6 Those That Never Sing

THOSE THAT NEVER SING Verl Holmes, (719) 635-0262 1
Chapter Five A Pebble in the Streamlet Scant
A pebble in the streamlet scant, Has turned the course of many a river; A dewdrop on the infant plant, May warp the giant oak forever.
The 135-mile trip from Garden City to Eads should have been an easy drive, barely a half-days journey, but the billowing clouds of dust suspended in the hot, dry air made visibility difficult. From time to time Johnny stopped and waited for the blustering wind to die down. Then between Wiley and Lamar the big Studebaker overheated and ground to a halt, leaving its two passengers in a bad fix. Though Johnny kept trying to turn the engine over, it stubbornly resisted all efforts of revival. Finally, he gave up.
Im afraid were stranded, Kitty. Only hope we have now is to be picked up by another traveler. Kitty put on a brave face, but she felt fearful. The two waited alongside the road in the scorching sun. Only the wind gave them relief from the unrelenting heat. They found a little shadow on the ground beside the car, away from the road. They smelled the soft, hot tar and, vaguely, other cars which had come that way earlier. Dejected, and not a little disappointed, they waited for rescue. And waited. The hours crawled by. Only one truck rumbled past and it did not even slow down. Finally, a good Samaritan came by and gave them a lift to Lamar, where they found a livery and had the car brought into town. A team of grey and white dappled horses towed the car behind a short wagon, with large wheels whose wooden spokes splayed out into bentwood circles shod with iron rims. By the time the horses and wagon followed by the automobile, reached the front of the gasoline station, it was past 5:00 oclock. Unfortunately, the repairs could not be made until morning. Across the street from the railroad station, the two dirty, disheveled travelers found rooms to let and a saloon, where they could drink whiskey straight up without worrying about the disapproving stares of the more temperant town folk. But before they embarked upon a night of drinking, Kathryn insisted they take dinner at a restaurant a few blocks away from the tracks that bisected the town. After a meal of fried chicken, and okra casserole with potatoes and cream gravy, they relaxed at last, lighting cigarettes and leaning back against the polished leather booth while absently watching the braids of smoke slowly rising up toward the ceiling fans. The waitress brought them a cup of coffee and Johnny ordered a ten-cent slice of rhubarb pie. They stayed until closing time and then closed the saloon they had visited earlier.
North Main Street, Lamar, Colo. 1916
The next day, slightly hung over from their night on the town, they did not rise early enough for breakfast. In fact, they did not even feel like eating lunch, so at 1:00 oclock, when Johnny paid for the car repair, they left town feeling woozy on their empty stomachs.
The Hollands were successful cattle ranchers. The ranch covered more than a thousand acres of high prairie, southwest of Eads. It was all open range and from the high ground a person could see back into Kansas, Claude Holland reckoned. He ran 200 head of Longhorns in the dry country and raised a calf crop of a hundred or so. Each year the hands drove steers to market in Denver. As Johnny and Kit turned off the main road and passed under the arched gate that bore the Hollands cattle brand, they saw the roof of the house in the distance, half a mile away. The house was an imposing two-story wood frame structure with Victorian bric-a-
brac under the eaves and above the porch, which surrounded the house on three sides. An iron rooster weather vane and lightning rod graced the highest peak of the roofline. Weather had darkened the grey open wood of the siding and shingles, even though the house was less than ten years old. It presented itself as a dark eminence against the sage green prairie and the cerulean skies of Eastern Colorado. A massive barn loomed 100 yards or so behind the house. As the automobile approached, two alert chestnut horses with white socks on their front hooves ran back and forth against the corral fence that surrounded the barnyard. Except for a row of ragged cedars Uncle Claude had planted when they finished the house, there were no trees in sight. Uncle Claude and Aunt Joella came out onto the front porch when they heard the big automobile approach. Uncle Claude waved and Kathryn stood up on the front seat as they drew closer. The wind blew in her face. She beamed enthusiastically and waved back. The ranch dogs, a shepherd and a pair of border collies, pranced and barked around the car as it came to a rumbling stop in front of the house. The men unloaded the luggage while the women went inside. After hugs and kisses, the ladies retreated to the kitchen where Kit immediately felt the radiating heat of the cook stove on her sunburned face. Point me to your privy, Kathryn said, Its been a long trip! Joella showed her the kitchen door and pointed to a little building that sat in the shade of a ragged cedar tree, beyond the wash house, halfway towards the barn.
When Kathryn returned, the women continued to visit, but retreated to the much cooler parlor. The men came in and announced that they had time to make town and back by dark, so they were leaving. Be back in time for supper Claude said. After the women caught up on the family news, they went upstairs where the Hollands had prepared a bedroom for their niece at the end of a dark hallway, made stuffy by the summer heat outside. Aunt Jo had already filled a pitcher with fresh water and placed it in the basin that rested on the low dresser inside the door. Two graceful wooden moldings shaped like a lyre at the back of the dresser supported the towel bar that had been hung with fresh linen. Aunt Jo left Kit to freshen up, discreetly closing the door as she politely backed out. The room was bright and cheerful, with south-facing windows looking out toward the rolling prairie below. Between the two windows, the Hollands had placed a slim oak writing desk, with an inkwell and a slender ink pen cocked at an angle in an onyx pen stand. Kathryn looked into the mirror and saw a dirty face and the fine dark lines around her neck where road dust had settled. She poured water from the ewer into the basin and washed her face and hands with a starched linen face cloth. The water clouded when she rinsed it out. She dried with another crisp cotton towel before turning to look over the room. She gazed into the mirror above the chest of drawers and shook her head at her soiled blouse. Unbuttoning the sleeves and then the bodice of her blouse, she dropped it on the floor beside the wash stand. A moment later, she undid her long black skirt, stirring up a low cloud of dust when it fell heavily onto the floor. With her foot, she pushed it into a pile beside the discarded blouse. Standing now in her camisole and
bloomers, she felt the cool air on her bare arms and sighed heavily. She felt relief and longing at once. She walked across the room and sat down at the writing desk. A lined tablet of fine linen paper awaited her pen. She dipped the pen into the ink well and brought it to the tablet. Eads, May 25, 1916 Thu afternoon Dearest Boy We finally got here today. Had to have the car fixed some at Lamar so didn't leave there 'till after one o'clock, got here about four. The old wind is blowing a fright again today. Has been now for two days. Wednesday we drove in a sand storm most of the day, so you know how much we enjoyed that! Gee. I wish you were here. Aunt Jo & I will be alone all day, for Johnny & Uncle Claude have to go to Lamar on some business. They have to go again this Monday so we are going to wait 'till then to go with them. Kathleen may come out. I just feel like I got to see you but don't know how I'm going to do it, just now anyway. But if I stay you just have to come real soon. Honey, do write to me real soon. Bushels of love Kit
Bill folded the letter and placed it back into the embossed linen envelope from which he had taken it moments before. He stared straight ahead, sitting on the edge of the bed in the room he occupied. The only light came from the coal oil lamp placed on the dresser. Its light cast shadows on the walls, bizarre shapes, unknown creatures,
phantoms from his past Rosa. It had been an exhausting day. Tired and spent, he imagined Kit in his minds eye and remembered their last night together. He searched his feelings for her. She was filled with life. Uninhibited, joyful. But, she was also coarse and earthy. Cursed like a man. Rolled her own cigarettes and drank whiskey straight from the bottle. The sex act with her created passions he had not experienced with anyone else. But he did not share the giddy enthusiasm she expressed for him in her letters. In truth, his lust for Kit did not match his love for Rosa. He tossed the letter onto the bed and bent down to unlace his work boots, removing them along with his damp socks. His feet felt suddenly cool, exposed to the air for the first time since morning. Then he walked to the dresser, unfastening one of the straps of his bib overalls, pulling the other strap over his shoulder before unbuttoning his shirt. The weight of the loose cut, heavy denim overalls caused them to fall to the floor with a metallic thud as the hardware on the straps hit the wood floor. He dropped his shirt into the pile of dirty laundry and looked into the mirror across the room, considering his body for a moment before picking up a tablet of lined paper and a pencil from the top of the dresser. He returned to his bed, picked up Kits letter and pulled back the covers. He propped pillows up against the head of the bed and sat up against them, stretching out his uncovered legs in front of him. He crossed his ankles as he stared at the blank tablet. Then he raised his right knee and steadied the tablet on it with his left hand, pondering what to say to his dark-eyed country girl. Then something he remembered caused him to flash a grin and write, Darling Temptress. Then he stared blankly into space wondering what to say next, but drifted off to sleep without writing more. The pad slipped off the
bed during the night and remained upside down on the floor, just under the bed, when he left for work the next morning.
