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A Dry Creek Courtship
Janet Tronstad
Charley Nelson wants a change.He wants more than just breakfast and banter with longtime friend Edith Hargrove. Charley wants, well… he wants romance. Somehow, Mrs. Hargrove has gotten under his skin and into his heart.But the no-nonsense widow misunderstands when he confesses he'd like to settle down. How can he convince a woman set in her ways that change is good–especially if it means a future with him?




A Dry Creek Courtship
Janet Tronstad



“I have some roses for you,” Charley said, holding the bouquet out to Edith.
Unfortunately, she had a potted plant in her hands, so there was no way she could accept them.
Charley pulled his arm back. “I’ll just hold them for you.”
“Thank you. They’re lovely,” she said.
“Not as lovely as you.”
“That’s so kind.”
Charley took a deep breath and made his dive. “It’s not kind. I want to marry you,” he said, all in a rush so he could breathe again.
“Marry me? Marry me?”
“I know it’s unexpected,” Charley said, “but I just had to—“
“It’s very gallant of you, but there’s no need. I don’t feel bad at all anymore.”
“You think I’m proposing to make you feel better?”
“That’s why you’re so special,” Edith said before she turned and walked up the street.
Charley had no idea what to do now.

JANET TRONSTAD
grew up on a small farm in central Montana. One of her favorite things to do was to visit her grandfather’s bookshelves, where he had a large collection of Zane Grey novels. She’s always loved a good story. Today Janet lives in Pasadena, California, where she is a full-time writer.
He who finds a wife finds a good thing and obtains favor from the Lord.
—Proverbs 18:22
This book is dedicated with a thankful heart
to my wonderful editor, Joan Marlow Golan.
She is the best.

Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
Questions For Discussion

Chapter One
The disturbing letter was safely hidden in the pocket of Edith Hargrove’s apron. It had arrived along with the rest of her mail in Dry Creek, Montana, early last week, but it had not seemed right to stack a letter like that with the regular mail on the sideboard in her dining room. It wasn’t a bill or a reminder for an appointment or even a notice from Social Security. So she kept it close to her, as though this might in some way tell her more about the woman who’d had the astonishing nerve to send it.
Edith had read the letter so many times she could almost feel the texture of the paper against her fingers even when she wasn’t holding it. She kept wondering if she’d overlooked some clue.
She was still thinking about it as she sat on a stool on her front porch waiting for her recently married daughter, Doris June, to cut her hair. The morning was overcast and a bit chilly. It was quiet in the small town of Dry Creek. Edith shifted on the stool and heard the faint crinkle of paper in her pocket.
She couldn’t tell anyone about the letter, of course. The scented envelope had been hand-addressed to Mr. Harold Hargrove, her deceased husband. At first, Edith thought it was one of those letters that had been lost in the mail for a decade. She’d heard about letters like that and, since Harold had been dead for fifteen years, it seemed like that was the only possible explanation. But this letter had been postmarked in Los Angeles just a few days before she received it.
There was no return address. Edith considered giving the envelope back to the post office without opening it until she remembered the days when she could barely afford to buy a stamp. Anyone who paid to mail a letter deserved to have it read by someone, even if it was just the intended man’s widow. After all these years, Edith doubted there was anything in a letter that could disquiet her anyway.
She hadn’t counted on unfolding that piece of scented white stationery and seeing the woman’s signature at the bottom—Jasmine Hunter. Edith had felt her breath stop for a moment when she first saw the name. It was causing her to stiffen up even now just remembering it.
“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” Doris June asked as she wrapped an old dish towel around her mother’s shoulders. The towel would keep the trimmed hairs off both of them. “You can change your mind, you know. You’ve never wanted me to cut your hair in the fall before. You always say you’re too busy to do it and that you’ll wait until the snow flies.”
Dead leaves were scattered all over Edith’s front lawn, but snow was weeks, maybe months, away.
Edith forced herself to relax. “I can’t run around looking like a scarecrow just because the weather hasn’t turned.”
Doris June gave her mother a startled look. “Your hair never looks that bad.”
Edith glanced up and gave her daughter a reassuring smile. The letter had definitely put her on edge. She thought she could still smell that envelope even though it was tucked away in her apron.
She hadn’t recognized the scent at first. But of course it was jasmine, the strong, mysterious scent that seemed to go with a sophisticated woman in a way that Edith’s simple rose water never could. She’d avoided the perfume even before she’d heard about Jasmine Hunter, the woman Harold had—what could she say?—slept with, succumbed to, maybe even loved some forty years ago.
After the first burst of passionate confession, Harold had refused to talk about it for weeks. He said Jasmine was moving away and that was the end of that. Of course, it hadn’t been the end of anything. The woman might have gone, but the pain of knowing Harold had betrayed their marriage vows was there to stay.
Edith brought her mind back to the present. “All I’m saying is my hair could look better.”
Her daughter was quietly taking the pins out of Edith’s hair. The hair itself reminded her of what she’d lost. Harold had always claimed he liked her soft brown hair pulled back in the simple bun that she wore and she’d believed him…until the affair. He’d given her the same compliments after it all happened, but she’d stopped hearing them. She’d been too proud to go chasing after a new hairstyle, but she knew something somewhere had been wrong or he wouldn’t have turned to another woman.
Edith had never met Jasmine, but she’d always pictured her as having a fancy hairdo and some kind of exotic, sultry eyeliner. Maybe she’d even had a black hat with a sweeping wide brim. Hats were fashionable back then and elegant women were pictured wearing them in glossy magazines that Edith couldn’t afford to buy on her farm-wife budget.
Edith had never looked good in a hat; the only ones she’d ever owned were the ones she wore for pulling weeds in her garden. She doubted Jasmine had pulled a weed in her life. She probably wore her hats to tea parties or presidential inaugurations or the Emmys on television. Following Harold’s confession, Edith had pictured the other woman as being everything she herself wasn’t and those pictures had grown with time until the real Jasmine Hunter couldn’t possibly have been as exciting as she was in Edith’s mind.
At the time, Edith had searched for the perfect word to name the affair between Harold and the woman. She knew it wouldn’t change anything, though she thought it might help. But she’d never found a single word big enough to contain the pain. This thing had broken her heart.
It had taken her a decade to rebuild herself enough to truly forgive Harold. The nameless pain from the affair itself and her resulting insecurity had left a dark hole in their marriage. She didn’t know if they would have made it through without the help of God and their elderly pastor. Harold had grown more distant from God in those years, but she’d grown closer. She’d had no choice really. She had to rely on Him for everything.
“Well, you’re usually so busy,” Doris June said as she paused in her movements. “Your hair can always wait. You don’t have time to spend hours in front of the mirror anyway.”
At first, Edith had thought that was part of the problem. She had always been able to think of a million things she should be doing instead of fussing with her appearance. Back at the time of the affair, she had been taking care of Doris June who had been little more than a toddler. That hadn’t left much time for extras like hairstyling.
Edith had always looked pleasant, but she knew she wasn’t beautiful in the way some women were. Her jaw was too square and her green eyes too direct for conventional beauty. She had a face men trusted, not one that inspired them to write poetry. Besides, it had seemed pointless to spend hours in front of a mirror when there were so many things to do for her family and others.
