Montana Rhapsody

by Susanna Solomon

  It was Tuesday, Daisy’s second day at Coal Banks. She sighed and stepped down onto long grass, the damp blades cool against her toes. She was wearing Marcy’s canary yellow dress, one with forget-me-not blue flowers that climbed up her sleeves.

  “Forget-me-nots for a day you’ll never forget,” Marcy said. Marcy was a lot skinnier than Daisy, so the dress bunched and gathered in places where it wasn’t supposed to, but this didn’t bother Daisy in the least. Her other clothes were just not right anymore.

  “The good Lord doesn’t want to baptize you in anything other than a dress,” Marcy said. “Both God—and Cornelius—just love pretty girls in pretty dresses. Don’t you?” She placed her hand on Daisy’s shoulder. “You look beautiful, Daisy.”

  Berniece, standing on Daisy’s other side, tied a ribbon in Daisy’s hair. “Let’s get going, girls, we have God’s work to do.”

  Daisy stood between her new best friends. A little nervous now, she wasn’t quite sure what was next. The three of them ambled, slowly, down to the river. She hoped the water wouldn’t be cold.

  The preacher meandered in front of them, a Bible in one hand, his black hat in the other. Daisy watched his white hair flitter in the breeze. He was reciting prayers, just as he had in the middle of the night when he had taken her, his baritone voice soft in her ears.

  “Let us pray together.” Cornelius took up his place at the riverbank. The four of them stood silent for a few minutes. Crows called from across the river, swung up into the air currents, and took off in a rush of wings. Down below, Daisy, feeling like she, too, could fly, felt herself guided to the bank. Marcy and Berniece stood beside her, while the preacher waded into the water behind Daisy. Her toes felt mud.

  He cleared his throat and began. “Ready, my daughters?” They nodded.

  Daisy bowed her head and hoped she’d never have to tell Campbell all the details of her conversion, the “how.” She’d been so tired, so comforted by the soup and biscuits and RV and warm soft arms around her, that she let Cornelius slip it in, just a bit, and she had felt so whole, so welcome in His new world. She blinked against the bright sunlight, and stepped into the water. Oh, it was warm.

  “Hold your nose, dear,” Berniece murmured.

  In the river, up to her knees, Daisy felt Berniece’s and Marcy’s arms behind her. As they leaned her backward, she suddenly felt apprehensive, like they might intend to drown her.

  “It’s okay, honey,” Marcy coaxed, placing one hand under Daisy’s back and feeling her tighten up. “It’s only for a second, now.”

  The preacher held out his hands in prayer.

  “Do we,” Cornelius asked, “all of us—Berniece, Marcy, and all members of this extended family—promise to guide and nurture Daisy by word and deed, with love and prayer, encouraging her to walk in the way of Christ and his peace, and stand up for God’s justice in this world?”

  “We do,” Marcy and Berniece said in unison.

  “We give you thanks, O God,” the preacher bowed his head, “for your nourishment and sustenance of all living things with the gift of water. I baptize you, Daisy, in the name of son, the Father, and the Holy Ghost.”

  In one swift motion, Daisy was underwater, and in a second back up again, gasping and sputtering.

  “Welcome to your new family, Daisy,” Berniece whispered.

  Daisy blinked into a new day. She felt so fresh, so new. Had all her sins been washed away, even that latest, littlest one?

  “We thank you, O God, for the water of baptism,” the preacher continued. “Through it we cleanse of our sins and are reminded that all good things come from God, especially the gift of life.”

  “Daisy,” Marcy whispered. “Welcome to the world of the Lord.”

  Daisy looked up and felt their love wash over her. Cornelius’s eyes danced. She still loved Campbell, and didn’t feel guilty in the least. “Give yourself to the Lord,” Cornelius had said. That part had been easy. Now, she felt a bond with the man standing beside her.

  Above, the sun hovered over the ridge. She heard the slap of waves by her feet, and understood, for the first time, why Campbell loved the river so. He would be proud of her taking this step to their new life together. Wherever he would live, she would follow him. She would tend to him and care for him the same way Cornelius was caring for her. Maybe, someday, Campbell would come to accept the Lord. But for now, she basked in the light.

