River with No Bridge

At Shoshone, Idaho, passengers disembarked and rode carriages to view Shoshone Falls, the Niagara of the West. Nora drank in breaths of air ha almost fizzed like champagne. She heard the water’s thunder before she alighted to walk toward the falls, captivated at once by its savage beauty. She stopped, transfixed, taken aback by a sense of intimacy that she couldn’t distinguish as strictly physical or spiritual. If nature were a goddess, like in the Greek stories the priest had taught them, then this would surely be her very pounding heart.

Foam rose into spray and then mist that chilled surrounding air, A rainbow arced above all that relentless roar. Nora had never been anywhere so pure, elemental, and untouchable. The great falls and the airy, light-filled prism rising from its base became a glorious sign for her journey lifting her out of weariness and gnawing hunger.

Comforted, staring wide-eyed into the tumult, she offered a quick prayer of relief and thanks, crossing herself discreetly with a travel-smudged glove.

After her train switched back east toward Butte, man-made structures announced civilization at longer intervals until they became rare sights against the darkening backdrop of wilderness.

How vast America was, how various her people. All sorts boarded and disembarked. Nora made a solitary game of pegging fellow passengers by occupation. She judged one man with an expensive suit and elegant silver-flecked sideburns, fixated on a small black book, to be a banker. Another in a thick wool jacket, trousers tucked into boots, had to be a railroad worker heading home, a miner like Tade, or maybe a logger. A pockmarked young fellow in an ill-fitting suit and thick glasses, she judged a schoolteacher. A blowsy woman who’d struck up a noisy conversation with a cowboy wouldn’t be respectable, saloon work or worse her lot.

Nora avoided eye contact with any. Late afternoon sun sagged behind the summit of an unknown mountain. Another friendless end to another friendless day. She nibbled on a bun purchased at one of the water stops. It would be her last food before Butte. Finishing it, drumming her fingers on the armrest, she dared peek at the dapper neighbor across from her as he rattled his newspaper. Its masthead read, The Butte Miner, May 14, 1882.

He’d boarded at Shoshone. This one’s long, tapered fingers had never gripped pick or shovel. Besides, he sported a meticulously etched mustache. Odd.

Catching her glance, he smiled and offered his paper. She’d sat forward, flustered.

He spoke anyway. “Fate has seen fit to throw us together as strangers in a strange land. Let’s not stay that way. I’m Bat Moriarty, late of Boise, Coeur d’Alene, and Shoshone. I do travel.”

“Nora Flanagan.” Nora managed a prim smile, then turned her profile to him to discourage conversation. She’d had the full impact of his dark good looks, though. An Irish name, dark hair, brown eyes. Some Spanish blood, she guessed. Sailors in his family history.

“Nora Flanagan? Let me guess.” Bat ran one hand through hair that brushed the back of his starched collar. “You started from Erin, your speech makes that clear. And you came west, hmm, not from New York. You’re not self-assured or hard-eyed enough. You’ve spent your first stage of American life in Boston. A maid in a rich family’s house?”

Nora laughed in spite of herself. “You came close, for certain. I lived in Boston for a time. Now I’m joining a friend—friends—in Butte, America. Have you been there?”

“Many, many times.”

“Then the place must be to your liking.”

For the second time in her life a man described Butte to her. Like the speakers, their descriptions differed until she could have been hearing about two separate cities.

“It’s lined with the bones of Irishmen, Miss Flanagan. There are accidents in the mines. Explosions. Butte’s a dirty, raw place. You should think again about leaving the civilized, green world of Boston. Many’s the Butte widow who wishes she’d been left a softer setting to grieve.”

The conversation slowed, and Bat resumed reading. Nora sorted through his words. Could Butte be as bad as all that? Could something happen to Tade? No, it couldn’t. She twisted her neck to ease its stiffness and brushed at the mourning coat’s lapel. She’d worn it like a stifling suit of armor. She was no coward. She undid the buttons and yanked the coat from her shoulders, shrugging out of it and sighing with the release. Her high-necked black dress should be armor enough. Why be so fearful?