Two days later, Bill found more letters in the fancy, hob-nail glass bowl on top of the bureau in the living room. As he left the house, he glanced at the postmarks and knew they must both be from Kit. He tucked them into the pocket on the front of his overalls and decided he would read them later, maybe while taking his lunch. The wheat turned rapidly as the days of summer bore down on the fields. It had gone from a dull, gray-green when the heads had first appeared, to a light sandy brown, emerging from the green, until now it was almost entirely golden. The drying heads made rustling sounds as the wind blew through the fields. He drove the short distance to the Kelley farm, where he would help to reassemble the great threshing machine hired for the harvest now only a few days away. The men would tear down its components and reassemble them, checking for wear and cleaning and oiling the moving parts. At noontime that same day, Rosa said nothing as she arranged food on the outdoor table beneath a spreading mulberry tree. Out the corner of her eye, she watched Bill as he rested before lunch, sitting in the front of his automobile, smoking a cigarette, apparently preoccupied. The deep purple, nearly black mulberries on the limbs overhead were almost ripe. In a few days they would cover the top of the table and the ground below. When everything was ready, Bill joined the family at the table. But when Frank
Kelley gave the blessing Bill did not genuflect with the others. He bowed his head quietly out of respect and then ate with them, without speaking very much, studiously avoiding eye contact with Rosa. When he finished, he excused himself to have another smoke. He sat alone on the ground in the shadow of his car and after he had rolled his cigarette, he struck a match on the underside of the wheel well to light it. The wind snuffed out the fire and he tried again, more carefully this time, cupping the match with his hands. Then he pulled out Kittys letters from his overall pockets. They were hot and damp from his body heat and sweat. He reached into his side pocket and withdrew a pocket knife faced with abalone shell. He opened the blade and slid it under the sealed flap, cutting the creased top of the envelope smoothly and unconsciously while he watched Rosa busying herself with cleanup activities beneath the boughs of the mulberry tree. When she glanced in his direction he averted his eyes and slipped the contents of the first letter out of its sleeve. Eads, Colo. May 27- 1916 My dearest big "Devil Now if you can call me names I guess I can tooHaHa! Honest, I never in my life was so awful glad to get anything as your letter just now. I had been going around here all morning feeling so horrid I didn't want any one to even look at me 'cause I wanted to see you or get a letter from you so bad. There sure would have been a funeral out here on the prairie if one of your sweet letters hadn't come today. Did you send your first one to Eads? I never received it. Gee! I wish you were here for today & tomorrow & all the rest of the days. There never would be a day come for me to let you go. We are going over to Wiley to see them & Eads play ball this afternoon. You would enjoy it. I know I would a lot more if you were with me. Eads goes to Lamar a week from tomorrow to play & if I get me a job so I can stay out here,
you must plan to be here by then. For you know I just want to see you worse every day. Sure hope you went to the dance & had a good time last night & its all right about those "honest to God good friends" of yours, for I want you to have all the good times you can. Just so you don't quite forget your little country girl. But you never will do that, will you? Will write later & tell you about the game. I sure need you though. Write real soon. A bushel of love, K. Bill remembered that he had a ball game coming up on Saturday. He hadnt thought much about baseball since the Hutchinson team lost at Kingman last weekend. He watched Rosa finish packing the picnic meal into boxes as if oblivious to his presence. And yet there was a certain tenseness in her body, like a deer grazing in an open meadow at the edge of a dark wood, inside of which lurked some ill-defined danger. The next game was with Penalosa and the competition would be easier. He would drive down Saturday morning and play Saturday evening and Sunday afternoon, before returning to Langdon on Sunday night. Rosa loaded her boxes onto the back of a buckboard wagon and climbed onto the front seat, unknotting the reins before clicking her tongue, signaling the mare to move on. She did not look back at Bill, but her stomach turned uneasily, as if reaching back for him. He thought about the prospects for the weekend, feeling both eager anticipation and a little guilt as he stared blankly at the buggy winding its way out of the wheat field, Rosa at its helm. He would not behave in a way after the game at Penalosa that would make his mother proud. He blew into the second envelope and pulled out its contents. I'm too lonesome to try to write but I know I won't have time in the morning, for they want to start early to Lamar. Oh, say, but if ever I was lonesome for you before, I don't know what you would call the way I feel tonight.
Wonder what you are doing. Sure would give any thing on earth to have you here in my arms.
Bill smiled and chuckled a little at Kits gushing. He held his cigarette between his thumb and index finger and took a deep drag before squeezing out the embers onto the ground where they died harmlessly. Then he flipped the butt of it into the air, nonchalantly blowing smoke into the wind, and continued reading. Say! I guess Jim was sure some ladies man out here. From what the kids say I guess he was. Well! Now pleasedo write real soon. Are you going to Hutch to work? Wish I could be with you this evening but no Just heaps of love anyway K. Send me that picture of you & the jitney if you have it please.
Bill wondered where he could find a picture of himself and his car. He returned the letter to its envelope and slipped both envelopes back into his pocket. He rolled and lit another cigarette. It was time to return to work.
On the morning following the game with Penalosa, Bill sat up in the double sized iron frame bed in the PennyHotel. His head throbbed and his stomach churned. Naked, he looked around the room and tried to remember what he had done with his clothes. He adjusted the sheet to cover himself below the waist. The beds cast iron scroll work made it difficult to get comfortable, even with the extra pillow he had propped behind his back.
A soft breeze caused the lace curtains to billow slightly at the single window behind the table to his right. He noticed the contents from his pocket and a letter he had left on the bedside table the night before and wondered why he had left these things there. He picked the letter up and bumped the contents of the envelopes to one end so he could tear off the other end of each envelope without damaging the contents. The postmark showed EADS, COLORADO, June 1, 1916.
Tue. morn. Dearest Boy Received your letter & also that first letter you wrote. No need to tell you how glad I was & how much better I felt all day for getting them. I had wanted so much all day to see you & it sure helps when the letters come. I've got your picture up here in front of me on the desk & you can't imagine how lonesome I am for you. I sure don't know what to do. I don't know when I will get a chance to send this to town but will write it & have it ready. I havent got to go to Las Animas yet but Uncle Claude said that he didn't think I would have any trouble getting into one of the stores soon & Mrs. Myers at Lamar said if I'd been here a week sooner she could have gotten me in at two different stores there. She says there are openings every little while & for me to stay & she is sure she will soon have a place for me. She is a clerk in Lamar. I do feel certain I can get something soon but I just want to see you so bad I can hardly stand it to see Johnny leave & me not go when I could be with you so soon. I just know you would like Lamar & they say Las Animas is a dandy place too, so just as soon as I get in town to stay I want you to come. I know you would just die out here on this lonesome place for I sure nearly do. If I had you here I would be perfectly alright but I know you would never like it. So guess I must try and stand it a little longer but listen, please plan to come soon as you get ready to leave there. What was it, you said in your letter, you could say it a lot if you could see me, but couldn't write it-- yes you can, tell me everything.
Sure wish you were here to go to Lamar Sun. I know Eads will get beat but they would give most anything to win from Lamar once. So think they will do all they can. It's most too hot to sew or do anything else today. Gee, I sure do miss you, in an awful lot of ways. You don't know how much I want you here. Don't see how I can ever wait 'till after harvest to see you. What all do you dotell me all the news. Aunt Jo is going over to her sisters this afternoon & I'm going to be all alone, wish you would come & talk to me. All the girls are married except two, that I knew the first time I was here. Those two are to be married next month. We are giving a shower for one of them next Fri. Many, many thanks for the picture. Well! There is no news so guess I better stop. Now write real soon. With a whole lot of love, Your lonesome country girl K.
Bill found a tin of tobacco and opened it. Withdrawing a tissue from inside the can, he rolled his first cigarette of the morning. When he lit his smoke, he put the letter back into its sleeve. He looked up as he heard footsteps in the hallway. Saw the doorknob turn. A red-headed woman of some years opened the door. She was the proprietress of the hotel and a baseball fan. He placed the letter back onto the table by the side of the bed and his cigarette in an ashtray near it. She closed the door discreetly. Whats that youre reading, Sugar? she said in a deep velvety voice. Aw, nothin, just a letter from a school chum. Bill replied, blushing slightly under the heat of the lie. The buxom redhead sat down on the side of the bed facing him. The bedsprings protested the unexpected weight pressing down upon them. She slipped a hand under the
bed sheet and found what she was looking for within seconds. She smiled, leaned forward and stole home with the player she had tagged the night before.
A hot wind blew in from the south through the second floor windows in the room Kit occupied at the Holland ranch. She had not received a letter from her man in nearly a week. Cousin Johnny returned to Kansas this week, but Kit stayed behind to look for work here, owing to her parents injunction against seeing her beloved ballplayer for the summer. She was bored and impatient and wondered what Bill was doing for so many days that he could not write to her. She sat at the table and stared at the wall before she wrote.
Eads, June 2, 1916 Fri. noon. Dearest Boy Say! Have you quit writing to me or am I not getting my letters? I havent heard from you since Mon. Now if you have written to me, let me know at once & I will have them hold my mail in the office 'till I call for it. About half a dozen different ones get the mail out of our box & I may not have gotten it all. Last night I was so lonesome that I couldn't wait for the mail to come today but Uncle Claude said there was none for me. How is everyone? I sure was one blue girl after Johnny left yesterday. If it had been to do over again I would have gone back too, for I sure want to see you. Please write right away. Uncle Claude is ready to take this, so Bye Bye for now. Let me know about the letters. Bushels of love & kisses, Kit.
Kit folded her letter into the matching ivory envelope and sealed the flap, running her thumbs along its gold-embossed edges. Then she placed it into her handbag and put the handle of her bag over her wrist, standing up from her writing desk. Kit was annoyed that Bill had not written more often. She had written him almost daily. She walked towards the door, stopping in front of the mirror for a moment to primp her hair, and then decided she didnt like the cameo at her neck. It was too hot for all that fussiness, she thought, so she removed the pin and dropped it into her purse, unfastening the top button of her blouse as she walked out the door and down the stairs carrying a valise she had packed in case she arrived in no condition for a job interview, or should the outing turn into an overnight trip. Bobby and Kathleen Wilmont waited on the porch. The Wilmonts were related to the Hollands through Joellas side of the family and they worked the two adjoining ranches, though their houses stood five miles apart. Kitty greeted her shirt-tail cousins with hugs and kisses on their cheeks. Bobby took her valise and popped it onto the floor behind the drivers seat beside a similar bag that Kathleen had brought. The cars motor ran as the girls walked towards it, arm in arm. Today Kit would interview with a Mr. and Mrs. Higgins for a position at the mercantile store in Las Animas. Bobby would be driving and she worried about being in the sun and dust for the hour it would take to get to town. Kathleen had arranged to meet her friend, Pansy Grimes, in town, so that they could freshen up after the trip. First, though, they would check for any new mail from Bill as they passed through Eads. She imagined that he was as lonely for her as she was for him. And, poor thing, he
was now surely working sixteen hour days with the threshing crews, as the harvest came on full. Eads was only a short distance from the Wilmont ranch, but the drive was dusty and hot. Kit felt perspiration break out under her arms and feared that the dust might stain the white cotton blouse she had ironed fresh only a few hours before. In spite of her concerns, she maintained a cheerful conversation with Kathleen and Bobby all the way into town. When they arrived in Eads, Bobby pulled the car to a stop in front of the post office and Kit bounded out, eagerly heading for the general delivery window. She handed the postmaster her envelope and asked if he had anything for her. He returned with two envelopes postmarked in Langdon on the Wednesday and Thursday before. Both were addressed to her in Bills handwriting. Her heart raced as she put his letters into her handbag. She would read them once back in the car en route to Las Animas. The drive to Las Animas would take most of the rest of the morning. Once en route she opened the first letter from Bill and read it over and over again. Bobby glanced sideways as Kit read Bills letter. There were only two pages, but she continued to put the top page beneath the bottom page until he guessed she had read them both four times. The weather grew hotter as they pressed on. Was it the heat of the day that caused her face to flush red? Or was it the contents of this letter, Bobby wondered. Bobby drove the open car to a shady spot in front of an impressive home in Las Animas. The girls climbed out and took the picnic basket Mrs. Wilmont had sent with
them. Pansy Grimes and another young woman stepped out onto the porch. The girls fussed and giggled, greeting each other affectionately while Bobby unloaded the car and stood by awkwardly, hoping to get away quickly. Finally he set down the bags that Kitty and Kathleen had packed and made to leave, agreeing to meet them at this location by mid-afternoon to start the trip back to the ranch. The girls went inside, then upstairs to Pansys room. As they settled in, Kathleen opened the picnic basket to share her food with the others. Kit has two new letters from her man back in Kansas, Kathleen confided. Tell us what he says, Pansy pleaded. Oh no! said Kit. That would be far too private! But look at what he sent me! Kit took a sepia-toned photo from one of the envelopes in her handbag. It was a portrait of Bill taken the year before. His complexion was smooth, like alabaster. His auburn hair glistened and one eyebrow was raised, just a little, provocatively. Raven eyes penetrated almost three-dimensionally.
