CHAPTER 22.

NOVEMBER 1918.

THE ARLINGTON NEWS.

Honyocker's Homily ~ Quilting Lessons In my year on the prairie, I have learned to quilt. At the beginning, my fingertips bled from needle p.r.i.c.ks that caught skin rather than the fabric. My eyes crossed from picking out st.i.tches when I tried to pair up two acrimonious fabrics. My neck ached from crooking over the quilting frame.

Slowly my skills improved. Calluses formed on my fingertips, my eye grew skilled at selecting friendlier fabrics to piece into the same block, and my neck is now accustomed to hunching over my work. And I can turn the saddest rag of a shirt to find the one good spot that can be snipped out and turned into a quilt patch. As much as I have improved, however, I have learned neither how to piece together a ledger book when the money isn't there nor how to take a bitter loss and turn it this way or that to find a "good side."

I took a cup of coffee and sat on my front steps, staring at that great expanse of Montana sky. A few short months ago, I'd seen it as a magic carpet, carrying me to my dreams. Now this sky held no promise.

I thought back to finding that photo of my family in Uncle Chester's trunk. I thought maybe it meant to keep going, that all would work out. But nothing short of a miracle would allow me to finish proving up on the claim. Last evening, after supper, I'd gone over my ledger half a dozen times. Each time I got the same answer. And it wasn't good. They were the kind of numbers Uncle Holt would have written in red ink. And though I had prayed and figured and thought and schemed, I could not come up with a way to make those numbers look any better. This was beyond being short the $37.75 for the filing fee. This was debt. Owing folks. Something I'd come out here to avoid. There were still a few bushels of grain to sell for feed but that wouldn't make a dent in my empty money pot.

My stomach felt as if I'd eaten a bushel of green apples. Doing what I needed to do to prove up my claim had left me more beholden to the folks who meant something to me-Karl and Wayne Robbins and Mr. Nefzger-than I'd ever been to all those relatives I'd lived with.

Maybe I could've rallied myself. Before. But Mattie's death had upended me; I couldn't get my footing. It was enough of an accomplishment to write my final installment for the Arlington News. I had no idea how to settle my accounts. And no heart for it, either.

I sat, quiet and alone. No tears. No shaking my fist at G.o.d. Nothing but a heavy stone in my chest that used to be a heart filled with dreams and possibilities. There should be fireworks, at least, when a dream dies. But no, this one had blown apart as easily as a dandelion gone to seed.

Perhaps there was no escaping my role of Hattie Here-and-There. Perhaps that was my fate in life. My call. Trouble was, while I might be able to talk my head into such a thought, my heart wasn't buying any of it. My heart wanted a place to belong. A home of my own.

A cloud of dust from the northeast clued me in to company coming. Over the coulee burst Rooster Jim, jouncing astride his new Indian motorcycle. It appeared he had a better handle on this vehicle than he did on the bicycle.

"Hattie, didja hear?" He roared into the yard. "The war's over. The boys will be coming home." He parked his motorcycle and then himself on the step next to me. "You don't look very happy about the news."

"Oh, it's wonderful, Jim." Charlie would be coming home, safe and sound. And all the Vida men I'd gotten to know. There'd be no more gold stars in anyone's windows. And maybe things would go easier for folks like Karl and Elmer Ren and all the others. "Wonderful news, really."

Rooster Jim reached over and put his hand on mine. "I hope you don't plan a career on the stage," he said. "I love you, child, but you can't act worth beans."

That won him a weak smile. I showed him my ledger. "I guess you'll have to find a new chess partner," I told him.

Rooster Jim shook his s.h.a.ggy head. We sat in silence for a long time. I have no idea what he was thinking, but I thought back to all our chess games. And his wild bicycle ride. And nearly drowning Rose trying to get her to be a good hen. Funny memories like that should make you laugh. Not cry.

"You worked like a trouper to make it go, Hattie. Nothing to be ashamed of."

I thought about that. I wasn't ashamed, but I was heartbroken. "I did give it a good shot, didn't I?" I sniffled.

"That you did." Jim reached in his pocket for pipe and tobacco. He filled his pipe and lit it, puffing noisily. "You know, my mama used to say the Lord works in mysterious ways-"

I held up my hand to stop him. "That was Aunt Ivy's favorite saying, too. Well, letting me lose the claim is more than mysterious. It's downright mean."

"Now, I know my mama's still fussing about me up there." Jim pointed heavenward and gave a wink. "But she'd be proud to know I believe it."

"What?"

"That things have a way of working themselves out. That there's reasons for our valleys and for our peaks."

