted the barely visible, shoulder straps. The dress was of a simple design, but it emphasized her shapely shoulders and bustline. It fitted snugly to her sleek body, ballooning out to within an inch of the floor. The gown was a complete surprise to Charley, as she had donned her coat prior to descending the stairs at Ian's house.

Her heavy fall of hair was braided into coils arranged crown-like, sprinkled with tiny flicks of mica, to sparkle much like snowflakes. Although momentarily shocked at the daring of the dress, Charley realized he would be the envy of every unattached man in the room, and probably many of the married ones.

Smiling saucily, Marguerite pirouetted for him. "Well, how do I look? Is it a bit too daring?"

Charley was almost tongue-tied. "My Gosh! I almost forgot how beautiful you really are! Where did you buy that stunning gown?"

"I made it myself -- ordered the material from the cities."

At that moment Paul Evans was the furthest thing from Marguerite's mind, her love for Charley so apparent.

While hanging up their coats Charley noted the sprig of mistletoe dangling in the cloakroom, but deemed the room too crowded to take advantage of the moment. As they entered the ballroom he and Ian were forced to take an available table next to the dance floor. Nearly half of the huge room was already crowded with revelers, while only a third of the floor was cleared for the actual dancing. Gazing around the room Charley observed his mother seated with friends. He was conscious of her gaze and noted that she watched him intently as he seated Marguerite. Bending to Marguerite's ear, he whispered, "I'll be right back." Squeezing through the throng he approached his mother, nodding briefly to her friends.

"Mother, would you care to join our group?"

She gazed at him frostily, and then said, "I will remain here. I prefer to sit with my friends."

For moments her crude rebuff shocked him, then he stiffened to murmur dispassionately, "As you wish." Turning away in dismay, he determined to totally ignore her. I might have known, he thought, she hasn't changed a bit.

Marguerite noted the grim expression on his face as he returned and sensed his disquiet. Reaching out to cover his hand lightly, she suggested, "Could we have some wine or champagne. I'd like something bubbly to start the evening."

Susan smiled, nodding agreeably. Jarred from his brooding, Charley said, "Certainly! I heard Lucien ordered several cases of wine just for the occasion. We'll find a waiter."

Ian and Susan had also sensed his uneasy mood and Ian stood to say, "The service is slow -- just too many people. I'll step into the bar for a bottle and glasses."

The Emerson band members began gathering in the corner of the dance floor, setting up their music stands and tuning their instruments. Susan exclaimed, "Look, they have two violins and a cello. Hopefully that'll tune down those loud coronets and drums they love so much."

When Ian returned with a tray of glassware, he handed dance cards with small-attached pencils to each of the girls. Charley reserved the first and last dance with Marguerite, saving two others. Smiling, he pleaded two dances with Susan, exclaiming, "I'd love more, but I suppose you two will be dancing with the boys, and probably every other Tom, Dick and Harry, too"

As Marguerite tied the dance card to her wrist she smiled, "Yes, and I'm going to enjoy tonight, even if my feet feel worn-out tomorrow."

Gathering their instruments, a brief prelude was played to indicate the forming for the Grand March. Couples paired off, vying for positions in the march behind the sponsors of the ball, Lucien Geroux and his wife.

Charley and Marguerite found their position in the line almost back by the kitchen of the huge building. The stirring march music then began, leading to their grand entrance into the ballroom. The orchestra then accompanied them in two circles of the ballroom before finally swinging into the Blue Danube Waltz. Surprisingly, Marguerite judged the orchestra's rendition of the waltz quite excellent. When the music ceased for an exchange of partners, and before they could fully return to their table, the girls were besieged with dance requests.

After exchanging the second dance, Charley and Ian retired to the adjoining bar, leaving the girls to cope with admirers.

Ian noted Charley's glum mood. "Something troubling you?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Well, it appears something is tearing you up. What is it?"

"It's a family matter. I'm disgusted with my Mother; she's so set in her ways."

"You mean it's over your escorting Marguerite, isn't it?"

His question went unanswered; Charley turned to the bartender, ordering bourbon. After casually sipping his drink, he morosely remarked, "You're right. The problem is, my Mother met Marguerite while she was working as a chambermaid upstairs. How she found out that Marguerite is part Indian I'll never know. Even I would hardly have suspected it if I hadn't known her folks. Because of my mother's moralistic traits, she frowns on miscegenation. You see, intermarriage is not allowed in Virginia or any other southern state for that matter. It's considered a reflection of complete degeneration of white mankind."

"Is that the way you feel?"

"I just don't know my own mind, Ian." Charley shook his head wearily. "I'm half-afraid of marriage."

"You'd better straighten your head out," Ian was growing peeved. "Marguerite is a mighty fine woman and she's not going to wait forever. I know she's in love with you now, but love will fly out the window after too long a period of time.”

"For heavens sake, Ian, drop the subject! It's my problem; I don't need any further advice!"

Ian downed his drink, and then he turned abruptly toward the ballroom.

During the men's absence cut-ins became prevalent on the dance floor. While dancing with Knute, Marguerite became aware that Paul Evans was approaching. Tapping Knute on the shoulder, Paul smiled pleasantly to say, "May I have the honor?"

Knute looked hopefully to Marguerite, but saw her radiant smile at the stranger.

"Do you mind Knute? We can dance later."

After sweeping Marguerite into his arms, she became aware that Paul was an accomplished dancer; they seemed to reach a smooth fluidity on the floor. While Charley was a fair dancer, this man easily matched her every nuance with ease. As they twirled at each step, her skirt twisted around her ankles, falling away as they reversed. The decor of myriads of lighted Japanese lanterns used in the ballroom seemed to blend into kaleidoscopic images. She became aware of a rapt enchantment, dancing dreamily with him, cheek to cheek. Even the faint male odor of him seemed strange, but comfortable. Almost too quickly the dance ended and he escorted her to her table.

As he thanked her, he managed the chair to ease her seating. "Is it possible to dance with you later?"

She looked up at him, smiling, "My scheduled dances are all taken, but it's possible you can cut-in again."

Susan arrived almost breathless after her dance with Jerold. She looked up at Paul and asked nonchalantly, "Just who are you?"

