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Molly shook her hand enthusiastically. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Green.”

As Ada led her to the table, Molly’s gaze swept across the room, taking in the diverse group of women seated around it. Her heart swelled with a sense of belonging she hadn’t felt since leaving Chicago.

“Ladies,” Ada announced, “this is Molly O’Sullivan, the photographer Clara told us about.”

A chorus of greetings followed, and Molly found herself seated between a graceful blonde woman and a stern-looking older lady with steel-gray hair.

The blonde turned to her with a smile. “I’m Evelyn Graham, the schoolteacher in Mystic. It’s wonderful to meet you, Molly.”

Molly’s eyes widened. “Mystic? I’ve just heard about it yesterday. It sounds fascinating.”

“Oh, it is. You must visit. The landscapes alone are worth the trip.”

“You made the long trip for this meeting?” Molly asked.

Evelyn chuckled. “Oh, no. School isn’t in session right now, so I took the stage to Bozeman with my mother. We’ll spend a few days before returning to Mystic.”

As plates of eggs and bacon were served, the conversation flowed from one topic to another. Molly listened, offering her own thoughts and experiences when she thought it appropriate.

“The biggest challenge is getting men to take our businesses seriously,” a woman named Agnes said. “They seem to think we’ll swoon at the first sign of trouble or controversy. If a woman is married, the bank will require a loan be in her husband’s name. It’s humiliating.”

Ada nodded. “That’s precisely why we established our own fund for women.”

Molly’s eyes widened. “You have a fund just for women?”

“Oh, yes,” Ada answered. “We loan money the same as banks. The women must make monthly payments.”

“Our interest rate is a little lower than the bank’s,” Clara said with a mischievous grin.

“Where does the money come from?” Molly asked.

Ada looked around the room. “From this group, as well as a few other women who don’t want their names connected to us. It’s why gatherings such as ours are so important. We need to support each other and share information.”

“Mother and I support this group,” Evelyn said. “Father doesn’t know we’re involved. As the president of the Bank of Mystic, he’d be quite agitated at what these women are doing for each other.”

As the meal progressed, Molly felt a growing sense of camaraderie with these remarkable women. Their stories of perseverance and triumph in the face of adversity stirred something deep within her.

“What about you, Molly?” Evelyn asked. “What brought you out west?”

She hesitated, her thoughts drifting to the evening she told her parents of her decision to leave Chicago. “I suppose I was looking for adventure. A chance to see the country and capture it through my lens.”

The stern-looking woman beside her harrumphed. “Adventure, is it? Well, you’ll find plenty of that out here, missy. Just be careful it doesn’t swallow you whole.”

Molly turned to her, intrigued. “What do you mean?”

The woman’s eyes glinted. “This part of the country can be unforgiving, especially to those who aren’t prepared for its challenges. You seem like a smart girl, but don’t let your eagerness blind you to the dangers.”

A hush fell over the table, and Molly felt a shiver run down her spine. The woman’s words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the untamed nature of the frontier. As she opened her mouth to respond, a commotion outside the hotel caught everyone’s attention. The sound of pounding hooves and shouting voices filled the air, and the women rushed to the window to see what was happening.

As the women peered out the window, Molly’s curiosity got the better of her. She leaned forward, wishing she had her camera set up to catch the action outside.

“My word,” exclaimed Mrs. Agnes Abernathy, a plump woman with kind eyes. “It looks like trouble’s coming. It’s nine in the morning. Surely, those men don’t plan to enter the saloon.”

Outside, a group of rough-looking men on horseback had pulled up in front of the saloon across the street. Their loud voices and boisterous laughter carried through the air, setting Molly’s nerves on edge.

Agnes turned to Molly, her expression serious. “Speaking of dangers, dear, I hope you’re not planning on opening a portraiture store here in Bozeman.”

Molly blinked, surprised by the sudden change in topic. “I hadn’t given it much thought. Why do you ask?”