“But they will pay later,” I said.
Aneshka snorted. “They are never going to have the money. You saw that house.”
“I wish there was some way to help them,” Holena said quietly, slipping her hand into mine again at the memory of the house.
I wished it too, but I could see Aneshka’s point. Since I had surrendered control of the money to her, I would have to convince her otherwise if I wanted to spend any money from the box.
We walked on in silence, crossing the railroad tracks and continuing toward home. There we helped Momma with supper. Aneshka and Holena laid the table while I rolled the dumplings and sliced cucumbers. I was quiet as I worked. I was still thinking of the poor family, but there was more to consider. We had made no sales on our trip across town, and we weren’t likely to, even if we went back. Momma had been wrong; my business wasn’t going to grow. I was glad now that I hadn’t said anything about the money or the new plans for a farm to Mark, glad I hadn’t disappointed him for nothing. Glad I had his happiness as a refuge.
Old Jan, Mark, and Martina arrived after supper, just as we finished washing up. We went out onto the porch, where a hint of breeze cooled the sweat on my brow. Mark smiled at me and I smiled back, despite the tangle of feelings inside me. He still had a dream, at least, and I felt lucky that he had made room in it for me. After seeing the poor Llewellyn family, I could see just how lucky we all were, despite our disappointments. I watched my sisters, fed and clothed, settling on the porch at Old Jan’s feet, and an idea came to me.
“Old Jan, would you tell us a story?” I said. At once Aneshka and Holena added their voices to the request, as I knew they would.
Old Jan looked at me, his eyebrows raised. “Aren’t you getting a little old for stories, Trina? After all, you’re nearly a woman.”
I smiled back. “We’re never too old for the lessons,” I said.
Papa smiled. “My Trina’s becoming a philosopher,” he said.
“What story would you like?” Old Jan said.
“A princess story!” Aneshka said, as she always did.
“I like animals,” Holena said.
“How about the one about the boy betrothed to a toad?” I suggested. “It has a princess and animals.”
“Ewww!” Aneshka said, and both my sisters giggled. “Who would want to marry a toad?”
“Exactly what the boy thought,” Old Jan said, and he began the story.
“That’s a fine story,” Momma said when he finished.
“And what is the lesson?” Mark asked, smiling at me. “Am I your ugly toad, Trina?”
“Of course not,” I said. “The lesson is, goodness will be rewarded. If the boy hadn’t been so kind and charitable toward the toads, he would have ended up with nothing. But his charity brought a great reward in the end.”
“That is a good lesson, indeed,” Old Jan said. “Trina is becoming a philosopher.”
I glanced at Aneshka. She was chewing on her lip thoughtfully. I took the opportunity to raise an idea to my mother. I told her of our visit that day, of the squalid house, the poor family, and the thin gruel they ate for their dinner.
“May we take them some cucumbers?” I suggested. “I don’t think they had anything good to eat. And I was thinking that tomorrow if you don’t need the tubs, we could go do some washing for them. With that baby, I don’t think the mother has been able to keep up. Plus, she’s got the gout.”
Momma’s eyebrows raised. “And what do you plan to charge them for your help?”
“Nothing. They can’t afford it. I just want to be charitable.”
Aneshka gave a little “hmph” in her throat, but Momma smiled.
“Of course you may help them. I am glad to see there is charity in your heart, Trina, and not just the desire for money,” she said. “You will find that good deeds are their own reward.”
“And I’ll help,” Holena said. “Will you help too, Aneshka?”
Everyone looked at Aneshka. She scowled at me, but agreed.
Old Jan smiled. “And good will come of it, too. Wait and see. Good always comes from good, one way or another.”
The next morning, when our chores were finished, we set out once again across the tracks, carrying our washtubs between us.
When we reached the Welsh district, Glenys was outside, sweeping her porch.
“Where are you going with that?” she called out. I told her of our plan.
“Bless you! Wait a minute,” she said, and disappeared into her house. She reappeared a moment later with a tub of her own and a loaf of bread. She accompanied us through the streets, calling out to her neighbors in Welsh when she saw them. By the time we arrived at the Llewellyn house, we had two women with us and others collecting their things to come along.
I had never imagined that laundry could be as fun as it was that day. We built fires and heated tubs of water in the yard behind the house. The women who knew the family best worked together to carry the laundry out of the house. They laughed and joked as they scrubbed and rinsed and hung the clothes in the sunshine. Soon Aneshka, Holena, and I had joined in their jokes, just like family. Nancy’s children helped by toting water or keeping their little siblings out from underfoot. We had the laundry done in no time, so we washed the dishes and swept out the house. When the work was finally done and the women were all leaving in chatty groups, I gave Nancy the cucumbers I had picked that morning.
“For your family,” I said.
Tears rose in Nancy’s eyes. “How can I thank you?” she said.
“No need,” I replied.
“And about your order,” Aneshka suddenly said, surprising me. “We could do a little on credit. A bag of potatoes, maybe? Or a bag of flour?”
“Potatoes,” Nancy said at once. I wrote it down on my pad, feeling so proud of my little sister I thought I’d burst.
