In the Valley of Hope

by Richard Weirich

  “He said you're the best there is with animals, none better in the Valley. So, I wanted to talk to you about taking charge of my livestock.”

  Charlie scratched his head and smiled. “What would you be wanting me to do?”

  “Got about 200 head of cattle, 30 of them milking cows. We keep a few hogs and horses but mainly cattle. So you would be helping me with the buying and selling, doing my vet work, and basically just running my livestock business, which with your assistance, I'm hoping to expand. I've already got a fella who takes care of my corn and vegetable crops so you won't have to worry about any of that.”

  “How soon would you want me to start?”

  “Soon as possible. Winter's coming and we've got to be ready. According to the Farmer's Almanac, we're in for a bad winter.”

  “Sounds mighty tempting.”

  “I'll pay you a fair wage.”

  “Don't know what all Frank told you about me working for my daddy but he really depends on me.”

  “I'm sure he does. Frank also told me a little about what your life has been like working for your father. This is your chance to break out of that and do something with your life.”

  They were distracted by a disturbance in the street. A man was standing on the bed of a wagon and exhorting people to come hear what he had to say.

  “What you reckon that's all about?” said Charlie.

  Russell walked to the middle of the street to get a better look. “He's fired up about something.”

  As the man continued to beg for an audience, Charlie and Russell decided to join the growing crowd. Near the wagon, they were greeted by another man who handed each of them a flyer. Even though Charlie could not read the text, the message was easily understood. A sketch of a hooded Klansman was all he needed or wanted to know about the gathering.

  “Let's get out of here,” said Charlie.

  “Hang on. I want to hear what he has to say,” said Russell while waving for Charlie to follow him closer to the activity.

  “Our country is at war and as you all know there are a lot of people that hates hard working Americans like you and me. Our government is more concerned with fighting on foreign soil than protecting the good citizens back home. If we don't unite and take a stand against those whose sole purpose is to take our jobs, our morality, and our land, then all that you and I have worked so hard to build will be lost. Come help us fight to keep the Catholics and Jews from destroying our Christian beliefs and to protect the sanctity of the home and the chastity of our women, and to maintain the supremacy of white Americans.”

  Many in the crowd vocalized their approval of the Klan rhetoric, but Charlie wanted no part of it. For as long as he could remember his life had been ruled by the oppressive anger and hatred of his father. He had already made up his mind in previous recruiting attempts by friends and family that the Klan was not for him.

  When the speech concluded, Charlie and Russell headed back to the Livery Barn.

  “What did you think about that?” said Russell.

  “Not much,” said Charlie. “Dressing up in white sheets and scaring people is not my idea of how things should be done.”

  Suddenly it occurred to Charlie that his blunt response to Russell's question could be a deal breaker on the job offer.

  “Glad to hear you say that,” said Russell. “The good book says to 'love your neighbor as yourself.'”

  Charlie had never heard that message from the Bible, but he had already concluded that he should treat others with respect and decency. He often wondered how his mother's 'do unto others' philosophy had somehow escaped his father, at least as it related to the way he treated Charlie.

  “So what about that job at my place?” said Russell.

  A sudden gust of wind blew up a cloud of dust as Charlie weighed his decision. “Figure it's time to do something with my life. So yes, sir. I'd be proud to come work for you.”

  The deal was finalized with a handshake and Charlie was now faced with breaking the news to his family. He knew that his plan would be devastating to his mother and sisters. Would his father make good on his threat that if he ever left he would never be allowed back on the Polk property? Charlie knew the answer to that question. He was about to go home for the last time.

  Sunday Letdown - September 22, 1918

  When you look forward to a special event in your life, time seems to go so slowly, which is just what happened to Mable as she anticipated her next Sunday meeting with Charlie. She thought about him all the time, wondered where he was, what he was doing, and if he was thinking about her.

  On Saturday afternoon, she baked him a coconut cake and an apple pie. She cleaned the house with such enthusiasm that her mother asked if she was coming down with something.

  “No, feeling fine,” said Mable.

  You've got a sickness, alright, thought Mary and she worried that Mable was falling in love too fast to really get to know him. Charlie seemed pleasant enough, appeared to be mannerly and kind, but she still had some observing to do before putting her stamp of approval on the relationship. Mary was a firm believer in the wedding vows “for better or worse” and “till death do us part.” “You better get it right because you'll live with the choice you make for 'as long as you both shall live.'”

  Mable reasoned that she was too practical and cautious to be blinded by love. If Charlie had faults, she would see them, sooner not later. However, as of yet, she saw nothing but perfection. He was the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes upon. “Smart, witty, considerate, and a hard worker.” With each day, she grew more confident that Charlie was God's answer to her prayer.

  It was raining when Mable awoke, causing her to worry that the weather would interfere with her plans for a great day. She said a quick prayer for God to send sunshine and to protect Charlie on his journey and then gave the meticulous detail to her appearance that she deemed fitting for this particular occasion.

  When she came downstairs, her father was sitting in the parlor sipping on a cup of coffee staring out the window. “Morning, Mable. Don't expect we'll have many folks showing up for church this morning with all this rain.”

