Montana
Morning had not fully reached the mountains when the train began to slow. The cars settled against the rails with a low metallic shudder, and the last of winter still held along the fence lines outside town where the sun had not reached yet. Whitefish appeared gradually through the window—first the platform, then the station roof, and finally a few men waiting with their collars turned up against the cold. Vivian Mercer remained seated until the aisle cleared, then lifted her suitcase down...
