Under the Summer Sky

by Lori Copeland

  She couldn’t just sit here and feel sorry for herself. She had been on her own before she came here and now she was alone again. But without family or funds, who would she turn to for help? Rob had written little about the closest town, Piedmont, saying only that he occasionally went there for social purposes on Saturday nights—a friendly hand of cards with the banker. He’d never mentioned other friends.

  Lifting her eyes, Trinity pleaded. “There’s only me now, God. Show me what to do.”

  If the Lord was answering, she couldn’t hear Him.

  Hot sun heated the tin roof overhang and made it crackle as though raindrops were falling from the clear blue sky. Trinity’s gaze strayed to Rob’s garden, burnt up from a lack of moisture. Cornstalks bent in the intense heat and pole beans shriveled on the vine. Shading her eyes with her hand, she focused on the far distance where a dark cloud formed. Rain? She’d welcome a good soaker, but the windows were broken and the house would be drenched. For the better part of a half hour she watched the dark cloud inching closer. The blazing sun sank lower, casting a ray of golden reds and pinks across the west.

  Trinity listened for thunder as the storm grew closer. When she was a child she’d enjoyed a good thunderstorm with lightning forking the sky and wind stripping leaves from towering oaks. Her gaze trained on the approaching sight, she listened for the thunderous clap. She sat up straighter when she caught sight of a lone rider coming toward her. So few folks ever passed by the remote homestead. She slowly rose to her feet and reached for the shotgun she kept handy. Thank goodness the thugs had failed to find the weapon. She squinted. Could be a prospector. Folks were still panning gold in these areas.

  No lightning. No thunder. Just the dark, ominous cloud and that rider, both coming closer by the minute. Her heart skipped a beat. It was one of the marauders, of course—coming back to finish the job.

  A grasshopper landed on the front step and she hurriedly scooted the insect aside with the tip of her boot. The pesky creatures made her flesh crawl. Rising, she carried the gun inside. The door squeaked when she heaved it closed on its broken hinge.

  Don’t let it be anyone looking for shelter from the storm. Let him ride past.

  The sun dipped behind a cloud and the cabin interior darkened. Raindrops—big fat ones—hit the tin roof overhead. Thump. Splat. Thumpsplat. Trinity’s finger tightened around the trigger as she watched the door. The rider had to be getting close—so close he was sitting outside the doorway, speculating? Go on past…

  The heavens opened and the thumps became a thunderous roar on the roof. Stepping to a shattered window, Trinity peered out. And she could hardly believe what she saw.

  No lightning. No rain. Instead, swarms of grasshoppers dropped from the sky. The insects blocked out the sun. Rob’s sheep were in a panic, the insects eating the wool off their hides. Terror rose in her throat and she raced to find the remains of a blanket to tack over a broken window. But grasshoppers already covered the floor, crawling over one another. The world tilted as she teetered on a broken chair and pounded a nail, securing the blanket in place. It did nothing to dull the constant beating of wings as Rob’s failing garden was eaten to the ground. The insects were everywhere, whirring, the sound so loud her confused thoughts screamed.

  A sudden pounding at the front door caught her breath. The rider.

  Pressing herself against the wall, she prayed he wouldn’t try the latch. It was locked, but the splintered wood couldn’t stop him. The door flew open and Trinity shrieked as a man stumbled in covered in grasshoppers. The insects were eating the shirt off his back.

  He stumbled to his knees. He wasn’t going to make it.

  Trinity leaped from the chair and began whipping the insects off him with a piece of torn calico. Fighting until exhausted, she dropped to her knees. Insects still covered the front of his faded shirt, but they were manageable now.

  Had she rescued a man who was here to ravage her?

  Rolling the stranger onto his back she noted a thatch of snow-white hair and a face lined by wind and weather. He was old—older than most men around these parts. A prospector, no doubt. He didn’t look threatening, just spent.

  Springing to her feet, Trinity went to wet a cloth and returned to tend to his wounds. The man was dazed, and obviously in pain.