  “Sisters, meet Daisy.” Daisy beamed, and Cornelius presented Daisy to Marcy and Berniece, and she hugged them all. She was filled with love and happiness, standing on an altar with God. And soon there would be Campbell. Eventually he would come to love them all just the way she did.

  Ten minutes later, wet hair still plastered down her back, damp dress clinging to her a little more than she wanted, Daisy stood outside the preacher’s RV and looked at her new sister Marcy, working at the stove. The girls had asked her if she wanted to change, but Daisy wanted the moment to linger as long as it could. She wasn’t cold in the least. She fingered a locket Marcy had given her, warming the metal heart in her hands.

  “Would you like more biscuits, Marcy?” Daisy asked, and pulled out a tray from the oven in the back of the preacher’s RV. They were plump, fresh, warm and inviting, right out of a Pillsbury can, but people love ’em, Marcy said. Since the baptism, the three of them had prepared and browned six dozen biscuits and placed them on a table covered with a blue-and-white checked tablecloth. They were almost ready for the throngs that would assemble once Cornelius had finished his sermon.

  Daisy had taken a few trips to the ramp to see if Campbell had come in, but as it was still early, she’d come back to help set up. Now, with the latest batch of biscuits out of the oven, she ran back to the ramp and checked again. She couldn’t wait to introduce him to the preacher.

  “Quit running around like a banshee, Daisy. He’ll get here soon enough,” Berniece said, pouring hot coffee into coffee urns.

  Daisy stopped short, too excited to stand still. “What am I going to say?” With the biscuits cool enough, she set them on a tray. “Gee, sweetheart, my love, you were gone all night and I found the Lord?”

  “You mean after you hug him?” Berniece placed the urn on a table outside. “Or before?”

  “He won’t be all that happy I converted.” Daisy worried her hands.

  “You know men.” Berniece giggled. “He’ll be as excited to see you as a boy on his first date. Just you wait.”

  “He always says I flit from interest to interest.” Daisy carried out the tray of biscuits. “First it was skating, then ballet, then yoga. But Berniece, this just fits, this is me, now.”

  “Campbell might not want to be converted right away, Daisy.”

  Daisy almost dropped the last tray of biscuits. “He has to.” “Like I said, honey, men need to be led,” Berniece said. “Give him time.”

  “Campbell’s wonderful,” Daisy said, feeling delirious. “He’ll talk to Cornelius. You’ll see. Then we’ll talk about our future, together, wherever that may be.”

  “Uh-huh.” Berniece smiled and disappeared inside the RV.

  Daisy, feeling unsure now, went off to search for Marcy. She found her just outside the trailer, setting out coffee cups.

  “Hey, Marcy? What should I say to Campbell?”

  “Just tell him about the Lord’s undying love, honey.”

  Daisy gave her a hug. “You always say the right things.” “Now, darlin’, hurry up with that coffee. Cornelius likes his hot.”

  Daisy saw a flicker out of the corner of her eye. “Just a minute.” She scanned the river. A flurry of water sprayed the air. She stepped up to the edge of the bluff, flushed out a family of quail, held her hand over her eyes, and squinted in the late-afternoon light.

  “Oh, my God.” She held her hand to her mouth. “It’s him.”

  There, in the front of the red canoe, right there, was the man she’d been waiting for all day and night, the man she’d caressed, held, and coveted for f
ive long years, the man who was about to propose, and he was right there, paddling slowly, scanning the shore, looking for her.

  “Campbell!” Daisy shouted. “Campbell!” Cornelius had been right after all. The Lord was watching over him. She ran across the campground and sped down the ramp, her heart full with Campbell, with Cornelius, with the light in the sky, the ripples near shore, the afternoon light in her eyes.

  “Yes, yes, yes!” she shouted, as people nearby clucked their tongues. As she ran, she forgot about the way she’d wept last night, the way she’d been welcomed into the RV, the way she’d let Cornelius come close. All that could wait. Did Campbell have a ring in his pocket? Would she make him squirm until she said yes?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Tuesday, afternoon

  Coal Banks Landing

  CAMPBELL AND DAISY

  From the water Campbell waved and expertly steered toward the ramp but couldn’t come in. A bunch of people were gossiping and blocking his way. Not wanting to lose his turn, he cursed as wavelets banged the hull of his canoe against the concrete ramp under the water. He was about to say something to the other canoeists but decided against it. Daisy would hear him. Francine, of course, would cheer him on.