After Harold’s affair, she had become keenly aware of the troubles in other people’s lives. She knew what it was to be alone and needy. She’d started healing her own heart by helping other people.
Eventually, the questions she’d been asking herself had faded away. She finally realized that Harold hadn’t gone to bed with another woman because of her hairstyle or something she had said in a thoughtless moment. His decision to be unfaithful was simply that—his decision. All she could do in her life was be the person God had made her to be. And, if He had made her plain and serviceable, so be it. Her decision to wholeheartedly accept herself was what gradually allowed her marriage to mend.
Even now, Edith had too many things to do to worry overmuch about her hair. Like today, she should be in her kitchen boiling her Mason jars so she’d be ready when Charley Nelson finally brought over the annual bucket of chokecherries he always picked for her. She boiled the jars twice and, ordinarily, those jars would have had their first boil days ago. Charley was late with the berries and she’d just realized it this morning. She needed to make the jelly soon if she was going to be ready for the harvest dinner at church.
Edith wondered if Charley knew about Harold’s affair. The Nelson family had always been their closest neighbors when they were on the farm. Charley made some extra money working with the local vet so he managed to stay home on his farm that hard winter when most of the other men around had been forced to take temporary jobs in Billings to keep up with their bank payments. The roads were so bad and the distance to Billings so far that Harold had rented a motel room for several nights each week during the two months. It was then that he’d met Jasmine.
Edith decided Charley couldn’t have known about the affair. Harold had sworn to her he hadn’t said anything to anyone except the pastor, and he’d only talked to the pastor at her request. Edith had been adamant at the time that she didn’t ever want Doris June to find out about the affair. She was a sweet little girl and she adored her daddy. Today, of course, families would talk about something like that, but back then they didn’t. Everyone suffered in as much silence as they could manage.
“Getting a haircut is important,” Edith said. She had forced herself to call Doris June this morning and ask for her help. “Women need to be well-groomed if they’re going to be out and about with people.”
Doris June finished taking the pins out of her mother’s hair. “I’m always happy to cut your hair for you.”
Hair framed Edith’s face. It was coarse instead of soft after all the years and much more gray than brown. “I thought this time I’d have you do it shorter. Something over the ears.”
Edith had been too stubborn to change her hairstyle for Harold, but she felt a need to update it for this other woman. Jasmine Hunter was coming to Montana and wanted to meet and talk. That, in addition to an address printed on the stationery, was all the letter had said.
“No problem, I’ll just—” Doris June sputtered to a stop. “Did you say over the ears?”
Edith nodded. “I’ve worn my hair pulled back in this bun since I married your father. That was fifty years ago. Styles have changed since then.”
Edith had sent her answer to the letter in the mail several days ago. She explained that Harold had died, but that she would be willing to meet Jasmine and talk if that would be “an acceptable alternative.” Edith had struggled with the words and been pleased when she thought of “acceptable alternative.” It sounded so businesslike and not at all like the words of a woman who’d been betrayed.
Of course, she knew she would have been within her rights to simply not answer the letter. No one could blame her if she just copied the address from inside the letter on the envelope and sent it back through the post office with a big Deceased stamped across the front. But it hadn’t taken Edith long to realize this would probably be her only chance to face the woman who had haunted her marriage. Maybe those images she’d had in her mind for years would finally be laid to rest if she met Jasmine.
“I know how long you’ve worn that bun. That’s why you should think about it before you cut your hair short,” Doris June said as she started to comb her mother’s hair.
“What’s to think about? Your father—bless his soul—is the one who liked it this way. At least that’s what he always said. And he’s not around to notice anymore.”
It was possible this Hunter woman wouldn’t even want to talk to her, Edith thought. Jasmine might not know that Harold’s wife knew about the affair. Edith may have worked up her courage for nothing.
“Well, no, but—” Doris June stopped combing and stepped around to look at her mother. “This isn’t about missing Dad, is it? I know you loved him terribly. He was a wonderful man. But you’re not alone now that he’s gone. Lots of people will notice a new haircut. There’s me. And your Sunday school class. The whole church, in fact. And I’m sure Charley will notice.”
Edith managed to nod. She wondered if she’d need to tell Doris June that her father wasn’t as perfect as she’d always thought. Edith would rather have her heart broken all over again than cause her daughter that kind of pain.
Doris June seemed to be waiting for some response so Edith said, “I know.”
And she did know she could count on people to care about what happened with her. Charley was her best friend. The two of them had fallen into the habit of looking out for each other after his wife had died. They’d started doing it when they both lived on their farms and continued when Edith moved to her house in Dry Creek.
Still, Charley wouldn’t pay too much attention. It was only a haircut. And she wanted it to stay that way. Which meant she needed to get her daughter’s mind on something else before Doris June started asking why her mother had felt this sudden need to change the way she wore her hair.
“Of course, Charley has other things to worry about. He’s growing a moustache,” Edith said.
“Charley? Are you sure?”
Edith nodded. She didn’t think Charley would mind that she was using him to distract her daughter.
“Well, I’ll be—I wonder if he’s planning to start dating.”
“I don’t think—” Edith blinked in surprise. Charley, dating! He never dated. Then she remembered that Harold had grown a moustache when he’d been courting her. It’s what men of her generation did when they wanted to attract the attention of a particular woman. They were like peacocks displaying their feathers.
For the first time since she’d gotten that letter, Edith completely forgot about Jasmine Hunter. She wasn’t sure she liked the thought of Charley dating someone. It was unreasonable, of course, but she had gotten used to the way things were between her and Charley. She depended on him. If he started dating someone, everything would change.
“I’m sure he would have said something,” Edith said. By now, she was frowning a little. “Wouldn’t he?”
Doris June shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him at your place much lately. You two aren’t arguing, are you?”
Now that her daughter mentioned it, Edith realized Charley hadn’t been spending as much time at her place as he had in the past. She would have noticed sooner if she hadn’t been so preoccupied with her own problems.
“No, Charley and I are fine.” She hoped.
“That’s good.” Doris moved around and started combing her mother’s hair again.
“You’re not worried about something yourself, are you?” Edith thought her daughter was combing her hair longer than usual.
“Nothing big,” Doris June said a little cautiously as she kept combing. “It’s just that, if you want your hair that short, it needs to be cut by someone who knows what they’re doing. I think we should go to the beauty place in Miles City.”
Edith turned around. “But you always cut my hair.”
“Yes, and I can do a straight cut with the best of them. But that’s just getting things even. What you want is a whole lot more complicated. Your hair has to curve to go over the ear.”
Edith had gone to that beauty shop with Doris June so they could both get their hair styled for the wedding. Doris June had married Charley’s son, Curt, some months ago. They’d been high school sweethearts who’d been apart for over twenty-five years before Edith and Charley brought them back together. Edith thought it was the best thing she and Charley had ever done. It was also the last thing they’d done together.
She wondered who Charley was hoping to impress with his moustache.
Doris June kept combing. “It wouldn’t hurt you to get that deep oil treatment they offer. It’s good for your hair follicles.”
“My hair follicles are doing just fine, thank you.” Maybe he had met someone in Miles City. He’d been driving there a lot for one reason or another lately.
