by Abigail Armani
Joshua sat out on the porch at the day's end, sipping a glass of whiskey as he watched the flaming orb of the sun dip beneath the western hills. He considered himself a fortunate man, a man of means, made sweeter by the fact that he'd achieved his wealth by honest toil. Six years earlier he'd fought in the civil war - and was doubly fortunate to have survived it - and when it was over he spent the best part of a year travelling from place to place, picking up work wherever he could get it, until at last he found a place he could settle.
Southern Montana became his home, the place where he put down roots. He claimed a tract of land and built his house with his bare hands, using timber that lined the east boundary of his 160 acre spread. He was built like a house himself, with broad shoulders and heavily muscled limbs. He towered head and shoulders above the other men in town, and his rugged good looks earned him many a second glance, often generating envious looks from men and admiration from women
Women. He sighed and savoured his drink. Women were in scarce supply in town. The pretty ones were all taken, and though there were a handful of comely widows in their forties and fifties, at twenty-eight, he wanted someone younger ... someone to share his life and bear his children. He wanted a wife. The past few years he had worked like the devil, erecting a barn and a woodshed out back and planting crops. Using practically all the money he had left, he bought a bull and five cows; his small herd soon thrived and multiplied, growing fat on the lush grassland which had an added advantage as two forks of the river met within its boundaries. When his neighbour old Joe announced he was selling up to live out his last years with his daughter in Kansas, Joshua was in a position to buy his land and cattle. So, though there was always plenty of work to be done, he could now afford to pay hired hands to help out, giving him time to sit back a little and enjoy the fruits of his labours. The time was right to get himself a wife. But where from?
The answer to that question came the very next day. Joshua harnessed one of the horses to the buckboard and set out on the 15 mile drive into town. Crow Creek was a small but thriving community. On one side of the main street were two saloons, a newly opened photography studio, a fancy goods store, restaurant, barber's shop, post office and blacksmiths. The other side boasted two general stores, a meat market, bakery, cobblers and the schoolhouse. There was also the baptist church and a two-storey building which housed the doctor's office and a drugstore, the upper floor used as living accommodation by the doctor and his wife.
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