Marguerite laughed aloud. "This is Paul Evans, the man I told you about. Paul this is my sister Susan, she's married to Ian McLaren." She turned to Susan. "Where are the men?"

"We're footloose and fancy free -- they're both at the bar."

Marguerite gave Paul a brief peek at her card. "See, it really is full-up. But you can try again later."

"I'll certainly do that." Turning to Susan he added, "Now that I've had the pleasure of meeting two beautiful women, I'll leave to bask in my reflections." He smiled as he bowed briefly and turned away.

"You didn't tell me he was that handsome." Susan accused.

"And he's a wonderful dancer too!" Marguerite was smiling.

"Won't Charley be jealous if you dance with him more than once?"

"Let him, it's a free world." She smiled dreamily, "He didn't see me dance with Paul this time, but I hope there will be another time when he will."

Susan slapped her sister's hand lightly, "I'll bet Charley will be green-eyed! Lordy, that guy is gorgeous!"

"It'll serve him right. He's too possessive and sure of himself. Maybe he'll finally propose."

"A little jealousy goes a long way, but what do you know about this Paul?"

"Not much. He's well mannered, polite and works for the McCormick Company. He seems quite sincere and honest."

Susan indicated with her hand, "Here comes Ian, and Charley is right behind him. I've got the next dance with Mike."

Marguerite studied her card, smiling as she shook her head; "I've got the next dance with Ned Cavalier. I'll have to hold him at arms length. He's a devil in disguise, always holding me too close."

Susan turned to Ian and Charley. "You two can roam the room looking for girls. We're going to be busy dancing, especially Marguerite."

Ian noticed Knute dancing with a young girl. He nudged Charley. "Look at that Knute dancing up a storm. You'd never know he lost a foot."

"He adjusted well after that bastard Murphy threw dynamite under his buggy horse. It's a wonder he and Mary weren't killed. Their carriage was smashed to bits in the runaway. At least Murphy is dead now. He got what was coming to him."

"Hey, look! Someone is cutting in on Ned."

Charley leisurely turned to see a tall handsome man whirl Marguerite away from a surprised Ned. They swept the floor with a visible grace, and it became apparent other dancers were watching them closely. He had to admit that they were well matched; they seemed to meld in every dance movement.

"You've got some competition, Charley. I've not seen the man before."

"Neither have I. He's probably a drummer, or someone new in town."

As the dance ended and Paul escorted Marguerite back to her table, Charley noted the flushed and obviously happy look on her face. She smiled up at him as she made the introduction. "Charley and Ian, this is Paul Evans. He's here for the next few days on business. He sells farm machinery."

Charley felt a pang of jealousy as he took the stranger's hand. "Odd time for you to be in Pembina, isn't it? Not much machinery moving now."

Paul quickly sized up Charley, guessing that this man was Marguerite's escort. He smiled, "You're quite right. My business might take longer that I first anticipated." He studied the faces of Charley and Ian. "Although I'm a stranger in town, I've already met two lovely ladies."

"Won't you join us at our table?" Susan asked.

Paul noted the stiff expression on Charley's face, but Ian was smiling graciously.

"No, I don't want to intrude upon your kindness. I believe I'll step to the bar."

As he walked away, Charley turned to Marguerite. "This is our dance I believe." As they went onto the floor, he asked, "What was that all about? How well do you know him?"

His questioning raised her dander. "He asked me for a dance. What's it to you? Are you running me? Are you my husband?"

"No, but I'm the one who brought you to the dance."

"Well, goody two-shoes! Aren't you the nice one now! What would I do without you?" Long moment’s later reasoning returned and she calmed down, moving tightly to him.

Charley realized he had no right to question her and remained silent for the remainder of the dance.

At the stroke of midnight, couples endeavored to crowd under the mistletoe to kiss. As the final notes of Auld Lang Syne faded, a buffet lunch was wheeled out on long tables and lines formed. By l a.m. many of the older folks began to leave. Marguerite noted that Charley's mother and her friends were among the first to go.

At times Marguerite felt self-conscious, since she observed Paul gazing at her occasionally. She wished he would cut-in one more time, but he only smiled at her as he watched from a distance. She noted that several of her recent schoolmates conveniently crowded close to him, hoping for his attention; apparently he was ignoring them all.

It was nearly 3 a.m. when Susan finally said, "I'm exhausted; isn't it time to go home?"

Entering the cloakroom they surprised Knute who was in a torrid embrace with the youngest Johnson girl. The couple was completely unaware of their existence. At first the girls stopped at the door, not wanting to embarrass the pair, but Ian laughingly approached Knute. He put his hand upon Knute's shoulder. "I hate to break up this romance, but I have to get our coats."

The surprised couple broke apart, the Johnson girl not a bit embarrassed. Knute looked abashed, "Kate is riding home with us. Her folks left her in my care."

Ian smiled at the girl, "Kate, I'd watch him like a hawk. Thank heaven you're safe now; we'll all escort you home." Turning to Knute, he advised, "Better find Jerold, unless he has another ride home."

Knute was already helping Kate with her coat. "We'll round him up. It's too darned cold for walking."

Stepping into the sleigh, Marguerite arranged the robes while Charley removed and folded the blanket cover from the horse. Placing it on the floor beneath their feet, he tucked the buffalo robe around them, pulling it to their chests. Turning to Marguerite, he asked, "Whither way?"

She looked at him mischievously, "It's too cold outside so I guess you might as well take me home."

"We could sneak upstairs to my place for awhile."

"Yes, and we'd probably fall asleep and be seen coming out of there in the morning. No thanks! We'd be the talk of the town."

"Any better idea?"

"Nope! Not at the moment. Of course you could marry me and make me an honest woman."

Charley turned to her defensively, "Bringing that up again?"

"Just take me home!" A sudden anger came. "It seems I'm just not good enough for you." Involuntarily tears began streaming down her cheeks and she pulled her hood tightly over her face. After their wonderful evening together everything seemed to be falling apart; Charley was spoiling it all!

Returning Marguerite to St. Vincent, Charley attempted to break the ominous silence twice, but she remained tight-lipped. As he drew up in front of her home he tried for a final kiss, only to have his arms thrust away. Quickly stepping from the sleigh, she entered the house without as much as turning her head. Frustrated, he hesitated for long moments. Shaking his head, puzzled, he slapped the reins and drove away.

