Whispers from Yesterday (9 page)

“I thought we could have lunch before returning to the ranch,” Sophia said as Dusty helped her into the van. “My treat.”

“Are you sure, Miss Sophie?”

“I’m sure. I’ve still got my mad money for the month.”

Karen hugged herself.
Mad money.
She wondered how much that constituted. Ten dollars? Twenty? Maybe even fifty? Of course, however much it was, it was still more than she possessed.

“Let’s go to that little restaurant down the street,” Sophia continued. “That one with the blue sign. I can’t think of the name, but you know which one I mean. They have the best chicken-fried steak in town.”

“Yeah, I know which one.”

“Good.” Sophia glanced over her shoulder at Karen. “You’ll enjoy the food, dear, and no one will have to wash dishes. Won’t that be nice, boys?”

A chorus of yeses erupted from the back of the van.

“Miss Butler?” Billy tapped Karen on the arm to get her attention. “Mind if I sit next to you at lunch?”

She shrugged. “If you’d like.”

He grinned.

She felt an odd flutter in her chest as she met his gaze. He had such an eager look about him, and her reaction to it was totally unexpected. Why should she care if this boy liked her or not? He was nothing to her.

“Lucky for us, church let out early,” Sophia said. “Looks like we’re ahead of all the other Sunday diners. The parking lot is still half-empty.”

Or maybe it’s because the food is lousy,
Karen thought. But she kept her suspicions to herself.

In actuality, the menu had enough variety to please everyone, even Karen. The atmosphere was pleasant with soft music playing in the background and pretty bouquets of fresh-cut flowers on the tables.

Engaged by Billy in conversation while they waited for their food to be brought to the table, Karen forgot to be upset by her circumstances and actually began to enjoy herself. Then a short, balding man marched up to their table. His fists were clenched by his sides, his face mottled with rage.

“Are you Stoddard?” he demanded, his voice carrying throughout the restaurant. “Is that your van outside?” Dusty frowned. “Yes. What may I—?”

The man looked around the table. “And is that Junkman?” He pointed at Hal.

“Excuse me, but—”

“You keep that sleaze ball away from my daughter, or I’ll have him thrown in jail.”

“I don’t know what you’re—”

“You heard me, Stoddard. Keep him away from her.” With that, the man turned and left the now-silent restaurant.

Dusty looked at Hal. The boy met his gaze with a cool, defiant one of his own.

“Want to tell me what that was about?” Dusty asked.

“I ain’t got a clue. He must be crazy.”

Karen looked from Hal to Dusty and back again. There was a split second when she wanted to reach out, take the boy’s hand, and give it a squeeze of encouragement and understanding. She didn’t.

“We’ll talk about it when we return to the ranch,” Dusty said softly.

“There ain’t nothing to talk about.”

“Yes, there is, Hal. But we’ll do it at the ranch.”

Karen wondered what sort of punishment Dusty would dish out. Then she reminded herself it wasn’t any of her business what he did with these kids. The less she became involved, the better off she would be when she finally got out of there.

The night was balmy, the heavens awash with stars twinkling against an ink-black sky. Dusty stood beside the corral, his right foot resting on the bottom rail, his gaze turned upward.

What’s going on with Hal, Lord? How do I reach him?

The boy was sticking by his story that he didn’t know who the man in the restaurant was or what he’d been talking about. Dusty was certain that wasn’t the truth. At least not the whole truth. Still, he knew there was no way any of the boys could be meeting secretly—or otherwise—with a girl, so he’d decided not to press too hard. He needed to gain Hal’s trust, and he was a long way from accomplishing that.

“Pretty, isn’t it?”

Startled from his thoughts, he turned to find Karen standing not far from him. He hadn’t heard her approach.

“What?” he asked.

“The sky. You don’t see stars like this in the city.”

He leaned his back against the fence and looked up. “No, you don’t. Guess I’d forgotten. Or maybe I didn’t notice the difference when I was living in Chicago.” He was silent a moment, then added, “I guess I take all this beauty for granted sometimes.”

“It’s easy to take things for granted when you’re accustomed to them. I’ve done it all my life.”

He purposefully didn’t look at her. He hoped she would say more.

She moved a couple of steps closer. “Don’t you get frustrated, trying to help somebody who doesn’t want your help?” “Who are we talking about?”

“Hal. He doesn’t want your help. Doesn’t it frustrate you?”

“Sometimes,” he answered. “Sometimes I get plenty frustrated. But then I remember why God brought me to Idaho.”

“You believe that, don’t you? That God’s got some grand design, and you’re a part of it.”

Over the years, he’d had similar questions posed to him. He’d asked them himself of Jock Carter.

“I don’t understand you
or
my grandmother,” Karen added in a whisper.

He turned his gaze in her direction again, but the darkness kept him from reading her expression. “Maybe you’re trying too hard to understand us. And, yes, I really do believe it. That God has a grand design, and that I’m part of it. I even believe
you’re
part of it.”

She released a sigh as she came to stand beside him at the fence. She placed her arms on the top rail, then rested her chin on her forearms.

Dusty turned to face the same direction and waited. Over the years he’d learned patience was often the key. If he remained silent, eventually the other person began to talk.

Karen didn’t disappoint him.

“Tell me about Billy,” she said softly.

