This is an excerpt from ‘Bubna’ a novel that I am writing. It’s an historical fiction about one of the most remarkable woman ever to emigrate to Canada. The Countess Bubna – Litic was single, political, eccentric and vastly wealthy and she achieved whatever she put her mind to leaving in her wake the story of a life well lived and a legacy that to this day flourishes. This chapter begins on opening day of the Hotel Eldorado in Kelowna BC.

It was 1926.

The Countess Bubna-Litic walked slowly along the path winding up from the lake, through the stunning rose garden and up toward the brand new hotel, a floral parasol protecting her from the hot Okanagan sun. All eyes were on her and the very fashionable summer dress she had purchased in a Parisien couture salon earlier that spring. This was a chance at a first impression the Countess did not intend to miss.

It was the summer of 1926 and she had arrived to mark the grand opening of the Hotel Eldorado the magnificent destination resort hotel she had built on the shores of Okanagan Lake. It was just south of the small interior town of Kelowna British Columbia, which had only been incorporated in 1905 and now numbered around five thousand settlers.

“Welcome Countess. ‘Tis good to see you again, mo leannan!”

Hamish Macdonell was standing on the hotel’s veranda, dressed in his kilt for the celebrations. He was a rugged, Scottish prospector who had become the Countess’ constant companion. She hadn’t seen him for several weeks.

“Oh Hamish, you are a sight for sore eyes.”

“What a great day Countess!”

There would be plenty of time later that night to get reacquainted but for right now she reminded herself, there were people to welcome.

John Oliver, BC’s premier greeted the Countess as she walked through the rose garden toward the Hotel Eldorado. He had met the Countess when she’d arrived in the Okanagan three years earlier and had learned the hard way not to underestimate her.

The Countess had arrived in the area in 1923 to some fanfare, her reputation as an audacious, independent minded and thoroughly modern woman preceding her. Fresh off developing a cattle ranch in Alberta with some twelve thousand head she had bought the Duck Lake Ranch just north of Kelowna. As he watched the Countess greet her guests Oliver recalled that first meeting just three years earlier.

“Mr. Oliver, I have decided to built a most magnificent destination hotel just south of Kelowna. I believe it will become a holiday destination for people in Alberta and BC for decades to come. ” she had declared.

Oliver had humoured her, as did most, not just because she was a woman and knew not of which she spoke but because she had also consumed at least two glasses of wine during the course of dinner that night.  As would many others, he had learned that the Countess was neither to be trifled with nor ignored. There was little she couldn’t imagine and even less she couldn’t accomplish. As he reflected upon that long ago conversation he quietly reminded himself that he had never met a woman like her.

Oliver was a man of some considerable achievement himself. The town of Oliver in the South Okanagan bore his name and he was widely heralded as the man who first brought irrigation to the Okanagan valley, a decision which would in just a few short decades position the valley as the largest producer of tree fruits in the British Commonwealth.

“Oh John, I do so appreciate you coming all this way from Victoria. You must be so exhausted.”

“It is quite a trek Countess, indeed. It helps me understand how important it is to build more roadways. There’s over fifty thousand automobiles in the province and I’m convinced they are the way of the future but if we don’t have roads, they will have nowhere to drive.”

The Countess bit her tongue. She had grown tired of lobbying various government officials to build a network of roads. She knew that the Okanagan valley would never look back if people could get here in a day or two, rather than the five it currently took.

“Well, John I hope you will accept our hospitality. I have asked that you be given our best rooms overlooking the lake. It has one of our feather beds with the finest silk sheets I had brought in from Luxor in Egypt.”

“Thank you Countess. Your Hotel Eldorado is magnificent. I have to admit I was one of many, who expressed doubts about your ability to build it. It is a truly remarkable feat.”

Even in saying that Oliver chided himself, recalling how the Countess had spent a number of years in Alberta building a cattle ranch and in the process silencing the loud chorus of critics and doubters which had greeted her upon her arrival.

“Well let me introduce you to the man responsible. I could not have done it without him. Hamish, this is Premier John Oliver.”

Hamish Macdonell stepped forward, all six foot four and two hundred and twenty pounds of him. He cut quite a figure in his Scottish kilt and walking stick, putting out his meaty hand to greet the Premier.

“How ye daein, Premier? Ye be admirin’ her ladyships brae bonnie taigh-siursachd?”

“Yes, most certainly Mr. Macdonell, it really is magnificent” not really understanding what Hamish had just said.

The Countess and Hamish both began to laugh.

“Have I said something wrong Countess, I meant no offense.”

“No, Premier don’t worry, it’s nothing you’ve said. It was Hamish. He asked you if you liked my bonnie whore house and you said ‘it was magnificent.” And with that all three of them burst into laughter.