  At last, the people moved away, six carrying each canoe. What a bunch of weenies. He could carry his alone over his head. He pulled in, secured the vessel, and was ready to unload when Francine jumped out of the canoe and took off for the campground. Disappointed, but not surprised, he unloaded, moved the canoe out of the way, and was ready to help someone else come in, but Daisy took his hand.

  “They can do it, my love, no more. Walk with me,” she said.

  He followed.

  As soon as they were out of earshot, she grabbed him by the waist and gave him a big hug.

  “Oh God, Campbell, yes, yes, yes!” She blinked back tears.

  “You okay?” he asked, smoothing back her hair. “Sweetheart? You’re crying. Please don’t cry.”

  “They said you would be fine and here you are! I never believed them. Oh Campbell.” She buried her face in his shirt.

  Same cornflower-yellow hair with a yellow ribbon. Same slender body. “Daisy, my sweet love, why are you wearing a dress?”

  “Oh?” she asked, looking at the bodice and giving him a big smile. “This old thing? It’s Marcy’s.”

  “It must’ve been cold last night,” he said, feeling like a fool. “What did you do to stay warm?”

  “What happened? How come you’re late?” Daisy’s words came out in a rush.

  “Everything’s all right now, now,” he said, thinking she’d been out in the sun too long. He bent down and kissed her.

  A truck, backing up at the top of the landing, was beeping. The driver’s engine rumbled, the truck and trailer jangling and clanging behind Daisy.

  Campbell, in a rush, pulled her out of the way. “Didn’t you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” she shook her wet hair. “Campbell, I thought you’d drowned.”

  “One of the canoes broke apart. Hey, sweetheart,” he asked in his quietest voice, his gentlest tone. “Honey, who’s Marcy?”

  “She’s a nice girl.”

  “Why are your clothes all wet?”

  “Before I met Marcy, Campbell, it was horrible. The driver you hired to bring me out here—he drove like a maniac.” She pulled on his sleeve. “I was alone for the longest time. Then it was quiet, no one here at all. Then this guy Logan wanted me to get in his boat. And I would’ve gone, to find you. I was about to, until this lady Berniece . . . You’ll like Marcy.”

  “She’s the one who saved you? I’d like to meet her.”

  “She’s real busy right now.”

  “But I’d still like to. Making friends. That’s hard for you,” he stammered, “and I’m real proud.”

  “I paddled upriver,” Campbell said. “To find E.B. and Laura who had fallen behind. Strained my heart, but I’m fine, sweetheart.” He wouldn’t tell her about his collapse and his dialogue with Captain Lewis. “There was a lot of wind and current. I wouldn’t have made it without Francine.”

  “Francine? You didn’t tell me she was coming,” Daisy said.

  The ring dug deep into Campbell’s front pocket. He couldn’t do it, not today, not tomorrow, maybe in a few days, months, maybe whenever. Maybe never. He had to give Francine time to adjust. “She’s cool about you,” he said. Telling her like this wasn’t at all what he had planned. “Sorry about that.”

  “You should have told me,” she said, turning her back.

  “I’d planned on telling you earlier, much earlier.” He braced himself for the outburst.

  Daisy, thinking hard, turned back around. “God moves in mysterious ways, His wonder to behold.” Any other time, she’d have been devastated. The preacher had told her that the Way would be long and it would be hard. She remembered his soft hands and gentle touch. She didn’t think she wanted to tell Campbell any more about Cornelius. Should she ask Campbell about the ring? Wasn’t it the guy’s job to propose? Would he kneel inside the tent or ask her, out here, in front of everyone?

  Campbell looked at her with a soft grin. “You fall in the water?”

  “Sort of.” What would Berniece say? What would God say? Hadn’t she promised not to sin?

  “Daisy?” Campbell asked. “You seem a little preoccupied.”