Why should she cling to society’s rules when they made her hot and miserable? Wearing black couldn’t help Paddy Flanagan who hadn’t cared much for social niceties himself. A thrill of freedom fluttered against her breastbone. Young and filled with hope, she reminded herself that she’d survived what crushed others. She had a future, and her future had begun.

Adventure’s enchantment washed over her with all its reckless promise.

*****
Next morning Nora felt groggy from nights of disturbed sleep in a high-backed passenger seat. Longing to bathe prickled like persistent hunger. She worried others might smell her, unwashed by necessity. She wiped her forehead with a kerchief and frowned at the gray smudge left on the cloth. Trim, long-legged Bat Moriarty looked as fresh as when he boarded. How did he do it? His smooth manners and impeccable attire could put a tired person off. Nora adjusted her hat, a straw boater, and waited. Not long now.

She raised her hand to her throat when she finally saw the city of Butte and muttered, “God in heaven. What have I come to?”

A wasteland. From forests and transparent streams, the earth turned to dust and cinders. Sulfurous, arsenic-laden, smoky fumes and ashes poured from smelter stacks. Day darkened to premature twilight. Nothing grew, not wildflowers, not even a blade of grass.

Her neighbor stirred. “I hate to say I told you so, Nora Flanagan, but welcome to Butte.” He winked. “Don’t look so dismayed You don’t see it, but those streets you’re staring at with such disapproval are paved with silver and copper. Maybe you’ll find the place to your heart after all.”

Discussion Questions

1. Nora’s father has died shortly before the novel opens. What influence did her Irish father and his tinker ways have on her?

2. What factors make Nora decide to go alone to Butte, America? Did she make a wise decision?

3. In some ways Nora’s experiences in Butte are typical of other women’s. In what ways are hers different? Why?

4. What draws Nora and Jim Li to each other?

5. Why does Nora act as she does in Helena?

6. How does Nora’s Catholic religion influence her life?

7. How does the journey to the North Fork change both Jim and Nora?

8. Bat Moriarty seeks revenge. In what ways are the sins of the father visited on the son?

9. Nature plays a large part in the novel. How does the natural world, and human nature, determine the characters’ lives?

10. Nora is inexperienced at the story’s beginning. How do each of the three men in her life affect her sexuality?

11. What, as Nora reflects at the story’s end, are her “immigrant gains and losses?”

12. What is the role of hope in River with No Bridge?

How I Came to Write my Novels

I wrote my first story in third grade. Mom and Dad praised it, and I wanted to feel that combination of creative accomplishment and admiration again. In years to come, like most writers, I’ve experienced more rejection than admiration, but the creative accomplishment part has never failed me. It’s one of the best ways I know to nurture my spirit. Besides, I love stories: writing, reading, or hearing them.

Over time, I’ve realized that historical novels are my favorite to write. I’ve always enjoyed research and finding the facts and narratives of humans succeeding, failing, facing challenges, and moving toward the present. There’s something wonderful about moving through time, stopping at points that no longer really exist and pulling the reader into that older world. There’s always a mystery about the past. And there’s always the similarities between the then and now.

I felt that strongly in writing my first published novel. I self published Remarkable Silence, an archaeological thriller, in 2013. The multi- period plot, a gift from my husband who also did much of the research, presents a “what if” set in biblical times and the 1990’s. I wanted to write a novel, controversy be damned, that deals with themes of religion, the hunger for power, and how bad people can sometimes do good things. It’s about both ancient and timely human concerns.

River with No Bridge, to be published by Five Star Publishing in 2017, begins in the late 1880’s. My main character is Irish immigrant Nora Flanagan who partners with a Chinese man to become one of the first settlers on the North Fork of the Flathead River. My mother planted the seed for Nora’s story. As we drove on Going to the Sun Highway in Glacier National Park one day she casually remarked, “Someone should write a novel about the inholders.” Inholders were those who owned land in GNP before it became a national park in 1910. The government allowed them to keep their land to pass down to their descendants or to sell.

