Calico Christmas at Dry Creek. Janet Tronstad

not the girls. It’s him.”

      “Oh.” Elizabeth felt herself go cold. “What do you mean?”

      “I mean he’s a wolfer.” Annabelle’s lips deepened in a disapproving line. “At least those friends of his are. They were in today and, well, it’s no conversation for a lady. It’s disgusting what they do. Even the Indians are better.”

      Elizabeth swallowed. “He mentioned that he had done some prospecting for gold and some trapping.”

      The woman nodded grimly. “The trapping days have been over for years. Even the buffalo are thinning out. What trappers that are left have turned to wolfing. His friends wanted to put in an order for that poison—strychnine—this morning. A big bag of it. I told them no. As though we’d carry that. They kill a buffalo and sprinkle the dead animal with it.”

      “Oh, dear, you’re sure?”

      The woman nodded. “I used to think that the one, Higgins, was a good God-fearing man. A little rough in his manners maybe, but he told me he prays and—he even asked if he could walk me home from church if he came someday. I said yes, but then—”

      The woman crossed her arms. “Then he started bragging about how he can poison up to sixty wolves in one night the way they do it. And no holes in the pelts, either, so they get top dollar on the furs. All they do is go out and pick up the dead wolves the next morning. With unblemished pelts just like the folks back East want them.”

      Annabelle paused and looked a little sad. “He’s got all the money he needs now, of course. But…to die of strychnine poisoning. Even for a wolf, well, I simply can’t condone it. The convulsions. The foaming at the mouth. Besides, other animals die, too—it’s not just the wolves. And, birds. I love birds, even the vultures. It’s not fair to the animals, they don’t have a chance.”

      “Oh, dear.” Elizabeth couldn’t believe it. She hadn’t known Jake for long, but he didn’t seem like a cruel man. She had a bit of poison in her wagon, of course. All dyers did. The indigo leavings used to make a strong black dye were poisonous. She was careful with it, though, and always kept it in a lidded jar so no animal could mistakenly eat it.

      “Jake lives out there on Dry Creek by those friends of his. I talked to the manager and he agrees with me. I’m not going to sell the men poison. Decent folks are trying to make Miles City a good place to live. There’s talk all the time that someday the railroad representatives will come to town and look us over. I don’t want to be selling strychnine to wolfers when that happens.”

      “So it’s not the girls?”

      The woman shook her head and then gave a small smile. “Folks around here might shoot an Indian, but they’d spit on a wolfer. If they had the nerve, that is.”

      “Oh.”

      “I’m just giving you a word of caution.”

      “I’m grateful.”

      Elizabeth realized she was in trouble. She wanted to help the baby, but she didn’t see how she could marry someone like Jake. Even if the marriage wasn’t real, she would be out there alone with him and the girls—and his wolfer friends. What if they put poison in her tea some morning? She had been willing to die, but she didn’t want to be murdered.

      “I don’t suppose there’s any jobs available in town.”

      The woman frowned. “Virginia Parker got a job recently working at the saloon down the street, playing piano.”

      “Oh, I couldn’t work in a saloon. What decent woman could?”

      “I’ll not hear anything said about Virginia. She’s a fine young woman. There’s just not much work around here and most of it’s in the saloons.”

      “Surely there are other jobs. I could teach a little school. Not Latin or anything fancy. But I’m good with numbers.”

      “The Reverend Olson already teaches school. He even knows Latin. But, between that and his preaching, he barely makes enough to keep body and soul together for him and his wife. The town hasn’t exactly gotten around to paying anyone for the school yet. The parents are going to meet to see what they can do about it. My son, Thomas, goes to the school.”

      “I wouldn’t need to make much. It’s only me to support.”

      “Could you sew enough to be a dressmaker?”

      “If the styles were simple.”

      The woman shook her head. “You’d need ruffles and hoops to please this crowd. Most of the regular women make their own dresses. It’s the women in the saloons—not Virginia, of course, but the other women—they are the ones willing to pay someone to make dresses for them. But they want French lace and that new kind of shimmering braid they’ve been asking for. In silver and gold both, mind you. We stock some of the best silks in the world just for them. But, what’s a good fabric if the thing doesn’t fit right? A handy seamstress could make a good living if she knew fashion.”

      “I could learn. I’d just need to buy some patterns.”

      “We don’t have any of the new styles yet. The owner hasn’t even sent off for them. We have some old ones, of course, but—”

      “Oh, well. I suppose I could take in laundry for a while.” Elizabeth squared her shoulders. She’d do that if she had to and keep the Indian baby with her for the winter. “I’m used to washing men’s shirts and woolens.”

      The woman shook her head. “Sam Lee does that. You may have seen the sign on your way into town—Good Washing and Fireworks Here? He’s a Chinaman who does the laundry for most of the town. He’d be hard to beat.”

      Elizabeth heard the door to the mercantile open.

      “Who’d be hard to beat?” Jake asked as he walked inside and up to the counter. He had the baby in the sling next to his chest. He didn’t know what had Annabelle in such a contrary mood, but she couldn’t have picked a worse time. He’d come to know her because she went to church most Sundays just as he did. He’d always thought her to be a sensible woman and Higgins had praised her extravagantly the last time Jake had shared their evening fire.

      Maybe that was the problem.

      “I don’t suppose it’s Higgins?” Jake asked Annabelle directly. Higgins had been a trapper for decades, as Jake’s father had been. The man was said to have wrestled a grizzly once and gone back to chopping wood afterward as if like there had been nothing to it. But for all of the man’s courage, he had even less of an idea about how to act around refined women than Jake did.

      “I was speaking of the man who does the laundry,” the store clerk said stiffly. “Mr. Higgins is none of my concern.”

      “All right then,” Jake said slowly. That should be good, he thought. He turned to Elizabeth. “Did you find a ring that fit?”

      “Not quite.” Elizabeth hesitated. “Maybe we could use my mother’s ring until we find exactly what we want.”

      Jake searched Elizabeth’s face. “If you’re sure. Most women like new things.”

      Something was wrong. Annabelle had stared at his shoulder most of the time she was talking to him and Elizabeth could barely look him in the eye. He supposed she was finally realizing what she was about to do. Not that he could blame her. He knew he had no business marrying someone like her and dragging her into the problems he’d probably have with the people of this town.

      Of course, why would that make Annabelle so unfriendly? Maybe it did have something to do with Higgins instead.

      “Higgins didn’t propose to you, did he?” Jake suddenly asked. Annabelle had been in town for several months now. Her husband had been a miner over by Helena until he’d been shot and killed. But maybe she’d lived back East before that. “I know things are different out here. Most men don’t feel they have the time to spend courting,