nodded. “Joe Something-or-other.”
“Portco. Joe Portco. He runs the feed store back home.” He had no idea why he was blathering except that he was still furious with Jack Hunter. The man might let his wife take a plane up in bad weather, but Dan sure wouldn’t risk a young woman’s life just to fulfill her whim. “Thank you, ma’am.”
She looked past him with a frown. “You leaving?”
Dan sighed. He might have overreacted. After all, he had a verbal contract. And the train only left this small town once a day. He couldn’t storm out of here at a moment’s notice. “No, ma’am. Not just yet.”
Her plump cheeks rounded above her broad smile. “That good, Mr. Dan. I glad to hear it.” Her smile vanished. “Sorry about the bad news.”
Then she toddled off down the hall, broom in hand.
Dan closed the door and looked down at the note. Mrs. Terchie’s handwriting was a little peculiar, and the spelling was poor, but he could make it out.
Blizerd kilt cows. More then 30. More like 50. Woovs got em.
He figured Joe had told her the wolves ate the carcasses. Wolves, coyotes, dogs. It didn’t much matter what got to the cattle. Fifty head were lost. They wouldn’t make one cent off them. Moreover, Dan would have to replace them come spring.
He growled. Why couldn’t his pa corral them at the ranch during the winter like his neighbors? Why was he so stubborn about doing things the way they’d always done them? Every time Dan argued with him about it, his pa would point out that the land was made for grazing. It had once supported hundreds of thousands of bison. The natives didn’t pen them up. They didn’t pen their cattle now.
Tradition, Pa called it.
Dan had no use for tradition when it meant unnecessary loss.
When Pa added to that his confidence that God would see them through, it took all of Dan’s patience not to point out that his air-show money was the only thing seeing them through. Without that, the ranch would have gone on the auction block years ago.
He’d counted on his brothers to bring Pa around, but Dale and David didn’t like to stir up controversy. Dale’s wife had backbone, but over time she’d swallowed Pa’s ideas to the point that she was spouting them, too. David’s new bride was too shy to speak up. That left Dan.
He crumpled the note and tossed it in the wastepaper bin. Then he unpacked his bag. There would be no backing out of his contract now.
* * *
“Can you believe that?” Jen sputtered to Minnie as they ladled stew into bowls for supper. “Wagner refused to teach me to fly. Ever.”
“I thought you said he wasn’t a flight instructor.” Minnie took the bowl from Jen and carried it to the table.
“That’s beside the point. He acted like Darcy had asked him to commit a crime.”
“Aren’t you overreacting?” Minnie had stiffened, and Jen realized she shouldn’t have mentioned anything to do with criminal activity.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have used those exact words.” After her youngest sister’s brush with a bootlegging ring last year that nearly got her killed, she was a little sensitive about anything illegal. “I meant that he was appalled.”
“I know. I’ve just learned how easy it is for good people to get caught up in a bad idea.”
Jen had, too. Both Minnie and Beatrice had watched their beloved men fall victim.
Minnie returned to the stove, and Jen scooped some potato-laden stew into a bowl and handed it to her.
Minnie peered into the bowl. “This one doesn’t have any salt pork.”
“How can you tell? Salt pork looks the same as potatoes.”
“No, it doesn’t. Just add some, all right?”
Jen fished out a chunk of pork and dumped it in the bowl. The meat was pretty meager. It was getting close to the end of the month. Their credit must be running low at the mercantile, as it had every month since Daddy died. The Kensingtons would extend more credit, but Mother refused to fall any deeper into debt. In a couple weeks, the dress-shop receivables would start coming in, and then they could pay down their bills.
“The bread smells wonderful, Mother,” Ruthie said from around the corner, where she was nursing little Sammy. “You must have baked it today.”
“Yes, dear,” Mother said absently.
Her attention was riveted on the newspaper, which was unusual. Daddy had been the one who devoured every news story. Mother had constantly chided him to set aside the paper during meals. Now she was doing the very same thing.
“I don’t see what the problem is, Jen,” Ruthie said as she returned to the kitchen and burped the baby. “The flight school is closed. Jack and Darcy never fly this time of year.”
“But they will for the expedition.” Jen slopped stew into another bowl. “And if I don’t get my license before spring, I’ll never be able to go along.”
“Go along?” Ruthie exclaimed. “Why would you go with them? Even Darcy won’t be able to, not with the new baby.” She held up a hand. “I don’t care what she says now. Once the baby arrives, her whole world will revolve around him.” She leaned down and kissed Sammy’s forehead before cooing and holding out a finger for him to grab.
Sammy giggled and squealed.
Jen rolled her eyes. Babies were fine and all, but she would never give up something important, like the polar expedition, in order to have a baby. Not that Darcy had a choice. She’d been married for years, after all. A baby was bound to happen along, and with this being their first she was extra cautious.
“What I need to know is how to convince him,” Jen mused. “Darcy said Jack didn’t want to teach her at first, but she was able to persuade him. She might have some idea how to change Wagner’s mind.”
“Wagner?” Minnie said, holding out her hands for the next bowl. “No more Dan?”
Jen made a face at her little sister. “That was a slip of the tongue, when I was feeling more charitable. Ruthie, is Sam eating with us?”
“Yes, but don’t dish up any stew just yet. He had to place a telephone call to New York. It could take a while. He said to start without him.”
Jen carried her own bowl to the old wooden table. It was battered and stained from years of use. Everyone sat in their usual places, leaving Daddy’s place empty, as they had since he’d moved to the parlor. At first, she’d figured he would return as soon as he recovered his strength. But he never recovered. Still, the empty place remained.
When Sam arrived, he would sit in Beatrice’s old spot. Jen ran a finger over the holes she’d poked into the wood when she refused to eat peas and had to sit at the table until dark. The battle of wills had lasted until bedtime, when Mother finally let her go to sleep, but in the morning, Jen found the peas in her breakfast bowl. She’d swallowed