“Hmm, maybe,” Doris June said as she parted her mother’s hair and clipped half of it back. “But something isn’t right. You feeling okay?”
“Of course.” There was that new woman at the beauty shop.
“Have you been sleeping okay?” Doris June asked. “I know sometimes when people get to your age they have to keep getting up during the night to—”
“I sleep just fine.” Charley might even be having that woman trim his moustache. What better way to get to know someone?
“Good.” Doris June finished combing one side of her mother’s hair. “Are you taking your vitamins? I read the other day that—”
“For pity’s sake, I take my vitamins.”
“Well, I’m only trying to show that I’m here to help you with your problems, whatever they might be.”
“I’m sorry.” Edith supposed she did owe her daughter some kind of an explanation. She could hardly mention the letter or Charley’s moustache. She could talk about the feelings they both prompted, though. “It’s just…It’s the dead leaves outside. And making the same old kind of jelly. I’ve been feeling like my life just isn’t very exciting.”
It might be selfish, but she didn’t want Charley to date someone. When Harold died, she’d vowed no other man would ever make her feel the way he had. That’s why she liked her friendship with Charley the way it was. She thought they were both past all that dating business.
“But everyone loves your chokecherry jelly. The whole church raves about it at the harvest dinner. It’s practically a town tradition to have it.”
Edith brought herself back to the conversation. What Doris said was true. Everyone in the congregation tried to provide locally grown food for the harvest dinner and Edith had brought homemade chokecherry jelly and baking powder biscuits for decades. People said they loved her biscuits and jelly.
She’d always been a good cook—in fact, that’s how she’d gotten to know Harold. She’d been a teenager when she cooked for the thrashing crew that cut the Hargrove wheat one fall. Harold was nineteen; she was seventeen. She’d been speechless with awe just looking at him. He was a laughing, sculpted work of art like she saw in her textbooks. She’d thought a miracle had happened when he proposed. After they became engaged, he used to joke that he’d fallen in love with her cooking first and then with her.
She’d never dreamed at the time that there was anything wrong with what Harold had said. She’d told herself that just because a man liked her cooking, that didn’t mean he didn’t love her completely. Those doubts came later.
After Harold told her about his affair, she’d spent days making chokecherry jelly from the raw juice she’d canned the fall before. The bitter tartness of the berry matched the sourness of her soul. The chokecherry was one of the few fruits that grew wild in the southeastern plains of Montana and it was able to survive in the drought in a way something sweeter and softer, like a peach, couldn’t.
From that winter on, Edith had always pictured Jasmine as the exotic peach and herself as the sturdy chokecherry. She was the one who belonged; she was the one who could endure the dry days with or without Harold’s love.
“If it’s the jelly that’s troubling you, I can help you with that,” Doris June said. “Just pick the day and I’ll arrange my schedule. But it’ll have to be soon. The harvest dinner comes up on the tenth.”
That was a little over a week away.
“Charley hasn’t brought me the berries.”
Summer was already moving into early fall and chokecherries didn’t stay on the bushes forever. Edith could already detect the musty smell of grass turning brown. The berries would be ending soon.
If she hadn’t been so worried about that letter, she would have thought to remind Charley about the berries. According to the calendar, she should be making that jelly now. She wished she had finished the jelly before she got the letter. The satisfaction of seeing all those jars of dark red jelly would have eased some of her nerves.
“Maybe Charley’s just off his schedule since he moved into his place in Dry Creek,” Doris June said. “He’s probably so busy unpacking he doesn’t even know what month it is.”
“Maybe,” Edith said. After the wedding, Charley had rented the old Jergenson house and moved off the farm, leaving the place to Curt, Doris June and Curt’s teenage son, Brad. He claimed the small town of Dry Creek was more restful than the farm and allowed him to be closer to his friends.
Edith leaned forward so she could see down the street to the hardware store. Yes, Charley’s pickup was parked out front just like it usually was unless he was out doing a small vet job. The Jergenson place was only a quarter mile from the hardware store, but Charley preferred to have his pickup with him in case he got a call about an animal.
“You don’t suppose he’s sick?” Doris June asked.
Edith shook her head. “He wouldn’t be out in public if he was sick.”
Every fall a group of men, mostly retired farmers, started to gather each morning around the potbelly stove in the middle of the hardware store. The warmth of the burning wood and the smell of the coffee brewing on the counter made these men feel right at home. The gathering was a ritual of sorts.
In the summer, the men met over at the café, where there was air-conditioning. But their hearts were with that aging stove and as soon as the fall chill was in the air, they returned like homing pigeons to the unvarnished wood chairs clustered around the old thing.
Even before Charley moved into town, he had always joined the other men around the stove when he could. That part of his behavior wasn’t puzzling. What was just becoming clear to Edith, however, was that Charley was no longer making it a point to stop by her place for breakfast before settling down with the men. And he’d never forgotten her chokecherries before.
“He’s not sick but something’s wrong,” Edith said. Maybe he knew she wouldn’t like him dating.
Of course, Charley still came by to see her. It’s just that he never came at meal time and he never quite seemed himself. It was like he was holding something back from her. Edith knew she was keeping a secret from Charley, but for the first time she realized he might be keeping a secret from her, too. Charley was her oldest friend and—until now—she’d assumed he confided in her as much as she confided in him.
She had a sinking feeling Charley had been trying to tell her something important for some time now. The last time he had come to her house, he had cleared his throat a dozen times, but all he’d done was repeat what he’d already said about her not driving her car outside of Dry Creek. Charley hadn’t come inside her house to deliver his opinion, either. He’d stood out on the porch even though he couldn’t have been comfortable in the early morning cold. She’d thought it was odd he’d come by only to tell her the same thing he’d told her many times before. He must have planned to tell her something else and couldn’t.
“So, we’ll wait on the haircut?” Doris June asked as she twisted the hair back into its usual bun.
Edith nodded. She had to pull her worries back and stop leaping ahead to conclusions. She didn’t even know why Charley had grown that moustache for sure. Maybe it had nothing to do with dating some woman.
“Good,” Doris June said as she started putting the hairpins back in place. “That gives me time to rake up those leaves for you before I head back to the farm.”
“You don’t need to.”
“I’m glad to help out. You know that.” Doris June untied the dish towel from her mother’s shoulders.
After Doris June left, Edith went out on the porch to sit. Her daughter had raked the yard and brought in the Mason jars from the garage. She’d also stored the lawn mower in the shed and checked all the windows in the small room over the garage to be sure they were tightly closed. Edith rented that room out here and there and she liked to keep it ready for use. The only fall chore remaining was the jelly.
Edith stood up. She was tired of sitting at home and brooding. There was no reason she couldn’t go get those chokecherries herself. Pastor Matthew had recharged the battery in her old car last week so she was finally able to drive. She’d begun to wonder if she’d ever get her car working again. She must have asked every man in town for help, but all of them, except the pastor, had said they had misplaced their jumper cables and couldn’t help her.
Now that she could, she’d just drive to the coulee over by the Elkton Ranch and pick a bucket of chokecherries. Everyone knew that was the best place to pick them, even this late in the season. Big Dry Creek ran through that coulee and the soil was good. There’d be chokeberry bushes alongside the coulee going down to the creek, and cattails by the creek itself.