"Well, I'm ready for a peak. And soon." I stood up and brushed off my skirt.

"Maybe you should trust in that Lord of yours. I suspect He's got a grand plan for someone like you." He pushed himself up, too, then moved toward his motorcycle.

I felt bad to have been so short with him. He certainly had done his share to help me out. "Jim, I'm so down. I didn't mean to drive you off."

He laughed. "Takes more than a cranky word to drive me away. I want to spread the good news about the armistice before it gets dark." He straddled the motorcycle and started it up. I watched his dust trail for a good long while.

The past few months played through my mind. I shook my head at my own foolishness. I had been so determined to do everything on my own when I first arrived. Chase had had to rescue me from my own stupidity on my very first homestead day. There were so many people who'd helped me. I pressed my fingers against my lips to keep from crying. It sure seemed like this was where I belonged. There was Leafie, with her bl.u.s.tery talk and gentle ways. And Jim. Of course, I couldn't even let myself think about Perilee and the children. And Mattie.

I resumed my list: Grace at church, Bub Nefzger, Mr. Ebgard. Oh, he had been my white knight that day with Traft.

My white knight! He'd rescued me once before. Maybe he could help me again. He might know some way around this, something I could do. I freshened myself up, mounted Plug, and headed to Wolf Point.

I launched into my story as soon as I burst in Mr. Ebgard's door.

"Slow down, Hattie," he said. "And sit down."

I did both, then finished my thought. "I was wondering..." I had come up with this idea on my ride into Wolf Point. "Could I reapply? Start over?" I leaned forward. "I have some debts to pay off first."

"Oh, Hattie." He pulled off his gla.s.ses and rubbed his eyes. "I'd loan the money myself-"

"I'm not asking that." I sat up straighter. "Just a chance to start again. You know. Like Chester did."

He chewed on his moustache. "I wish you could. But..." He shuffled some papers on his desk. "There's no such provision. The three-year deadline is firm."

My heart, which had been so full of hope on the whole long ride to town, slumped like a fallen layer cake. "I had to try..." I stood up. "I do thank you, Mr. Ebgard. For everything."

His mouth dipped down at the corners, as if he might cry, too. "This is no comfort, I'm sure, but you aren't the only one." He rearranged the papers on his desk. "Mabel and Elmer Ren, the Saboes, and..." His voice drifted off. "It was a bad year. n.o.body's fault. Next year we'll shake these hard times."

"Next year," I echoed. Who had told me some folks called this next-year country? Well, next year wouldn't be better for me. Not here, anyway. I shook his hand and stepped outside. The November wind came up behind me and knocked me off balance. As if it was telling me to leave, too.

"Miss Brooks."

I turned. Could the day get any worse? "Mr. Martin." Something in his face caught at me. The confidence was diminished; there was actually a softness behind those eyes. Of course. "I am sorry about your mother," I said.

"Thank you." He smiled ruefully. "She got her wish, didn't she? The war ended before I could fight."

There didn't seem to be an appropriate response.

"I'm looking forward to being done with the Council of Defense, too," he said. "Get back to being a rancher. That's what I know best."

Being a rancher. It was an opening, and I was desperate enough to take it. "Mr. Martin." I put my hand on his arm. "Traft. Could I buy you a cup of coffee?" There was no way around it. I'd have to sell to Traft. But it would leave me with enough money to buy a house. Maybe in Wolf Point. Or even in Vida.

"I don't-"

I cleared my throat. "I'm ready to sell."

He shook his head. "I'm not buying." As hurtful as the words were, they were said without anger.

My stomach looped itself into a knot. "Not buying? But you wanted to expand the Tipped M. You wanted pasture land-"

He turned to face me. "I'm a businessman. Why should I buy your claim now?"

"I'd take four hundred," I said. "That's half of what you offered before."

He exhaled loudly. "Hattie, I can get it for next to nothing. At the end of the month, when the county takes it back." Was there a twinge of sadness in his eyes? A touch of pity for my loss? "I pay the back taxes and it's mine." He gently removed my hand from his arm-I hadn't even realized it was still there-and strode off.

Perilee opened her front door to me the next morning. How many times had I climbed those steps since January? I couldn't begin to count. "Coffee's on and I've got strudel, fresh from the oven." She pulled me into a hug as I stepped over the threshold and held me there extra long. When we stepped apart, she quickly ducked her head, but not before I saw the weary pain in her brown eyes.

I waved at Karl, out by the new barn with Wayne Robbins. They were poking around Karl's tractor. "Hey there, Hattie," Wayne called out. Karl simply returned my wave.

"Something wrong with the tractor?" I asked. Wayne was a whiz with persnickety engines.