  “The hoppers…”

  “Shhh. You’re safe now.” Trinity looked back over her shoulder. The thin blanket nailed to the window appeared to be holding against the angry swarm. For now. “What’s happening?”

  “Hoppers…had ’em back in ’89. Ate every crop, hides off the cattle…”

  “Hides off the cattle?” She shivered. “Will they leave?”

  “Pray God they will.”

  She could still hear the critters hitting the sides of the house, their wings beating a loud cadence. “We’re safe,” she whispered. “We’re just fine.” Though she didn’t believe a word of it. They weren’t fine. They were about to be eaten alive.

  The man’s eyes drifted shut and she sat down on the floor beside him, removing the rest of the insects from his ragged clothing. Shuddering, she dropped the bugs into a pillowcase and knotted it tightly. Grasshoppers, a wild man sticking her in a barrel and sending her down the rapids, thugs in her home, a remote, uncivilized land, no money, no family, no means of fleeing…She paused. No money. The vandals had taken all she had, but perhaps Rob had saved some. The idea took hold. Tomorrow, if the grasshoppers moved on, she would walk into Piedmont and talk to the banker. Maybe—oh, please God—Rob had some savings that would come to her. Why hadn’t she thought of the bank before? Her brother had been frugal and would surely have saved a handsome sum from his work at the flour mill. At sunup she would walk into town and claim her inheritance.

  Stretching out on the floor, she wrapped her arms around her shoulders to ward off a sudden chill. Rob was sensible; he would have provided for her. Closing her eyes, Trinity dozed through the remainder of the night, listening to the sound of grasshoppers eating their way across the land.

  Three

  Silence woke her. Utter stillness. Sitting up, Trinity cleared her head and looked down, taken aback when she saw a man asleep beside her. Springing to her feet, she clasped a hand to her heart…until her mind caught up and she remembered the grasshoppers.

  She moved to the window, removed the blanket, and looked out. The creatures were gone…and so was every blade of grass, every leaf, every stalk of corn…even the hair off the man’s mule.

  A voice startled her. “Pitiful sight, ain’t it?” Trinity turned as the stranger sat up, working a kink out of his left shoulder.

  “Does this happen often?” Rob had never written a word about the insects. He’d spoken of a harsh land, but this was beyond severe. This was insane.

  “Not often,” the man said. “Had a big plague a few years back and there’s talk the critters are on the move again.” He slowly struggled to his feet. “Last time they stayed awhile. Ate everything within a hundred miles.” He scratched his stomach. “Got any coffee?”

  Trinity shook her head. “I was robbed,” she said. “They took everything.”

  “I got some chicory in my saddlebag, unless the critters ate through the leather.” His worn eyes roamed the broken furniture and strewn objects. “Mighty glad to hear you was robbed. I was startin’ to question your housekeepin’.”

  She smiled weakly as he opened the door and walked outside. She needed to feed him, but what? The kitchen was empty. There might be a broken jar of peaches, but…

  He returned with a bag of coffee, a slab of fatback, and four eggs. She nearly cried when she saw the bounty. “Where did you get those?”

  “Had the coffee and fatback, and I’ve been known to help myself to a few fresh eggs when I happen across a farm.” He tucked his head. “I ask the good Lord’s forgiveness, but I figure if a hen lays one egg she can surely lay another.”

  Trinity took the items and hurried to the stove. Once the fire was going she set an iro
n skillet—only a little dented, thank goodness—on top and laid strips of fatback in the cold pan. The old man set to work making coffee. “What’s a little thing like you doing out here in the wild?” he asked.

  She explained about Rob, the thievery, and how she’d come from Sioux Falls to sell the property to the railroad. And the sooner the better. “I know it’s been in the family for generations,” she finished, “but I can’t work it—don’t want to work it—and with my brother passing, well…” She turned the slabs of sizzling meat in the skillet as the room filled with the delectable scent. “The railroad will pay a good price for the property.”

  “Yes, ’spect they will. They’re buyin’ up everythin’ in sight. Hear they’re gonna run the line clean past Dwadlo this time.”

  “This time?”