Edith turned to walk back inside her house so she could get ready. Now that she’d decided to do it, she was looking forward to it. The exercise would help clear her mind. All that berry-picking might even ease the arthritis in her hands. She’d wear her gardening hat, of course, and her walking shoes with thick, high socks so her legs wouldn’t get scratched by the thistles that would surely be around.
Edith nodded to herself. There was nothing like a walk over some solid Montana farmland to make her remember who she was. She was a good strong woman. It was time to be reminded of that. She didn’t need to fret over the actions of any man.

Chapter Two
Charley Nelson sat with his empty coffee cup in one hand. A checkerboard was laid out on the table to the right of his chair. If he looked past the woodstove, he could see through the windows of the hardware store and out to the street. He’d been looking through those windows for the past twenty minutes, waiting for Elmer Maynard to finish talking about the paint job he planned for his old white Cadillac.
Before Elmer had started talking, Charley had set up the board so they could play. Then he’d gotten a fresh, hot cup of coffee. Elmer didn’t even seem to notice the board, he was so busy debating the virtues of midnight blue and ocean blue when applied to a car. Charley was amazed a man could have so many opinions about the different shades of blue yet never have any strategy when it came to a simple game of checkers.
Between the stillness out the window and the drone of Elmer’s voice, Charley was almost dozing when he heard a sound in the distance. At first, he couldn’t really make out the sound, but as it got louder he placed it quickly. It woke him right up. “What’s that woman doing?”
Charley set his coffee cup down on the table and looked around him with a scowl. The hardware store was having a sale on nails so there were a dozen men leaning against the counter, wanting to make purchases. “I thought we all agreed no one was going to jump start that battery for Mrs. Hargrove.”
Not a man dared lift his gaze to Charley and that included the salesman who was just there to bring in a new display case of shovels. He didn’t even know Mrs. Hargrove.
Finally, Elmer jutted out his chin and said. “We didn’t agree. You told us what you wanted, but that didn’t mean we agreed with you.”
“Yeah,” a couple of the men said.
“Well, you should have enough sense to agree. All of you.” Charley stared down each of the men who dared to meet his gaze. He knew Edith could make most of them do anything she wanted if she put on her Sunday-school-teacher voice. But he thought he’d impressed upon them the need to stop her from driving that beat-up old car. The thing barely ran. It was a break-down waiting to happen.
There was another moment’s silence, broken only by the crackling of the wood in the stove.
“I’m the one who jump-started the battery for her,” Pastor Matthew finally said from where he stood behind the counter. He’d been going over the catalogue to fill out the order form for new nails. “It seemed the Christian thing to do when she asked.”
Charley’s face got red but he figured he couldn’t very well tell the pastor to stop acting like a Christian. Everyone knew it was his job to do things like that. Trust Edith to pick the one man in town who Charley couldn’t easily scold.
“Well, I don’t think it’s a good idea. Not a good idea at all,” Charley muttered.
“She’s not a bad driver,” Elmer said. “For a woman, that is.”
“She’s an excellent driver,” Charley snapped back. “That’s never been the problem. It’s that car. It should have been chopped up into scrap metal years ago. The muffler is almost worn out and those windshield wipers are about to fall off.”
“Well, then you should fix it up for her, if you’re so worried,” Elmer said.
“It would take more money to fix that car than to buy you a new Cadillac,” Charley said, even though he knew it wasn’t strictly true. Still, it was foolish to fix up that eyesore when it would cost less to buy a reasonable used car that a dignified woman like Edith would be proud to drive.
“She’s awfully fond of that car,” the pastor said from the counter. “It seems it was the last car Harold bought before he died. Memories, you know.”
Charley grunted. He didn’t like to speak ill of the dead, but he couldn’t help it. “That man never could pick a car that was worth anything. I can’t understand why she’d want to keep a rattletrap around to remind her of Harold’s poor judgment when it came to cars. He always planted his wheat too early, too, but that’s neither here nor there.”
“Well, if you’re so set on her having a new car,” Elmer said as he hooked his thumbs on his suspenders, “why don’t you just sic that nephew of yours on her? It’s Conrad, isn’t it? You told me he’s adding a used car lot to that garage of his and I drove by the other day when I was in Miles City. Let him sell her something.”
“She might not be able to afford a new car,” the pastor cautioned.
“The ad in front of Conrad’s shop said they never turn anyone away,” Elmer said. “So money should be no-o-o problem.”
“He got that sign from another car lot that had gone out of business,” Charley said. “Conrad doesn’t want to put much money into signs before he knows if he’ll get any customers.”
“Well, he shouldn’t put up a sign if he doesn’t mean it,” Elmer said. “That’s the worst thing he can do for business. Besides, selling something to Mrs. Hargrove would be business so I’d think he’d hop right on it. Everyone in the county will notice if she’s driving a new car. A good word from her could bring him more customers than he’ll know what to do with.”
Charley reached over to get his empty coffee cup and then stood up. “I guess it couldn’t hurt to talk to him.” He walked over to the counter and set the cup down. “Conrad has to prove himself a salesman someday. If he can sell a car to Edith, he can sell a car to anyone.”
The pastor looked up from his order form and nodded at Charley. “That woman knows her mind, all right. She won’t be easy to convince if she doesn’t want to be.”
“Some women get a new car just because they like the color,” Elmer said. “Remind your nephew to talk about color with her. The blues are always popular. Tell him to say it’ll match her eyes.”
“Edith’s eyes are green,” Charley said as he started walking to the door.
“Hey,” Elmer called out, “we haven’t had our game yet. Where are you going?”
“I’ll be back,” Charley said. “I just need to check up on that car.”
Charley stood on the porch of the hardware store and looked down the road. He could see Edith’s mustard-colored car in the distance, billowing out enough smoke to show that it was still moving. He shook his head as he walked over to his pickup. It wasn’t easy to talk sense to a stubborn woman, but he had to try.

Edith stopped her car at the point in the road near where the coulee started to dip. Autumn came fast and furious to this part of Montana. When she got out of the car, she looked in all directions and could see the brown patches of grass that had already turned for the year. Farther out, she could see the Big Sheep Mountains.
Edith made sure her socks were pulled up as high as they could go before she took her bucket and started to the edge of the coulee. The ground sloped down gradually and she had to be careful not to slide.
She wasn’t more than eight feet down the slope when she heard the sound of a vehicle stopping on the road above. She supposed it was one of the hands at the Elkton Ranch making sure she was all right. Everyone in the whole county knew her car so they wouldn’t be wondering who was walking down in the coulee; they’d just be stopping to make sure she was okay.
“I’m fine,” Edith called out. She was far enough down in the coulee that she couldn’t see who it was that had parked. “Just going to pick some chokecherries.”
“Well, that’s a fool thing to be doing.”
Edith didn’t need to see the man to know that it was Charley up there. She hadn’t seen him for two days, she thought in annoyance, and he decided now was the time to talk to her. Her daughter hadn’t put the pins back in Edith’s bun securely and she could feel her hair starting to pull loose. Even with the hat on her head, a person could still see her sagging hair. She probably looked frightful. Plus, the hat was yellow and she always had thought it made her face look a little green.
