The Dressmaker's Daughters

That low growl of displeasure had definitely come from Dan.

Jack, on the other hand, took her offer in stride. “We can use all the volunteers we can get.”

She didn’t miss the stress he put on the word volunteer. Well, until Wagner, no one got paid. She sure wasn’t asking for money. “Good. I figure with my experience at the flight school and all the time I’ve spent learning about the engines, I can at least help out with the supply lists and ordering.”

“That’s true,” Darcy seconded, though her sly smile indicated she figured Jen had an ulterior motive that was centered on one arrogant stunt pilot.

Jen was just about to correct her assumption when Jack added, “But we can’t pay you.”

That was her opportunity. “Maybe you can. Not in cash but in flight time.”

“Flight time?” Jack looked lost.

“I need flight training to get my license. I’ll exchange work for training.” It made perfect sense to her, but Jack looked less than enthused.

“It costs us fuel and oil every time we take the planes up. You know that.”

Jen stuck to her plan. “It’s a fair exchange, and I’ll only use the minimum amount needed to get my license.”

Jack tugged a hand through his hair. “I don’t know.”

Darcy, however, backed Jen. “It’s a good trade-off. Jen understands all the terminology. She knows a plane inside and out. She’s familiar with our filing system and knows all the suppliers. Any other volunteer would take hours of training.”

Jack still looked concerned. He whispered something to his wife.

Jen couldn’t hear what he said.

Darcy countered her husband’s misgivings. “We won’t be able to start flight training for a couple months. By then, we’ll have student deposits.”

A couple months? Jen fidgeted. That was the traditional start of the flight school, but by then it would be too late to join the expedition. She would have to train for weeks and weeks. “Are you sure you couldn’t start sooner?”

Darcy looked sympathetic, but she didn’t give her approval. “You know that it depends on the weather and a whole host of other issues. The training planes are all laid up for the winter. Taking any of them out of storage means fitting them out and then laying them up again if the temperatures drop too low.”

“It’s January,” Jack pointed out. “Snow and ice make flying difficult for professionals. I’m not comfortable with the risk, especially since there’s no reason for it.”

But there was. Her whole chance at the polar attempt rested on getting her license now. She could be that backup aviator.

“But there are occasional days perfect for flying. Calm. No precipitation,” Jen pointed out. “Couldn’t we start then? After all, I’m here. The school is here.”

“You wouldn’t build up any continuity,” Jack insisted. “That’s no way to learn to fly. I’d never send a student out in the worst weather.” He cast a tender look at his wife. “Darcy might disagree, but without a good reason, the risk just isn’t worth it. I promise we’ll start as soon as the conditions warrant.”

Jen heaved a sigh. “Then there’s no hope.”

Jack looked perplexed, but Darcy understood.

“Jen wants to learn the basics in case she’s needed at any point leading up to the expedition.”

“The expedition?” Dan Wagner blurted out. “You can’t seriously expect an inexperienced student to take part in a risky flight into bitter cold conditions.”

“That’s why it’s important to learn now, in the winter,” Jen pointed out.

Dan shook his head. “You can’t possibly get enough experience in that short a time. Any flight instructor with an ounce of self-respect would never risk a student’s life.”

“I expect a flight instructor to use proper caution,” Darcy countered, “but Jen has a point. If the weather is fair, why not take advantage of the situation?”

“Because I will be testing the expedition airplane,” Jack answered bluntly and turned to his wife. “And you are grounded. That means no lessons until the weather is good on a consistent basis.”

Under those criteria, Jen wouldn’t be flying until May. By then, they’d all be gone to Spitsbergen.

Darcy must have noticed her consternation. “Perhaps Mr. Wagner would be willing to train Jen. From what I’ve heard, he is quite the cold-weather aviator.”

“What?” His face darkened along with his scowl. “You can’t be serious. I was hired on to a polar expedition, not to fulfill some starry-eyed woman’s daydreams. No. Never. Impossible.” He stood and tossed some money on the table. “It’s not going to happen. If I have to teach, the deal is off.”

Instead of looking threatened, Jack grinned. “All right, but I do need you to work with Jen on the supply lists.”

Dan looked as if he might refuse that, too. Instead, he turned and stomped out of the restaurant without another word.

* * *

Teach Miss Fox to fly. In the winter, no less. Dan fumed all the way back to the boardinghouse. He had his bag packed when the proprietress, Mrs. Terchie, knocked on the door to his room.

“Mr. Dan? Message come for you.”

Dan whipped open the door and took the handwritten note. “Long-distance telephone call?”

She nodded. “Joe Something-or-other.”