The Countess first met Hamish Macdonell when she arrived in Calgary in 1914. He had cut quite a figure, standing out among most men not the least for his imposing size. She couldn’t deny that she had sometimes dreamt of what it would be like to spend time privately with him, keeping her warm from the cold winter prairie winds. Surely she had told herself, these cold Alberta nights would be much more bareable in the company of a strong man. Time and again she had reminded herself that she had to keep men at arms length, particularly men she employed. But for a woman of passion, it may have been inevitable that this intoxicating Scot would eventually win her over. As with all things in her life the decision to include Hamish in her life was final. She would never regret it.

She quickly came to learn that Hamish could build anything and not because he had apprenticed in the trade. He just had a natural ability and an appetite for learning which made him insatiable for whatever challenge the Countess threw at him. Cattle ranchers in Alberta had learned that it was a mistake to underestimate the Countess. To a man they had openly scoffed when she first arrived, announcing to anyone within ear shot that she was buying a ranch and would raise over ten thousand head of cattle. That she had no experience was of no apparent concern to her.

Few knew anything about the Countess when she had first arrived from England. What they soon learned was that she was immensely wealthy and that alone made her worth meeting. Hamish could remember vividly how she was quickly dismissed by the hard bitten ranchers. The Countess had been invited to the Ranchmen’s Club in Calgary to ‘welcome’ her to the province. The invitation to the elite ‘all male, no women’ club was highly unusual but enough had been heard and read about this newcomer, an English blue blood no less, that their curiosity got the better of the ranchers.

“Gentlemen, my ranch will be the biggest in Alberta and I will ship all of my beef throughout the Commonwealth. War has broken out in Europe and the demand for meat will be insatiable.”

“But madam, you don’t know the first thing about raising cattle. This is not Norfolk in England, the winters in this country are punishingly difficult and we are thousands of miles from Great Britain. How do you propose to get your beef to England before it spoils?!”

It was Archibald Dingman and his tone was patronizing, an infuriating mixture of dismissive and disrespectful. Biting her tongue the Countess turned to Dingman,

“Mr. Dingman, you of all people. How many times were you told that your search for oil in the Turner Valley was a fools errand!”

Dingman was a celebrated oilman, one of the wild, reckless entrepreneurs who had flooded the Canadian prairies in search of oil and gas. His discovery in the Turner Valley, just south of the boom town of Calgary, Alberta had set off a stampede of claims the likes of which no one had ever seen. Most of the men in the room had become vastly wealthy overnight.

It was less a question from the Countess than a reprimand, something no one in the room would usually tolerate, not the least from a woman. An English Countess to boot!

“The easiest answer to any knew idea is ‘No, it can’t be done’. And men like you have always been deaf to naysayers. It’s men like you, who forge ahead no matter what, risking your fortunes and good health in pursuit of your dreams, men like you who have achieved so much in this young country. So Sir, let me ask you a question.”

Dingman braced. He was learning what so many before and others to follow would learn about her. The Countess was no ordinary woman.

“Is it that my idea is so wrong or that it has come from a woman!?” Dingman was startled by the Countess. She was not asking a question, she was making a statement ensuring that she was heard by every man in the room.

“This oil fever sweeping the Turner Valley since your discovery last year has changed the world. I congratulate you for that. The naptha they can now extract from the oil and gas can be used by automobiles and now people will be able to travel cheaply anywhere they want. I admire you Sir, I really do. I am not asking you to invest in my vision. I am simply asking you not to mock it. And if that is too much to ask of you, then let me ask for your silence.”

With that the Countess turned to the room, knowing that every man was now listening to her confrontation with Dingman,

“Gentlemen, other than my gender, I am no different than any of you. I have a dream to pursue and I have the money to pursue it. Forgive me if I appear rude and ‘unladylike’. I mean no offense but if you are offended let me assure you that I have had to endure more than you can ever imagine in that regard. I am here and I am staying and I will build my cattle ranch!”

The room was silent.

“And one more thing, since I appear to have your attention. It is high time women were given the vote in this country. Pass the damn Equal Suffrage Statutory Law Amendment Act. History is about to pass you by gentlemen!”

And with that the Countess Bubna-Litic turned and left the room, a smile on her face, knowing that one way or the other she had announced her arrival.

For those who would hold me to account as to my historic accuracy, I plead guilty. Others who have come before me and perhaps those who may follow, have ably recorded the known facts of Countess Bubna’s life and times. This novel harbours no such ambition. I am a story teller and the story of ‘Bubna’ is long overdue. This extraordinary woman, her times and the people who found themselves in this remote interior town, in the hinterland of Canada’s most western province, are fascinating. She was ‘The Spirit of The El’.