This morning I stood on a bluff above Fort Benton, Montana, and gazed down at the Missouri River, not unlike residents in the 1800s who came up on foot and horseback to catch first glimpses of approaching steam boats. Perhaps someone fired a gun (or two) to alert the town of an eagerly anticipated visitor from St. Louis, or simply rode back down with the news, which traveled at a pace, and in a manner, we cannot imagine.
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