Only the Brave: The Continuing Saga of the San Juan Pioneers

by Gerald N. Lund

  He realized she was giving him a curious look. “Is there something else?”

  “Uh . . . No. That’s it.”

  “That’ll be one dollar and eighty-five cents. Let’s go up front and I’ll ring it up on the cash register.” She gathered up his things and moved past him. He fell in behind her.

  He handed her two dollar bills, and then as she was about to make change, he had a thought. “Can you give me fifteen cents’ worth of candy instead?”

  “Sure. What would you like?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Just pick what you think they’d like. My sister is twelve. My little brother is nine.”

  “Ah, yes. Well, Martha loves lemon drops, and Johnny is definitely a licorice man. Is that okay?”

  He was staring at her again. “Yeah. Sure.”

  She laughed at his expression and then got the candy and put it into two separate small paper sacks. When she handed them to him along with his other purchases, she smiled up at him again, and the dimple reappeared. “Welcome home.”

  “Uh . . . thanks.”

  “The whole town’s anxious to hear about what you brethren found up there.”

  He nodded, getting more bewildered with every sentence. He waved, gave her a smile that he suspected showed just how stupid he was feeling, and then walked out swiftly.

  “No, Johnny,” Gwendolyn said, shaking a finger at her son. “No candy until after breakfast.” She took the licorice from him, put it back in the sack, and put it in the cupboard. Without waiting to be told, Martha relinquished hers as well. Satisfied, their mother went back to the stove and began stirring the pan of cracked wheat that was just starting to boil.

  “Uh . . . Mother?”

  She turned her head. “Yes?”

  Mitch hesitated, knowing that what he was about to do would trigger her motherly instincts in a way he wasn’t sure he wanted, but he decided it was worth it. “There was . . . uh . . . this girl working at the co-op store. I didn’t recognize her, but she . . . uh . . . called me by name. Like she knew me. And she knows who Martha and Johnny are.”

  His mother put the stirring spoon in the porridge and turned around slowly. A smile stole across her face. “Yes. And what about her?”

  “Well . . . uh . . . she acted like I should know her.”

  “You do know her, silly,” Martha squealed. “That’s Edie Zimmer.”

  “E-who?”

  His mother came over to him, trying hard not to show her delight. She cocked her head to one side. “You don’t remember, do you?”

  “Remember what?”

  “It was about a year ago, that first time you came home from Colorado. You and I went to the co-op store. She was there putting out stock. I wanted to introduce you, but you wrinkled up your nose and said, ‘That skinny little thing? How old is she? Twelve?’ And you wouldn’t let me introduce you.”

  He reared back, his jaw going slack. “She’s that girl?”

  “The very one,” she confirmed, her eyes dancing with amusement. “Her name is Edna Rae Zimmer and—”

  “But everyone calls her Edie,” Martha said, “and she’s one of my best friends.”

  “Her family came here just a few weeks after you left for Colorado. They’re from Richfield.”

  “But . . .” He still wasn’t sure this could be the same girl. “I don’t remember seeing her since I came home.”

  “Of course you don’t. I don’t think you went to the store while you were here at Christmas, and then you were off to Colorado again.” She gave him a chiding look. “Then you were here, what? Four days before you headed north? In fact, you haven’t been here much at all during this last year and a half, mister. No wonder you feel like a stranger in town.”

  He sat down, feeling pretty foolish. “And that’s really her?”

  She clapped her hands in delight. “It is, Mitch. But she has changed a little.”

  “How old is she?”

  “She’s fifteen. But her birthday is next month. That’s only two years younger than you, my boy.”

  Note

  A party of ten to twelve men left Bluff in early March of 1886 and rode north to explore the area that President Francis Hammond had earlier recommended as possible sites for two new settlements. They explored routes and potential sites along the way but focused primarily on the area just east of the Blue Mountains (most modern maps call them the Abajo Mountains). They were very impressed with what they found there, including the possibility of dry farming. They returned via a more westerly route, following Elk Mountain down to Butler Wash, which is a few miles west of Bluff (see Lariats, 82–83; Saga, 91–92).

  Chapter 12

  _____________________

  April 23, 1886—Bluff City, Utah Territory

  No, Mama. Absolutely not.”

  Gwen just smiled.

  “I mean it, Mama. I am not going to the dance. I am not going to go to the co-op and ask her to let me sign her dance card. What if she finds out what I said about her?”

  Martha, who was just outside the door with Johnny, enjoying the spring sunshine, stuck her head in. “She knows. I already told her.”

  Mitch groaned. “No! When?”

  “Right after you came back from up north. She thought it was really funny.”

  “Martha,” Gwen said, trying to hold a straight face. “It isn’t your place to say things about Mitch to Edie.”