Bill Holmes, c. 1916
Another photograph showed Bill standing in front of his automobile, one foot resting on the running board, his arm cocked upon the open window. Ooohh!! Pansy Grimes squealed. He looks like a motion picture actor! O, Romeo, Romeo, Kathleen gushed, clutching the pleated front of her starched white blouse. Wherefore art thou, my Romeo? Kit rolled her eyes in mock exasperation but blushed, secretly enjoying the attention. The girls passed the photographs back and forth and giggled more as they ate their lunch. Kit withdrew and took a writing tablet and a pencil from her handbag. Pansy pounced on Bills letters and fumbled to withdraw the contents of the envelopes. My Little Country Girl, Pansy read from the first letter. Kit leapt at Pansy but missed the letter by inches. Pansy tossed it to Kathleen who let it drop at her feet. The girls each squealed with delight as Kit dove and recovered both the letters from the floor. She shook her finger at them and scolded them cheerfully before tucking the letters into her blouse. While the girls continued teasing her, she wrote. They looked over her shoulder at her words. My dearest Boy:I never was such a blue girl as I was last night but the train this morning brought me the letter you wrote Wed. & the one you wrote Fri. Don't know why the one didn't come sooner but I'm sure one happy girl this afternoon cause, next to you, your letters are best. Oh! Heavens, three of we girls are in town & are up to Pansy Grimes house & the girls are all telling me what to say to you. & are all talking at once. This afternoon is the first good time I've had, but, Oh Kid, wish you was with me. I have an awful time getting off in a corner alone to cry, when I get too lonesome for you. But I'll try not doing it more than I can help. But listen! Honey, you just got to come see me or I is sure going to croak.
Kathleen lurched into the corner of Pansys room, placed the back of her hand against her forehead and sank to the floor in a melodramatic gesture she had seen in the Chautauqua tents that featured the pipers and players of the day. She moaned and pretended to sob uncontrollably, quite pleased with her own acting. Ethel says tell you come on out, she is going to get married this month, but she says that don't make any difference & Kathleen & Pansy both say come on, too, but I tell them I don't want you to come 'till I get away from them. Well! I sure know this is the worst bunch of nothing any one ever sent for a letter, but if you were with this bunch you would know why. So I will try & do better next time. Write real soon. Heaps of love & as many Kisses as you would let me have. K. After the to-do with the letter, Kit and Kathleen freshened up and reintroduced themselves to the picnic basket Mrs. Wilmont had sent with them. Kit preened in front of the mirror in Pansy Grimes room and then turned and curtsied to the others. How do I look? Kit asked her friends. Fresh out of the band box, Kathleen replied. Then Im off! Wish me luck! Kit walked confidently the four blocks from the Grimes residence to the Higgins Mercantile Company. She paused a moment outside the door, studying the sign on the store window. Then she opened the screened door and stepped inside. The proprietors stood behind the counter at the far end of the store. The store itself was narrow, long and poorly lighted. Kit frowned slightly as she surveyed the premises. The stuffy room felt warm and smelled of dust and fabric dye. She made her way slowly to the back of the store. May I help you? Mrs. Higgins asked as Kit approached the counter.
My friend, Miss Pansy Grimes, told me that you recently lost your shop girl here at the store. Im staying at the Wilmont Ranch and would like to work steady here in Las Animas, if possible. Mrs. Higgins did not seem impressed. Im afraid our business hasnt been good enough this year to take anyone else on just now, dear, Mrs. Higgins said, somewhat condescendingly. But please leave your name and perhaps we can reach you later if business picks up after harvest, Mr. HIggins seemed interested in looking Kit over from her waistband up. Certainly, Kit answered. She took paper and pen from the counter and wrote out her name and the Wilmonts address below. As she wrote she glanced up at Mr. Higgins, who continued to study her a little too closely. Kit smiled demurely at him and winked, certain that Mrs. Higgins would not observe the flirtation. She browsed a while and noted that much of the merchandise looked soiled and shopworn. Gradually she worked her way back to the front of the store and turned to wave. Well, then. Bye-bye for now! Kit did not seem dejected as she walked back to Pansys house. Truth was, she did not like the appearance of the Mercantile. But Las Animas was a booming town of brick buildings, mercantiles, cafs and even a vaudeville house that showed moving pictures. She rounded the corner and approached the front steps of Pansys house. Kathleen and Pansy sat on the porch swing, sipping mint tea and swinging slowly in the shade. How did it go? Pansy asked. The store seemed nice enough, Kit lied to save Pansys feelings, But I dont think theyre going to have anything for me to do. Said business isnt that good.
Then go get some mint tea and sit with us to mollify your sorrow, Kathleen offered. Therell be another day tomorrow. That sounds delicious! Kit replied. She went inside and found the tea pitcher in the kitchen. She made herself a tall glass, sweetened with sugar, and added a leaf of the wild mint Pansy had picked from the back yard. She rejoined the girls on the porch where they gossiped until Bobby Wilmont returned. Owing to the late hour, Pansy invited them to stay for supper and the night.
The next morning, Kit arose early to prepare for the trip back to the Wilmont Ranch. When she came downstairs for breakfast, she found Bobby and the girls sitting around the kitchen table, finishing cinnamon rolls that Mrs. Grimes had prepared just after sunrise, that morning. Before Kit could finish breakfast, a young lad perhaps ten years old knocked at the backdoor of the Grimes residence. Special Delivery for Miss Holland, the boy called out in a sing-song voice. At first Kit thought a letter from Bill might have found its way to Las Animas, but she knew he could not have known yet where she would be staying. Just a minute, she answered, getting up from the table. She found her bag on the buffet chest in the dining room and took out a coin for the boy. Im Kathryn Holland, she said as she approached the screened door at the back of the kitchen. The boy handed her the letter. She gave him a buffalo nickel and he looked wide-eyed
at the shiny coin before nodding and touching his cap. Then he turned and sped down the sidewalk. Kit did not recognize the handwriting. She opened the envelope. My Dear Miss Holland: A good friend and fellow shop keeper, Mr. Stanley Higgins, told me of your need to secure employment. Having need for a reliable shop girl, you may make application in person today after 9:00 oclock a.m. at my place on Main Street. Evan Vogel Look at this, Pansy, Kit said, extending the letter to her friend. Pansy read the note and nodded her head. I know him. Well I think I should have a look. What do you say, Bobby? We can wait until after 10:00 oclock to leave, cant we? The pair agreed that Kitty would apply at 9:00 oclock sharp. At the appointed hour she confidently entered Vogels Dry Goods. Exactly 20 minutes later she left the store on her way to becoming a shopkeepers assistant. She caught a ride home to pack. Uncle Claude would bring her back so she could start work on Monday morning.
Monday morning came and the sunlight brightened the sky over the Holland Ranch. Kit stretched, looked beyond her window and past the long driveway, walked slowly to the writing table and sat. The weekend had been a disaster, so much so it had taken on comic proportions. For a while she pondered the recent events, collecting her thoughts, but then took pen in hand and began to write, comforted by the scratching of the steel nib against the paper. Eads, Colo. Mon. morning
My dearest Boy This is all the paper I can find so here goes a scribble on it. We are going to start to Las Animas in a few minutes. Guess today will tell my fate. Sure do hope it works out. Maybe, if I keep busy, it wouldn't seem so long 'till you come. Heavens boy, you can sure be glad you were not with us yesterday. We started to Lamar about ten a.m. & got about ten miles when it commenced to rain but didn't look like much & so we went on & got down in the ditch country. The roads were simply awful. The car just slid all over. We slid off once, & went about half way thru a three wire fence. We stopped when we got to Wiley. For it was just pouring down rain. We phoned from there & they said at Lamar that it was raining too hard to play so we ate dinner & started back. Got about seven miles from Eads & ran out of gas! We were three miles from a horse & so the men had to walk & phone for a garage car to come out. Sure some eventful day. I was never so tired in my life. I was so lonesome for you last night, sitting out there on the prairie waiting for the car to come. And sure do wish you were going with me today too. So please write to me honey boy 'cause every day I just want to see you worse, & your letters are next to you. Write me all the news. Tell Gertie to write to me. Are you out home now? I sure feel uneasy about the way those married ladies there are doing with you kid, wonder why it is they all like you? HaHa. I won't be peeved at them just so you don't forget me. Say! Please put these crazy things where noone will ever see them. With lots of love & kisses (which you better not forget to send me) Your lonesome country girl. Kit
Finished with the letter, she dressed quickly and bounded down the stairs where she found Aunt Jo in the kitchen. Uncle Claude drove her back to Las Animas. They stopped at the post office in Eads where Kit mailed her letter to Bill before they completed the trip.