  “The railroad line only ran to Dwadlo when they built it, but they had a couple of ugly incidents up there last winter. Hear tell they’re gonna build it right this time.”

  “Is that so?” The man seemed excited about the prospect, so it must be a good thing. The news made her feel better. “Have you lived in these parts all your life?”

  “Not yet—still got another mile or two left in me—but I was born here, if that’s what you’re askin’. Born and raised a fer piece down the road.” Smiling, she glanced his way. Old-timers had a quaint way of stating the obvious. The smell of coffee wafted through the air and seemed to make the surroundings less dismal. “Fact is, I used to come by this place every day or two just to look at your aunt.”

  Trinity turned, fork in hand. “Really?”

  He nodded, his eyes mirroring memories. “She and her little sister was about the prettiest little fillies in the state, and that’s a fact. I was moony-eyed in love with your aunt.”

  “Which one?”

  “Why, the prettiest one.”

  Trinity wondered what it meant to be “moony-eyed” in love. She had yet to meet a man who made her heart skip. There had been lots of men who came through the café—tall, short, fat, thin—but none took her breath the way she’d heard other girls talk about. She’d been a bridesmaid twice, but never a bride. Not that she was in any hurry. She figured when the right one came along she’d notice, and so far she hadn’t seen a one that caught her real interest.

  “So you courted my aunt?”

  “Courted her? No, ma’am, she wouldn’t hear of it—not that I didn’t try. No, your aunt was older than me and she thought of me as a pesky kid. When I grew up, she was a woman, and she’d shush me off the porch and tell me to go away.” He grinned. “I never did, but she didn’t tire of running me off.”

  “So what happened?”

  “Beats me. One day she up and followed her daddy off on some crazy ex-pe-di-tion. Never laid eyes on her again. I looked here and there, but wherever she went it was far away.”

  Lost love. Trinity sighed. She supposed it was better than never finding it. She dished up the meat on the lone unbroken platter and then broke the eggs into the hot grease.

  Right now, love was the last thing on her mind.

  It wasn’t long after that the old man pushed back from the table and stretched. “I’ll be getting out of your hair now, missy.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I’ve enjoyed your company,” Trinity admitted.

  Pausing, he fixed her with a stare. “You can’t stay out here. What do you plan on doin’?”

  “I’ll walk to town today and speak to the banker, inquire if my brother left a bank account. Any amount would help.”

  He nodded. “Sounds reasonable. If you’d like, you can walk with me.”

  “I’d like that very much.” She glanced down at her clothing. She was wearing Rob’s pants and a shirt that was too big for her.

  “You look fine,” the old man grunted as if he’d noticed her concern. “You learn to make do with what you have.”

  That she knew all too well. “I’ll run a brush through my hair and be right with you.”

  He went outside to wait, and as Trinity washed her face and tidied her hair with a broken comb she prayed that Rob had left a small sum. It didn’t have to be much—just enough for a train ticket home.

  Just get me back to Sioux Falls, Lord, and I’ll never ask for another thing.

  But she wondered if that was a promise she could keep. One did not make bargains with God. He knew her circumstances and the eventual outcome…but in the meantime, she didn’t know where her next meal was coming from.

  Trinity and her companion reached Piedmont within half an hour. The sun was beating down—no doubt the town was in for a scorcher. Four buildings, an alcove, and a saloon. Not much, but it would do. She located the small bank on the corner and smiled. Just enough. She read the signs as they walked by. General Store. Livery and Feed. Undertaker—with a small sign that read, “Knock loud for service.” Saloon. Gert’s Café. The smells coming from the last establishment were enough to tease Trinity’s nose.

  “If I had any money I’d buy you a hearty dinner,” the prospector said. “I’m not panning much these days.”

  “Oh, the fatback and the eggs were plenty,” she said, then glanced at him. “I’m sorry. I don’t know your name.”

  He broke his stride and affected a regal bow. “Benjamin Henry Cooper, ma’am.”

  Curtsying low, she returned the friendly play. “Trinity Rose Franklin.”

  “Trinity—now that’s a right purty name.”