Dressing for bed, Marguerite pondered wearily. Why do I have such trouble with Charley? It seems we always end up in an argument. Perhaps if Paul remains in town for a few more days I'll see more of him. He is charming and so sure of himself. If it upsets Charley, then so be it! It's been two years now and we don't seem any nearer to marriage.

Sheriff Charley Brown: Chapter XX

It was on a Saturday afternoon in early June when Marguerite became aware of Josey Watson, who was visiting Charley's Mother. After lunch she had stopped at Myrick's store to buy toweling material for the hotel. There, at the clothing counter stood Charley's mother, Eliza. Beside her stood an exceptionally beautiful woman. Not wanting a confrontation with Eliza, Marguerite cautiously moved to a side aisle, maintaining a safe distance. Eliza's loud voice carried throughout the store. Much later Marguerite was to suspect the excessive timbre of her voice was intentional.

"Charley will love that scarf and hat, Josey! Why don't you try on the silk cape?"

At the mention of Charley, Marguerite's curiosity piqued. From a corner of the room she studied the woman closely. The newcomer was tall, a true blond, with pale blue eyes and a perfect alabaster complexion. Her heavy fall of honey colored hair hung in soft folds about her shoulders. She was fashionably dressed in a pale blue silk dress that exuded a cool graciousness. Marguerite realized the woman had poise and presence. It was also obvious that she was several years older than herself.

Then it struck! She was shocked and bewildered. What has this woman to do with Charley? She felt her cheeks suddenly burning with embarrassment. Keeping her distance until Eliza and the woman completed their purchases and left, she approached the store owner. "Frank, who was that attractive blond woman accompanying Mrs. Brown?"

Myrick beamed, "Eliza introduced her as Mrs. Watson. I've never seen her before, but I've heard she's visiting at Eliza's. She's certainly attractive -- must be a friend of hers from back east. What can I do for you?"

Marguerite was momentarily in a quandary. "Oh, I was just looking around. I'll stop by when I have more time." She hurriedly left the store, leaving Myrick puzzled over her sudden departure.

A gradual foreboding overtook her and she began to shake so badly that she could hardly walk. She knew she must force herself to act as if nothing was wrong, yet, she sensed a deep hurt coming. Turning toward the hotel she realized she hadn't purchased the necessary toweling material. She had promised Mrs. Geroux to hem up another dozen towels for the hotel. Shaking her head in frustration she determined to do it on Monday. What has that woman to do with Charley? Does he know she's in town? She was aware of his faults, his often rejection of her suggestions that seemingly amounted to disinterest. To her, their sexual relations were serious and exciting. Yet sometimes, she felt that to him, they were only a release of his emotions. When they were together it seemed he always wanted to possess her, yet they never took trips in the company of others, excepting Susan and Ian. He seemed less interested in marriage as the months passed, and she was beginning to feel used.

She felt she had not given Paul false hopes, nor had she led him on intentionally. Yet she had taken advantage of his good nature and friendship. He had been a distraction from Charley; he was handsome, a good conversationalist and seemed sincere in his proposal of marriage.

Arriving at the hotel she found things at a standstill. Checking the dining room she satisfied herself that the table settings were complete. Turning to the kitchen she found Mrs. Geroux and the cook discussing the evening meal.

"Will you help serve tonight, Marguerite? We'll be short. Roxy is visiting relatives in Winnipeg. I have only Florence to help."

"Sure thing! It's Saturday and the dining room will probably be full, customers should be arriving soon. When will Florence be here?"

"Quite soon, I hope." Mrs. Geroux turned to the stove and began adding milk to a large pot of fluffy mashed potatoes.

Reentering the empty dining room Marguerite felt tense and confused. Taking a chair near the entrance she felt she must sort out her feelings. Does Charley know about this blond woman? He must, she's evidently staying at his Mother's. When did she arrive? How long has she been here? She realized she hadn't seen Charley since the previous Sunday when he took her to dinner at the Pembina House. She knew that on each Saturday night he worked until closing time at the saloon. Debating with herself, she decided that when she finished with this evenings work she would stop by to see him.

It was after 9 p.m. when the tables were finally cleared and Marguerite felt free to leave the dining room. Stopping in front of the saloon she could see John working near the window. Tapping on the glass gently, she caught his attention. Smiling at her, he turned away, moments later Charley stepped from the door. The warm smile on his face was encouraging as he closed with her, grasping her shoulders possessively. "Something wrong? What's up?"

She felt emboldened. "Are you free tomorrow afternoon? It promises to be a lovely day. A picnic would be a grand idea."

"That's wonderful! I'm all for it! How about picking you up early tomorrow afternoon at your place. Leaning forward, he attempted to kiss her.

Although it was nearly dark, she quickly glanced in each direction. Seeing no one, she pressed to him in a fervent embrace. Finally pulling away, she ran her hand over his cheek in a caress. "Fine, I'll pack a lunch. It'll be our first picnic of the season." Turning, she began walking toward the bridge, pausing momentarily to turn and blow him a kiss.

Arriving at Marguerite's home the following afternoon he dismounted near the house to find the door suddenly opened by Marguerite's Mother. "I heard your horse. Gosh, Charley, you haven't been over here all winter. You and Ian used to visit often."

"Annette, it’s been a long hard winter; I hardly left the store. But it's been a grand spring. It's so warm Marguerite and I are going picnicking this afternoon."

"So she told me; she's in the kitchen putting things together."

"How has Joseph been behaving?" Charley knew of her husband's addiction to alcohol.

"No different than usual. We manage quite well. I still work at the fort and the pay is adequate. The girls help too."

"Mother!" Marguerite's voice came from the kitchen. "Can you spare a bottle of your dandelion wine? Charley favors it."

Annette smiled at Charley. "I'm glad you do. I have to keep it hidden from Joseph."

As Charley followed her to the kitchen, Annette said, "Sure honey, you know where I hide the bottles."

Marguerite turned to Charley with an impish smile. "You're early, I didn't expect you this soon."

"Better early than late. I saved my appetite for the picnic."

"There'll be plenty to eat. Just give me a couple of minutes to change clothes. You and Mom can chat."

