Macpherson shrugged. “Ah, well, seeing as you’re here.” He pulled out a sheet of paper and an envelope and went to the other end of the counter to get a stamp.
“Can I borrow a pencil?”
Macpherson handed him a stub so short Blue had to squeeze it between his thumb and forefinger. He wet the lead with the tip of his tongue and bent over the paper.
“Leave it on the counter when you’re done,” Macpherson said. “I’m going back to my supper.”
“Thanks.” Blue started the letter.
Dear Pa,
I’m okay. Sorry I haven’t written in so long. I have a job at the Eden Valley Ranch. You can send mail to Edendale, Alberta. Work is slow at the ranch at the moment so I am in town building pews for the new church. I remember all you taught me
He looked up. Maybe not everything. Pa—and Ma before she died when Blue was twelve—had taught him to be a God-fearing man. He tapped the pencil on the counter a moment before he resumed.
about woodworking.
I trust you are well.
Fondest regards,
Your son, Blue
He folded the paper, put it in the envelope, glued it shut, wrote on the address and glued on the stamp.
“Thanks, Macpherson,” he called.
“See yourself out,” the man called.
As Blue returned to the church, he glanced toward the shack where Clara and the girls were. A faint glow came through the canvas. What did she do to entertain herself and her daughters?
From what Libby and Eleanor said, she must read to them from the Bible—the book of Exodus to be exact. He stepped inside the church and glanced about. The girls had stacked half a dozen pieces of wood next to the stove.
“So you don’t get cold at night,” Eleanor had said.
At the stack of wood next to the door, they’d arranged bark and scraps into what seemed to be a corral. He chuckled again. No doubt the groups of curled wood were animals.
He examined the pieces of oak that Clara had planed. She’d done a fine job.
He lay on his bedroll and picked up his book. Blue opened it to the page where he’d left off, but his gaze kept drifting around the room. Everywhere he looked he saw reminders of Clara and the girls.
If he wasn’t careful he’d be forced to face his past and consider his future. He had no intention of doing so and focused his attention firmly on the book.
* * *
The next day Clara and the girls hurried over to the church as soon as they’d finished breakfast. Blue had come and gone without speaking more than a dozen words. Bonnie and Claude didn’t seem surprised, so Clara decided it meant nothing.
“We have to get more snow for him,” Eleanor said. “Maybe we didn’t leave enough wood. I hope he didn’t get cold in the night.”
“I’m sure he could get wood from the pile if he needed to,” Clara assured the girl.
“But it’s our job,” Eleanor insisted.
“Only when we’re there. Other times he takes care of himself.”
“Okay.” The child didn’t sound convinced.
Libby skipped from one patch of bare ground to another, avoiding the skiff of snow. “He needs us.”
Clara laughed. “I doubt it, but it’s nice to be able to help.”
Later, as she planed a piece of wood, she realized how true her words were. It did feel good to help. She would have never thought she’d find so much pleasure in working with wood. Could God have given her this opportunity so she could learn the skill and perhaps, one day, use it to support herself and the girls? It was a fantastic dream, but for the first time maybe in forever, she felt as if the future offered something more than survival and running.
She sat back and watched Blue sawing through a piece of wood. She hadn’t done that yet and hurried to his side. “Can I try using the saw?”
He stopped what he was doing and stared at her. “It’s like playing a musical instrument—”
“Those who do it well make it look easy,” she finished for him. “But most musicians have to learn by doing.” She held out her hand for the saw.
“Very well. Wait while I find a spot you can manage.” He cut a few more inches, turned the wood around. “There are a few things you need to know about saws.” He talked about crosscut and ripsaws and which one was needed for the job. He showed her how to hold the tool, then handed it to her. “Put the blade next to the pencil mark and make a nice kerf.”