OverTime 03: Slipping (First 70 Chapters)

Chapter 36: Post Trader (Garrison)

Garrison watched his wife all but skip away toward the telegraph office, on his partner's arm, and he felt petty. Why?

He weren't jealous of Cooper who, as promised, had continued to hide his deeper affections from Elizabeth. Cooper could protect her, so he weren't concerned for his wife's well-being. Nor was he especially bothered by her poor grasp of the value of money, with her plan to while away the morning sending telegrams when letters were so much cheaper. Husbands handled the money, anyhow.

Could be, he wondered what was so important that she'd been waiting weeks for this. He disliked his own curiosity, and so deliberately did not escort her to the telegraph office himself. He made himself stop watching her, unloaded some cowhides from the mule and onto his shoulder, then went into the building that housed both the post office and the post trader's store.

First, he mailed some letters he'd been holding and picked up letters that waited for him.

"Jacob Garrison," repeated the postmaster, as if there had been other Garrisons coming by.

Garrison said, "Yep," and collected four envelopes, two addressed to him and two addressed to his men, care of him. The envelope from his sister Hedda would include a note from Thaddeas. The other came from his brother Matthew. He pocketed all four, to read in private.

"Anyone else in your party?" asked the postmaster, which struck Garrison as meddlesome. Shifting under the weight of the hides, Garrison named the other men in his outfit, which resulted in no more mail. Thus annoyed, he headed into the store proper and laid the cowhides onto the counter, to trade for credit. He didn't have many, which was a blessing, though the storm that killed Murphy had cost him several head. But waste not, want not.

While the post trader, a fellow named Collins, decided on a price, Garrison asked questions. John Collins might be the best informed man in southeast Wyoming, and Garrison knew the value of information.

No, Collins had heard of nobody named Slade Callahan. The description could fit any number of fellows, but nobody had asked about Jacob Garrison, nor about an Elizabeth Rhinehart. The trader even checked with his brother, Gilbert, who was stocking shelves with canned peaches, and Gilbert agreed, though the way he did--nobody asking--seemed odd.

Still, he had other matters to discuss.

Yes, assured John Collins. The land north of the Powder River remained largely unsettled. He recommended Garrison look up a young trapper named Hannah, 'round those parts, to get the lay of the land.

Why unsettled? Mostly folks still feared Injuns, after the recent Sioux Wars, but those days were over. Oh, Collins heard occasional rumors of Cheyenne dog soldiers, wandering the Territory like ghosts, but he'd met nobody who'd actually seen them. The northern Cheyenne had been sent to a reservation south of Kansas to live with their southern kin, in Indian Territory.

Nope, the biggest threat that summer came from highwaymen, and they mostly targeted the Cheyenne and Black Hills Stage Line, especially the southbound coaches likely to be carrying gold.

"Almost ten robberies just this year," Collins was relaying, when Cooper brought Elizabeth back from the telegraph office. "In June, near the Cheyenne River, road agents wounded the driver and forced the passengers out. Poor folks had pistols held in their faces while the bandits searched their pockets. They blew up the treasure box with gunpowder to get into it. Just last month, near the Hat Creek, the stage got held up twice."

As ever, the sight of his wife--especially so finely dressed and with her hair put up for once--gave Garrison a sense of surprise and satisfaction.

When Cooper left Elizabeth perusing the shelves to join Garrison and the brothers Collins, Gilbert complimented Cooper's lovely wife, and Garrison's satisfaction faltered.

"Wife's mine," he said, keeping his voice careful and quiet.

The brothers exchanged surprised looks, and Garrison felt himself start to scowl. It wasn't that big a shock that he could marry someone like her, was it?

Then Gilbert asked, "Is her name Elizabeth?"

Now Garrison and Cooper exchanged looks. "Thought nobody was askin' for her," Garrison said.

"Not for no Elizabeth Rhinehart, nor a Mrs. Garrison either," explained John Collins. "But Elizabeth Garrison got herself a big package on the stage, t'other day. Gil, get Tutt."

Soon, the postmaster whom Garrison had already met hauled in a surprisingly large bundle, wrapped in brown paper and tied in string. Sure enough, it was addressed to Elizabeth Garrison, care of Fort Laramie Wyoming.

Not Mrs. Elizabeth Garrison -- nor Mrs. Jacob Garrison.

"Couldn't of mentioned that earlier," Garrison chided the postmaster.

"You didn't say she was with your party," Tutt reminded him, and rightly so. Garrison had not considered that his wife might get mail. "We've learned not to offer packages unless we're quite sure -- too many folks lie in order to claim 'em."

When Elizabeth glanced toward him, Garrison beckoned her over.

"Yes, Mr. Garrison?" she asked as she came to his side, her blue eyes sparkling as if she'd had a good morning so far.

"Got a package."

He could immediately tell, by her hesitation and then her widening eyes, that she'd not expected it. She also had no idea how to open it, so he cut the strings for her, and she quickly revealed a large Jenny Lind trunk. Who in tarnation would wrap a perfectly good trunk in packaging paper?

Tied to the lock was a single envelope with the name, Lil.

Garrison knew of only three people who called his wife Lil, and he didn't much like them. Again, he met Cooper's gaze, and Cooper mouthed the word Garrison suspected: Julesburg.

The unseemly Bohemians that she pretended were fellow time travelers had sent his wife a package containing who-knew-what.

Probably nothing good.