Minutes later Charley assisted her into the buggy and turned the horse toward the ferry. Marguerite reached out to cover his hand with hers. "Are we going south of the fort?"

"It's up to you. Would you rather go to Fern Valley?" ¹

"South of the fort would be just fine." Mischievously she said, "Do you think the river will be warm enough for swimming?"

"You really mean it?" He looked at her in surprise.

"Are you afraid of being compromised by me?" She was smiling.

Guiding the horse down the hill toward the ferry, he smiled as he faced her. "I'll take any of your dares."

"Then it's a done deal!" She squeezed his hand.

While crossing on the ferry Charley stepped from the buggy to visit with the ferryman. Marguerite heard some discussion of the river depth, but her mind dwelled on plans of her own. She decided not to mention the mysterious Mrs. Watson until it was time to return home; that would be soon enough. After leaving the ferry and gaining the top of the hill, Charley commented, "Gosh, it's warm, must be in the 80's -- unusual for May."

Marguerite laughed lightly, "I ordered this fine day; don't you believe in my powers?"

"I'll believe in them when we get out to the old dugout. It seems eons since that night you came to my quarters. I missed you the next morning. When did you slip away?"

She tossed her head saucily, "I couldn't wake you up; I knew you were exhausted. That trip to Detroit must have been horrible."

"I was lucky to deliver my prisoner before I blacked out. If it had happened on the train he probably would have escaped."

Nearing the fort he took the west road to avoid entering the post.

"Mother says Captain Collins plans to erect a water tower and run piping to all the buildings."

"It's about time. The steam pump works fine in the summer, but in the winter water has to be hauled up the hill in barrels. It's cold, wet, miserable work. The army winter clothes issued at the fort just aren’t adequate for this north country."

"Look, the striped gophers are out," exclaimed Marguerite.

"I hear they're called Richardson ground squirrels. Some say they're just as tasty as the tree variety."

She turned to Charley with a wry look, "Oh, Charley, you don't mean that!"

"If you'd ever have been confined in Libby Prison during the war, you'd not shun rats. I've even been bitten by them."

A repulsive expression appeared on Marguerite's face. Arriving at the Indian dugout, she exclaimed in dismay. "Oh look! The roof has finally fallen in. It was fine last year."

"Just a matter of time. I 'spect that old hillside shelter was originally built by Indians. Spring floods have taken their toll; another spring of high water and most signs of it will be gone."

"Shall we leave the buggy here and walk the rest of the way?"

"Shucks, we might as well drive a tad farther. It's still a half mile to the bend in the river."

Moments later, just as Charley drew the horse to a stop along the high bank, a crow swooped up from the river pursued by two blackbirds. As they watched the two harry their enemy, Charley said, "They sure put the run to that bird; it probably tried to rob their nest in the willows."

Stepping down he grasped Marguerite's hand, steadying her step from the buggy. Bending, he wrapped the reins around a buggy spoke, and then said, "End of the line! I'll carry the lunch basket; you take the blankets. Watch it! The bank is steep!"

"Charley Brown! I've walked down dozens of riverbanks. How puny do you think I am?"

Chuckling, he said, "That long tight skirt you're wearing wasn't made for roughing it."

Bending over, she grasped the bottom edges of her skirt and petticoat, raising them daringly to her thighs. "Now do I look capable?"

He shook his head admiringly, "Nice ankles, trim legs and shapely thighs -- you'll do!"

Smiling, she picked up the two blankets from the buggy seat before starting down the steep bank toward the river. Grasping the picnic basket he followed her down to a level spot just above the water.

Glancing around, he said, "It's not likely anyone will disturb us. We're all alone."

"Here, help me spread the blanket." After smoothing out the creases, she asked, "Are you hungry? Do you want to eat now?" Suddenly she looked dismayed, "Shoot! I forgot my sketchpad. I wanted to do a frontal view of you."

He gave her a teasing look, as she began to release her long braids. Shaking her head she loosened the mass, which fell over her shoulders, almost to her waist. He noted small beads of perspiration had gathered on her forehead.

His desire came suddenly, like a flood. Stepping forward quickly, he took her in his arms in a frenzied embrace. Almost moaning, he murmured, "I'm hungry, you bet! But not for food. It's been so long!"

His repeated kisses awoke a response in her that could not be denied. The reaction was mutual as they eased to the blanket, oblivious to their surroundings, yielding to their need. Amid grasping and groping their clothes were disposed of and Marguerite finally gasped, "Oh yes! Oh yes! It's been so long!"

Clinging together they reached a violent, spasmodic finale, and after long satisfying moments their movements finally ceased. Looking down into her eyes, Charley noted they were filled with tears. "Love, what is it?"

She moved her fingers across her face, wiping away the droplets, all the while looking up at him wonderingly.

"It's as close to heaven as I'll ever get. Oh, Charley, was it as wonderful for you?"

Leaning down to kiss her, he nuzzled her lips. "Yes, and just think, the rest of the day is ours."

After they ate, they lay back dreamily until she finally said, "Let me up; I've got to go behind the bushes."

Rolling to the side he watched her lazily as she walked behind a clump of willows. He watched as she returned, marveling at her sleek body. Her legs were long and shapely, much like a thoroughbred racehorse. Her stomach was flat and taut, her buttocks firm. Her breasts were full, nipples high and proud. He knew then that he had never seen a body as beautiful.

While still some distance from him she picked up a clump of damp clay from a crevasse. Picking off a small bit, she pelted his behind. "Come on, we're going swimming now."

He teased, "Water's pretty cold, honey."

Still smiling, she threw another clod at him, swinging her arm with vigor.

"Ouch, that hurt! Quit it!"

The third chunk caught him in mid-thigh. With a roar he arose to grab her, but she ducked, evading his clutching hands. Bursting into excited laughter she ran the few feet to the water's edge to dive gracefully far out into the murky water. Hesitating momentarily, he followed, knowing his dive was clumsy, lacking her skill.

Arising to the surface he looked around apprehensively, she was nowhere to be seen. Long seconds passed and he became worried. Finally after nearly a full minute elapsed, a head appeared far across the river. As she arose, nymph like, she swung her head to clear the hair from her face.

