Free Eutopia by David Nickle Page A

herself. “Never mind having not heard of the man—it beggars the imagination to conceive that no one would have suggested to you the similarity of your own name to that of Jack Thistledown’s.”
    Jason thought that he might have enjoyed studying Miss Ruth Harper from afar a little longer. He did not like this sort of conversation.
    “Oh come,” said Ruth. “Jack Thistledown—hero of the Incorporation Wars. Killed a dozen men fighting against Granville Stewart and his vigilantes, over the cattle ranges of south Montana. One of three men to walk away from the shootout at Snake River. Does that not jog your memory?”
    “My pa’s name was John,” said Jason.
    “Jack is another name for John.”
    Jason sighed. This would come up from time to time in Cracked Wheel, when fellows were passing through town and overheard someone calling his name in the store. Jason said now the same thing he’d said then.
    “I didn’t know him too well. But he was no good.”
    “The same might be said of Jack Thistledown,” said Ruth. “Well—this is exciting. The son of a famous gunfighter—right here on this boat! I feel I ought to be swooning.”
    “Ruth!” said Miss Butler, and this time Sam Green intervened too.
    “Leave the boy be, Miss Harper,” he said. “It’s his own business who his pa is.”
    This seemed to make an impression on Ruth where her old friend Louise Butler could not. Her face took a more sympathetic cast.
    “Of course it is,” she said. “And look—my questions have made you positively crimson! Oh, I must apologize, Mr. Thistledown. As my dear Louise attests, I am quite mad for the dime novels. And here on my way to a summer at Utopian Eliada . . . Well. I am too hungry for intrigue and so invent it where there is none to be found. Can you forgive me?”
    Jason had not been aware that he was crimson. He was not sure he liked having it pointed out. “I can,” he said.
    They sat quiet for awhile, watching the shore of the Kootenai River transform from docks to tilled field to wilderness. After a moment, Aunt Germaine excused herself to freshen up. As she did so, Jason caught Ruth looking to him again. This time she looked away quickly, and Jason was fine with that. Let her turn all crimson for a change.
    “What’d your pa buy this boat for?” asked Jason as they drew around a bend and the river stretched wide before them. “If I am not prying in asking.”
    Ruth didn’t look over when she answered, and she spoke in a cool tone. “I suppose that he told the investors it was to haul his brailles of logs and lumber back to Bonner’s Ferry more efficiently. When he invested in the town, Father had hoped that the markets downriver in Canada might take an interest in Eliada wood; and he has always hoped that the Great Northern Railway might finally complete a line south through the town. Given that they have not . . .” She spread her hands to indicate the whole of The Eliada “. . . voila !”
    “ Voila . That’s what he told his investors,” said Jason. “You suppose.”
    Now she did smile. “Yes. But you didn’t ask the proper question.”
    “And what is that?”
    “Why, given everything, did not my Father acquire his steamboat much sooner?” She did not wait for him to ask it. “That would be because it is only now that Father feels his grand project is enough of a success to let the world in.”
    Louise Butler pursed her lips and shook her head. “Really,” she said.
    “No,” said Ruth. “It is true. The fact of the matter is that until now, dear Father could not be certain that regular traffic through his community might not pollute it. Why—if the land were not so well-prepared, venal men might arrive and bring with them their terrible vices! Things such as cards—hard liquor—low women—”
    “Ruth!”
    She waved away her friend’s objections without even looking at her.
    “—and worst of all: dancing!”
    Jason laughed and shook his head. He didn’t have much