“Portco. Joe Portco. He runs the feed store back home.” He had no idea why he was blathering except that he was still furious with Jack Hunter. The man might let his wife take a plane up in bad weather, but Dan sure wouldn’t risk a young woman’s life just to fulfill her whim. “Thank you, ma’am.”

She looked past him with a frown. “You leaving?”

Dan sighed. He might have overreacted. After all, he had a verbal contract. And the train only left this small town once a day. He couldn’t storm out of here at a moment’s notice. “No, ma’am. Not just yet.”

Her plump cheeks rounded above her broad smile. “That good, Mr. Dan. I glad to hear it.” Her smile vanished. “Sorry about the bad news.”

Then she toddled off down the hall, broom in hand.

Dan closed the door and looked down at the note. Mrs. Terchie’s handwriting was a little peculiar, and the spelling was poor, but he could make it out.

Blizerd kilt cows. More then 30. More like 50. Woovs got em.

He figured Joe had told her the wolves ate the carcasses. Wolves, coyotes, dogs. It didn’t much matter what got to the cattle. Fifty head were lost. They wouldn’t make one cent off them. Moreover, Dan would have to replace them come spring.

He growled. Why couldn’t his pa corral them at the ranch during the winter like his neighbors? Why was he so stubborn about doing things the way they’d always done them? Every time Dan argued with him about it, his pa would point out that the land was made for grazing. It had once supported hundreds of thousands of bison. The natives didn’t pen them up. They didn’t pen their cattle now.

Tradition, Pa called it.

Dan had no use for tradition when it meant unnecessary loss.

When Pa added to that his confidence that God would see them through, it took all of Dan’s patience not to point out that his air-show money was the only thing seeing them through. Without that, the ranch would have gone on the auction block years ago.

He’d counted on his brothers to bring Pa around, but Dale and David didn’t like to stir up controversy. Dale’s wife had backbone, but over time she’d swallowed Pa’s ideas to the point that she was spouting them, too. David’s new bride was too shy to speak up. That left Dan.

He crumpled the note and tossed it in the wastepaper bin. Then he unpacked his bag. There would be no backing out of his contract now.

* * *

“Can you believe that?” Jen sputtered to Minnie as they ladled stew into bowls for supper. “Wagner refused to teach me to fly. Ever.”

“I thought you said he wasn’t a flight instructor.” Minnie took the bowl from Jen and carried it to the table.

“That’s beside the point. He acted like Darcy had asked him to commit a crime.”

“Aren’t you overreacting?” Minnie had stiffened, and Jen realized she shouldn’t have mentioned anything to do with criminal activity.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have used those exact words.” After her youngest sister’s brush with a bootlegging ring last year that nearly got her killed, she was a little sensitive about anything illegal. “I meant that he was appalled.”

“I know. I’ve just learned how easy it is for good people to get caught up in a bad idea.”

Jen had, too. Both Minnie and Beatrice had watched their beloved men fall victim.

Minnie returned to the stove, and Jen scooped some potato-laden stew into a bowl and handed it to her.

Minnie peered into the bowl. “This one doesn’t have any salt pork.”

“How can you tell? Salt pork looks the same as potatoes.”

“No, it doesn’t. Just add some, all right?”

Jen fished out a chunk of pork and dumped it in the bowl. The meat was pretty meager. It was getting close to the end of the month. Their credit must be running low at the mercantile, as it had every month since Daddy died. The Kensingtons would extend more credit, but Mother refused to fall any deeper into debt. In a couple weeks, the dress-shop receivables would start coming in, and then they could pay down their bills.

“The bread smells wonderful, Mother,” Ruthie said from around the corner, where she was nursing little Sammy. “You must have baked it today.”

“Yes, dear,” Mother said absently.

Her attention was riveted on the newspaper, which was unusual. Daddy had been the one who devoured every news story. Mother had constantly chided him to set aside the paper during meals. Now she was doing the very same thing.

“I don’t see what the problem is, Jen,” Ruthie said as she returned to the kitchen and burped the baby. “The flight school is closed. Jack and Darcy never fly this time of year.”

“But they will for the expedition.” Jen slopped stew into another bowl. “And if I don’t get my license before spring, I’ll never be able to go along.”

“Go along?” Ruthie exclaimed. “Why would you go with them? Even Darcy won’t be able to, not with the new baby.” She held up a hand. “I don’t care what she says now. Once the baby arrives, her whole world will revolve around him.” She leaned down and kissed Sammy’s forehead before cooing and holding out a finger for him to grab.

Sammy giggled and squealed.

Jen rolled her eyes. Babies were fine and all, but she would never give up something important, like the polar expedition, in order to have a baby. Not that Darcy had a choice. She’d been married for years, after all. A baby was bound to happen along, and with this being their first she was extra cautious.