He yelled, "Darn it! You scared the heck out of me! I thought you might have hit your head!" His worry changed to chagrin as he slowly swam across the wide channel to join her. Finally standing waist deep in the water, he asked, "Where did you learn to swim underwater like that?"

She smiled as she wiped the moisture from her eyes. "We kids all learned to swim when we were young. It didn't make much difference, boys or girls, when we were small, but as we grew older, girls swam alone. Mother saw to that. I'm not the best swimmer -- you should see Susan. Even as we grew up, no one could catch her in the water."

"I suppose Ian knows all about that," he teased. Gathering her long fall of hair in her hands she flipped it back over her head with a sudden movement.

"Yes, he knows all about her swimming ability. She became pregnant on that same spot over there." She pointed across the river toward their blanket.

"I'll be darned! I thought their marriage was planned."

She smiled, "In a way it was; they fell in love." She looked at him seriously, "They married the very next week after the consummation. It wasn't a forced marriage; she just became pregnant that first time. She's expecting another child this fall." She studied Charley's face for long moments, hoping for a reaction. Disappointed, she finally said, "It's chilly standing here in the water. Let's cross and lie on the blanket to dry." Turning, she slipped forward into the deeper water like a sleek otter. Her head low almost submerged. He noted that as she swam, she rolled her head occasionally to gasp a breath of air.

Charley considered himself a capable, strong swimmer, but he was forced to marvel at her effortless crawl. He attempted to imitate her rolling style of breathing, only to realize it would require long practice.

After crossing the river he sank into soft, sticky mud as he stepped from the water. Seeing a portion of an old log farther up the hill he attempted to pick it free of the hard grey clay. Seeing him apparently unable to loosen the timber from the hard earth, Marguerite approached.

"What do you want with the log?"

"I'm going to put it across that strip of gumbo at the water's edge so we can wash the mud from our legs."

"Good idea! Let's do it! It's probably too heavy to lift, but perhaps we can roll it down the hill if we can work it loose."

Moments later, the two managed to free the log, rolling it down to the muddy edge of the river. Sitting on a clean portion they began washing their feet and ankles. "Oh look!" She exclaimed, "I've got something you haven't."

"What's that."

"A great big blood sucker is in love with me." Inserting her fingernail under the head of the parasite, she flipped it back into the water.

"Lots of them in these rivers. Doctors used them during the conflict between the states. They still use them medically, I believe."

Back on the blanket, their legs intertwined, Charley teased her long hair into a fan-shaped halo on the blanket. Looking up at him, she stroked his face tenderly. "You've got strong, high cheek bones, much like mine, but your face is longer and thinner." Her hand slipped to his one shoulder, cupping it to pull him closer.

His hand slipped to her cheek as he looked down at her. Caressing her temple wonderingly, he noted her smooth, flawless complexion. Her dark eyes seemed to devour him as she finally reached out with her other hand to grasp his other shoulder. Tugging him down, she slid her hands together locking her fingers behind his back, forcing him tightly down over her.

Their second joining was slow and gentle, long to end. When Charley attempted to roll from her she held him fiercely. "No, don't move. Stay with me -- I feel so content." She closed her eyes as if sleeping and for long moments they lay intertwined until Charley finally realized she had actually dozed off. Finally withdrawing, he carefully covered the two of them with the other blanket. As their bodies again made contact she rolled to him and her leg moved over his thigh; her arm clutched his chest as she buried her head snugly to him.

It was rapidly cooling by 5 p.m. when they finally gathered up the basket and blankets. Turning the buggy back toward town, he gazed toward her, "Where are we eating supper?"

"I'm not hungry at the moment, how about you? We didn't open the basket until nearly 3 o'clock.”

She looked at him worriedly, "Charley, I have something on my mind that I'd like to clear up. It's been bothering me.”

Smiling, he turned to her, "Well, shoot!

"Your Mother was in Myrick's store yesterday with an attractive woman. The woman made a purchase of a scarf and hat and your Mother remarked that you would just love them."

"You must mean Josey."

"Just who is she?"

"Fifteen years ago she was my intended, but when the war was over she married another. Her husband died some time back and now she's visiting my Mother."

"What is she to you now, Charley?" Her eyes studied his.

"As I said, she's visiting my Mother, I never sent for her. She has two teenage children, a boy and girl. They arrived on Thursday and I ran into the pair on the street. I escorted her over to visit Eugene that evening and I took the boy out to the farm Friday morning to entertain him. They are fine children, and seem to be well brought up."

"Are you still interested in Josey?"

"Marguerite, are you jealous?"

"You bet I am! You tell me that you two were once in love. Do you still have feelings for her?"

"You really are green-eyed, aren't you." Charley had a whimsical look on his face. "Drop it, Marguerite. I have no intention of taking her on any picnics, but I can't avoid her entirely."

Marguerite recognized approaching danger signals and to change the subject, said, "Have you food in that icebox up in your rooms? If so, I can make us a late supper." Charley put his arm about her waist.

"I would have suggested that myself, but I didn't know how you'd take it. You won't have to walk home in the cold tonight though, I'll see you safe and sound."

¹: The author had this to say about where Fern Valley was at this time: Fern Valley was later the Joe O’Hara farm. When I was a kid and before it became private property, it was solid ferns with no weed. (And a beautiful camping spot.) It was on the north side of the Pembina River along the road just two miles west of Pembina. Turn south off Highway 55 and as you approach the Pembina River it’s just to the left and follows the north side of the river to the east. To my knowledge there are no ferns left there. Many people in town transplanted from there to personal yards.

Chapter V: Sheriff Charley Brown

News from home, and love in the afternoon - both are in Sheriff Charley's immediate future in Chapter 5 of Sheriff Charley Brown...
_________________

Back at the jail, Charley sorted his mail, placing several new wanted posters in a separate pile. Briefly examining them, he found most to be from eastern states. Checking his few personal letters, he found one from LaMoure who was attending court in Fargo. Another was from his mother; He opened that one expectantly:

Dear Son,

Since your Father passed away I have been without ties. I feel out of place and not needed here. Perhaps if you can put up with me, I'll come to the Dakota Territory to live.

You'll be surprised to know that Josey now lives next door to me. She is financially secure and has two lovely teenagers, a boy and girl. I know she disappointed you grievously years ago, but she has matured and developed into a lovely woman. We discussed her marriage and she has related to me that it came about by her father's financial difficulties. She was forced into the marriage. I believe she loved you then, and still does.