Mr. Vogel offered Kit room and board plus fifty cents a day for her trouble. By Tuesday evening after her second day of work she learned that the work was hot and the hours long, but the sales brisk, with large numbers of shoppers. When she considered all the people she had met in just two days, she speculated that if Vogel didnt keep her on, maybe one of the others would hire her. She walked to the single window in her little room. It was dark, but the view out of the window extended to the carriage house in the rear of the rooms over the Vogel store. The Vogel family had once occupied the space over the store, but prosperity had enabled them to move into a larger, two-story house a few blocks away. Kit pulled the dark green oil cloth blinder down in front of the window and turned, looking at her little habitat. The room was no larger than nine by twelve feet. The ceiling seemed higher than the room was wide in either direction. An iron bedstead dominated one end. Vogel had placed an armoire against the wall to her right. A round oak table clutched the floor with its clawed feet in front of the window; two chairs stood on either side. Mrs. Vogel had set a tall plant stand with a potted fern to the left of the door in an apparent attempt to lend a bit of cheer to the room. Kit regarded the plant tenderly and stroked it with her hand. A pair of coal oil lamps mounted to the wall facing the bed cast flickering shadows throughout the room. An elegant hurricane lantern painted with pink and mauve roses graced the bedside table. Kit idly opened the double doors to the armoire and stared into its musty interior. She
had brought only enough clothes for the week of work. Her image reflected darkly in the mirror mounted to the inside of the armoire door. She removed the combs from her unruly black hair and unbuttoned her blouse. Bills picture sat on the table adjacent to the armoire. His dark eyes
seemed to penetrate the glowing warmth she felt inside. Her fingers found her breast inside her blouse and her nipples hardened against her touch as she transported herself back into his arms. Later Kit lay in bed covered only by the thin cotton voile nightgown she had brought from the ranch for this trip. The room was stuffy from the lack of circulation. She thought of Bills body and what it would be like to be in his arms at that moment. She smiled as she remembered their first meeting, at the end of the season, almost a year ago. Kit and Gertie had gone into the schoolhouse at JordanSprings after a game to retrieve their picnic baskets. The classroom should have been empty, but they heard a noise behind the curtains on the dais at the front of the room. Startled at first, they waited quietly to see who would appear. Bill was behind that curtain and from his shadows, the girls could tell he was changing clothes. Whos there? Kit called, not certain which ballplayer was behind the drape. Tis I! Bill called out in a mock heroic voice, more than a little drunk. Show yourself! Gertrude demanded. Bill lifted the curtain from the stage floor and stepped to its edge, exposing his bare chest and legs while modestly covering his mid-section with a corner of the curtain. The girls squealed in delight and feigned shock as Bill laughed so hard he nearly fell over backwards taking the curtain with him. More! More! the girls squealed in unison. Bill was clearly in his element now, performing for these two. He turned his back to them, still wrapped in the school drapery and bent over, flipping up the hem of the drape to expose his bare backside to them. The girls screamed again and giggled and ran outside. Once in the school yard they laughed and held each other until Kit was sure she would wet her pants.
LAS ANIMAS, JUNE 8, 1916 Thursday noon My dearest Boy I have just nearly died without any letter from you since Sat. then today noon your two came--the one written Mon. morning & the one Tue. noon. And dearest, I can't imagine why you had not heard from me--surely some of my letters were not mailed for I don't think I have missed a day writing to you. I just think of you every hour in the day & I some times wonder if you think me foolish for writing so much to you, but some way it helps to pass the time, since I can't be with you. But I sure hope it will not always be this way. Life surely isn't worth much to me when I'm where I can't be near you. Listen, please don't ever go away without telling me where you are and pleasedo come to me just as soon as you leave there. I don't know what to do. Am afraid I'm not going to be able to get any thing steady here before fall & I just nearly die out at Uncle Claudes place--but I don't want to go back there -- for I know you will not stay there long when you dislike it so much & I don't blame you, for I do too. Bill Holmes and Kathryn Holland were ducks out of water in their home towns. They had burned too many bridges with their individual reputations as tinder. In Langdon, most of Bills peers regarded him as one of the good ol boys, but with the older and more established, he had already developed a reputation as a neer-do-well, having failed more or less at everything hed tried. Could he settle down there? Yes. Would it take a long time to win the respect of the townspeople? Yes, and it would require more than a few changes to his lifestyle. Kitty, on the other hand, had a reputation that could only be absolved if she moved to a community where no one knew about her past or, perhaps, if she entered a convent, and stayed there, people would
eventually stop whispering behind her parents backs. So the wanderlust of youth found an appropriate home in both of them. Sure a queer old world isn't it? My! I wish you were here. I went home at a little after six last night & I sure wanted you. Never did miss you so muchevery day I think that though. If you were here How is Gertrude? Suppose she & Jim will be together. Remember the time Gertrude & I dared you to do something? We sure felt crazy about that. But you were an old piker, weren't you? You sure was. Our sale is going fine. Mr. Vogel is a pretty good fellow to work for. Well: this is all the paper I've got down here so will have to quit. Write often as you can. With lots of love & I sure want a real kiss. Your girl. K.
Mr. Vogel pulled the blinds down on the front of the store and returned to the cash register to count out the days proceeds. Kit was rearranging the bolts of brightly colored fabrics that were on display near the front of the store. A banging at the front door startled them both. She looked out the glass panel of the front door and saw Kathleen looking eager and impatient. Its my cousin Kathleen, Mr. Vogel. Shes here to take me back to the ranch for the evening. Can I let her in until Im finished? Go ahead, Vogel did not look up. Kit pushed open the bolt in the door and pulled it aside for the young woman, who swept in with a train of chatter, filling the shop like a sudden, unexpected breeze. You ready to go, Kid?
In just a few more minutes. They returned to the fabric table where Kathleen amused herself by browsing the goods while Kit finished putting away the open bolts. Wait till you find out whos here for the dance tonight! Kathryn teased. Jim Kelley! When did he get here? Hes on his way to Denver but hes going to be at the dance tonight! Kit could not hide her fascination with Jim Kelley. She had gone a few rounds with him before she fell for Bill. He was just as handsome, but in a different way, and dangerous, though Bill took her breath away more than Jimmie ever could. Truth told he had squired his share of ladies back home before settling on Gertrude. Kit went over to Mr. Vogel. Intent upon getting the close out reports done, he did not at first notice her. She cleared her throat. Anything else before I go Mr. Vogel? No, but much obliged for all your help this week. He took three silver dollars from the cash drawer and handed them to her. Theres an extra half dollar for your efforts. Wed like to have you back next week. Why, thank you, Mr. Vogel! Kit delighted at her good fortune. She accepted the wages and gratuity and the two girls left, giggling secretively to each other as they passed through the door. The girls walked out of the store and onto the sidewalk in front. It was the first time Kit had been outside since before lunch. The air was oppressive and oddly humid for the High Plains. Ugh, Kathleen said, Theres not a breath of air this afternoon. It must be going to rain.
Kit surveyed the scene. The overcast sky and the western horizon hung dark, steely gray with billowing silver clouds as high as the eye could see. As they headed towards Kathleens Model T, Kit asked about the dance the girls planned to attend. Well go home first and change into something to vamp the boys with. The girls laughed broadly and climbed into the automobile. About halfway home, the wind came up out of the southwest and blew through the cars open windows. Dust and sand stung the girls cheeks. Soon sharp raindrops slapped at them as they made their way into the gathering storm. The further the girls drove west towards the ranch the harder the wind blew until they were damp from the rain as the storm intensified. Kit struggled to close the side windows while Kathleen managed the steering. By the time they turned into the driveway, the road was muddy and the rain was nearly blinding. The girls managed to get the car parked in the barn as hail the size of Uncle Claudes stout, short thumbs began pelting the roof. Looking out the barn door, Kit gazed up at the sky and the driving rain. The hail grew louder and pounded on the roof of the barn. Finally the girls decided to wait out the storm in a haystack in the corner. The rain and hail continued for half an hour. The wind blew and lightning crackled before deafening claps of thunder roared over the prairie. The girls were frightened and sat wide-eyed in the hay until the storm passed. When the rain finally abated, they rose to look outside. Rivulets of water rushed down the muddy, hail-encrusted soil between the barn and the Wilmont house. The rain was now little more than a gentle mist, but the sky was eerily and prematurely darkened from the boiling cloud cover. I wonder how much rain we got.
Oh, Kit, look at the fields!
Sunday 9:30. My own dearest Boy What are you doing about now? Won't be long 'till you will be getting ready to go over to Turon, I guess. Wish you were here. Heavens, kid, but I wished for you last night You know I went out to the Wilmonts last night. I worked my eight hours at the store thru the day It looked like it might rain so we came on back & had just about got to the house, when it commenced to pour down & it just blew & hailed something awful. Mrs. Wilmont said this morning that some of the men after it was over said the hail was large as eggs & it just beat everything in the ground. There are so many trees down & everything was just covered with leaves & huge limbs were broken off this morning. Sure sounded awful loud last night. I had thought that maybe Uncle Claude might drive over this afternoon but the roads will be bad now, so suppose he will not. It's awful hot here today--expect it will rain more. Gee, I just wonder what Gertie is doing today. Bet she is awful lonesome too with Jim gone. She said he couldn't come home only every four or six weeks now. Looks like he could go oftener than that, if he just would, for it's right on the Rock Island road, isn't it? One day a man from the garage at Eads was out to Uncle Claudes working on the car & at noon he was looking at those pictures I have & saw Jim in them he got to talking about him he said Kelley was sure a "ladies" man out here Said he sure made foolishness out of that little widow. He said Jim went with one of the girls all the time he was there. Heavens boy, if my man was as deceitful as he is to Gertrude, & I ever found it out I'd sure be miserable enough to jump in the river. It was O.K. for him to go with the girls but I don't see why he lied to her about it, that way for do you? Well! We won't worry about them, though. I sure wish you were here to spend this long afternoon with me but since you arent I will have to do the best I can without you. Honest, I wish I was home & Old Don or the Jitney was going to bring you over, because it sure seems ages &ages since I last saw you.
Now write to me often as you can & send it here 'till I write you not too. With just lots & lots of love & real kisses, Your lonesome girl, Kit.
That morning Kit joined the Wilmonts who took the horse and buggy to church, surveying their crop damage along the way. They had much to pray about at church that week. Their crops and the crops of their neighbors had been flattened the night before. There would be little to harvest in Las Animas County that year. And dry land farmers who prayed for rain were reminded that they were indeed sinners, sometimes in the hands of an angry God. Kit dropped the letter off at the post office on her way into Vogels to work Monday morning. The atmosphere in the store was like a morgue. She kept busy through the day wondering how much longer she would be able to keep her job. At the end of the day, Mr. Vogel greeted her with the news that there would be no more work for her this season. I dont believe weve sold ten dollars worth since Saturday night. He reached into the till, retrieving her unpaid wages in cash. The extensive crop damage meant that the local economy would stagnate and perhaps fail over the months to come. Kit went back to her boxlike room and sat down on the edge of her bed feeling terribly discouraged. She cried. Fortunately Mr. Wilmont and Kathleen would be in town in the morning and she could catch a ride back to the ranch with them to wait out her options. She gathered her belongings together and set them by the door, then decided to write to Bill so he would know where she would be. Dearest One:They told me today they would not need me any longer at the store. Kathleen will be in tomorrow, so I'm going out with her. It is late now so I must go.
Please write me soon, as I had no letter all day today. Send it to Haswell, Colo, in care of Kathleen Wilmont.
