“It’s Eleanor, you big oaf.” Though she corrected him, she actually enjoyed the sound of her name on his lips.
They continued to talk about the national park, and she asked lots of questions about Kalispell, which he seemed very happy to answer.
The information she gleaned only solidified what she’d told her father the week before. She could actually envision herself putting roots down. Getting to know their neighbors and getting involved in the community. It was a new sensation.
“Sorry, you two. But we need to close up.” The waitress grinned at them and walked back to the counter.
Eleanor started. “What time is it?”
Carter checked his watch. “Nearly five.”
“Goodness. These long hours of sunlight are truly deceptive. I need to get home. They’ll all be worried about me. Especially Mrs. Ashbury, who now has my soul to be concerned with, as well as my physical well-being.” She winced. Whatever prompted her to say that ... and with such disrespectful sarcasm?
He stood but studied her face. “Your soul?”
“Yes.” She forced a laugh. Anything to lighten the tension as they moved outside. “She’s concerned because I pushed my faith aside after my mother died. She’s determined to set things straight.”
“Well ... leave it to Marvella to make sure you’re on the right path.”
What? She stopped cold. “What do you mean by that?”
His gaze was kind, but firm. “Just what I said. There’s the right path or the wrong one.”
What on earth was wrong with these people? First Marvella tells her the devil has her soul. Now Carter was saying she was on the wrong path? “That’s ridiculous. What about neutral middle ground? I believe in God. I just don’t agree with how He does things, so it’s best for me to keep my distance.”
Why did he look so stricken. So ... sad?
“Sorry, Ellie, but that’s the worst decision you could ever make.”
Eleanor gripped the handlebars of her bicycle. “Well, fortunately for you, Mr. Brunswick, you don’t have to live my life. My decisions are just that—mine.” She swung her leg over the seat and sat down. “Thank you for the lemonade and conversation.”
With that she pushed off, refusing to look back and see if Carter watched her ride away.
13
SATURDAY, JUNE18, 1904
His parents’ farm offered a respite Carter didn’t have in town. The change of pace was always good, and after the last few weeks, he really needed a couple days away from town. Out here, everything was less hectic. The only real worry was late-season snow or a thunderstorm with hail that blew through without notice on a summer day.
Carter gazed at the prairie stretching out before his parents’ house. In the fading light of the day, the crickets were out, chirping to one another. In the distance, a coyote cried, and a moment later, another howl pierced the quiet. Carter shivered. Coyotes were usually pretty afraid of people. But their high-pitched cries still unsettled him.
Early one morning when he was about twelve, he’d heard the cries of a coyote pack close to the house when he and his family were getting ready for early morning chores. Dad had told him to stay inside, but Carter hadn’t listened. He snuck out and followed his dad to the chickencoop. White feathers littered the ground. What was left of two hens lay twenty feet from the coop. His stomach turned sour, and he ran back into the house, diving into his bed and praying the Lord would keep the coyotes away.
Carter wasn’t afraid of the mangy animals anymore, but he still didn’t like them. He stuffed his hands in his pants pockets and leaned against the porch railing. Despite the various animals coming to life as the moon rose, the peace and quiet surrounded him. Town was convenient. Yet out here ...
He inhaled the sweet summer scent of wildflowers mixed with the pungent fragrance of grass and dirt. Out here, he could think clearly. See life better.
Maybe, just maybe, if things worked out, he’d speed up his timeline for building a home out here.
The door creaked and Dad and Fred came out, taking their usual chairs on the front porch. Carter stayed leaning against the rail, anxious to begin this conversation. They needed to finalize details around freighting, but the two men were discussing the current winter wheat crop and how good it looked. Harvest was just about ready to begin, and his father had already started hiring extra help. Fred had brought on extra hands as well.
“You know we talked about letting the fields go fallow for a year.” Fred leaned back. “We could divide the fields and fallow one and then next year fallow the other. That would cut back the amount of wheat we produce.”
“We are at the point of renegotiating a contract with Pillsbury.” Dad’s words were thoughtful. “We’re both at a good place financially.”
“Agreed.” Fred looked to Carter. “You could handle half the crop and we wouldn’t need to ship grain.”
“I’d still have to figure out what to do with shipping the flour, but at least this would solve part of the problem.”