Perilee poured two mugs of coffee. "Sit you down. I've got something to tell you."

Settled with a cup of Perilee's coffee and a slice of apple heaven on the plate in front of me, I nearly lost my nerve to tell her my story. Maybe if I didn't say it out loud, it wouldn't be true.

"I do, too. I went into Wolf Point yesterday," I began. "Saw Mr. Ebgard."

"And?" Perilee's fork paused over her slice of strudel.

"I-" My head bowed and the tears I'd so fiercely held back in front of Traft fell fast and furious. I lifted my face to meet my good friend's. "I've lost it, Perilee. Uncle Chester's claim." I fumbled in my skirt pocket for a handkerchief to wipe my drippy nose. "My claim."

"Oh, sugar!" Perilee jumped up, skimmed around the table, and put her hand on my shoulder.

"I thought I'd have a home of my own," I blubbered. "B-b-but now I've got nothing."

"You've got something better than any old claim shack." Perilee lifted my chin. "You've got people who love you to pieces."

I sniffled. I'd lain awake all last night thinking about that very thing. That's when I'd come up with my plan. "I was hoping..." I blew my nose. Perilee pulled a chair around and sat so we were knee to knee. "I thought maybe I could stay here with you for a bit. I could teach Chase and help Karl and-" The look on Perilee's face stopped me cold. She sighed and shook her head. "I know it's a lot to ask," I added.

"I would've been sick if you hadn't asked." She took my hand. "I can't think of worse timing to tell you, but..." Her eyes darted around the room. "I'd give anything to have you stay with us. But this house..." She waved her hands. "Everywhere I turn, there's something that says Mattie. For some folks that might be a comfort. But not for me."

"What are you saying?"

She pressed her lips tight together, then blew out a breath. "We're going to sell. Move." She jerked her head toward the window. "Wayne's going to buy our tractor and one of the calves. Karl's picking up an automobile in Wolf Point tomorrow. Brand-new Dodge touring car!" She gave a half smile. "Anything that doesn't fit in, we'll sell at auction."

I folded my hands across my chest, as if to keep my broken heart from falling clean out of my body. "No!" But even as she spoke the words, I knew this was what they should do. Had to do.

"It's for the best." Now Perilee's face was wet with tears. "Karl's cousin has a machine shop in Seattle. After Mattie...after everything, Karl wrote and asked if there were any jobs. His cousin wrote right back and told us to come. He's even found us a house to rent."

"You've known for a while?" I asked. "And you didn't even tell me?"

Perilee looked at her hands. I could barely hear her whispered answer. "I couldn't. Couldn't say good-bye. Not to you."

I leaned hard against the chair back. "When are you leaving?"

Lottie began to cry from the bedroom. Perilee rose to get her. "Soon," she said. "Real soon." She came back carrying Lottie. I held my arms out and took her, cuddling her close, breathing in the sweet baby smell of her. "I've got to make this last," I said.

Perilee stepped close and wrapped her arm around my waist. "You are my sister of the heart," she said. "Geography can't change that."

I leaned in to her. "I know, I know." But I would've given anything to change the geography separating Seattle from Montana.

At the end of the week, Leafie badgered me into going into Wolf Point for the Armistice Day pageant. The whole town had turned out. One of the Ebgard girls dressed up as Victory, a huge flag wrapped around her like a toga. On top of her dark curls she wore a crown bearing the word Peace. Traft Martin and the rest of the Dawson County Council of Defense led the crowd in patriotic songs. I couldn't help think about how, a short time ago, Mr. Ebgard had been seen by some as a traitor. But he had been successful in lobbying for federal aid for farmers so that they could buy spring seed. That was a sight more than any of Traft's crew had done.

Leafie nudged me. "Look at that!"

Rooster Jim came roaring up on his motorcycle, flags flying everywhere. There was even one stuck in his battered hat.

Leafie slipped her arm through mine. "Let me buy you a cold drink."

We walked toward the O.K. Cafe.

"So, the sale is all settled?" Leafie asked. She sipped her cherry phosphate.

I nodded. "The papers were signed yesterday." I twirled my straw through my chocolate soda.

"It won't be the same around here." Leafie pushed her gla.s.s away.

I couldn't answer. If I'd tried, I would've broken down for certain.

"Go see them in Seattle. That'd be a nice adventure for a young girl." Leafie fished in her pocketbook for some coins to pay for our drinks. She made a great show of it, but I knew she was giving me time to pull myself together. "There we are. Thirty-five cents. Just right." She laid the coins on the counter.

Leafie finding the correct change was the only thing that was "just right" about life right now.