“What I need to know is how to convince him,” Jen mused. “Darcy said Jack didn’t want to teach her at first, but she was able to persuade him. She might have some idea how to change Wagner’s mind.”

“Wagner?” Minnie said, holding out her hands for the next bowl. “No more Dan?”

Jen made a face at her little sister. “That was a slip of the tongue, when I was feeling more charitable. Ruthie, is Sam eating with us?”

“Yes, but don’t dish up any stew just yet. He had to place a telephone call to New York. It could take a while. He said to start without him.”

Jen carried her own bowl to the old wooden table. It was battered and stained from years of use. Everyone sat in their usual places, leaving Daddy’s place empty, as they had since he’d moved to the parlor. At first, she’d figured he would return as soon as he recovered his strength. But he never recovered. Still, the empty place remained.

When Sam arrived, he would sit in Beatrice’s old spot. Jen ran a finger over the holes she’d poked into the wood when she refused to eat peas and had to sit at the table until dark. The battle of wills had lasted until bedtime, when Mother finally let her go to sleep, but in the morning, Jen found the peas in her breakfast bowl. She’d swallowed them whole with large gulps of milk rather than go hungry.

The stain in the center of the table happened when a jar of beets exploded after removing it from the home canner. Even Mother had jumped and shrieked. Then they’d all laughed at their squeamish reaction when the red juice ran all over the table like blood. Though they’d cleaned up the mess, the stain remained and over the years became a treasured memory.

“Oh, my.” Mother sighed. She closed the paper and set it aside while they waited for Ruthie to finish wiping Sammy’s face. “Such a terrible story. All those little ones without any hope of help.”

Ruthie laid Sammy in the cradle. “What little ones?”

“In faraway Alaska. There’s a diphtheria outbreak and no antitoxin.” She shook her head. “They are shipping some by train from Anchorage, but apparently this town is hundreds of miles from the railroad lines, and there’s no way to get it to those little ones.”

“An airplane could take it,” Jen said.

Ruthie shook her head. “If airplanes can’t fly here because of the weather, how could they possibly fly in Alaska?”

“If they can get the engines running, there’s no reason a plane can’t do it.”

“What about snow and wind?” Ruthie countered.

Jen had no answer for that. It was exactly the problem Simmons Aeromotor had been working on with Jack and Darcy. What if the weather wouldn’t allow them to make the polar flight? Then all that cost and effort would go for nothing.

“That’s enough, girls.” Mother put an end to the discussion. “Let’s bow our heads and give thanks to Our Lord for all the blessings He has showered upon us.”

Jen wasn’t so sure about blessings. Her father was gone. Dan Wagner recoiled at the thought of teaching her. Children in Alaska were sick without hope of life-saving medicine. And their stew didn’t have much meat. Yet one by one, her mother and sisters listed blessing after blessing. Then it was her turn.

Jen could think of only one thing. “Thank you for letting me pass the written flight examination.”

Minnie rolled her eyes, and Ruthie sighed, but Mother ended the prayer with “Amen” just as Sam stomped through the kitchen door with a blast of cold and snow.

Ruthie looked up expectantly.

He nodded, his expression glum.

Ruthie’s hopefulness changed to concern.

Mother looked from Ruthie to Sam, who’d shed his coat, hat and boots in record time, and then went back to her daughter. “What is it? What happened?”

Ruth shook her head.

Sam took the lead. “My father suffered a setback.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mother said. “I know you’ve had your differences, but he is still your father.”

“Yes, Mom.” Sam dished some stew into a bowl.

Jen found it fascinating that he called her mother by such an informal endearment—and that she allowed it. She had never been anything but Mother to Jen and her sisters.

“How is your mother faring?” Mother asked as Sam took his seat. “Caring for an ailing husband can be stressful.”

Sam bowed his head to give thanks and didn’t answer until he’d finished. “It’s definitely a challenge for her.” He took a slice of bread. “Father is used to giving orders. I suspect he’s doing the same thing at home, though my mother would never admit it.” Again he glanced at his wife.

Ruth gave an almost-imperceptible nod, as if she understood exactly what he didn’t say aloud and approved it.

“She’s not a strong woman,” Sam said after swallowing a bite of stew. “Not like you, Mom. Sometimes I think the only thing holding her together is her faith.”

Mother gave him a reassuring smile. “That will carry her through, Sam. During tough times, the Lord is our strength. I’m glad to hear she’s leaning on Him.”

Sam smiled, but not with confidence. Again he looked to Ruth. This time she shook her head.

Ruthie turned conversation to business at the dress shop. Mother and Minnie seemed glad to discuss the latest projects, but Jen wasn’t fooled. There was a whole lot more going on than Ruth and Sam were letting on.

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