I delivered the week’s orders to Mr. Torentino, including the sack of potatoes for Nancy. I was nervous that he might not agree to bring them, but I explained the situation to him. My new partner was a good man with a good heart. He agreed to bring the potatoes, suggesting that he might be able to throw in a sack of flour, as well.
I walked home, content in my heart. Momma had been right; good deeds were their own reward.
Chapter 21
I HAD ASKED Old Jan to tell the story of the boy and the toad to convince Aneshka that we should help the poor family we had met. I had not expected a rich reward for doing so. After all, Nancy Llewellyn was a miner’s wife, not an enchanted princess. But perhaps the old stories had more magic in them than I realized, or perhaps their wisdom was eternal, because right away good things began to happen.
Good news came just after supper on the very next evening, when Old Jan arrived for his usual visit. Since Mark had been hurt and Karel had married, he was often accompanied by Martina and Mark when he arrived, but this evening, Mark was not with him. Old Jan was grinning from ear to ear, so we did not have to wait long to learn where Mark was.
“Our worries are over!” Old Jan announced. “The steel mill in Pueblo got a contract for a new rail line, and they are firing up the smelters. The mine’s going back into full production!”
“Already?” Momma said.
“Several weeks early,” Old Jan said. “No more worries about layoffs. They’re looking for men to hire. They’ve already put my Marek on the night shift. He’s at work right now. We’ll all soon be back on our feet again, and Karel and Martina can get a proper place of their own.”
“That is good news,” Momma agreed.
“I hope that means they’ll be paying with cash again soon,” Papa said.
“And that the bachelors will be coming back to the camp too,” Momma said with a smile. “With their laundry.”
“And their orders,” Aneshka said, her eyes glowing with an ambition bordering on greed.
Papa laughed and tousled her hair. “You see? Our worries are over!”
I couldn’t quite see it as Papa did
, although I knew I should. Hard times were easing up, but it also meant one more person I loved in the mine. In harm’s way.
News spread fast through camp, and the very next day, I began to see its effect in another bit of luck. I was in the hot kitchen with a hot iron, trying to press the wrinkles from Papa’s collars, when someone knocked on the open kitchen door. I looked up to see Glenys and her friend who had first sent us to the Llewellyn house. They were both smiling.
“How much did you say for a yard of fabric?” Glenys asked.
I told her again, and she pulled money from her pocket at once. “I have two girls in school this year,” she said, “and at that price they can both have new dresses.”
“Mine too,” agreed her companion. “I could use a new coffeepot. What else do you sell?”
Before they had gone, I had taken down orders and collected money for a long list of goods, and my new customers left chatting cheerfully in Welsh. Half an hour later it happened again—and again. In fact, for an hour or so in the early afternoon, I had a small crowd of women waiting with their money in hand to place their orders. Some of them I had met at the wash party, but many I had not. Word of my good deed or my good prices had spread through the other side of town. Now that the mine had announced more work and, as my father had hoped, cash payment, purse strings were loosening. It was just as Momma had predicted; people had been waiting for better times. With those times in sight, they weren’t waiting another minute. They were spending the money they had, knowing more was on the way, and they were getting the things they had been doing without. And because of my good deed in the Welsh district, they were trusting me to get those things for them. By the time I had a break and could empty my pockets into Aneshka’s eager hands, my apron was sagging under the weight of the coins I carried. That evening, Aneshka piled the day’s earnings on the kitchen table and counted it out as my whole family watched.
“One hundred and twenty-one dollars!” she announced in an awed whisper.
“And twenty-seven cents,” Holena added.
We gathered around it, my sisters stroking the coins lovingly. None of us, except perhaps Papa, had seen so much money in one place before.
“That’s twelve dollars for us,” I said, “in one day!”
“It’s a miracle,” Momma whispered.
None of us slept well that night. We had tied the money in a sack and placed it under the mattress for safekeeping, but the excitement of it was enough to keep us all awake.
The excitement was not over, however. The next morning, the wife of a Scottish crew foreman appeared on our doorstep with money in hand. Through her husband, who supervised a crew of Italians and Greeks, word spread to the remaining corners of camp. Our house was a hub of activity for the rest of the week. By the following Monday, I had more than eight hundred dollars to give Mr. Torentino, and an answer to my two-week bargain with my wish. One hundred dollars was tucked away at home. A farm of our own seemed possible once again.
My sisters and I were eager to see Mr. Torentino that afternoon, anxious to hand over the large sum of money I had for him. When he arrived at last, I quickly thrust the orders and the money at him.
His eyes grew wide when he saw how much I had. “All this is from this camp?”
I had expected him to be as pleased as I was with all the business, but he looked worried.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“It’s so much. I don’t know if I can fit it into my wagon with all that I have to bring to the store. I would have to raise the prices if I had to bring up a second wagon. But never mind.” He brightened and smiled at me. “You’re quite a salesman. Maybe someday you’ll have his job,” he said, pointing over his shoulder toward the store. “And believe me, there’s none of us who wouldn’t be glad to see him go. Now, let’s get these things unloaded.”