  Mable opened the front door and stepped out on the porch where she said another prayer for God to please do something about the weather. “It's gotten colder,” she said walking back into the house.

  “Wasn't your friend Charlie supposed to pay you a visit today?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Long ride from Conicville, especially in a downpour.”

  An uncharacteristically unhappy Mary Shown entered the parlor obviously flustered by something. “Never going to buy a store bought dress again.”

  “What's the problem?” said Moses.

  “Haven't had this dress two months and it's already shrunk. I can barely breathe.”

  Moses laughed. “Now I'm probably going to get myself in trouble when I say this but, the truth is, the problem is not the dress.”

  “Oh, Lawd. Am I putting on weight?”

  Mary looked at Mable for her thoughts on the matter. “Afraid so.”

  “Mable, get over here and help me button this fool thing.”

  “Want me to go to the shed and get a pull bar?” said Moses.

  “Moses Shown, you stop that. This ain't no laughing matter. Do I look fat in this dress?”

  As any man will tell you there are some exceptions to the “thou shalt not lie” commandment. Surely a loving God would never expect a man to be truthful when answering Mary's question.

  “No, dear. I was just kidding. You haven't put on an ounce. Ain't changed a bit since I first laid eyes on you 41 years ago.”

  Moreover, it's one of the few lies that women will believe.

  “Why, thank you kind sir,” said Mary, who curtsied and proudly marched off to the kitchen.

  “Mable, you might want to follow her and hide the bacon.”

  “Daddy, behave.”

  The levity in the Shown household helped take Mable's mind off th
e weather that would likely ruin her high expectations for the day. “About time for Sunday School. Better get on over to the church in case any of my kids show up.”

  Mable loved to teach the little girls Sunday School class and they loved her. Since some of the children came from indigent families, she always brought something for them to eat. On special occasions like their birthdays, Christmas, and Easter she gave them small gifts but most important, she was an exceptional teacher with a gift for communicating practical Bible lessons.

  There were only four Sunday School teachers at St. Mary's Pine Church and three of them were from the Shown family. Moses taught the adult men, Mary taught the adult women, and Mable taught the girls, which only left the boys class that was taught by Reverend Beck.

  It rained so hard that the only attendees for Sunday School were the teachers who shared in a brief Bible Study led by the minister while snacking on the food that Mable had prepared for the girl's class. As Reverend Beck led the discussion, Mable was distracted by the inevitable letdown. The encounter that she had longed for all week appeared doomed.

  With the class concluded the Showns moved to the sanctuary while the pastor retired to his study to review his sermon notes. As the eleventh hour approached a few faithful but soaked congregants dismounted from their wagons and headed for the entry to the church. Moses hurried to greet them with a towel in hand and helped them to store their umbrellas and coats.

  “Ain't fit for man nor beast out there,” said Clyde Smith.

  “God will bless you for your faithfulness,” said Moses while holding the door open for Mrs. Smith.

  Mable joined Moses at the front door and helped those coming in out of the rain, but her real reason for being there was to watch for her special guest. Eventually, she stood under the protection of an awning where she could get a better look at who was arriving.

  “Get in here out of the rain before you catch your death,” said Moses. “The pastor is getting ready to start.”

  “One more minute,” she said.

  In the distance, she could see a rider on horseback and she thought, It must be him. He made it. A moment later her excitement rapidly turned to disappointment when the man's identity was revealed. She stared down the road one more time and sadly stepped inside the church and took her seat by her mother.

  “Did you see Pearl out there?” said Mary.

  “Haven't seen her all morning.”

  “No sign of Charlie?”

  Mable just shook her head no as she contemplated another unanswered prayer.

  Reverend Beck's message that day did little to settle Mable's struggle with theology. “Jesus said that whatever we ask for he will give us. We just have to have faith that's no more than a grain of mustard seed.”

  Surely her faith was as much as the tiniest of seeds yet she sure didn't get whatever she requested.

  As the minister continued his sermon Mable's mind wandered to thoughts of Charlie and the rain that continued to pour. If the storm would just stop, maybe he would still come.

  With the service concluded Mable followed her mother to the front door to be greeted by the pastor. When it came Mable's turn, she asked Reverend Beck a question. “You said that the Lord will give us whatever we ask for if we have faith. I have faith, but I don't get everything I ask for.”

  “God is the perfect Father. He will only give us what is best for us,” said the minister confidently.

  Mable managed a smile of gratitude for his quick response and then rushed through the rain back to the front porch of the Shown home. She stood there for a while and stared into the wall of water pouring off the roof.

  Reverend Beck's words troubled her greatly. “God will only give us what is best for us.” Was seeing Charlie again not in her best interest? How could it not be?

  One depressing thought after another ran through her mind. If he had really cared about her, then he would have weathered the storm and showed up for church. After all, there were some who came who were much older and more fragile than Charlie. Maybe he had another girlfriend that she didn't know about or maybe he did try to come and something awful happened to him along the way.

