Leaving the milk bucket on top of the grain bin, she walked as fast as she could to the three-sided shed where she could hear men talking and the sound of tools being used.
She stopped at the edge of the shed roof and waited in the dimness until her eyes adjusted. “Ah, Mr. Peterson, Hank, the cow isn’t in the pasture.” Hoisting Eloise higher on her hip, she took a couple of steps farther into the building. “Mr. Peterson?”
“Ja.” He scooted out from under the machine he was working on. “You say the cow is gone?”
“Ja, she is not in the barn, nor the pasture.”
“Was the gate open?”
“No. And the door to the barn is barred.”
“Hank, you seen the milk cow?”
“Nope. Not since this mornin’. But I never looked for her neither. I’ll go check the fences. Could be she went lookin’ for a boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend?” Nilda understood as soon as the word left her mouth. “Ah, I, ah…” Was that a snort of laughter she heard behind the big man’s handkerchief? The one he’d dug out of his pocket, ostensibly to blow his nose. Her face burned.
“I’ll saddle the horse and go find her.” Hank wiped the grease off his hands with a rag as he continued. “Saw the bull and most of the herd upriver a piece.” He headed for the barn.
Without another word, Nilda spun and returned to the safety of the house. So much she had to learn about farming.
Whoever invented showers deserved a Nobel prize.
Ragni wrapped a towel around her head and finished drying with another one. Fresh towels. She sniffed the mild bleach odor, and all she smelled was clean. While Erika had opted for a swim first, Ragni chose a shower and the joy of hot water. Good thing they didn’t charge extra for water here. Amazing the things one took for granted, like running water that came out of a tap at the turn of the wrist, either hot or cold—without waiting. “Lord, I’ll never take indoor plumbing for granted again,” she announced. She felt as if she’d been camping for weeks, not days.
“You going to stay in there forever?” The question accompanied a knock on the door.
“Be out in a minute.” Stepping into clean clothes was another spiritual experience. She opened the door and continued putting her toiletries back in her kit. “How was the pool?”
“Yummy.”
“I didn’t expect you back yet.”
“I swam some laps and laid out for a bit, but you said we were going shopping.” She pulled the scrunchy from her hair. “Besides, I forgot my iPod.”
“In the car?”
“Nope, at the cabin.”
And you didn’t demand we go back for it. Amazing. “We are going shopping. Just need to hustle.”
“Sure, you take forever, and I have to hurry.” The door clicked closed but the tone was more teasing than sarcastic.
Ragni grinned at the face in the mirror by the dresser. Sunburned nose, freckles upon freckles, and hair that could use a trim. Sure enough, she even looked as if they’d been camping. After they got back from Dickinson, she’d throw their laundry in the washer.
She thought of turning on the television but instead picked up the paper she’d gotten at the front desk. Murder, mayhem, baseball scores, warnings about mosquito-borne West Nile virus. Didn’t look to have moved into North Dakota yet, at least as far as the experts knew. Good thing, since she’d killed more mosquitoes in the last couple of days than in the last two years. She added citronella candles to the again-growing list. There was no way she would get all this stuff in the car to go home in eleven days.
It was too late to call work to see how things were going, but she dialed her mother’s phone number, putting the charges on her phone card.
“Hi, Mom, how are things?”
“Ragni, oh, I’m so glad you called. I’ve been wondering how you two were doing.” Concern laced Judy’s voice.
“Good, actually. I’m getting the estimates for the new roof in the morning. You have to decide if you really want to replace it and what kind of roofing to put on.”
“Oh, dear. Your father always made those kinds of decisions. You just go ahead and do what you think best.”
Ragni could hear that trembling that had sneaked into her mother’s voice on more than one occasion lately. “Okay, let me tell you what they said. First off, all the old stuff has to come off, along with most if not all the sheeting. There are some leaky places you can see in the house.”
“You won’t be up on that roof doing that.” Her mother’s firm tone returned.
“No, never fear. You know me and heights—not that the roof is very high off the ground, but the roofer here would do it all. We are making good progress. Paul Heidelborg has been very helpful, too.”