  “That’s right,” Mitch snapped. “And if you’re going to be telling her everything you hear, then that settles it. I’m not doing anything with her. Not ever.”

  “Martha,” Gwen said, “no more. This is between Mitch and Edie. Do you understand?”

  Martha put her hands on her hips and glared at her brother. “Yes. But I hope she won’t dance with you. You are so grumpy these days.”

  “All right,” their mother said. “That’s enough. Shut the door behind you.”

  When she did, Gwendolyn came over and sat down beside Mitch. “Okay. Now you listen to your mother.”

  He rolled his eyes but finally nodded.

  “You aren’t the only boy in Bluff who thinks she’s a lovely young woman. She even has some of the cowboys ride in and ask her if they can sign her card. So if you don’t get over there today—right now would be best—her dance card will be full. You’re leaving Monday with the cattle for Butler Wash, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’ll be gone for how long?”

  “A couple of weeks.”

  “And then what?”

  “Well, I’m hoping and praying I’ll be one of those who Bishop Nielson and President Hammond choose to call to the Blue Mountain Mission.”

  “And if you are, you’ll be back in Bluff when?” She was giving him a look that said, Why am I the one doing all the thinking for you?

  He looked away. “No telling. The men talked like we’d go up this summer and start some cabins and stuff before winter but not take the families up until next spring. But since I don’t have a family—” At her look, he quickly corrected himself. “I mean since I’m not married and don’t have a family of my own, I might just stay on through the winter.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Up came her finger, and she pointed it right at his nose. “So you get out of that chair right now and get down to the store and talk to her.”

  The door popped open. “She’s not at the store,” Martha said. “She’s at the schoolhouse helping our teacher.”

  “Stop eavesdropping!” Mitch yelled. Then to his mother, “I’m not even sure I’m going to the dance.”

  There was a soft explosion of exasperation, and Gwen turned toward the door. “Martha?”

  Mitch jumped. “What are you doing?”

  “Martha! Come in here.”

  A second later the door opened again and his sister stuck her head in. “Yes, Mama?”

  “I want you to go over to the school. Find Edie and—”

  “Mother,” Mitch warned.

  She didn’t even
glance at him.

  “Tell her that Mitch wants to sign her card for some dances but he’s too scared to come and do it himself.”

  He jumped up. “Mother!”

  With a squeal of joy, Martha slammed the door and took off like a shot, whooping and hollering.

  “All right!” Mitch yelled. “I’ll do it.”

  Gwen walked to the door, stepped outside, and shouted at Martha. “Never mind. Mitch’s found his courage.”

  “You are a tyrant, you know,” he said.

  “I know. And someday you’ll thank me for it.”

  He chose a position where he could watch the schoolhouse from the shade of a cottonwood tree. His hope was that anyone coming out from the dimmer light inside the school into the bright sunlight wouldn’t immediately see him in the shadows. From time to time he saw movement through the windows, but he couldn’t tell if it was Edna Zimmer or Ida Nielson, Bluff’s schoolteacher. Several times he almost gave up, but knowing what he would face if he came home empty-handed kept him in place.

  In reality, fear of his mother was secondary. For all of his embarrassment and feeling like the fool, he really wanted to ask Edie for a dance and was glad his mother had taken charge. In the two weeks since returning, he’d been in the store four times, but he had only seen her twice. Both times he had only been able to talk to her for a minute or two before other customers came in. But he thought about her all the time. He could picture every detail of her face and how her eyes came alive when she smiled. So he told himself he’d wait fifteen more minutes. When those fifteen minutes were up, he told himself to go another ten, promising that this time would be the last.

  Finally, after almost an hour, the north door opened. He stepped back quickly behind the tree trunk, fingers crossed that she would be alone. Martha, who was a fountain of information, said that Edie came to the school as it got out each day to help Ida clean up and correct papers. But she usually left before Ida because she worked at the co-op each afternoon.

  Martha was right. Mitch was relieved to see that it was Edie who came out the door and shut it behind her. But that elation turned to panic when she turned and looked directly at him and then waved and came straight over to him.

  “Why didn’t you come in?” she asked, somewhat shyly.

  “You saw me?”

  “Yeah, about an hour ago.”

  “Uh . . . Martha told me that you help Sister Nielson after school. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

  “Are you waiting to see Ida?”

  “Uh . . . No. Not really.”

  She gave a satisfied nod. “Good. How can I help you?”

  All Mitch could think of at that moment was how much he wished to be back up at the Blue Mountains, or laying track near Mancos, or anywhere but right there at that moment.

  “Well?” She cocked her head and smiled at him.

  That didn’t help him at all. “Um . . . well, I . . . Look, I know you don’t know me very well, but I was wondering—”

  The smile broadened. “Actually, I feel like I know you quite well. Martha’s told me all about you.”