The following day Kit wrote more. Wednesday, 3:00 p.m. at Wilmonts Ranch My dearest Boy:-Here goes a line or two to tell you that I am O.K. How is my man anyway? I just bet I will have to go a day or two longer before I get a letter from you for I told the Las Animas postmaster to send my mail to Haswell & now we are going down to Eads to stay 'till Mon. morning. Wilmonts have a nice house with wide-open porches & the yard fenced but Lord, man, it's lonesome. Of course they have the car, but it's pretty lonesome for the kids anyway. No young people close at all. And no trees as far as you can see, except a few in peoples yards where they water them. Heavens, I'm going to stop quick, or you never will come out, but honest, it isn't a bit like this over around Lamar & Las Animas. Really it's pretty there, lots of tall shade trees. My! I sure don't know what ever I'm going to do, if I don't get something over there, for if you are going to leave there soon as harvest is over, I don't think I can ever stand it to go back there & think of staying. I just feel like I can't wait much longer to see you 'cause its been a long, long, time since I did. So Kid, youbetter write 'cause your last letter is 'most wore out. I sure was one lonesome girl when I got them Mon. & they have been read a few times, believe me. Wilmonts don't get their mail out here very often, but if I'm out here next week, I have to get it some way, or this sure won't be any place for me. Wish I could have kept that place in the store at L. A. where I was. It was a dandy place to work. But they let the entire extra help go yesterday evening. Last night I was so lost for something to do, I got your letters & read every one I have ever received from you. Gee, KidWell, I dont know how I felt. I sure does love my man though & would not trade with anyone else in the entire world.
Well: guess this is enough of this trash for one time. Don't you think? Now write to me as often as you find time cause Im never so happy as when I see them throw down a letter from you to me.! Heavens, Kid, Burn these up!
The Wilmont Ranch. EADS, COLO. JUNE 17, 1916 The next day the sun rose glittering red off the eastern horizon. It arose full of promise and hope, riding over the broken land as if surveying the damage the storm had left in its wake. Soon the sun over the Wilmont ranch burned high overhead. No clouds offered to block its intensity and by noon the temperature had passed 100 degrees. The prairie buffalo grass that surrounded the buildings grew brown for lack of moisture, even with the memories of the devastating thunderstorm still fresh in everyones mind. The air in the Wilmont home grew heavy and stale. Upstairs the girls lay on the beds and the fainting couch in Kathleens room. Perspiration covered their foreheads and arms. Their garments became moist and stuck to their skin. Kathleen rose and moved towards the chest of drawers on the opposite side of the room. Come on girl, I have an idea, she said. She removed two thick muslin nightgowns from the bottom drawer of her chest. Here, change into this. Were going to the cattle tank. Kit needed no further encouragement. They stripped out of their skirts and blouses and petticoats down to their bloomers and corsets. Covering themselves with the makeshift bathing garments, they made their way barefooted down the back stairs and out the door into the yard, where they ran towards the windmill, barely in sight, half a mile to the south of the house,
dodging sand burr stickers that flourished in the dry sandy soil. The black, flop-eared ranch dog ran ahead of the girls, hoping to scare up a jack rabbit along the way. The cattle moved slowly away as the girls approached their oasis. The rim of the galvanized tank stood almost four feet off the ground, so they looked foolish as they climbed into the water. The floor of the tank was green and slippery under their feet, but the water was cool, inviting and refreshing. First Kathleen squeezed her nose with her fingertips, squinted her eyes shut and took a mock breath, dunking her head under water. Kit followed suit and soon they both sprang upwards out of the water, blowing water as they exhaled, laughing out loud. Kathleen moved to the edge of the tank and put her arms up along the rim, allowing her legs to float up towards the surface of the water, her garment floating on the surface like a muslin cloud. Kit stood up and stretched. Her nipples stood out against the wet fabric on her chest. She turned full circle from her vantage point and surveyed they horizon around her. There was scarcely any sign of life but for the dozen or so cows grazing lazily just beyond the water tank. To the north she could see the roof of the house. A hawk soared overhead, looking for field mice to feed her young. Without warning, Kit pulled the nightgown over her head and hung it on the side of the tank. She undid the laces on her corset and slipped it over her shoulders, layering it over the gown. Then she stepped out of her bloomers, exposing her pale white flesh to the afternoon sun. Kit! What on earth are you doing?! Kitty laughed. Youll burn up in this sun! Kathleen warned, her voice a mixture of envy and alarm. Dont be silly. Ill get dressed again before that happens. You should try this. Its heavenly!
Kathleen floated lazily for a moment, considering Kits challenge, but then she stood up suddenly and stripped while Kit scooped splashes of water from the surface towards her friend. Soon the two naked girls were splashing each other and giggling. Stop! Theres going to be more water outside the tank than in it! Kathleen said. But fresh cold water continued to be drawn up to the surface by the windmill, which screeched and spun slowly above them, turning marginally on its axis as the winds changed. The girls floated on the surface of the tank a while longer and finally rose to dress again. From the top of the hill to the east of the windmill they heard someone whistle and when they turned, they saw Bobby Wilmont coming towards them, a hundred yards or so away. The girls jumped out of the water and crouched behind the tank, feverishly pulling on bloomers and dressing gowns, now covered in mud. As Bobby approached, he called to Kit, Mail call for Kathryn Holland! Kit looked over the top of the tank and saw him waving a white envelope over his head. Oh, that brother of yours! Kit whispered. Gwan home! Kathleen yelled. Yeah, sure. Ill just leave this here letter on the ground in case anyone might want to read it. When the girls looked up again, he was gone. They dressed quickly and Kit dashed over to retrieve her precious letter. Later in the evening, when the temperature cooled, Kit put her pen to paper while looking at Bills picture.
My own dearest Boy Your "note" came to me today. Robert went to town & brought the mail out. Sure was glad to get it even if he might have waited until we girls came back up to the house.
How is my man any way? Wish you would write me a long letter & tell me all the news about yourself & what all you are doing. Gee, I wished for you a little while ago. Wilmonts have a great big tank they put water in to irrigate with & in the afternoon we girls put on a bathing dress and went in. Sure is fun. I would sure be a happy girl to knew I could spend a day with you once more. You asked about my work. Well: I don't know of any thing yet. I reckon if I don't get something soon, I will just go jump in a lake. Say: tell me, what ever did Jim do? You never did tell me & Gertrude never has written yet. Wish He & G. &you were going to be here for the dance at Haswell tomorrow night. Really, what do you think you will do after harvest? Honest, I justhave to see you then. Any way, do you want me to go back or will you come out here some place, if I stay, & see how you like it? Oh! I can hardly wait 'till then & I can really see you. It sure scares me the way they keep talking war. Don't you dare ever go, even if you have to "get married" to keep from going. Now please Honey Boy write to me real soon a nice, long letter With heaps of love & real kisses Your own girl, Kit.
The Langdon Produce Company, 1915. Bill Holmes stands beneath the U wearing a white straw hat.
Bill looked over the interior of the Langdon Produce Company after he had finished reading Kits latest plea for him to abandon Kansas for Colorado. He found a sepia-toned picture post card taken last season at the stores opening celebration and blew off the dust that had settled on it over the winter and spring months. He studied the faces of the men gathered at the front of the store, remembering the feelings that lingered from those good days. He enjoyed the fellowship of the men he grew up with and they, most of them farmers with wheat fields and cow-calf operations, appreciated the venue to share their excess with the townsfolk as they made a little extra cash for their households. Closed since the end of last season, decisions about the future of the Produce Company would have to be made soon. With the wheat mostly in the bin, he either had to re-open the fledgling farmers market he had ventured out with the year before, or leave it closed and give it back to Mr. Sherow in lieu of rent. Farms were almost completely self-sustaining and required little capital to operate. Most of the work was done by hand or with a team of oxen or draft horses. Farm implements for the
wheat fields were small and generally included a seat for the farmers use as he coaxed the animals whose lot in life it was to drag the steel inventions of John Deere and the Industrial Revolution across the fruited plains of the great Midwest. Apart from an investment in animals and the most rudimentary equipment, everything else was more or less self-perpetuating. Cows procreated with the willing assistance of the neighbors bull. The female offspring provided milk and another calf crop down the road. The males, more often than not, became steers first and steak later. Chickens and occasionally ducks and geese had similar life expectancies. The Langdon Produce had done little to improve its proprietors financial condition in 1915. The dust on the floor and shelves was all that was left of the little nest egg he brought to the operation from his season with the Salt Packers. And now, though Mr. Sherow had no one else interested in the property, Bill would have to come up with money for rent, find another backer, or give up the dream. Visiting Kit in Colorado was complicated by more than the uncertainty of his emotional attachment to her. He had never said he loved her, but when he was with Rosa, he used that word with steady frequency. Anyway, the decision to reopen the Produce Company would trump any notion of driving to Colorado this summer. But if he let the Produce stay closed, what did he have to lose by making the trip and taking his chances at a sugar beet factory?
Haswell, June 27, 1916 My own dearest Boy:How you was? I havent had the mail since Sat. so I guess there is a letter for me from you over at town & I sure hope some one goes in today so I can mail this & get yours. I'm just counting the days 'till you come out here. I don't know what's the matter with me this week but I'm sure homesick to see you.
Wish you could be here for the 4th. Do you suppose you could possibly do it? They are going to have a great time at Haswell. Eads & Las Animas & all the other towns near are going to Haswell. There is to be two ball games & a lot of other things doing & a dance that night. Sure wish you could come. Gee! We girls sure get enough sleep - we don't get up 'till about ten & go to bed at about nine. Don't you wish you were out here? I do. Kid I sure love to get your letters. I guess I will be here for a few days yet, so please write me. Your own lonesome, Lots of love & real girl kisses.
Burnthis
Preparations for the Fourth of July were much the same in Langdon and Turon as in Las Animas, Eads and Haswell. Committees of civic leaders reinvented the celebration every year. Their responsibilities became carefully guarded territory. Merchants closed shop for the day. Then every religious and charitable organization in town sat up fundraising activities in the Town Square or CityPark for the citizenry to engage in after an all-you-can-eat noontime feed. But first all the bands, various clubs, organizations, businesses and anyone who might want to drive their shiny new automobile down Main Street joined in the festival parade. The fifth of July a year ago was when Bill opened Langdon Produce. But as of the first of July this year, he had neither mopped the dust off the floors and shelves, nor proffered the rent due to Mr. Sherow.
Sitting apart from the other workers after lunch, surrounded by the wide fields of golden wheat stalks, their tops shaved off, Bill folded the letters and put them back into their envelopes.