  She pressed her hands together. God had saved her, a heathen; He could save Campbell too. He’d be so happy once he understood the True Way. But how was she going to break it to him? “Meet me in fifteen minutes, across the campground, will you, sweetheart? And then you can meet both Marcy and Berniece?”

  “Why don’t we go together? I just need a minute to wash up,” Campbell said.

  “I told them I’d be right back.” Daisy leaned over and gave him a kiss. She knew it wasn’t a regular kiss, just a small tight kiss, a grandmother’s kiss.

  Campbell looked startled. “I’d love to meet them,” he stuttered.

  “Be right back,” Daisy said and took off.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Tuesday, afternoon

  Coal Banks Landing

  LAURA, BERNIECE, AND E.B.

  “E.B. pulled a long stroke as they eased around a cliff face in Tucker’s canoe while pelicans grazed the water, lifting off with a whoosh. Cows munched contentedly along the hillside. The land had never looked so beautiful. Laura’s long blonde hair flew in a slight breeze. In a few hours she’d be heading back to Fort Benton, where she’d leave for LA, and he would die again.

  He took another stroke, passed a stand of trees, and saw, beyond, the glint of cars. Already? Coal Banks Landing? How did they get here so fast? People, cars, and tents would be populating the small campground, making a racket, disturbing his little bit of peace. And Berniece would be there. Damn. Any other day, any other summer, for God’s sake. God’s little sense of humor, working overtime? It wasn’t fair.

  A few minutes later, Ken, the owner of the canoe company, grabbed their painter and frowned. “You’re late.”

  “You weren’t supposed to be here until late afternoon,” E.B. protested.

  “I have a busier day than expected,” Ken snapped.

  E.B. watched Laura climb out, grab her hat, and hand her paddle to Ken. Even though her face was tanned, her eyes bright, and moisture beaded on her upper lip, she looked tense. Did she feel the same? If he told her how he felt, would she call him a fool?

  “Pack it up, E.B.,” Ken said. “C’mon. Everyone’s ready.” Had it really only been two days? “We ran into a snag.” “Whose canoe’s this? And where’s mine?” Ken asked. “Long story.”

  “Some snag,” Ken grumbled.

  “Some man.”

  “I heard. We’ve already contacted the BLM.”

  “E.B. was great,” Laura said.

  Ken gave her a funny look.

  “I see.” Ken looked at E.B. “Berniece is here and she’s been asking for you.”

  Laura disappea
red.

  E.B.’s stomach turned over.

  He walked away from Ken and Campbell, away from campers setting up tents, away from children fishing from the bluffs. Away from everyone. He needed time to think.

  Laura stood behind some trees, leaves fluttering in the breeze. She had no business keeping E.B. from seeing his wife.

  What would Stella say? Leave him alone and walk away? “But Stella,” Laura would reply, “it’s not that easy.” “No?” Stella would answer. “Why not?”

  Hell’s bells. Shit. Laura could follow E.B. and see what Berniece looked like. He’d told her the truth, hadn’t he? She stayed fifteen feet behind him and wandered into a crowd where people swayed to a hymn, their eyes closed.

  She swept by farmers in overalls who gave her long looks like the guys at the club, and by women, a little plump in the middle, who stared as she went by. People reluctantly shifted as she moved in. All of them in rapture under a lazy afternoon sun. Somewhere in front of the crowd, a man was preaching.

  “Was it the blowing of trumpets that fell the wall?” he asked. Everyone stood silent, listening, except for Laura. She kept moving, following E.B. as he skirted the edge of the crowd.

  She stepped around children, their hands clutching their parents’ trousers and skirts as if the preacher’s words would blow them away. Ahead, E.B. moved on and she keyed in on his bobbing head.

  “Their faith was obedient,” the preacher said, his voice a whisper.

  Laura slipped behind a tall man with a broad back wearing a green-and-black flannel shirt. She felt a frisson of fear. Tucker? Here? She stopped and glanced again. Not him. She stepped by, relieved.

  Now, one row back from a clearing, she peered between two sets of shoulders and saw a preacher in a black frock coat and dusty shoes patrolling across half-dead grass. E.B., however, had disappeared.

  “Their faith was venturesome,” the preacher said, pacing.