“You don’t need to come down,” Edith called back. The best thing would be if Charley just went away. Then she wouldn’t need to worry about how she looked. “I’m doing fine.”
She didn’t know why she was suddenly worried about how she looked when it was only Charley. He knew she was a plain-featured woman with work lines on her face. He’d probably seen every one of her gardening hats over the years.

Charley stood at the top of the coulee and saw Edith slowly walking down. He could kick himself. He’d completely forgotten about picking the chokecherries. His mind had been on that old car of hers. He should have remembered she’d need those berries to make her harvest-dinner jelly.
“I’ll be right there,” Charley said as he started down the coulee. Edith was holding herself stiff and he wondered if her arthritis was acting up. “You don’t need to be climbing down no coulees.”
“I can certainly pick a few chokecherries,” Edith said. “Just because I haven’t done it for a few years doesn’t mean I can’t.”
Charley noticed the woman didn’t even turn around to face him. That didn’t bode well.
“I’m sorry I forgot.” Charley kept right on going down the side of the coulee, sidestepping instead of walking straight to keep his balance. “I can get the berries now though. Just give me a few minutes.”
Charley caught up with Edith as she reached the chokecherry bushes. They were gnarled and rooted deep in the sandy soil with nothing but thistles to keep them company. Those bushes had been there for decades and each year they were red with chokecherries until the birds from Canada started picking the berries off as they flew south.
There were no red berries in sight.
“They’re all gone,” Charley said. The birds had already been here. The bushes were picked clean. “I’m sorry. Maybe there’s some left over on that hill by the Morgan farm.”
Those berries were never as plump and Charley knew that, but he saw no reason to remind Edith of that fact.
“It’s all right,” Edith said. “I can get by without chokecherry jelly.”
Charley noticed that she still hadn’t looked at him. “But you always make chokecherry jelly.”
“Only because there’s no peaches around.”
“I’ll get you some chokecherries. Don’t worry,” he vowed.
Edith finally turned to him. The brim of her floppy garden hat kept her face in shadow, but Charley could see the stiff curve of her lips as she gave him what would pass for a smile if he didn’t know her like he did.
Charley felt miserable.
“What happened to your moustache?” Edith asked. “I thought you were growing a moustache.”
Charley nodded. “I couldn’t decide if it made me look better or not so I shaved it off.”
“You don’t need a moustache to make you look handsome,” Edith said firmly. She sounded relieved. “You’ve got a fine face.”
“Really?” Charley smiled. “I thought maybe I could use a change.”
“Well, sometimes change isn’t what we need at all.”
Charley knew Edith didn’t like change. But the same old things weren’t always good, either. “If you ask me, we absolutely need to change sometimes. Like with…” Charley lost his nerve. He couldn’t say anything about the changes he’d like to make between the two of them. “Cars. There comes a time when a person needs a new car.”
Edith nodded. “If you want a new car, you should get one.”
“I didn’t mean me. I meant you. Besides, what’s wrong with my pickup? It can still pull a horse trailer if I need to move an animal. And I’ve just got the driver seat broken in the way I like it.”
“Then you know how attached a person gets to their car. I don’t know if I’d be able to drive a different car.”
Charley shifted his feet. “The new cars steer easier than that old Ford you have. You’d like a new one if you’d give it a chance and take it out for a test drive.”
“My old car does fine for me.”
Charley snorted. “Just because Harold bought you that car—”
“He didn’t buy it for me,” Edith interrupted. “It was his car. He bought it for himself.”
“Well, all I’m saying is that Harold wouldn’t expect you to keep it forever. Not when you consider everything.”
Edith drew in her breath. “What do you mean by that?”
Maybe Charley knew more about the past than she thought. Did he know about Jasmine?
Charley looked at her. “Just what I said. When you consider the muffler and the battery and the windshield wipers that don’t work. Harold would not expect you to keep the thing.”
“Oh.” Edith put her hand up to steady her hat against a breeze. The movement made her feet slip a little along the side of the coulee.
“But that’s why you keep that old car, isn’t it? Because it reminds you of Harold?” Charley didn’t know why it annoyed him that Edith was so loyal to her dead husband. She even had that locket the man had given her tied to the rearview mirror in the car. Charley knew it had both of their pictures in it because that’s what lockets were for. He had grieved for his wife deeply when she died, but he hadn’t set up any memorial for her in his pickup.
“There’s nothing wrong with my car,” Edith said. “I keep it because it gets me where I’m going.”
“Barely.”
Edith lifted her head. “The world would be a better place if people didn’t throw away things that still worked. Just look at how many landfills there are in this country. People need to fix things instead of throw them away.”
“I don’t think they put old cars in landfills.” Especially not around here, Charley thought. He didn’t even think there was a landfill within a hundred miles of where they stood. Probably not even within two hundred miles.
“You don’t know what they put in those things. Some of it’s toxic, too.”
Charley didn’t want to talk about garbage problems.
“Well, my nephew, Conrad, is opening a used car lot in Miles City next to his garage. He’d move his business to Dry Creek if he thought he could get enough customers. Talk to him and maybe he can put you in a newer car for reasonable payments.”
“I’m certainly not going to start buying things on credit at this stage of my life,” Edith said. She looked up at Charley. “You remember the problems we all had that year when hail destroyed the wheat crop and most of the men had to work in Billings over Christmas just to make ends meet?”
“I sure do,” Charley said. “I know Harold went. I thought it must have been hard on him. He didn’t talk much about it though when he came back.”
Edith took a deep breath and looked down slightly. “He wasn’t proud of everything he did that winter.”
“Oh?”
“I don’t suppose he told you about it?” Edith looked up again.
“Not much. He said he had dinner with Elmer a few times.”
“I’d forgotten Elmer was there that winter, too.”
Charley thought he saw a tear starting to form in Edith’s eyes.
“Don’t worry,” he said as fast as he could. “I’ll go check on the Morgan place and see if there are any chokecherries.”
Edith turned and started walking back up the coulee. “I don’t need any chokecherries this year. All that jelly isn’t good for us anyway.”
“But what are we going to put on your biscuits at the harvest dinner?” Charley said as he took a couple of quick steps to bring himself even with Edith. He reached out and took her elbow without asking. The woman shouldn’t be walking these coulees without even a stick to balance herself.
“There’s no need for me to make any biscuits,” Edith said and he heard her take another quick breath. “Not when we don’t have the jelly.”
“Oh, boy,” Charley said. He was in trouble now. All of the men he sat with around that old woodstove looked forward to Edith’s biscuits as much as her jelly. They claimed they were the lightest, fluffiest biscuits they’d ever eaten. Charley figured he’d have to drink his coffee at home until spring if he didn’t get some chokecherries.
He couldn’t help but notice that Edith was upset about something. She’d let him take her elbow and help her on the climb, but she kept her arm stiff, as if she didn’t want his help even though she knew she needed it.
It must be the chokecherries, Charley finally decided. She kept saying she didn’t need any berries and she wouldn’t make any jelly this year. But she didn’t speak with the free and easy style she usually had when she talked to him.
Charley suddenly realized what was going on. Edith was being polite to him.