I began researching and constructing a plot. After rejections and revisions, and time taken to earn a living, I finished the book in its final version. It’s become the story I wanted to write of the wild place I love. I also wanted to pay homage to the immigrants who struggled so hard against loneliness and setbacks to make lives for themselves and their children.

Historical novel writing is like jumping into a vast river with backwaters, rapids, and powerful waterfalls. I like to go where the current takes me.

1. You are a self-described history buff and avid reader of historical fiction. What is your own history to date?

I’m a Montana native, happy to have come full circle. My husband and I live just a few miles outside Glacier National Park. I’ve lived in North Dakota, Michigan, South Dakota, and Alaska. My work life has included practicing law and teaching in colleges and public schools, most recently in Wales, an Inupiaq village on the tip of the Seward Peninsula on the Bering Strait. I devote my time now to writing, reading, hiking, visiting with friends, and watching movies. Our grown children live on each coast, and I visit them when I can and look forward to their visits with us.

2. You’ve written an archaeological thriller set in the Middle East and then switched to a frontier novel. What inspired you two such different stories?

Recent international events and personal history inspired me to write Remarkable Silence. So many groups claim to know the only route to divine approval. My husband actually thought up the “what if” plot and did much of the research. I took it from there. The world needs questioning, tolerance, and stories that grab readers’ imaginations.

As for River with No Bridge, I moved to Montana permanently in 1993 and fell in love with Glacier National Park and the country around it, especially the North Fork of the Flathead River. One day my mother and I were taking a drive around Lake McDonald inside the Park, and Mom said, “Someone should write a novel about the inholders.” Inholders were people who owned land inside what became Glacier National Park in 1910. I soon had thoughts of a story featuring an Irish immigrant woman who, after a series of life changing events, winds up settling on the North Fork with a Chinese man. River with No Bridge is the result. It will be published by Five Star Publishing in 2017.

Although the two books have different locations and time periods, I don’t see their themes as so different. Each has to do with tolerance, courage, freedom, and moral decisions.

3. Where and when do you work best?

I write in our small guest cabin, often all afternoon. Maybe because I was a self-employed single mom for many years, my irritating work ethic prods me to do maintenance chores before losing myself in the best life possible, being an author.

4. What tasks are involved in your writing life besides the strictly creative?

I belong to writers groups: Authors of the Flathead, the Historical Novel Society, Women Writing the West, and Montana Women Writers. Self-publishing and marketing Remarkable Silence turned out to be a steep learning curve. To satisfy my inner essayist, I have a blog that’s a mix of memoir and literary discussion, and contribute to Montana Women Writers’ blog, The View. I’m also working with the editors at Five Star to have River with No Bridge ready for publication in 2017. Marketing the books involves book signings, approaching sellers, speaking engagements, for just a few.

5. What are you reading now?

I begin each morning with a little poetry reading (Robinson Jeffers is a favorite.) or, more often these days, about ten pages from Will and Ariel Durant’s The Story of Civilization. I belong to a book club, Our Ladies of Perpetual Disappointment. In spite of our name, we encourage each other in the search for terrific books. The latest is The Last Report on the Miracles at Little No Horse by Louise Erdrich.

6. What will follow River with No Bridge?

I see it as the first of a trilogy about Nora and Jim Li’s family. Next will be Garden in the Sky to be followed by Not One Star Dulled. The former involves the family in WWI and its aftermath as well as the building of Going to the Sun Road in Glacier National Park. The latter will take the family through WWII.

7. What advice would you give a beginning writer?

First, never give up. Second, join a good critique group. Third, search diligently for the agent or editor who is looking for what you write. They often have specific criteria for what will meet their needs. I found a publisher for River with No Bridge because I saw that the acquisitions editor for Five Star Publishing’s Frontier Line was to speak and listen to authors’ pitches at a Historical Novel Society Conference. I went, met with her, and now I have a publisher.