Together we took all the goods from the previous week’s order out of the wagon. It was nearly more than we could carry.
“It’s too heavy,” Aneshka complained as I handed her a crate.
“Well, we have to get it home—we can’t leave half of it sitting here to make two trips.”
“You better get a plan in place for next week,” Mr. Torentino said. “You’ll have to have plenty of help for that order!”
He was right, of course, but at the moment I could think only of getting our current load home. We usually cut through an open field of weeds to avoid passing Mr. Johnson’s store. But the ground there was uneven and the tangles of tansy and bindweed made tripping easier than walking. Since we had so much to carry, we decided to stay on the road and walk past the store, just this once. And though we had had exceptional luck that summer, it did not seem to be with us then. While we were passing the store, Mr. Johnson stepped out onto his porch. His face registered surprise, then malice when he saw us.
“Where did you get all that?” he demanded.
“It’s ours,” I said, and picked up the pace.
Mr. Johnson said nothing more, but Holena looked back just before his store disappeared from view. “He’s still watching us,” she said.
“He can’t do anything. Mr. Torentino says everything we’re doing is legal.” I tried to sound more confident than I actually felt. I did not want to alarm my sisters. I waited until they were out playing that afternoon before I found a better hiding place for our savings. Afterward, I told them it was hidden, but didn’t tell them where. The fewer people who knew, the safer it was. I figured if Mr. Johnson could not find our money, he could not hurt us.
Orders were still pouring in that next week, and I turned my attention away from Mr. Johnson and toward the problem of delivering so much. Even if I got the help of my mother and Martina, we could not carry it all up the hill in one load. We could have asked another neighbor, but I was hesitant to introduce more people to Mr. Torentino. I didn’t want anyone else to see how the business worked or to negotiate with Mr. Torentino directly. He had called me his partner, but I wasn’t sure that he had any particular loyalty to me. If people found out they could buy directly from Mr. Torentino without paying my ten percent, they would surely do so.
I decided the best way to handle the larger delivery of the next week was to ask those who had placed orders to come directly to the field where I unloaded from the wagon, but not until after Mr. Torentino had gone. Then they could each carry their own order up the hill. Aneshka and Holena agreed it was a good plan. We each took a portion of the names on our order list and spread the word to meet us Monday afternoon at the designated place.
By Saturday afternoon, I thought that nothing could ever go wrong again. Our lives seemed charmed at last. I did not hesitate for a minute when Mark asked me to take a walk with him that evening. He said he had something to show me. My heart sang as we set off up the road, hand in hand.
We walked past his house and on toward the edge of town. We were out of the Bohemian area now, into a group of houses occupied almost entirely by Greeks. I was increasingly curious of what he might be planning to show me that required us to come here. At last we came to an empty house on the very edge of the camp, its back door opening out onto a steep, treeless ridge.
“We will rent this,” he announced proudly. I looked at the house, then at him. He had an expectant look on his face, as if I was supposed to understand something. I turned back to the house, looking again, trying to see what was special about it. As far as I could tell, it was just like every other house in town.
“Why here?” I said at last.
“Don’t you see?” he said, wrapping an arm around my waist as we looked together at the little house. “There’s a whole empty hillside behind it. We could move the chicken coop here and plant a garden twice the size of what you had. When we have the money, we can buy a goat or even a cow. There’s plenty of hillside where we can keep it. With his new leg, Papa could take a goat or a cow up the hill each day to pasture. It would be good for him.”
“That’s a nice idea, Mark, but that’s all stil
l years away. I’m not old enough to get married yet, and you don’t have the money to do any of this now. This house will be rented to someone else long before we are ready for any of that.”
“It doesn’t have to be, Trina. We can start before we are married. Karel and Martina want to be on their own anyway, so they are going to stay in our house, and Papa and I are going to move here. We can move the chicken coop and get chickens right away. We can’t plant the garden until next spring, but you can come over and help Papa start preparing the ground for the garden patch. We can go by the mine dump on Sundays and look for more fencing, to keep the dogs and the goat out of the garden, but if we can’t find any, we can always buy that, too. I’ve seen it in the Sears and Roebuck catalog. What do you think? I’ll go tomorrow to the mine office and rent this place.”
“But how are you going to do all this now? You’ve only been back to work for a week, and you have back rent to pay off first.”
“We’ll do it with the money you’ve saved. Everyone knows you’ve been making money on your deliveries. Why should we wait? This is exactly the opportunity that we need!”
I pulled out of his embrace. “My money! But it’s not my money—it’s my family’s. We can’t spend it on this.”
“But your mother told me you were setting it aside for us, for our future. After all, it’s your delivery business; you do all the work. Your momma’s very proud of you for building such a good dowry.”
“Mark, it’s not my dowry. It’s for—” I stopped myself.
“For what?”
I took a deep breath. “It’s for my family. Don’t you see? We came to America so my father could own land.”
“A farm, you mean,” Mark said, his voice hardening.
I nodded. “A farm. And this is the first time we’ve saved any money at all since we came here. This is our chance to get what we really want—what we came to America for. This is our chance to get out of the coal camp for good!”
Katerina's Wish Page 18