“Good. Just a minute. Say hello to your father.”
Ragni waited until she could hear him breathing into the phone. No “Hi, how are you?” Nothing. “Hi, Dad. It’s Ragni, waiting for Erika to get out of the shower so we can go shopping. I’m sure Mom told you we’re at the cabin in North Dakota.” She felt like a syrupy cruise director, who was talking to a little child.
“Yeah.”
At least he’d said something. “We’re going to have to re-roof the cabin; sure wish you were here to decide what to do. You’d be proud of us. We’re getting the old place cleaned out and fixed up.”
“Good. Bye.”
“Sorry dear, but he has to go to the bathroom.” Though she could hear that her mother covered the receiver, Ragni could still hear, “You go ahead, and I’ll be right there.”
Can’t he even do that by himself anymore?
“I need to run, but I trust your ability to do what’s best. Do you want to pay for it, and I’ll pay you back? Or have them send me the bill.”
“I’m not sure when he’ll be able to get to it, maybe not before we have to leave.”
“Oh, but— Sorry dear, he’s calling for me. Can you call back later tonight?”
“Of course. Bye, Mom.” Ragni hung up the phone. That was sure a wasted call. Do what I think best? So what if I want to give up and just go home? She dug her PDA out of her purse and touched the Calendar button. The colored squares showed how many days before they had to leave. Not enough to get a roof done, not unless he started tomorrow. And that didn’t seem likely since she wouldn’t even see the bid until morning, besides which he’d already said he couldn’t do it until after the fifth.
“I’m ready.” Erika finished smoothing her wet hair back as she came out of the bathroom. “What’s wrong?”
“I talked to your grandma.” And my dad. That was the part that hurt. “And she said that I have to decide about the roof.”
“Oh. So what’s the problem?” Erika smoothed her eyebrows and looked at Ragni in the mirror.
“It’s not my house. I don’t know what she can afford. It’s not like I take care of her…” Ragni caught herself. “Sorry for the tirade.”
“Mom helps Grammy with things like that.”
“I know. Guess I better call your mother and see if there’s enough money to do this.” She’d never worried about her parents’ finances before, since they’d said more than once they had a comfortable retirement, but roofing a house didn’t come under the heading of daily expenses. There again, her father used to take care of the money. And now Mom was being forced to do all kinds of things she hadn’t before and take care of Dad on top of it.
A sudden rage burst upon Ragni’s mind, hung in the blackness like a skyrocket, and then flared out in small blips. What is the matter with you? Your dad can’t help this, and neither can your mother. They’re just going along, doing the best they can. Ragni could see a fiery little woman inside her, scowling, hands on hips, giving her what for. The whole thing had snuck up on all of them. It was no one’s fault, but everyone paid.
She suddenly felt her death grip on the phone and saw Erika staring at her.
“I’m sorry, Erika. Two things make me so angry I can’t see straight.”
“Wh
at?”
“Cancer and now Alzheimer’s. Although all they’ll say is dementia. Whatever, it’s a living hell for those who have to watch it happen.”
Erika sank down on the foot of one of the beds. After picking at a hangnail for a moment, she looked up again. “I-I don’t even like to go over there anymore.” The confession brought a sheen to her eyes. “He’s my poppa, and I should still love him, but he scares me.”
Ragni joined her on the bed, with an arm around her shoulders. “Me too, sweetie, and I’m supposed to be an adult. I feel like a huge fake every time I talk with him, and afterward I want to run screaming out the door. Your mom is dealing with this better than I am, that’s for sure.”
“My mom deals with everything better than anyone else.” This was not said with a trace of pride, but with…what? Sorrow? Hurt? Defeat? Which made it all the worse.
You should be proud of your mother. She’s an amazing woman. But you two have been locking horns for the last few years. Hmm. Even her thoughts were picking up Western images.