He had not written in more than a week. It did not feel right, as if he were leading her on, to continue the correspondence when he could not reciprocate the enthusiasm of Kits letters to him. The harvest was all but over now. He was free to move on, but had no inkling of where he wanted to go. Sitting in the shade afforded by his automobile, he finished his lunch break by rolling a cigarette. Struck a blue-tipped match on his thumbnail to light it. Inhaled deeply and looked skyward. The harvesters had been lucky. No rain or hail storms had impeded them from completing their work, but it looked like their luck might change this afternoon. The skies had darkened in the last hour. A giant, anvil-shaped thundercloud loomed ominously in the southwestern sky. The wind picked up. Realizing how quickly the weather could change, he was not surprised when the headman called him back to work. He took another drag from his cigarette and squeezed the embers off the end, being careful to grind the ashes into the dirt beneath his feet. He put the stub into the pocket of his overalls and headed back to work. The good fortune that the threshing crew had enjoyed came to an inglorious end within the hour. The wind came up and the skies darkened until an early afternoon thunderstorm ended their work. Bill returned to his car and drove home in heavy rain and deafening thunder. Having gone less than a mile, a loud rolling boom and a blinding flash caused him to hit the brakesinstinctively. An old cottonwood tree just ahead on the left suddenly fell and crashed across the road in front of him. He sat in the cab of his car, his heart pounding as he tried to catch his breath. Headlights on, wipers running erratically, he looked helplessly at the massive tree trunk that lay less than twenty yards in front of his car. It was useless to try to turn around. The road was a loblolly of mud. He could only wait out the storm and see what would happen next. In the dim blue light he reached across to the
glove box where he found a tablet of paper and a pencil with a dull point. He switched off the engine, rolled a cigarette and tried to think of what he needed to say to his Country Girl in Colorado. Bill realized that Kits ongoing effort to find stable employment in the ArkansasValley had proved no more successful than his own uncertainty about how to proceed with Langdon Produce. Truth be told, she probably did not very much want to work for wages, wages being what they were in 1916 for a young woman with Kits skills, fifty cents per day. Bill imagined that she more leaned toward the idea of catching herself a man, one who would provide and care for her, a man like she imagined himself to be. Barring that, he guessed she would have been content to continue indulging her schoolgirl fantasies as rotating house guest in the various homes of family and friends in and around BentCounty. Bill Holmesthe baseball player, the hale-fellow well met, the rakefulfilled the schoolgirls fantasy in those months during the summer of 1916. But he was neither equipped nor very much interested in providing for her, nor did he care much about anyone but himself. He was handsome, athletic, and induced the feeling of fear to the excitement of adventure, the likes of which Kitty Holland had never encountered. Sadly, he didnt care much about his own future those days and barely managed to provide for himself. And Rosa Kelley, the one person apart from himself that he thought he truly did care for, existed primarily in his own imagination.
Langdon, KS. July 3, 1916
When her engagement failed, Rosa did everything she could to put her childhood sweetheart out of her mind, but failed miserably in her attempts. Bill seemed to be everywhere. She could not watch her brothers play baseball because Bill played all the games she attended, either with them or for the opposing team. So she spent the weeks leading up to the date of their marriage in mourning, moping about the house as if nothing could fill the void left by the absence of the planning and preparation for the wedding day that would never happen. She might as well have worn sack cloth and ashes. Worse, the whole community seemed to know her situation and Rosa felt that people treated her differently. Did she just imagine it, or did conversations stop and eyes follow her when she entered the caf? What did people imagine that she had done to ruin her opportunity to marry the most eligible bachelor in town? Did everyone else feel the same way about Catholics as Bill mother? While everyone else had, or seemed to have normal lives, she felt like a specter from another world. Since she had finished high school now, and since now she clearly would not become anyones wife or anyones mother, at least not in the foreseeable future, her parents expected her to find work, help out with the household expenses, and eventually, find her own place. In school Rosa had specialized in business, but the only business she had any interest in developing had been the Produce, and without her help, she had watched from a distance as Bill ran that business to ruin. People talked about his drinking and carousing and somehow Rosa thought it her fault, or that people blamed her for what had happened to him. When she heard about an opening at the Langdon State Bank, she applied. The President met with her and to her surprise, Rosa got the job. She worked as a teller and bookkeeper in the front office which put her on display to the entire community. At first she felt embarrassed and
imagined that people talked about her behind her back, but as the weeks went by, her personality reemerged. She took pride in her work, determined to show the little town that she was as capable as anyone else. On this particular morning, the day before the holiday, Rosa found herself working the teller cage. The morning was quiet. Almost no traffic on the street and less than that in the bank. She had a perfect view of the main intersection in town. She could see the gas station, the caf and the Post Officeall, from her vantage point. She could watch the cars come and go. Some stopped for gas at the corner station before getting on their way. About an hour after opening, to her surprise and fascination, Bill parked his Ford across the street, went inside the post office, and a few minutes later stepped outside the door holding mail in which he seemed quite interested. He sat down in front of the building and read some letters, glancing up when a big Oldsmobile pulled into the service station across the street. Cash count, Miss Kelley, the Cashier ordered from the desk behind the cage. Rosa began counting her drawer, neither thinking about it, nor ceasing to watch the developing drama on the sidewalk across the street. Why thats Nelle Holland, she thought, running back through the one dollar bills a second time for accuracy. Nelle had stopped to talk to Bill, who rose and doffed the white straw hat he wore as if a trademark. The conversation did not last long, but from Nelles stride, as she walked across the street to climb into the back seat of her fathers automobile, Rosa sensed that Nelle had had words with Bill. Words about what, she wondered. Rosa continued counting the coins now, noting the amounts in pencil on scratch paper at the side of her countertop. After months of work, Rosa had had a few offers for dates, and eventually she went out with two or three of the young men in town, but she saw none of them more than once or twice.
She suspected that one, Corky Edmiston, a rou who Bill had played ball with, only wanted to find out if she was missing what he suspected she had been getting from Bill. She could not imagine developing a relationship with any of them; she had no interest in becoming anyones girlfriend. Not yet, anyway. She decided to take responsibility for her own happiness or lack thereof and had become quite content just being Rosa in the process, even if that meant to some, Rosa, Who-was-going-to-marry-Bill Holmes-but-something-happened, Kelley. Across the street, Bill started for his car but met Quentin Sherow, apparently on the way to check his mail as well. The two men spoke for a time and Rosa noticed that Bill shook his head a couple of times and Mr. Sherow nodded, as if in agreement. Bill shrugged. The men shook hands and parted. Bill walked over to the passenger side of his car and tossed his mail onto the front seat. He turned and headed straight for the bank. Is he coming here, Rosa wondered, wishing she had someplace to hide. In her short tenure at the bank, Rosa had always been in the back room or at a desk away from the front of the bank when Bill had come in. So far she had never been assigned teller at a time when Bill stopped in, but it looked like there was, sure enough, a first time for everything. Bill did not break his pace as he headed towards the front door of the Langdon State Bank. He grasped the handle and saw Rosa through the beveled, plate-glass. As he pushed the door open, the little brass bell tinkled as it always did. Bill stepped up to Rosas cage. Their eyes met. Mornin Rosa. Bill looked away. Mornin Bill. She continued to stare at him. Damned if Ill let him see me flinch, she thought. Nice day. Looks like its going to be another hot one.
Its summer, almost the Fourth of July. What can I help you with, Bill? Rosa managed a nonchalant lilt to her reply. Come in to close my account. Rosas eyes widened a little; even her eyebrows arched a bit. Close your account? Rosa sounded surprised, in a soft-spoken, bankerly way. Yep. Not much in there. No sense in keeping it. Mmm. I see, she said, looking up his account in the file box. She was shocked when she saw the balance, eight dollars and sixty-two cents. What had become of his money? she wondered. She thought he must have had hundreds, maybe more. She had heard the rumors about his drinking, the women but discounted them because they were rumors, but she had never looked up his account. It would have been unethical for her to do so. But now . She took the money from her cash drawer, including a five dollar gold coin which she looked at for a moment, remembering the one he had carried until that box dinner How long ago was that? Another life? After making a closing entry on Bills file, she counted the money out to him as he watched. What are your plans? she asked, trying her best to make it sound like his answer didnt really matter. Ive come for you, Rosa, she wanted to hear him say; that, and Meet me on the next train out of town to wherever we can get on Eight Dollars and Sixty-two Cents. Dont have any plans, much to speak of. May go see if I can get work in Colorado, but thats all up in the air. Rosa thought he sounded more lost than vague. She had heard that Kitty Holland had moved to live with family somewhere in the Arkansas Valley. Rumors held that she was in a family way and that her parents had gotten her out of Turon to save face. Rosa tried to ignore all the rumors she heard, but she wondered who had fathered her child. Bill? Was he
going there to marry her? She refused to pass such gossip on to anyone but her closest friends and confidants, not that she had that many confidants. But she knew what it felt like to bear the brunt of idle gossip. Still she wondered about this development. When would he decide to leave, or not? Could she stop him? Why would she even think of trying? Hows your mother? Rosa asked, her voice brittle it seemed to Bill. Oh shes fine, I guess. Nothing different. Well thats nice, isnt it? Bill took her meaning. Better be off then. Have a fun holiday, Bill. I suppose youre playing ball tomorrow. Oh yeah. Hutchinson. Carey Park. You ought to come up. Ill see about that. Rosa said, already knowing the answer. She watched him leave and couldnt help noticing the way his shoulders tapered to his waist and how nicely his pants fit. She felt the rush of hot air on her face as the door opened and closed. She had not noticed how hot it was outside when he came in just a few minutes before.
Kittys Letters to Bill Received on the 3rd of July, 1916 Las Animas June 29, 1916 My own dearest one:I sure am a blue girl. I simply can't get a thing to do in this town. You will have to come out & let me take care of you for something to do I guess. No-- did you say?
I wish I was a man 'cause the Sugar Beet Factory is going to get busy now this next month & there is plenty to do then. How are you making itworking the field this awful hot weather? Are you working in the wheat? You mustnt work too hard & get too hot, 'cause I want you to be feeling good so you can hurry to me soon as you are thru therecan hardly wait. For I sure want to see you. Say! I think some people are the limit. Jim for one. Heavens, I suppose he was sitting up in his room all by his lonesome while Gertie was with you Kids. Bet her eyes would open up if she really knew what he was doing. Gee, I wish you were going to come in about Sun. & be here for the Fourth. I sure would be one happy girl. Wouldn't it be greatsure hope it won't be many more weeks to wait 'till that will really be true. I guess I will be up at Wilmonts 'till after the 4th so send my letters there. Hope you do get to write before Sun. but I know you are busy & awful tired of nights. Well! Dearest one, I must quit. Will write as often as I can get them mailed. Be careful & don't get hurt during harvest. And write to me often as you can. With a world of love & kisses even if you don't like them on paper. Your own K. (Burn these)
Las Animas June30 1916 My own dearest Boy It just nearly scares me to death about the way that lightning come so near to hitting you. For heavens sake, be careful. While I was at L.A. yesterday I asked about the Sugar Beet Factory. I thot they commenced in July but they said that their real busy time didn't begin 'till Sept. There is work of all different kinds to be done therethey pay all the way from two to five dollars a day. Lots of the fellows from around here go to Las Animas, Lamar & SugarCity to work during that time. But if you didn't want to do that you could find most any thing I think.