In the event I decide to move, can you find a house for me? My home here should bring a good price and I have sufficient funds to live on. I hear Eugene is thinking of moving too. He is at loose ends; his apiary business leaves him too much free time. He had to put another fine jumper down last week. It came from an attempt to clear a high stone fence. I think this is the third horse he's gone through -- he'll never learn! His brother Charles is put out with him.

Your Grandfather is in fair health. Since Mother's passing, their black woman servant takes good care of him, albeit she must be in her late eighties by now.

There is little work available, forcing many of our neighbors to move west. Most seem headed for Oregon or California. I'm told the trip is difficult and hazardous. Eugene says we can now travel all the way to your location by the train cars. He says it will take only two or three days to make the trip.

Love, Mother

Charley leaned back in his chair, trying to get his thoughts in order. When mother gets the letter I sent last week she'll make a final decision. I'd better see Nixon. That house he built on Stutsman Street is still vacant. It's huge, but attractive, hopefully not too expensive. He reflected on Josey. They had been in love during their early teen years, but when the war ended she suddenly married a lawyer without so much as a word to him. Was she still beautiful? She had been only sixteen then, three years younger than him when the war ended Now she would be nearly thirty, with two grown children. He wiped her from his mind, knowing he would probably never again return to West Virginia.

Hunger pangs made him aware of the fact that he and Ian had covered nearly 50 miles since eating an early breakfast before daybreak. Surprisingly, their team held up well due to the sack of oats Mason had tossed into the rig. They had not stopped for lunch, wanting to be home before dark. He realized business in their saloon would be brisk until closing time, so decided to help. He would settle for the bar lunch, knowing it would be of cold roast beef or pork slices, bread, butter and pickles -- the usual Saturday night fare.

Passing Geroux's Hotel on his way his bar he was surprised to see Marguerite who stepped from the hotel doorway. She had obviously been waiting for him, more than likely watching from the front window. His senses whirled at the sight of her and he realized the old adage still held true, absence does make the heart grow fonder! It took all his willpower to restrain himself from taking her into his arms. She looked so clean, so neat, so utterly lovely!

She smiled nervously, words tumbling rapidly from her lips. "I'm so glad you're home safe and sound! I worried about you and Ian all this past week. Did you have trouble out there?" She seemed almost out of breath.

"Nothing we couldn't handle, mostly a waste of time. I've got to go back out on Monday with troopers from the fort."

A pleading look came to her face. "It's Sunday tomorrow. If you're not busy, can we picnic together south of the fort?"

His pique faded and a smile came. He knew she was referring to their trysting spot where they had first made love. At that moment he felt an irresistible longing and reached out to grasp her hands. He wished to kiss her, but they were on a busy street. When she looked up at him apprehensively he realized she had sacrificed her pride. Heretofore, all suggestions that they revisit their rendezvous had come from him. A twinge of guilt came.

"What time do you want to leave?"

Her timidity seemed to vanish at that instant, her face brightened. "How about after late mass? You'll be attending, won't you?"

"I'll join you there, sit with you." He smiled as he teased.

She laughed excitedly, "The service will be over before noon and it should warm up by then. I'll pack a lunch; you can furnish the wine." Turning, she stepped to the hotel doorway, pausing briefly to blow him a kiss.

Because of the shooting that afternoon, the streets were congested with out-of-towners. It seemed every farmer and railroad worker had heard of the affair and wanted the details. He realized there was also an abnormal influx of soldiers from the fort. Many locals had known and liked Gale, some men vociferously defending his action. Charley found himself avoiding any argument, not wanting to compromise his position as sheriff. By 11 p.m. he felt totally exhausted. John noted his appearance and suggested, "Go upstairs and get some sleep. You look to be dead on your feet! I can hold the fort -- things are beginning to slack off."

When Charley entered church the next morning he found Marguerite and Susan already in their pew. Joining them, he was amused at the way Susan engineered their seating arrangement. She stepped out into the aisle so he could sit between them. Marguerite surreptitiously slipped her hand into his with a shy, knowing smile, hiding their hands by fluffing out her voluminous skirt. Susan smiled to herself noting the nuance.

As the sermon spun by, Marguerite heard only a few words. She felt every breath, anticipating Charley's unintentional body movements. His hand covering hers brought a hot tide to her cheeks and she felt her hand perspiring. When she gazed up at his face she noted a strand of hair had dropped over his forehead, covering an eyebrow. She realized how appealing and utterly male he was, blushing as he turned his eyes down upon her. She knew she would love this man forever.

The mass was brief, the priest announcing his intention to hold another service elsewhere. As they strolled out of the church Charley noted Ian stepping from his buggy just across the street. A Presbyterian, Ian had not joined his wife's church. He hesitated momentarily to remove a large basket from his buggy, and then he approached, handing it to Charley. Smiling slyly, he said, "Good luck on your picnic. It's a lovely spot, Susan and I know it well."

"Darn you, Ian, you keep quiet." Susan was blushing.

It was obvious that both Susan and Ian knew and approved Marguerite's plan. Just as Charley placed the basket on the floor of his buggy, Susan added, "We're expecting you both for supper. It won't be fancy, just chicken and dumplings. Don't be late!" Charley caught Susan’s wink to her sister.

Marguerite chortled, "That's my sister, she's my champion. You may find yourself compromised."

He smiled and called out to Ian and Susan as they drove away. "We'll be there on time."

After seating Marguerite in the buggy, he said, "I've got to make a brief stop at the fort to arrange for my escort tomorrow. I saw Shawn last night and he told me Captain Collins would approve my plan, still its only common courtesy that I speak with the captain personally."

"How long will you be gone this time?"

He slapped the reins and the horse stepped out. "I suppose another week, maybe less."

Their stop at the fort was brief. The Officer of the Day, Lieutenant Greene, greeted Charley casually. "Captain Collins is out digging at the big Indian mound. It's a hobby of his -- artifacts. He has authorized two squads under Kirpatrick to leave tomorrow morning by 8 a.m. Shawn said to tell you he'd meet you in town. The men will be mounted and bring their own commissary wagon."