“I remember a couple of years when my mom and I didn’t get along,” Ragni said. “Susan was no help. Mom kept saying, ‘Why can’t you do blah-blah-blah like Susan?’ Miss Perfect Susan. Sometimes I hated them both.” She’d never told anyone that before. “Um, I’d just as soon you never mention this to your mother. I got over it a long time ago, and it might hurt her feelings.”
What a liar you are. You didn’t get over it; you just ignored it.
Erika moved away just enough to let Ragni know she’d had enough. “Are we going shopping first? Before you call her, I mean?”
“Yeah, we are. Right now. Guess I’ll go online later.” Ragni grabbed her bag, slung it over her shoulder, and made sure she had a room key, then away they went. “Where do you want to eat supper? I’m hungry enough to eat a bear.” A picture flashed through her mind of a big man with dark wild hair and a beard to match. Now where had he come from?
They spent their iPod-free ride to Dickinson in silence, Ragni starting to feel comfortable on the North Dakota roads. When they pulled into town, she headed first to the small arts and crafts store she’d seen last time they went shopping. This time, Erika did the same, staying right at her side.
Studying which colors of paint to buy was always calming. Ragni inhaled the faint odor of oil paints as she chose medium-sized tubes of the base colors, loving the names—cadmium yellow, alizarin crimson, hooker’s green. And to think of all those at home—some of them were probably drying out, it had been so long since they were used.
“If you want watercolors, pick ’em out,” Ragni told Erika.
“No, you help. I’ve forgotten which ones I liked.” Erika held out several pads of sketch paper and watercolor paper. “You want some canvases too?”
“And an easel. When we get home, to Chicago I mean, you can keep all this, since I have boxes of the stuff.” She studied the brushes. At least they were on sale for fifty percent off. But the selection was quite limited. “Pick out two palettes, one for each of us. I like those heavy-duty squarish ones best… Hey, I’m choosing oils, but did you say you prefer acrylics?”
“No, this is fine. Would you mind a few watercolor pencils?” Erika asked.
“Take that box of twelve.”
When they toted all their finds up to the cash register, Ragni closed her eyes and handed over her credit card. And to think she’d just bought the bare essentials. Tonight back at the hotel she’d go online and order a catalog from… No you won’t. You’re not going to have time to do all this as it is. Just use it to get closer to Erika again.
“Just a minute, where are your art books?” Ragni asked the clerk.
“Back there in the left-hand corner.”
“Can you ring this up, and I’ll sign it when I get back?”
“Sure. Looking for anything special?”
“A book on rosemaling?”
The woman behind the counter nodded. “We have several. The group that meets here prefers the ones by Diane Edward. She’s been in our store before.”
“Thanks.”
Once they’d loaded their bags into the car, Ragni collapsed against the seat back. “I need food. What about you?”
“Before the other list?”
“Absolutely. You pick. Just not fast food.”
Darkness had taken over the sky but for a thin line on the western horizon by the time they returned to the hotel.
Erika disappeared into the bathroom as soon as they reached their room, and soon Ragni heard running bath water. Ragni was grateful for some time alone. After calling Susan, she intended to flip through the bird book they’d picked up at the Western Edge Bookstore along with High Prairie Plants. Having a light to read by in bed measured somewhere close to having running water on the bliss scale.
When she’d hung up the phone a few minutes later, she couldn’t stop thinking that something was wrong. Susan had said to go ahead with the roofing and have the bills sent to her. No problem with that— one decision taken off Ragni’s mind. All she had to do was decide what kind of roof and what color. No big deal for an artist, right? That’s what Susan had said. But Ragni felt overwhelmed. Just because she knew color didn’t mean she knew roofing.
You could ask Paul for advice. The thought made her pause. Yes, she would ask his opinion, if for no other reason than she liked talking with him. Watch it, girl, she cautioned herself and dragged her meandering mind back to the phone call with her sister.
So what gave her the feeling something was wrong? Tone of voice? Susan rambling on about Dad’s care? Susan never rambled. She said things straight out, and that was the end of it. Perhaps she was lonely for Erika—or for Ragni. After all, they usually talked or e-mailed every night. But come to think of it, for the last few weeks Susan had been acting strangely.
