to turn in for the night so all you wild hoot owls keep it down. We’re going to try and get some to sleep.” Patrick joked to our friends and neighbors as he herded me toward our wagon. Helping me up into our makeshift bedroom, he patted me lovingly on the fanny as we climbed into our sleeping quarters. It wasn’t long before we were fast asleep.
Chapter 15
T he next morning, dressed and armed with mops, buckets, and trash bins, we were ready for the day’s work. The town council had been gracious to donate all of the supplies. As the dawn sky broke into a brilliant red over the flat prairie, I found myself recalling Lettie’s old ranch foreman’s words.
“Red sky in morning, sailors take warning. Ain’t too many sailing ships in these here parts, but it’s always good to be prepared,” he’d say. Like a seaman, he would put a moistened finger to the air to test for wind direction as he walked away.
I began thinking on the wisdom of the saying. He might be right. Usually in October we would get rain and snow mixes, but today the east wind was blowing the clouds up against the mountains. Whenever this would happen, we could be in for some rough weather. Oh, don’t be silly, I thought. Today will be lots of work, and then I’ll be ready to go home and sleep in my own bed. That hay wasn’t bad, but if I have my “druthers” I would “druther” be under my goose down comforter with that handsome man of mine. I chucked to myself at my own pun.
Pastor Burns started another round of “Stand Up. Stand up for Jesus,” only he amusingly changed the words to, “Get up. Get up for Jesus.” The dissonance of singing voices forced the remainder of the sleepy congregation into the chilly fall morning. True to his word, Pastor Burns and his crew had mountains of hotcakes ready. Yawning children brushed tousled hair from their sleepy eyes, women busily tucked stray hair into bonnets, men snapped suspenders and donned over-shirts as they threw open their tent flaps and yelled “halloo” to the neighbors.
After a plateful of rubbery but satisfying pancakes, I kissed Patrick and watched him take the buckboard down the road toward home. Grace and I walked over to the train station and climbed the railyard stairs to the platform so we could remove and fold the bunting that had been used for decoration. “That’s odd,” Grace said. “I don’t think I have ever seen that railroad car or engine before.” We stood on the platform, watching a shiny red engine attached to one lone passenger car. The car’s shades were drawn, but someone was inside readying it for a trip.
“I don’t think I have either. It’s peculiar that it’s getting ready to leave this early on a Sunday,” I said. Behind us, I heard a group of women ascending the stairs. A harsh laugh, toughened from years of working smoke-filled saloons, rattled among the other voices in the group. Immediately my heart stopped and the air practically left my lungs. Panicked, I looked down the road where Patrick and Sheba had just been. The wagon had disappeared, so I exhaled in relief. Patrick was gone.
Aunt Lettie’s unmistakable laugh was behind us. It was Aunt Lettie for sure. Maybe Ma and Jeremiah were with her too. Patrick was gone, and this might be the only opportunity I would have to see my family again. I turned to face the group as they made their way toward the waiting train car. As they approached, I stepped into their path, blocking them from entering the car. I pulled the heavy hood away from my face and everyone stopped in silence. “Ada? Ada, is that you?” Ma asked. As I nodded, Ma and Aunt Lettie instantly engulfed me in smothering kisses.
“Whoa! Whoa,” I cried as their clutching arms threatened to hug the very life from my chest.
“Ada! We were sure we would never see you again! We cried when we read your letter and understood how hard this life had been on you. We never realized you would need to leave us because you were so
Chapter 15
T he next morning, dressed and armed with mops, buckets, and trash bins, we were ready for the day’s work. The town council had been gracious to donate all of the supplies. As the dawn sky broke into a brilliant red over the flat prairie, I found myself recalling Lettie’s old ranch foreman’s words.
“Red sky in morning, sailors take warning. Ain’t too many sailing ships in these here parts, but it’s always good to be prepared,” he’d say. Like a seaman, he would put a moistened finger to the air to test for wind direction as he walked away.
I began thinking on the wisdom of the saying. He might be right. Usually in October we would get rain and snow mixes, but today the east wind was blowing the clouds up against the mountains. Whenever this would happen, we could be in for some rough weather. Oh, don’t be silly, I thought. Today will be lots of work, and then I’ll be ready to go home and sleep in my own bed. That hay wasn’t bad, but if I have my “druthers” I would “druther” be under my goose down comforter with that handsome man of mine. I chucked to myself at my own pun.
Pastor Burns started another round of “Stand Up. Stand up for Jesus,” only he amusingly changed the words to, “Get up. Get up for Jesus.” The dissonance of singing voices forced the remainder of the sleepy congregation into the chilly fall morning. True to his word, Pastor Burns and his crew had mountains of hotcakes ready. Yawning children brushed tousled hair from their sleepy eyes, women busily tucked stray hair into bonnets, men snapped suspenders and donned over-shirts as they threw open their tent flaps and yelled “halloo” to the neighbors.
After a plateful of rubbery but satisfying pancakes, I kissed Patrick and watched him take the buckboard down the road toward home. Grace and I walked over to the train station and climbed the railyard stairs to the platform so we could remove and fold the bunting that had been used for decoration. “That’s odd,” Grace said. “I don’t think I have ever seen that railroad car or engine before.” We stood on the platform, watching a shiny red engine attached to one lone passenger car. The car’s shades were drawn, but someone was inside readying it for a trip.
“I don’t think I have either. It’s peculiar that it’s getting ready to leave this early on a Sunday,” I said. Behind us, I heard a group of women ascending the stairs. A harsh laugh, toughened from years of working smoke-filled saloons, rattled among the other voices in the group. Immediately my heart stopped and the air practically left my lungs. Panicked, I looked down the road where Patrick and Sheba had just been. The wagon had disappeared, so I exhaled in relief. Patrick was gone.
Aunt Lettie’s unmistakable laugh was behind us. It was Aunt Lettie for sure. Maybe Ma and Jeremiah were with her too. Patrick was gone, and this might be the only opportunity I would have to see my family again. I turned to face the group as they made their way toward the waiting train car. As they approached, I stepped into their path, blocking them from entering the car. I pulled the heavy hood away from my face and everyone stopped in silence. “Ada? Ada, is that you?” Ma asked. As I nodded, Ma and Aunt Lettie instantly engulfed me in smothering kisses.
“Whoa! Whoa,” I cried as their clutching arms threatened to hug the very life from my chest.
“Ada! We were sure we would never see you again! We cried when we read your letter and understood how hard this life had been on you. We never realized you would need to leave us because you were so
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