“Billy?” He smiled to himself, picturing the boy in his mind. “Comes from a warm, loving home. Lost his mother over a year ago in a shooting accident. His younger brother was playing with their father’s handgun. Billy grabbed for it just as their mom entered the bedroom. It went off. She was killed instantly.”

“Oh no.”

“Billy felt responsible, and he hated himself. He told everyone that he should’ve died. Not his mom.”

“How tragic. But I thought they, the boys, were all … you know, in trouble with the law. That sort of thing.”

“No. Just at-risk. And that can mean many things.”

“Billy’s such a sweet kid.”

“Yeah, he is.” Dusty glanced at Karen. A shimmer of light from the just-rising moon played across her pale hair. “You wouldn’t have known him only a few months ago. He didn’t talk to anybody. Never smiled. His family was afraid he would try to take his own life. He was that despondent.”

There was a lengthy silence before she asked, “And coming here made such a difference in him?”

“No. It happened before he came here.”

“What
did
make the difference?”

“God worked a miracle.”

“A miracle,” she whispered. “Too bad I don’t believe in them.”

She looked so sad; Dusty’s heart tightened in his chest. He had to resist the urge to take her in his arms and offer comfort. He sensed it would be a mistake if he did.

Saturday, November 14, 1936

Dear Diary,

Mikkel came to see Papa today. He asked to speak to him alone. They were closed in the parlor for such a long time. Mama seemed nervous. I have never seen her so jumpy before. Every time the wind made the house creak, she looked toward the parlor door.

When Mikkel left, he spoke hardly a word to me. In fact, he scarcely looked in my direction. And Papa looked grim. I could hear him and Mama talking in their bedroom long after they are usually asleep.

Is Papa in some sort of trouble with the church?

Esther

Sunday, November 22, 1936

Dear Diary,

Mama announced this morning, before we went to church, that she has invited Mikkel Christiansen to take Thanksgiving dinner with us, and he has accepted. Sophia acted as if Mama did it just for her. On the ride to church, she pinched me and said, “I will sit next to Pastor Christiansen when he comes to dinner on Thursday.”

Nothing has been right between Sophia and me for months, but it has been worse since the night of the blizzard, when Mikkel brought me home from the Tallman farm. The way she has acted, you would think I had the ability to make it snow.

It is sad, losing my sister as my friend. I know, deep down, that she loves me, but she has set herself against me. She can tell what I want just as I can tell with her. We are transparent to each other, now as always. And no matter which one of us catches Mikkel’s eye, or even if neither of us does, I think this will remain a wall between us.

Believing that makes me want to cry.

Esther

EIGHT

Over the next ten days, Sophia observed her granddaughter as she was drawn, little by little, into the daily life of the ranch. Karen spent less time in her room. She even managed to look if not happy at least less miserable.

Sophia had Billy to thank for it. The boy had become almost a shadow to Karen. He found countless reasons to come to the house and linger in her company, and Karen responded to him as she had to no one else, talking with him, smiling, sharing an occasional confidence.

Hal, on the other hand, was a source of deep concern for Sophia. On the surface he was the same. He’d always been surly and somewhat arrogant, straining against the restrictions placed upon him at the ranch. He wasn’t used to anyone caring where he was, what he did, who he was with. But something had changed inside the boy since that Sunday at the restaurant, and it wasn’t a change for the better.

Sophia spent her mornings, as usual, in prayer, fervently seeking the will of the Father for everyone at the Golden T.

Karen wasn’t certain how it had happened, but by the end of her second week in Idaho, she’d begun rising with the sun and not resenting it. She’d even started helping with some of the chores around the place. She would have been completely inept if it hadn’t been for Billy. He never pointed out how stupid she was for not knowing something. He just calmly told her how to do this or where to find that, and then he continued with whatever story he’d been telling before the interruption.

It surprised her, this friendship with the boy. She hadn’t spent much time around children. She’d believed kids were better cared for by nannies or shipped off to boarding schools, as she’d been.

But she
liked
being with Billy. His smile alone could brighten her entire day. She couldn’t help wondering what the “miracle” had been that gave him back his ability to smile, not because it was expected of him but because he was truly happy.

Maybe someday she would ask him.

It was Friday evening, and Dusty, his assistant, Grant Ludwig, and the four boys had returned from the Yuli Basterra farm where they’d been baling hay the past week. They were a dirty, sweaty bunch, if Karen had ever seen one. And yet, she found herself smiling as she watched the good-natured pushing and shoving that went on while they stood on the porch and gave Sophia a quick rundown of their day.

“All right, fellas,” Dusty said at last. “Time to wash up for supper. Unless my nose is totally out of whack from too much hay dust, I’d guess Miss Sophie’s got a roast in the oven.” He winked at the elderly woman.

“It’s a roast, all right,” Sophia replied, “but I didn’t have anything to do with it. Karen made supper tonight.”

Dusty’s eyes widened as he looked at her.
“You
did?”

Indignation welled in her chest. He didn’t have to sound and look so surprised. But before she could tell him to jump off a bridge or something, he grinned, and the sting was removed from his words.

“We’d better hurry, boys. I don’t know about you, but I’m starved.”

“So’m I!” Billy exclaimed before he took off running toward the bunkhouse. “I get the shower first.”