Charley was pleased. "Wonderful! Thank the captain for me and tell Shawn I'll be expecting him."

Following the river trail Charley and Marguerite passed the old Indian dugout two miles south of the fort, continuing on another half-mile to where the tree line ended. The river was open to view at this point, the water appearing almost quiescent with a gray-brown hue. It looked to be shallow, but they both knew the appearance was deceptive. The steamboat Alpha had come downriver to Pembina just yesterday, towing a large barge of machinery destined for Winnipeg. Also, Charley knew the Selkirk was due on Monday, bringing by tow, three barge loads of lumber.

While Charley hooked the iron weight to the horse's bridle, Marguerite carried the basket down to the level near the water. As Charley joined her, she unpacked the basket, putting the food to the side. Reaching into the bottom of the basket she removed two blankets and a portfolio of papers. Looking up at him mischievously, she said, "It might get cold. I brought a spare blanket."

"So did I." Removing a bulging blanket from under his arm he drew out two bottles. "It’s champagne, the best John and I carry. Say, what's that you have there? Looks like some kind of tablet."

"Yup. I've brought some charcoal sticks too. I'm going to do a facial portrait of you."

"When did you get involved in drawing?"

"Ever since Susan and I were kids. You must have seen my charcoals and oils at our house, the sketches of Indians and animals."

"You mean you did those? I thought they were purchased somewhere."

She laughed, "Mom encouraged me. When she took me over to the Indian camp I would sketch while she visited. I had a problem though; most men wouldn't allow me to sketch them.

She looked at him with a saucy smile, "You really think we'll need both of those bottles? I believe you have nefarious plans for me. I don't need wine to warm me up, I have the extra blanket." Then, unfolding the larger blanket, she added, "Help me spread this out. I don't want to get my new dress soiled."

He had admired her dress when they left the church, but had made no comment at the time. "I thought it was new, couldn't remember seeing it before." He shook his head, "Some special kind of material isn't it? A real dressy, dress -- you look lovely!"

"Ha! So you've finally noticed! Trying to get on my good side now, flattering me!" she joshed. Then she said ruefully, "I should have brought a change. I'll have to be careful."

He dropped beside her to take her into his arms for a kiss. She struggled free to move the food onto the corner of the blanket. "We eat first, then talk."

"And make love," he grinned.

"We eat first, then talk," she turned to smile.

As she began unwrapping sandwiches, he remarked, "You've brought sliced ham; apparently you've done some planning."

"How so?"

"You usually bring chicken, and we're having that tonight at Ian's house."

She relaxed, "Not really . . . I told you, Susan's on my side. Why don't you draw the cork on one of those bottles of cheer. I would have brought lemonade, but we're out of ice at home."

The air was quiet, but buzzing with activity; bees and insects swarmed among the short willows along the river. Finally sated with food, Charley inserted the extra blanket under his head. Motioning Marguerite closer, he pulled her down to his chest. She leaned over with an impish smile and tweaked his lips with her finger, then leaned down to kiss him gently, her full lips crowding his mouth. She felt her hair coming loose as he reached behind her head to release her chignon. With his fingers he spread the thick fall to one side of her cheek, burying his face in the mass. She felt his passion and intensity matching her own and knew she would willingly give in to his wishes. Indeed, his wishes? What about my own? She knew her desire more than matched his as she began unbuttoning his shirt, then tugged at his belt. A reckless feeling of sheer joy came over her, she wanted to be held and loved. She moved her body searchingly close to him, shivering with pleasure as she felt his response. Kissing and caressing each other they dispensed the barrier of clothing.

The plunge of their love was as powerful and rich as it had ever been. When the wild culmination was over, they lay together, breathlessly clinging to each other as if to life itself.

Much later, as he rolled from her, watching her lazily, she ran her hands down over her stomach. "Oh, Charley, will it always be like this . . . a little bit like being in heaven?"

Later, sitting up, she said, "Put on your shirt, it's time you posed for me."

Unabashedly she slipped on her chemise and dress, and then reached into the basket to retrieve a stick of charcoal. "Sit over there on the edge of the blanket and look toward the river." She chided, "Wipe that silly grin off your face, this is no time to be self-conscious. No, turn a bit more toward me, but keep looking toward the river." She looked at him critically. "Lift your head slightly -- there, hold it! This will only take a few minutes."

Her hand moved jerkily over the tablet, stopping now and then to rub at the drawing with a finger.

Over fifteen minutes had elapsed when Charley said impatiently, "Are you almost done? We should be heading home soon?"

"Nearly done, just a minute or two more."

He noted her intense concentration on the drawing and wondered to himself, I've known her for nearly two years and never knew of this talent. Why was it never mentioned before?

Finally, she tossed the stub of charcoal toward the river. "I'm done now, what do you think?"

Reaching out, he grasped the folder. The face that looked back at him was so real he almost gasped. He realized her finger smudging had been to blend the shades of black to create depth and character.

"Where did you learn to draw like this? I can hardly believe my eyes. Do I get to keep it?"

Her face shone with pride. "No, that's my first charcoal of you. It's mine, but I'll do others. I'd love to do one of you with your horse someday." Turning to the basket she began to repack the dishes and remains of the picnic. "I've been doing mostly pencil work, but now I'm into oils, studying under Mrs. Mosten. She says I have a natural talent."

Charley looked at her fondly, "You've surprised me. How many other hidden talents do you have?"

She began to blush, and then said airily, "Oh, you've discovered most of those already."

When they left for supper at Ian and Susan's it had cooled. Marguerite felt fulfilled, but something kept gnawing in her mind. She suddenly realized that even after their lovemaking, Charley had made no commitment.

Chapter 28: Sheriff Charley Brown

Josie found herself both perplexed and apprehensive when Charley failed to contact her during the following days after the library social. She found herself making excuses for him, imagining he was busy at public duties, or working on his farm. Perhaps he was even southwest at the town of Hamilton where he had business interests.

As more days passed she confided her concern to Charley's Mother. "I just can't understand it. When we left the library supper I thought we would reestablish our relationship. Now it seems he is purposely avoiding me."

Eliza made light of the situation. "Be patient my dear. He'll come around soon, I've seen to that."