  “Actually, it was supposed to be Teresa. The doctor was pretty hard of hearing, so he wrote Trinity and Ma didn’t catch the mistake until he’d left. Once she’d thought about the name it seemed to fit.”

  “Well, it’s a nice-sounding mistake to live with.”

  Benjamin stopped as they approached the bank. “I’m going to the stable to have the blacksmith take a look at my jenny’s hoof. I think she needs a new shoe, and he might have some salve for her hide.”

  The little mule did look pitiful without a trace of fur. “Thank you so much for your help.” She extended a hand and they shook. “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  He tipped his battered hat. “The same, I’m sure.” He reached for the mule’s reins and started off toward the blacksmith.

  Trinity stepped into the bank. A lone female clerk sat behind a wire cage, staring at her over her spectacles. “May… may I please see the president?” she asked, keenly aware of her mismatched, too-large clothing. The clerk nodded, and a moment later a young man with slicked-back hair rounded a desk and straightened his vest.

  “How may I help you?” His eyes were skimming her brother’s pants and shirt. Trinity’s cheeks warmed.

  “My name is Trinity Franklin. I’m Rob Franklin’s sister.”

  The banker’s eyes lit up. “Trinity! I’ve been expecting you, young lady!”

  Trinity’s heart soared. “You have? You knew my brother?”

  “Knew him well. We played a friendly game of poker Saturday nights.” He ducked his head. “Never bet money, mind you. Just matchsticks.”

  Smiling, Trinity extended her hand. “I’m here to inquire if Rob left an open account in his name.”

  The man’s smile died, and he ushered her to his desk and a comfortable chair. When she was seated, he walked around the desk and sat down. “I wish I could say that Rob was frugal, but he wasn’t. He spent more than he took in, but he does have a small balance in his account. It’s not much, but what he had is yours.” He glanced up and called to the clerk. “Will you get Rob Franklin’s bank balance and close out the account?”

  “Right away, Mr. Price.” The clerk rose and went to consult a large book that sat on a ledge near the cage.

  Rob had left her something. Trinity’s heart pounded. Please, let it be enough to get me home.

  “I’ve had a most frightful experience recently,” she said. “Grasshoppers. They came in a swarm and ate everything.”

  “Yes,” said the banker. “They’re moving east. They’ve hit several areas but so far the town
has escaped. Had quite a large infestation a few years back. We’re praying we’ll escape another plague.”

  The clerk returned and laid three bills and a small handful of coins on the banker’s desk. Trinity stared.

  “That’s it?” she asked. “Twelve dollars and”—she reached out to sort through the coins—“sixty-two cents?”

  The banker’s face softened. “Considering that I knew and thought highly of your brother, I could make you a small loan…”

  “No.” She held up her palm. “I wouldn’t be able to repay it for…for some time.” By the time she got home she’d have less than nothing. It would take every cent she made at the café to keep a roof over her head.

  Twelve dollars and sixty-two cents. She didn’t have enough money to return to Sioux Falls. She might be stuck on this wasted, grasshopper-infested land for the rest of her life. She rose, pasting a smile on her face. “You have been most kind. Thank you.”

  “I wish I could help.” He stood, extending an arm to escort her to the front door. “If you should need anything during your stay…”

  “Thank you, but I won’t be staying.”

  “Yes, uh…I heard about the raid. Most unfortunate. We’ve put up with these thugs and grasshoppers for a long time, and not a one of us knows what to do about either of them.”

  “I understand. Thank you.” When the door closed behind her, Trinity drew a deep breath and bit her lower lip. Now what?

  The blazing sun bore down, and Trinity realized she was parched. She crossed the street and went straight to the water barrel, cupping her hands and drinking deeply of the clear tepid water. Two older women passed, casting critical eyes over her apparel. Smiling, she nodded a greeting and then wiped her mouth on her sleeve. Men had the advantage over women. They could spit, scratch, and wipe their faces on their sleeves and never encounter so much as a raised eyebrow. Maybe the old prospector could offer a bit of advice for someone in her situation. Right now she needed all the wisdom she could get.