“I’m sorry,” Charley repeated softly for lack of anything better to say. He’d already apologized three times in as many minutes, but he would do it again if it would make Edith talk to him like she used to. It made him feel lonesome, her being so polite.
Edith waved his words away. Charley wasn’t sure if that meant she’d already forgiven him or that there was no way she’d ever forgive him. They finished the walk up the coulee in silence.
They reached their vehicles at the top of the incline before Charley got a good clear look at Edith.
“What’d you do to your hair?”
“It’s just falling down,” she said, lifting a hand to her neck. “Doris June was going to cut it, but we decided not to.”
“Oh, well, it looks nice.”
Edith didn’t answer.
“I’ll wait to see that you get it started,” Charley said as they reached the door of Edith’s car.
“Thank you,” Edith said as she slid under the steering wheel of her car. Charley closed the car door for her.
“It should start fine,” Edith said as she rolled down her window. “I took the car out and let the battery recharge after Pastor Matthew helped me with it yesterday.”
Charley grunted.
“He said I should get a new battery. Maybe your nephew has a used one.”
“He sells used cars, not used batteries. No one buys a used battery. That’s something that needs to work right in a car.”
“Well, Pastor Matthew fixed mine.”
“Temporarily,” Charley said as he started to walk toward his pickup.
“It’s fine right now,” he heard her say.
Charley climbed in his truck before Edith had a chance tell him that he didn’t need to coast along behind her. He felt protective of her and that was just the way it was. He’d started feeling that way even before Harold had died.
Charley’s wife Sue had started it all, asking him one day if he thought Edith hadn’t looked a little sad the last time they’d seen her. His wife had assumed the Hargroves had been arguing and she’d asked him to talk some sense to Harold. Not that Charley ever did. He’d given Harold every chance to talk to him about any problems, but the man kept quiet. The only thing Charley had known to do was to suggest his wife invite Edith over to visit more often.
Charley wondered what his wife would think if she could see Edith now, driving so slowly and deliberately down the gravel road leading back to Dry Creek.
Now, of course, no one—probably not even Edith—remembered those days when she’d seemed so vulnerable. Both Sue and Harold were dead. But that left Charley. He knew. Everyone, including Edith, might think she was well able to take care of herself, but he knew better. Sometimes she needed help, just like everyone else.
Charley looked down at his gas gauge. He was going to need to keep his tank full if he intended to continue following her car around like the fool that he was.

Chapter Three
Edith had forgotten all about Elmer. Her hands were gripping the steering wheel of her car and it had nothing to do with driving down the gravel road. Until Charley had mentioned him, Edith had completely overlooked the fact that Elmer had been in Billings that winter, too. When Harold had assured her that he hadn’t told anyone about Jasmine, she hadn’t thought to ask if anyone had seen him with Jasmine. Like maybe Elmer.
There had been another man from Dry Creek in Billings that winter, too, but he’d moved his family away the following spring. They hadn’t lived in Dry Creek long and they’d moved south to Tennessee shortly after that hard winter. His name had been William something. She thought it was William Townsend.
Edith looked out the rearview mirror and saw Charley faithfully following behind her in his pickup. She almost wished Charley had known about Harold’s affair so she could ask his advice about what to do now. It didn’t seem right to just announce the affair now that Harold wasn’t even alive to defend himself. And, after all these years, she wondered if there was any point to making it public. Maybe all it would do was shatter Doris June’s heart.
But on the other hand, maybe the reason Jasmine contacted her was because she was planning to tell people what had happened. Edith watched enough daytime television to know people like that existed. She would rather the story came from her mouth than Jasmine’s.
She just didn’t know what to do.
Edith could see why people who tried to cover up things almost always got caught, assuming they didn’t have a heart attack from the stress first. It was too hard to remember everything. And to know what to do at every twist and turn.
Edith arrived in Dry Creek and she honked her horn to signal Charley that she had made it back safely and that, while she’d appreciated his escort, she hadn’t really needed it since her car had made it to town just fine. As usual.
In response, Charley rolled down his window and put his arm out to point at the café.
Edith smiled. Now that he’d shaved his moustache, her world had settled back into place. She had to admit she could use a cup of tea. It was the middle of the morning and she’d like nothing better than to sit with Charley and try to think of a way to get his advice without telling him anything he didn’t already know.
Charley pulled up beside her car and was at her door to open it before she could get her hat pulled off. She reached up to anchor the pins in her hair better as she looked at Charley.
“You could have gone ahead of me,” Edith said as she finished with her hair. “There was no need to wait.”
Charley grunted. “I won’t always be there following behind you and what then? That’s when your car’s going to break down.”
Edith swung her legs around to get out of the car. “Any car can go bad at any time.”
“That’s why you shouldn’t be driving by yourself,” Charley said triumphantly as he held out his hand to help her stand.
Edith took his hand graciously. “If my car breaks down, I’ll just get someone to fix it. You don’t need to worry.”
Charley snorted, but he didn’t say anything else as they walked toward the door of the Dry Creek Café. Linda Enger, the owner of the café, had put a sign over her small restaurant a few months ago. The café had a fifties look to it, with black-and-white linoleum on the floor and memorabilia hanging on the walls. She even displayed a guitar that belonged to her new husband, singing legend Duane Enger. He went on tour periodically and Linda loved to boast about where he was playing.
Edith could hear someone in the kitchen when they entered the café, but there were no other customers. She was glad for that just in case her conversation with Charley got more candid than she planned.
“How about here?” Charley asked as he led her to a table by the far wall.
Edith nodded.
There were two menus on the table, standing upright between the napkin holder and the salt and pepper shakers, but no one in Dry Creek ever looked at them. Everyone knew the regular items and if there was something special on the menu, Linda would let them know.
Linda brought out coffee for Charley and tea for Edith before she even asked what they wanted.
“Maybe some buttered toast,” Edith said when Linda took their order.
“Biscuits for me if you have any,” Charley added.
Linda went back to the kitchen.
Edith curved her hands around the hot cup. “I’m glad you wanted to stop. I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
“Yeah?”
Edith nodded and took a deep breath. “I’ve been wondering what you think about digging up old troubles.”
“You mean like debts that aren’t paid?”
“No, things that people did that were wrong, but happened a long time ago. Is there any reason to talk about it now?”
Charley looked a little surprised. “I don’t know. I’d say it depends. Was anyone hurt?”
Edith nodded. “But it was a family matter.”
Charley took a sip of his coffee. “Well, maybe it needs to be talked about in the family then.”
“Oh, I don’t know if there’s any point to that. Doris June doesn’t even—” Edith stopped. She hadn’t meant to tell Charley it was her family she was discussing.
“Well,” Charley said, clearing his throat. “I know Doris June loves you and she’d probably forgive you anything. Is this something you did as a mother when she was little?”
“Of course not, I was a good mother.”
“I’m sure you were. I can’t think of what else would be worth discussing at this stage of things though.”
Edith could see she wouldn’t get any good advice out of Charley this way. He couldn’t help her unless she told him everything. She took a deep breath and looked over to be sure the kitchen door was still closed. “It was about Harold.” She leaned over the table and whispered, “He had an affair.”
“He what?” Charley had started to lift his cup for another sip, but he put it back down and coffee sloshed over the saucer. “Harold?”