She smiled smugly, "I broke up his association with that breed girl. I told her he was going to marry you. After all, she is nothing but trash; I told her so."

Josey suspected something had happened, but could hardly believe the so-proper Eliza would do such a despicable thing. Then she recalled long ago when she and Charley were teenagers; he had mentioned the many times he was angry at his father and mother, especially with his mother's constant meddling in his affairs.

Inquisitive, she asked, "When and where did this take place?"

"I visited the girl at the Geroux Hotel a few days ago. That horrid Mrs. Geroux broke in on us, told me to leave the building and not come back. Why, she's just another quarter-breed herself. A pox on her!"

"Oh, Eliza, how could you be so cruel? No wonder Charley is upset. He must know what you have done. I've noticed he hasn't come around for days; he used to drop by frequently."

"So he'll sulk awhile, but he'll eventually see the light. He'll realize it's all for the best. Be patient, nothing is lost. It's just a matter of time.”

"I'm not so sure. Why didn't you leave things as they were? Charley is not a youngster, he is over thirty, been through a war, even escaped from that horrible southern prison in Richmond. Since leaving the Army he has made a successful life here."

"Yes, he has evidently found his niche, a job as sheriff, the same as his Father. Still, to my mind, he still needs a prod in the right direction."

Josie felt her temper rising. "Well, I've thought it over and made up my mind. The children and I will stay for another two weeks, but if Charley doesn't seek me out by then, our remaining here will be pointless. I believe we could have a wonderful, satisfying life together and I've told him so. I only wish I knew what is on his mind."

"Why don't you force the issue? You are a woman, go to his home at a late hour and confront him. You should know what to do."

Josie protested, "That's not the way to his heart. I don't think I could do that. It seems tawdry and disgusting!"

"What's fair in love or war? Perhaps seduction is what he needs. You are a beautiful, warm woman. You are not lowering yourself; if you want him, you must fight for him!"

"You really are pushing me, aren't you?”

"My dear, I've always wanted you for a daughter. But are you really up to it?"

"I'll work something out, but please don't bring it up again. I'll have to give it serious thought."

After going to bed that evening she found herself mulling it over. Would it work? Could she throw caution to the winds? Her sleep was restless as she began making plans. The children were no problem; they were tucked in bed long before 11 p.m. Which night should she approach him, knowing he worked quite late at the saloon? Another question presented itself; did he leave the door leading up to his rooms unlocked?

To be on the safe side, the very next morning she purchased a skeleton key from the hardware section of Myrick's store. She knew that most common cast iron locks could be opened with one.

"Don't sell many of these keys, Mrs. Watkins. I keep track of who buys them too." Myrick smiled. "Having trouble with the door locks at Mrs. Brown's?"

Josie nodded, "It's the back door lock, it seems to stick occasionally."

"Use a little oil in the keyhole and slide, it's been a dry and dusty summer. Need an oil can?"

"No, nothing like that. Eliza and I can no doubt fix it." She could feel a blush of embarrassment at her fib and turned hurriedly to leave.

It was nearing midnight on Saturday when she furtively slipped out through the back door. She knew she must bypass several stores to get to Charley's door. She also knew that anyone she chanced to meet on the street would be puzzled at her presence at this late hour. They would no doubt ask what she was about. Luckily, both Stutsman and Cavalier Streets were totally deserted with the exception of an untended team and wagon and three horses tied in front of Geraldine's Hotel. As she passed she could hear a violin and singing from within.

Finally, by Lyon's Grocery she stopped at the side entrance to Charley's quarters. Tied to the rack in front of the saloon were two saddle horses, heads hung low. One perked up, watching her movement. Directly across the street was another untended team and wagon. No one appeared to be in sight. Trying the doorknob she found the door locked. Fumbling for the key, she inserted it. After a brief twist she felt the slide move. Stepping inside, she quickly closed the door. A brief sense of relief came, thankfully no one had seen her. In the total darkness she could hear activity and the hum of voices coming through the wall to her right. From a pocket she removed several sulfur matches. Leaning forward, she struck one on a gritty step. Carefully she made her way up the stairs, cautiously sliding her hand along the rail. Finally reaching the upper landing she found the door to Charley's flat open. After lighting another match she located the lamp hanging from the center of the room. Standing on tiptoe she was able to raise the chimney and touch the match to the wick. Twisting the roller she lowered the wick, adjusting it to a dim light. Seating herself on a convenient chair by a small writing desk she removed her shoes to mute any steps that might be heard below. Now, accustomed to the limited glow she stood to explore the rooms.

There was a small bedroom just inside the outer door, but she deemed it to be an extra sleeping room. Moonlight from outside partially illuminated the kitchen, outlining the door. Now she was able to make out a table, chairs and a glass-fronted cupboard. The shadowy outline of a kerosene cook stove stood opposite the table. Noting the heat and stuffiness in the room she silently raised the window sash, inserting the stick lying on the sill. Turning back, she found the entrance to a larger bedroom and suddenly froze. Something inside had moved! After long seconds she realized a large mirror over the dresser had caught her image.

His bed was narrow, with wrought iron ends. As near as she could tell it was made up with a blue coverlet. She suddenly realized that everything in his quarters seemed neat, unusually clean. A puzzling thought came; does he have a housekeeper or some other girl I don't know about?

Then she remembered how fussy and methodical he had been as a youth. She smiled, that was his mother's early training! Again, unable to cope with the fetid air in the room she raised both east bedroom windows facing the street. Returning to the living room she noted the rectangular dining table with chairs. Behind it stood a huge glass-fronted bookcase almost totally filled with rows of books. One glass-fronted section was open showing a few books missing. Across the room was an overstuffed divan with matching easy chair.

Picking up her shoes she raised the glass of the ceiling lamp to blow it out, then entered Charley's bedroom. After seating herself on the bed, she placed her shoes on the floor, then lay back and relaxed. "What should I do now?" She debated. She knew she should remove her clothes and get under the covers, but her conscience rebelled. Making herself as comfortable as possible she wondered what Charley's reaction would be when he found her on his bed. She knew she was throwing herself at him like a trollop. Would he take her? After long minutes she doubled the single pillow under her head, and cupped her fingers behind her neck, interlacing them. After long minutes the tenseness faded and fatigue set in. She finally fell into a deep sleep.