Hope's Imperfection

Chapter 10: Coincidence

The train never came. And it was starting to rain.

We waited and waited, but apparently due to a mechanical issue the train set to arrive in Bozeman had been delayed in Bismarck, North Dakota, where it would remain for three days. I continued to play.

In the early morning rain with a dollar in my hand, with an aching in my heart and my pockets full of sand, I’m a long way from home and I miss my loved ones so, in the early morning rain, with no place to go…

Sarah and I looked at each other and pondered our next move.

“We could camp here for three more days and wait for the train,” Sarah suggested.

“I’d love to go back out to three forks and explore more, but I think we have seen all we can on foot,” I replied.

“We could hitchhike to Portland,” Sarah proposed.

“We could, but I’d like to be there soon. You have me all fired up to see Multnomah Falls,” I stated, honestly.

“I know,” Sarah agreed.

“Let’s fly!” I exclaimed.

“Can we afford it?” Sarah asked.

“Can Grandma afford it is probably the better question,” I responded, as I took my grandmother’s credit card out of the wallet.

Sarah smiled.

The flight to Portland was not scheduled until later in the afternoon, so Sarah and I had more time to explore Montana. There was even talk of taking a very large detour into Yellowstone National Park but common sense prevailed; we would stick to our plan.

My thoughts turned to the other Sarah I had become familiar with on this journey, Richard’s friend, whose parents allegedly started the first hospital in Montana.

“There must be a local historian who can help us flesh out more of the story about the early pioneer days of Montana,” I postulated.

“I was thinking the same thing,” said Sarah.

I decided I would head to the overstaffed information booth and strike up a conversation.

There were several employees to choose from in the corner of the train station, standing ready to pass out all manner of pamphlets and paraphernalia to bleary-eyed arrivals to the town if only they would make the slightest hint of eye contact. I set my sites on Ella, a mid-fifties staffer who looked like she needed to talk.

“Hello. I’m looking for some information about the early history of Montana. Would you happen to know where I could go to find some information?” I asked, as Sarah trailed behind me.

“There is a museum a mile up the road,” Ella dutifully declared.