Edith nodded. “And I’m not sure, but Elmer might know about it.”
“Elmer, too?”
“Well, I don’t know that Elmer was having an affair. I just know that Harold had one that winter in Billings.”
“Ah,” Charley said as he mopped up the coffee with his napkin. “I thought something was different with him when he came back.”
Edith felt relieved. After all these years, the secret was out. She’d told someone besides that pastor who had died years ago. And, Charley hadn’t looked at her in horror. He’d been surprised, yes, but he didn’t look as if he was sitting there asking himself what she’d done wrong to drive Harold into the arms of another woman.
“Her name was Jasmine,” Edith said.
“Never heard of her,” Charley replied as he picked up his coffee cup again.
“She wants to meet me,” Edith added.
“What?” Charley set his cup down again without taking a drink.
“Well, not really me. She wrote to Harold asking to talk to him and, since he’s dead, I said I’d—”
“I can’t think of what she can say now to make what happened back then better,” Charley said. A muscle twitched along his jaw. “Hasn’t she done enough damage?”
Edith felt warmed by his indignation on her behalf. She never lacked for a champion when Charley was around.
“I keep wondering if maybe she wants to apologize or something.”
Charley just stared at her. “After all these years?”
Edith shrugged. “They have all kinds of programs where people apologize for things they did in the past, like in Alcoholics Anonymous. The more I think about it, the more I think that has to be it.”
Edith looked at Charley. In those early years on the farm, she had always thought Charley had an average face. Her Harold had been the handsomest man around Dry Creek, with his thick black hair and clear blue eyes. In contrast, Charley had looked very ordinary with his sandy hair and moss-green eyes. Even if he had a moustache, a woman’s gaze would slide right over Charley in a crowd. But that’s because, Edith realized, most people didn’t look at the bones in his face. Charley’s whole face showed his strength. His jaw was firm. His cheekbones were set high. His hair was graying now, but he was clearly ready to take her part in any trouble she had.
“You’re a good friend,” Edith said. “A good friend.”

Charley knew he should smile. He forced his lips into making an attempt. It was a sad day though when a woman looked at him as directly as Edith had and all she had in mind was friendship.
“We go back a long way,” Charley said.
He wondered how Edith could still be so in love with Harold after all the man had done. It was true he had been a charmer, but he’d been gone a long time. Charley finally understood why she had been unhappy in those days long ago. She’d never said anything to his wife; he was sure of that. But she’d no doubt been miserable. How could Edith have been so loyal to a man who was unfaithful to her?
It was because she was a saint, Charley decided. Harold hadn’t deserved her, that much was certain. Here she was still trying to protect his memory. If Harold were alive, Charley would have had some words with him behind a barn somewhere.
Not that it would help the woman sitting across the table from him.
“If I can do anything,” Charley said.
Edith nodded. “I’m just a little worried about Elmer.”
“I could talk to Elmer if you want. He’s got a big mouth, but he wouldn’t say anything to hurt you.” Especially if it was pointed out to him that there would be consequences.
“If you can do it without telling him anything. I mean, just in case he doesn’t know.”
Charley nodded. “Leave it to me.”
“You’re a good—”
“Not a problem,” Charley interrupted. He didn’t want to hear once again that he was a good friend. He’d been trying for months to find a way to be more than a friend to Edith. He’d even stopped going by her place at mealtimes, not wanting her to think he was only interested in her cooking. His wife had told him that Harold used to say he’d married Edith for her cooking. Charley didn’t want to make that mistake—no woman should be told that.
Not that Charley had a list of romantic things to say instead. Of course, he’d done all he could to show he cared about the car she drove. And he was getting her some chokecherries. So far, though, neither of those things had made her look at him any differently. He couldn’t be doing worse if he tried.
“Is there anything else I can do?” he asked.
Charley saw the hesitation on Edith’s face.
“Anything,” he repeated. He wasn’t opposed to facing down someone besides Elmer if there was anyone else she was worried about.
Edith was silent for a moment. “You could help me look right.”
Charley looked at her. That floppy hat of hers had left a red crease across her forehead after she took it off. Her hair was twisted in some way he didn’t understand. Her face was pink with embarrassment. “You look fine.”
“I don’t mean now,” Edith said. “I mean when I meet her.”
“Oh.”
“I’ve always thought she must have been beautiful.”
Charley was almost wishing there was someone he could beat up for her. He hated to see her looking so vulnerable again. “She couldn’t have been more beautiful than you.”
That surprised her and then made her frown.
“I’m not asking for a boost to my morale. I want some real help,” she said.
“Shouldn’t Doris June give you that kind of advice?” Charley thought his neck might be sweating.
The kitchen door opened and Charley had never been so happy to see Linda, and that included the time he’d been up all night taking care of a sick horse and Linda was bringing him the first food he’d seen in twenty-some hours.
“Toast,” Linda announced as she put the plate in front of Edith.
“And biscuits,” she said, setting the plate of biscuits in front of Charley.
“Now, does anyone need jelly?” Linda beamed at them.
“What kind of jelly do you have?” Charley asked. He knew she had over a dozen flavors and he was happy to have her slowly list them all to him. Charley asked for the last flavor, orange marmalade, simply because it was the last flavor she mentioned and he needed some time to gather himself.
“See?” Edith said when Linda went back to the kitchen to get the jelly.
“What?”
“See how many kinds of jelly there are in this world? We don’t need chokecherry. We can have grape.”
“I’m going to get you those chokecherries,” Charley said. “Just give me a little time. I haven’t even had a chance to drive out to the Morgan place.”
“I don’t want to be a bother.”
Charley grunted. “Then get your jars ready to make jelly.”
Maybe making jelly would get Edith’s mind off this Jasmine woman. At least, he hoped so.

Chapter Four
The next morning, Charley went by the hardware store as he usually did. Elmer didn’t show up at his regular time, so Charley decided to go over to the church for a bit. He told himself he was only going there so he could finally move those old hymnals from the back Sunday school room to the shelves by the pastor’s office. He’d meant to do it yesterday, but his morning had been spent with Edith and it took most of his afternoon to get her enough chokecherries from that coulee out by the Morgan place.
Charley was a little nervous about going to the church when no one but the pastor was there. He’d never been one of those people who felt the need to have pastoral counseling about everything they did in life and he wasn’t going to become one now. If he happened to run into Pastor Matthew while he was at the church, though, and they just happened to have a conversation, that would be okay.
Charley felt a man should know his own mind without having to talk with someone else. Still, he needed to move those hymnals and the bookshelf was just outside the pastor’s office.
Charley didn’t want to disturb Pastor Matthew, of course. That’s why he carefully held the hymnals so they wouldn’t fall to the floor and startle the pastor. If the pastor happened to look up and see him walking past though, no one could count that as an interruption.
“Charley,” Pastor Matthew called out as Charley walked past the open doorway. “I’ve been meaning to check with you. Did you catch up with Mrs. Hargrove yesterday? How’s her car running?”
Charley told himself it was only polite to turn back and stand in the open doorway to answer the pastor. No one liked to have to yell back and forth to have a conversation. “I sure did. She was out trying to get some chokecherries.”
“She makes a good jelly. I always look forward to the jar she brings us at Christmas. Glory uses it to make thumbprint cookies. They’re the twins’ favorite.”