After picking up the mail at the post office, Bill sat on one of the weathered oak chairs on the sidewalk in front, to read Kittys latest letters from Colorado. Nelle Holland walked around the corner and stopped when she saw him. The lothario Bill Holmes was the reason her sister was in Southeastern Colorado. The stories she heard through the grapevine about the reason for Kittys sudden departure caused her to wince for her sisters lost reputation. When she overheard her parents talk about Bill, she blushed. He looked up from his reading and flashed a smile at Kits younger sister. Mornin Miss Nelle. What brings you to Langdon? On our way to Hutch. We just stopped for a few minutes to buy gas across the street. Bill glanced over her head and saw the Hollands Oldsmobile in front of the gas pump. J. M. Holland was visiting with the attendant. I decided to post a couple of letters. I see youve picked up yours. Matter of fact, I have. Just reading the latest news from Las Animas, courtesy of your older sister. We hear from her quite frequently, too. Sounds like she misses home. She misses you, Mr. Holmes. I cant say that youre the best thing that ever happened to her, but she does seem smitten. I never meant to get under her skin. I dont know what your intentions are, but you surely ought to make it square with her, one way or the other. Shes a mighty fine woman.
She deserves a mighty fine man, then, dont you think? That she does. Well have a good day, then. It was pleasant speaking with you this morning. Nelle nodded and Bill touched the brim of his hat as she entered the post office. With this he decided to take his leave and headed to his automobile. He watched Nelle return to her fathers car. Shortly after, they drove away. He watched the car until it had disappeared down the road. For some time Bill brooded over the brief conversation with Nelle. He somehow felt tainted, less of a good man. He did not like her accusatory voice laced with sarcasm. Was she dressing him down? He decided to write Kit and break off their relationship. He realized that doing so would leave him unattached again. Still, he wished that doing so would open the door back into Rosas arms. But it would not. Like many a young man his age, he was ambivalent; instead of writing anything, he went towards his car, planning to head home. He would celebrate the Fourth of July and play some baseball. Then he would decide whether to mail any more letters to Kitty Holland. Just as he opened his car door, his landlord, Mr. Sherow, approached, doubtless on his way to check the morning mail at the post office as well. Bill knew it was time to commit to the produce store one way or the other. From inside the bank, across the street, an observer saw the two men greet and shake hands. The younger mans demeanor went from amicable to painful as he shook his head several times. A look of some desperation crossed his face. The older man pursed his lips on occasion in a show of concern perhaps, or understanding. Or was it relief? Bill freed himself from the Langdon Produce. Next he had to choose the most viable of his other alternatives. Impulsively, he looked across the street and decided to close his bank account. He wondered who would see working the teller cage and imagined a strawberry blonde
sitting in the back of the room, in the shadows cast by harsh sunlight falling through caged windows. He walked across the street and entered the bank. Later, when he wrote to Kit, he committed nothing and told her to stop sending letters to Langdon because he expected to leave sometime after the Fourth of July. He did not say that he would try Colorado. Nor did he did not say that he would not. All he knew was that it was time for a change of scene. He decided to take the holiday to consider his alternatives. In the meantime, more letters arrived from Haswell and Eads.
Haswell JULY 3, 1916 My own dearest Boy:I suppose you are out in the field hard at work by now, it's six o'clock here. We got up early 'cause we want to clean the car up & decorate it while it's cool this morning. Kathleen is going to drive it in the parade tomorrow. I just can hardly wait 'till I hear from you to see how near thru you are. You said two weeks & this is the second week, will you really be ready to come after this week? Wonder what you did yesterdayI was so lonesome for you all dayI thought, "Gee, if I was at home, you would be coming over to spend the day." I wonder if you will work tomorrow or if you are to play ball some place. You don't know how I wish you could be hereI sure do. How is Vesta? Is she home this summer? Oh, say, Mr. Wilmont was talking yesterday about the Sugar Beet Factory. He said that a fellow that used to be a traveling man, every fall goes to SugarCity& works at the factory & makes seventy-five a month & what he does is to weigh the sacks of sugar after they are filled. Las Animas, Lamar & SugarCity all have the factories. Say, how did you come to tell Nelle I was home sick? They sure wrote me about it.
Well! I must stop or Kathleen will have the car cleaned all by herself. Write to me often as you can. With heaps of love & kisses, Your own girl, "K."
The American Beet factory had opened in Rocky Ford, Colorado in 1900. By 1916 competing plants stood along the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Railroad line that connected the valley east to Kansas City, north to Denver, southwest to Amarillo and on to California. The abundant water supply formed by the Arkansas River made flood irrigation the means for growing crops of all varieties, but the burgeoning demand for sugar made millionaires of men like Charles Boettcher and Spencer Penrose. Farm boys and Mexican laborers could expect to earn upwards from $2 per day during the height of the season. There were always more jobs than there were men to fill them. Kit continued to write about the possibility of Bill finding work in any one of the sugar plants dotting the area. Bill did not find many other opportunities waiting for him in Reno County. While Bills letter to Kit had not yet found its way to her, her letters continued to arrive.
Haswell JULY 6, 1916 My dearest Boy -How you was? I don't believe I ever am going to hear from you again. The Fourth is over & we sure feel like it today. I expected to go to Eads last night but in the evening it got awfully stormy looking. Wish you were here rightnow. How much more you got to do yet? Uncle Claude said there was some mail down there for me, but he forgot to bring it up yesterday. Hope it's from my man.
Say! Uncle Claude says we will take a trip up to the mountains this summer, soon as he can get away. You must sure be here to go with us. My! I just hate to go back down to Uncle Claudes -- it will be so lonesome. The darned old post-mistress in Haswell didn't have the office open a minute all day yesterday. I didn't know they could do that but she sure took the whole day. My! it's so hot--I wish it would rain. Heavens, I bet you will have a fit when you see me-I'm so tanned. I try to keep out of the sun, but it's so warm you have to be in the wind & it tans so badly. Well! Old sweet-heart I guess I better stop. Wish you were here for me to pick a fuss with. It's only 2:30 & I havent anything to do 'till time to go to bed. Bet I would if you were here. Write real soon & send it to Eads. Just bushels of love & I'm sure getting anxious for those real kisses, "Your own" Better Burn this
Eads July 7, 1916 My own dearest Boy:Oh! I was never such a happy girl as last night when I came out to Uncle Claudes and your letter was here. I was sure a sick girl for you, for it seemed ages since I had heard from you, dearest you don't know how awful happy I am today to reallyknow that I amtogettoseeyou before long. But listen, you almost scare me when you say not to write to you at Langdon after Mon. Honey, listen don't go where I won't know where you are, please write & tell me where you are or better come out here so I can see you & be with you. This is Fri. & you must be nearly thru harvest. I'm sure glad, for I just hate for you to do that--I thot you were going to work in the corn. So Jim is going to stay in Hutch. Well! I wonder if that pleases Gertrude or not?
I had thought I would be lonesome when I came back down here, but I don't think I can be, for planning & looking forward to seeing you-- I never am going away any more, where I can't see you (unless you run off & I can't find you.) You better not though. Gee, I'm getting so tanned. I will sure look like a Mexican soon. Aunt Jo & I are going in town to clean up the house Uncle Claude has just finished fixing. He moved it in town & fixed it up & Mr. & Mrs. Pyles are going to move in it Mon. I will try & write again tomorrow & dearest, write & tell me, shall I really not send any mail to you after that? I will not, 'till I hear from you so write real soon. Think about me Sunday for I will sure be lonesome for you. Your own girl, with lots of real love and kisses, Kit.
Kit walked across the hard packed gray dirt to the back door of the house and mounted the few steps. Opening the screened door, she stepped onto the porch and wiped her brow with the back of her wrist. The steady wind of the Eastern Colorado prairie found its way even there. The heat sifted through the rusty wire porch screens and mingled with the peopled smells of household trash and kitchen garbage. Theres a letter from Bill Holmes on the dining room table, Joella said. Aunt Jo glanced over her shoulder as Kit went to retrieve it. She did not seem to notice the look of concern on Jos face as she passed. Kit pulled a chair away from the table and sat down. Daintily, she slipped her fingernail under the seal and used her finger as a letter opener. It took barely a minute to read Bills letter. The tone of her skin reddened slightly as she read and when she had finished, she stared ahead for another minute, the pupils in her eyes
dilating. Her eyes moistened. Then she crushed the letter into the palm of her hand and rose silently, walking to the staircase in the adjoining room. After she climbed the stairs she walked more hurriedly to her bedroom on the front of the house and closed the door behind her. She leaned against the door and sank slowly to the floor, sobbing quietly, muffling her urge to shriek in pain, lest she draw attention from her Aunt Jo. She sat there on the floor, her head between her knees, which she had drawn up into a fetal position. And she cried into her apron and her skirt and her petticoats until she could cry no more. She remained in this position until she had rested and recovered. Finally, she arose, clumsily, pushing herself up with one hand, the other still holding the crushed stationary from Kansas. She walked across the room to her writing desk, where she sat in front of the window looking out over the ranch. She stared out the window for a long time, mesmerized by the waving motion of the prairie grass in the wind. The crumpled letter she placed gently on the corner of the desks surface and picked up a sealed envelope, which she had addressed to Bill earlier that morning. That letter and its contents she tore precisely in half and then, more violently, in half again. She gathered the pieces of stationary and the wadded remains of the letter she had just finished reading, rose, and walked out of the room, down the stairs at the end of the hall, and into the kitchen. Without speaking to Aunt Jo, she lifted the hot plate from the stove in the kitchen and leaned over to check the glowing orange-red embers below the surface. Holding her hand over the opening, she dropped the letters onto the coals and watched as the paper caught fire immediately. Then she closed the top. I guess thats that, she said to Aunt Jo, smiling faintly. Jo saw the girls puffy red eyes and the dirt from the mornings work outdoors smudged and smeared. She reached out to Kit, but Kit turned away and moved resolutely back to the stairs and to her room. The door banged
shut behind her. She sat down again at the writing desk and drew a new piece of the gilded ivory paper from the desk drawer and lifted her fountain pen. It hovered over the paper for a moment and then, almost fiercely, dropped down to form its first words. My dear boy She paused, uncertain how to continue. She watched as a few white clouds moved as slowly as the minute hand on a pocket watch across the sky. She waited a long time in the quiet of her room before she knew what to say next. Then she continued; the only sounds in her room were those of the pen scratching across the cotton bond stationary, the rhythmic ticking of the mantle clock poised on the chest of drawers across the room, and Kits uneven breathing as she continued to struggle for composure.