Ragni wanted to ask Erika if she’d noticed anything different about her mom lately, but she decided not to. No sense making the kid worry if it was nothing. “Fret not.” Not only had she memorized that Bible verse, but she had painted a plaque of the verse. Worrying was surely genetic.
Sometime later, with Erika already sound asleep, Ragni still couldn’t let go of the sense of secrecy or danger in Susan’s voice. Fret not. Easier said than done.
“Today I will wash the clothes. Tomorrow the bedclothes.”
The announcement dropped like a rock in a shallow puddle. Splashes of surprise showed up on the faces of both men.
Nilda set the platters of sliced ham, scrambled eggs, and pancakes on the table and returned to the stove for the coffeepot. “That is part of my yo—er, job right?” Why are they looking at me like that?
Mr. Peterson nodded. “Ja, but we just wait till the river warms up and take a bar of soap to scrub our pants and shirts with as we swim. So we don’t have clean clothes to change into right now.”
“I see. Then I will wash some of your clothes today and some tomorrow, after the bedclothes.” These men might not want to be clean themselves, but she could at least get them to wear clean clothes. All I want is for things to be clean.
“What will you hang things on?” Joseph asked.
“For now, the tree branches by the river.”
“Do we have a post tall enough?” Joseph looked to Hank for an answer.
“One, but not two.” The men seemed to talk in parts of thoughts, as if they read each other’s minds.
“Use one tree, and sink one post.”
“Or the corner of the house.”
Nilda heard Eloise’s first plaintive call. “Coming.” She left them talking about building a clothesline and headed for the bedroom. She’d hoped Eloise would sleep until Nilda had gotten the men fed and out the door.
“Ma-a.” The smile on the little girl’s face took away any frustration. “Birds singing.”
“I know. You go back to sleep for a bit while I work.”
“No.” Her wispy hair fluttered as she shook her head. “Potty.”
While she wanted
Eloise to learn to use the outhouse, she didn’t dare let her go alone yet. And right now she didn’t have time to take her out there. Nilda pulled out the chamber pot that had been added to the supply list for just this kind of situation. “Use this.” While Eloise hoisted her nightdress and used the commode, Nilda laid out a clean shift and drawers. She would save the frilly pinafore for church. Did the men go to church? Surely there was a church in Medora. But no one had said grace at the table. Was it her job to mention that, or should she just continue to say grace privately with Eloise?
She heard the men talking but couldn’t guess what they were saying. From what she could figure out, having her around was causing them to do some things they hadn’t counted on or even thought about. But if it was a clothesline that they were talking about, how much easier the laundry would be. Did they have flatirons? She shook her head. One thing she’d not thought to put on the list. How would she iron without flatirons? Not that wearing wrinkled clothing was a sin, but—uff da, she hated not being prepared. Surely the wind would blow most of the wrinkles out. While she’d thought of blueing, she’d not included starch either.
She thought back to milking the cow before dawn. Hank had milked her the night before, after he brought her back from her wanderings and repaired the fence.
“I s’pose you get lonesome too, fenced off all by yourself like you are.” With her head planted firmly in the cow’s flank, she couldn’t see if she was listening, but then, why should a cow listen to her? Hank had said she’d become friendly. How long did it take to make friends with a cow? Hank also said Eloise could ride on the horses’ backs. So high up if she fell, she would surely break something. What was the man thinking of? It didn’t seem sensible.
Her arms ached again by the time she was half finished, but she had managed to do the chore all by herself. She set the bucket up on the grain bin lid, as Hank had said, and went to let the cow out. “I think we should call you Daisy since your pasture has plenty of daisies in it.” Before releasing the stanchion, she stroked the cow’s shoulder and her neck. “Good girl, Daisy. I wonder what you might like as a treat.” She pulled up on the nail to open the stanchion and watched Daisy back up and turn to the pasture door, strolling out, her bag now hanging limp and swinging slightly with each step. “Now don’t you go wandering off again.”
The Brushstroke Legacy Page 17