  Mable excused herself from lunch saying that she didn't feel well and went to her room where she attempted to sleep so as to stop the negativity churning in her mind. It didn't work. The cloud of discouragement lingered like the pouring rain outside her window.

  Storming at Strathmore – September 23, 1918

  Frank Wissler, Sr.'s concern that “a house divided cannot stand” had now become a concern for Frank, Jr. after a second failed apple crop. His brother, John, had completely removed himself from all concerns related to the orchard business and had devoted himself to cattle and dairy farming. Income from the orchard company was insufficient for overcoming the setback. Desperate for help Frank, Jr. called a meeting of the Wissler men.

  By 8 that morning they had all arrived and were taking turns filling their plates at a breakfast buffet. In attendance were Frank, Jr., Frank III, John, and John, Jr.

  In the seven years since the senior Wissler's death, they had honored him by leaving his chair vacant at the head of the table. At times, they expressed the feeling that they could still sense his presence. If there was ever a day when Franklin Heiser Wissler was needed, it was today.

  “You feeling alright, Frank?” said John taking a seat across from his brother. “You've lost a lot of weight.”

  “Haven't felt much like eating lately.”

  “Might should call Doc Koontz.”

  “These last two years have been the worst I've seen and I know you all know the problems we've had with the orchard. Almanac says we're in for a late winter this year which likely means more trouble ahead and there is no guarantee that we'll have the blight under control.”

  “What's your plan, Daddy?” said Frank III.

  “I'm torn as to what I should do. That's why I asked you all to come here today, to help me figure out a way out of this mess.”

  John, Jr. got up from the table and made a second trip to the buffet. “Got to get me some more of those pancakes. Get anybody anything? I'm listening. Continue.”

  “How about sitting the coffee pot over here at the table with us?” said Frank, Jr. “Strathmore Orchard Company is broke.”

  “Broke? How on God’s green earth did that happen? When I turned over the books five years ago Strathmore was turning a healthy profit,” said John while pouring another cup of coffee. “What happened to the rainy day fund? There was $10,000 in that account last I looked.”

  “Hired a consultant from over in Winchester to come in here to save the trees. That plus little to no income over the last two years has done me in.”

  “Come on Frank, I told you that Lester Johnson was a shyster. He doesn't know his backside from a hole in the ground.”

  “Had to do something and the people I talked to told me he was the best.”

  “Well, you spoke to me and I said that hiring him would be a big mistake. So what exactly did he do for you? Not a thing. The blight came right back, didn't it? So, when you say Strathmore is broke, how broke? Surely there is something left.”

  Frank, Jr. just stared back at John and the look in his eyes said it all.

  “Every penny is gone. Strathmore is dead broke. Oh, my God.”

  John slumped back in his chair, sighed, stomped his foot in anger, and then looked at the empty chair at the head of the table. “Sorry, Daddy but your favorite son just went and lost the farm.”

  Hot exchanges between the Wissler brothers were not uncommon but on this occasion only John was raising his voice. Frank, Jr. was uncharacteristically subdued. He looked tired, worried, and defeated.

  “I didn't call you here today to fight. I was hoping you would help me find a way out of this mess. Any criticism you've got ain't nothing compared to what I've already told myself a hundred times over. I'm sick. I'm tired. I'm at my wits end. Just thought maybe as my family you would give me some support
here today. I know I've let you all down and God rest Daddy's soul, it breaks my heart to think what I've done with all that he worked so hard to build.”

  “It ain't your fault, Daddy. There are other farms in the Valley that are going through the same thing right now. They can't help what happened any more than you can.”

  “Don't know what to tell you, Frank,” said John. “I'm out of the orchard business. Saw this kind of thing coming a long time ago. Living and dying by a harvest that you can't depend on is too risky for me.”

  The men sat silently for a while stunned by the bad news.

  “I'm the youngest and know less about the family business than the rest of you,” said Frank III, “but it seems to me that Granddaddy must have hit some hard times himself over the years. He found a way to overcome defeat and I figure he would want us to do the same thing.”

  “Little Frank is right,” said John, Jr. “Whatever we do it doesn't seem like giving up is the right thing to do. I'll never forget the time I brought my friend, Marie, to Uncle Frank and told him that she couldn't go back home since she was going to have a baby. He and Aunt Carrie welcomed her into their home and treated her like one of their own. Because of them Marie and Silas have a real chance at a good life. Sometimes people need a helping hand and especially when it's family. Daddy, you pitched a fit when Mama gave all that money to build a chapel at St. Andrews but later I heard you say that it was the right thing to do. What could be more right than helping Uncle Frank?”

  The two youngest Wisslers were successful in turning the tone and tide of the conversation. With the finger pointing over the men were now ready to develop a strategy to save Strathmore.

  “Maybe you should try farming something else,” said John. Wheat and corn's an easy start. I hear talk that soybeans may be the next big thing. They're having some success with it down in North Carolina.”

  “I believe that it's still possible to save most of the trees w255 e have if we act now. But it's going to take money that I don't have,” said Frank, Jr., greatly relieved and grateful for the change of direction in the conversation.