In Kansas, three days later, Bill studied the postmark, EADS, COLO. JULY 8, 1916,before slitting the seal with his knife. Kits familiar handwriting greeted him as he unfolded the letter.
I wrote you a letter this morning but when they brought me your letter at noon & I read it, I burnt the one I had written, but am afraid I should have sent it, as I don't feel as if I would ever be able to write another letter that would be fit for any one to read. All I had thought of the past few days was just that I would see you soon-- but now-Wonder what folks have to live for when they don't want too? I sure feel like I would much rather not today. Kathleen & I had it planned what a good time we four would have. But you know what you want to do. You know dearest, how I always will feel & I want you to remember that where ever I am, you are just as welcome.
I never wanted anything so much in my life as I want you. But if you don't want to come to Eads, don't do it. I'm not going to stay here any longer than I can help it. For it's just as lonesome for me & if I am not going to get to be with you or even near you-- I might just as well either go home & be lonesome there, or on West & do the best I can. Please write to me if you have time & oh dearest, please let me know where you are. If you stop in Las Animas, & you care any thing about seeing me, let me know & Uncle Claude will take me over there. Dear, what made the differencethe letter you wrote last Sun. was the verydearest letter any one on earth ever got & the one I got today you seemed so blue or something. Is it something I've done, did Mama say something you took differently from what she meant or what? Oh! I wish you were righthere so I could talk to you. I dread tomorrow so muchI always miss you so awful of Sundays any way & tomorrow will be even worse. Please write realsoon. Always yours, with a world of love, Kit.
Bill folded the letter and slipped it back into its envelope. The pain that flowed out of Kits words oozed off the paper and into Bills heart, enlarging the empty hole already there. He decided to give Eastern Colorado a try. He had nothing to lose. Maybe there was a job at one of the sugar beet factories waiting for him. Maybe he would see Pikes Peak. Maybe he would stay but then again, maybe he wouldnt.
Bill arrived in Las Animas on July 18. He had planned to leave Langdon on Monday. He completed his last week of work as a harvest hand on the Bailey farm, near the JordanSpringsSchool. He picked up a couple of baseball games on Saturday night and Sunday afternoon, but by Monday morning he still had not begun to think about the trip, so he spent the
day waiting for the wind to blow his clothes dry after washing them at his parents house that morning. He had earned enough money with what he already had to make it in Colorado for two or maybe three months, enough to find out if the High Plains or the Arkansas RiverValley held his future. Following the highway into Las Animas in the late afternoon on Wednesday tired, dirty and sweaty from a long hot day on the road from Garden City where he had camped the night before Bill found it remarkable how much Las Animas reminded him of Hutchinson. Built up from the south bank of the Arkansas River, which itself carved a path through Hutchinson and beyond, Bill noted that Las Animas was smaller than Hutch, but guessed that Kit had been right to speculate that he could find steady work in one of the agriculture-related businesses in the area. He had not written to Kit since he had received her last letter and did not know what to expect from her once they met face to face. In fact, he was not certain whether she was still staying at the Wilmont Ranch or whether she had moved back in with the Hollands, Aunt Joella and Uncle Claude. Had she moved on, he figured he would look for work and if he found something, fine, otherwise he could just as well keep moving on too. He decided to splurge on a room, owing to the hour, so he could get a good nights sleep and clean up before finding his way out to the Holland place. Kitty had moped around the house helping her aunt with household chores since mailing her last letter to Bill a little more than two weeks earlier. She had joined her uncle on the trips he had made into town and had even asked about work at some of the local stores in Las Animas, but nothing had come from her lackluster efforts. The local economy was in a temporary slump, owing to the widespread loss of crops after the terrible storm last month.
Bill decided to try the Holland place first, betting on a hunch and the fact that it was closer to Las Animas. He got directions and drove out to the ranch the next morning. Kitty and Aunt Jo had already gotten a load of laundry ready to hang out and Kitty was in the side yard hanging out linens when she heard the oddly familiar rumble of Bills old car coming down the lane towards the house. She turned and stared, mouth agape, unable to believe her eyes. Could it be that he was actually here? She stood for a long moment, transfixed, before she finished hoisting a large table cloth over the clothes line and began moving slowly at first, hesitating, towards the driveway. As for Bill, he picked out Kittys figure from the end of the drive and gazed upon her as if she were an actress in a silent picture show, the roar of his car forming the soundtrack as she looked over the clothesline out to the road from which he was now turning into the Holland place. As he neared and her features came into focus, Bill remembered her uninhibited laugh and picked out her broad smile as she tossed the sheet or table cloth she had been pinning to the line over onto itself and left her station, heading towards the loop that the driveway formed in front of the house. He felt the excitement in his stomach, that curious knot as he pushed his doubts into the back of his consciousness for the time being. When he stopped the car, Kitty was already at his side. He was no more than out the door when she threw her arms around his neck and lifted her face up to his, awaiting his kiss. He obliged in front of God and whatever little creatures and Aunt Joella from the window as witnesses; in broad daylight they embraced for a long time before either of them said so much as hello. Over the next several weeks, Bill and Kitty spent most of their available time together. Uncle Claude admitted to Aunt Joella that he liked the young man, but both felt guilty about their complicity in a situation that effectively foiled Kittys parents plans when they sent her to
Eastern Colorado in the first place. Bill behaved respectfully in their presence and Kitty acted demurely until they were out of her relatives earshot, and then they played carelessly, drinking and smoking together without inhibition. Bill had a room in town, though Kitty dared not visit him there. He found occasional day labor that kept body and soul together. Often he worked with Mexican men who could not speak English with the gringos. But he did not find his way into the sugar beet factories, owing to his own impatience, lack of experience and local references. So the future loomed in the unknown space before him. Kitty continued to inhabit her Aunts kitchen on most days, making enquiry at a few shops whenever the opportunity presented itself on trips with Uncle Claude into the neighboring towns.
Friday, August 31, 1917 August is the hottest and driest month in Eastern Colorado. The ground hardens into something like concrete and the winds turn even the buffalo grass in the wetter lowlands from sage green to a dull, golden tan. The cattle stand idly in groups, occasionally pulling off the tops of what little grass remains, chewing the crisp dry foliage while rolling their eyes that bulge from either side of their broad skulls, watching for hungry predators that might be lurking, ready to intrude. Ranchers have to haul water to cattle tanks when the wells run dry in this weather and often carry shotguns to dispatch the roaming coyotes, but the windmill in the pasture of the Holland Ranch continued to produce cold water from deep underground, pumped by the wind turning the rotor at the top of the obelisk-shaped structure.
Windmills had to be stopped and started to avoid the risk of over-extending the ground water supply by pumping the well dry. The pump had to be opened up and primed so that the turning of the rotor would drive the action that brought fresh water to the surface where it would run out into a tank at the side of the structure. The tank held as much water as the rancher deemed appropriate and during the day the cattle and horses visited the tank as they felt the need, with the water in the tank often heating close to air temperature. Claude had cement poured on the bottom of the tank to keep the tank from rusting. The layer of green algae covering the cement did little to dissuade the farm kids from covertly skinny-dipping in the tank on hot summer afternoons. On this particular Friday it was Kits job to check the water level and tend to the switching arm so that the tank would not overfill and waste water. Bill had not found steady work yet, and since the pair had made plans for the evening, Bill accepted Aunt Joellas invitation to come out for dinner before the pair high-tailed it for a Friday night barn dance in town. So when he arrived at the Holland Ranch, Kit invited him to come along with her while she checked the windmill. She had other plans in mind as well. Aunt Joella would be in the kitchen preparing dinner. Uncle Claude had gone to town and would be gone until near time to eat. The place was deserted except for the two lovers and a herd of cattle that stood, chewing their cud on the other side of the hill away from the water tank. She remembered her adventures at the Wilmont Ranch earlier in the summer and planned to lure Bill into the tank to cool off, wrapping themselves in the hot dry winds pouring over the prairie. At about twenty-five yards or so from the windmill, Kit skipped backwards in front of her man and flirtatiously dared, Last one ins a rotten egg! She tugged at his hands before flying off in front of him, unbuttoning her blouse and throwing it skyward, where it floated kite-like in
the air before billowing down onto a clump of sage. She fussed with the buttons at her waist while Bill stood, at first transfixed, then breaking into a wide grin before pulling his own shirt off over his shoulders and giving chase. The pair was naked and in the tank in seconds, splashing each other and engaging in horseplay when Kit squealed, Stop! Not my hair! What will Aunt Jo think? Bill grabbed her and drew her into his embrace. Damn the torpedoes! Full speed ahead! The gods, ever mirthful and given to that strange predisposition that allows random events to take on great significance, rolled and tumbled across the sky with the greatest happiness as an errant sperm plunged into the middle of a trembling ovum waiting in the darkness of Kathryn Hollands womb. Nine months later that initial spark of life would be kindled into a baby girl and that singular event changed forever an ever-widening circle of lines.
A few days after the first of September, Bill got a letter from Vesta encouraging him to return to Kansas because she had heard of work at the soda ash plant in Hutchinson. Since he had not yet had any luck finding work, he did not stay in Colorado. He thought about it for a day and then told Kitty he would be leaving for Hutchinson. They agreed that she would return to Kansas within the month and think of picking up where they left off. Bill offered nothing permanent or long term; neither did he deny the possibility of a future together. Kit did not get her period in September. When they learned of her pregnancy, the Hollands intervened and arranged to have their daughter boarded in Kansas City. Bill did not
hear from her again. When he finally wrote to her at the end of September, he sent the letter care of the Hollands in Eads, but there came no response. She worked at a candy factory until the baby, Maxine, was born on May 24th, 1917. Heartbroken, Kit refused to tell her parents the name of the babys father, though Uncle Claude and Aunt Joella must have known. She confided in her sister Nelle, who had suspected the truth from the very beginning. As Kit confessed to her, Nelle could not help but think back to her last conversation with Bill Holmes when they ran into each other at the Langdon Post Office. I cant say youre the best thing that ever happened to Kit, but she surely seems smitten. She remembered. Nelle did not tell Kit about that conversation, but instead simply hugged her. Kits tears soaked the yoke of Nelles blouse.

6 Those That Never Sing

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6 Those That Never Sing

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THOSE THAT NEVER SING Verl Holmes, (719) 635-0262 1

Chapter Five A Pebble in the Streamlet Scant

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North Main Street, Lamar, Colo. 1916

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Oh, Kit, look at the fields!

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Langdon, KS. July 3, 1916

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