Charley swallowed. He hadn’t even known about the cookies. “I ended up getting the last of the chokecherries at the Morgan place. There weren’t many, but I found enough.”
“That’s good. The harvest dinner is coming up and her biscuits and jelly are the hit of the evening.”
Charley shifted his weight so he stood up a little straighter. “The jelly will be there. I think she’s going to make it tomorrow.”
The two men were silent for a moment as Charley tried to think of a way to begin to talk about his problem. He almost wished he had a spiritual crisis—that would be easier to talk about than what he had troubling him.
“How’s your grandson doing? He getting along okay with Doris June?” the pastor finally asked.
Charley stepped inside the pastor’s office.
“He worships her. She makes him those sour-cream raisin cookies that Edith makes. Doris June is pretty near as good a cook as her mother.”
It was silent for another minute before Charley cleared his throat. “Speaking of Edith—I—ah—”
Charley couldn’t think of how to say it so he just stopped.
“She’s a fine woman,” the pastor prodded. “Not perfect, of course, but—”
“She’s closer to perfect than any woman I know,” Charley snapped. He decided next time he wanted to talk he’d go into Miles City and see that dentist who didn’t believe in using Novocain. “Just because a woman has a few opinions and doesn’t know anything about cars doesn’t mean she’s not, well, perfect.”
The pastor nodded.
Charley nodded back. He was glad they had that settled.
Charley was starting to turn to the door when the pastor said, “The two of you have been friends for a lot of years.”
Charley turned back. “That’s it right there.”
The pastor frowned. “It’s good to have friends, isn’t it?”
“I don’t want to be friends anymore.” Charley spit it out and then took a breath.
Pastor Matthew looked bewildered. “Did you have an argument? I hope I wasn’t responsible. I truly thought someone should help her with her battery. She was trying to jump-start her car using the motor on her lawn mower.”
“Well, that would never work.”
“I know, that’s why…” he trailed off. “Please, don’t be upset with her about what I did.”
“I’m not upset with her,” Charley said. “I’m—I’m…”
For the life of him, Charley couldn’t say he wanted to have a romantic relationship with Edith. In his own defense, though, he did have to say that the dentist in Miles City would have guessed the truth of everything by now. Of course, that man dealt all day long with people in pain who couldn’t talk so he was good at understanding the unspoken agony in a man’s eyes.
“Well, don’t give up on your friendship,” Pastor Matthew finally said. “I know all of us are a little annoying at times. But you and Mrs. Hargrove have been friends almost your whole lives. You don’t just throw that kind of friendship away.” The pastor stopped as though something had just occurred to him. “She’s not mad at you, is she? I know she’s awfully protective of that car of hers. Maybe you shouldn’t have told her to get a new one.”
“She only likes that car because Harold bought it.”
The pastor nodded. “I’m sure the two of you will work things out. Just be patient with one another. Who knows? If you give her some time, she might even buy a different car.”
Charley doubted that, but he nodded anyway. He sure wasn’t going to reveal that it wasn’t the car that was bothering him. It was that Edith kept that beat-up old vehicle like a shrine to her dead husband. And she knew all along that the man didn’t deserve it. Harold had betrayed her. Most women he knew would have taken a hammer to that car years ago. All of which must have meant Edith had a powerful love for Harold that just wouldn’t let go.
Charley hoped he lived long enough to see Edith give up that car. If she would even do that much, he would have reason to hope that she could break away from the past and begin a new future. He’d asked his nephew to give her a call and see if she was interested in a new car, but he told him not to expect to make a sale.
“Well, I better get the rest of these hymnals moved,” Charley said as he started toward the door again.
“I’m glad you stopped by to talk,” the pastor said.
“I wasn’t really stopping to talk,” Charley said as he stood in the door. “I was just moving the hymnals. If we don’t move things around, we get in a rut.”
The pastor nodded.
Charley left to stack the hymnals. He suddenly wished time would go back to last Sunday. Or better yet, two Sundays ago. That would be before Edith got the letter that had her so upset. And it would be well before she’d turned to him for beauty tips. Him! What kind of a man did she think he was? She wouldn’t take car advice from him but she wanted to know what he thought about the way she looked?
Charley decided he was losing his touch with women. That was the only explanation.
Of course, he still had to help her. Maybe he should drive out to Elmer’s place and try to talk to him there. It might be better than waiting for him to come to the hardware store anyway. He’d want to ask his questions in private, just in case Elmer did have anything interesting to say.
Elmer lived with his dog in the bunkhouse on his old ranch. When he’d retired, he’d leased the land out to the Elkton Ranch and, since his wife had died, he’d decided the main house was too big to clean and too hard to heat in the winter. Besides, Elmer, apart from that old Cadillac of his, was a simple man. The bunkhouse suited him fine.
Charley drove his pickup down the lane leading into the yard and parked it next to the Cadillac right in front of the bunkhouse. The dog started barking and Elmer came to stand in the doorway.
Charley reached over and picked up the pint jar of fresh-squeezed orange juice he’d gotten from the café on his way out of Dry Creek. He opened the door to his pickup and stepped down.
“Didn’t see you this morning so I thought you might be sick. Brought you some orange juice,” Charley said as he held up the jar.
“There was a day when you’d have brought me a bottle of whiskey if you thought I had a cold,” Elmer grumbled.
Charley smiled. “Well, we’ve changed, haven’t we?”
It seemed like a lifetime ago since he and Elmer were young and wild together. His wife’s faith had brought Charley to the Lord when he was in his thirties and he’d never regretted giving up his old habits. He wasn’t opposed to using the past to move Elmer into the right conversation, though.
“I bet the last time you really let loose was that winter in Billings,” Charley said as he handed the jar to Elmer. “Never did hear the stories of those days.”
“Man, it was something else,” Elmer said with a shake of his head.
“Oh?” Charley sat down on one of the wooden chairs that stood on the low porch to the bunkhouse.
Elmer followed him and eased himself into a chair as well. “We used to go to this place where they had wrestling. If you’ve never seen live wrestling, you’re missing something.”
“I thought you would be out painting the town red,” Charley said. “You know, wine, women and song.”
Elmer grinned. “I was a married man back then.”
So was Harold Hargrove but that didn’t stop him, Charley thought.
“You expect me to believe you all walked the straight and narrow?” Charley asked as casually as he could.
“What does it matter?” Elmer looked at him suspiciously. “It was a long time ago.”
Charley nodded. He would bet money that Elmer knew some secrets from those days, but he wasn’t going to give them up easily.
“Just curious, that’s all,” Charley said as he stood. “That car of Edith’s had me thinking of Harold. I wondered what he’d say if he knew she was still driving it.”
“He’d say she was one stubborn woman.”
“Ever wonder if our wives would have kept one of our old cars like that?” Charley asked as he leaned on the post holding up the porch roof. “If we’d died before them, I mean.”
Elmer snorted. “I know mine wouldn’t. Not even the Cadillac. She didn’t have much sentiment in her, my wife.”
“Well, life wasn’t always easy for the women around here.”
Elmer nodded. “Can’t say I don’t have some regrets when all is said and done. I wish I’d been better to her.”

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