  He exhaled in exasperation. “Yeah, that’s what I hear. Little sisters. What a pain. Do you have one?”

  “No. I’m an only child.” Then she brightened. “Don’t be too hard on her. She worships you, you know. Every time you sent a letter, she’d tell me all about it.” She paused for a moment. “So here we are. Just you and that skinny little freckle-faced kid.”

  He groaned aloud. “Sorry. That was over a year ago, and I . . .” He didn’t know how to finish that, so he just let it trail off.

  Again came that quiet laugh that was like the murmur of a rippling stream. “Don’t be embarrassed. To be honest, I take it as quite a compliment that you didn’t recognize me.”

  “I didn’t. I mean, you didn’t look at all familiar to me.”

  They both fell quiet for a moment. He wanted to look at her but kept his eyes on the ground, the only neutral place he could think of. Finally, she bent down a little and looked up into his face. “So . . . ?” she asked slowly.

  Straightening, he knew it was time to do it. “Look, I was . . . uh . . . I was wondering if I could sign your dance card for Saturday night.”

  His hopes shot up as he saw the look of surprise instantly followed by pleasure. “Yes. I would like that very much.”

  “Uh . . . So would I.”

  She half turned, looking down the street. “Unfortunately, I left my dance card at the store.”

  “Oh.”

  She waited, and when he started looking at the ground again, she nudged him gently with her elbow. “You could walk with me to the store and I could get it.” His head came up and she smiled again. “And then you could sign it.”

  Face flushing, he realized he was acting like an idiot. “Yeah. I can do that. I mean, I would like to do that.”

  “Good.”

  She started away and he quickly fell in beside her. “Sorry, I’m not very good at talking with girls.”

  “And why would that make you sorry?”

  Again panic flashed in his eyes. Why does she keep asking me these questions that I don’t know how to answer?

  She touched his arm briefly. “Sorry, that was a dumb question.” Then she laughed. “Let’s see, how many times have we said we’re sorry in the last minute?”

  He managed a crooked grin. “I’m not sure. But I’d like to stop if you would.”

  She stuck out her hand in front of him. “Deal.”

  Taken aback, he stared at it for a second and then gripped it. “Deal.”

  They fell silent, content to walk slowly along side by side. As they approached the store, she suddenly looked up at him. “Do you prefer to be called Mitch, Mitchell, or Brother Westland?”

  “Mitch,” he said right back. “My family calls me Mitchell sometimes, and that’s okay, but everyone else calls me Mitch.” He wrinkled his nose, remembering what she’d called him in the store. “Definitely not Brother Westland.”

  “Okay, Mitch.”

  “And what about you? Martha tells me that you—”

  “I like Edie. Or Edna Rae. But not just Edna.”

  “Okay, Edie.” He glanced quickly at her and away. “I like it.”

  They were approaching the store. “My dance card’s behind the counter. Do you want to come in, or should I bring it out?”

  “Uh . . .”

  “Maybe it’s better out here. Or maybe in the back.” The dimple had appeared, and he could see she was teasing him. “We wouldn’t want people talking.”

  To his surprise, he chose boldness. “Or, how about this? What time do you finish work?”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “At six.”

  “What if I came and walked you home? I could sign your card then.”

  A tiny smile stole across her face. “It’s only three blocks,” she teased.

  His face went serious. “But I hear it’s a dangerous neighborhood.”

  Now the laughter burst from her like a song. “Yes, I’ve heard that too.”

  “Good. I’ll be right here at six o’clock.”

  “Can you make it 6:10? It takes us a few minutes to close up.”

  “I’ll be here at 6:09 . . . Edie.”

  She touched his arm for just a moment. “Good. So will I . . . Mitch.”

  Mitch suggested they walk for a while. Edie agreed but said she had to stop off and tell her parents why she wouldn’t be home. Mitch waited outside, curious about exactly what was being said inside, but not curious enough to go in. When she came back out she wore a light sweater. It was dark now, and the warmth of the day was dissipating rapidly.

  “Where would you like to go?” he asked as they started away.

  “Somewhere quiet.”

  He nodded and took the next turn and headed for the river. They walked slowly, their shoulders close but not quite touching, not saying much yet. He was glad, because that gave him time to collect his thoughts. Her mental quickness kept h
im off balance about half the time.

  A half-moon was just rising. A light rain from the previous night had left the air clear, so they had no trouble seeing in the moonlight as they reached the river and turned west.

  “Want to go to the Swing Tree?” she asked.

  “That would be great.” Then after a moment, Mitch spoke again. “Zimmer? Is that German?”

  She nodded. “Actually, Swiss-German. My grandparents on my father’s side were from Bern, Switzerland, but they moved to a little village called Sulz, just outside of Mannheim, Germany, to work in a factory that made steam engines.”

  “And are they still living?”

  “Opa died last year. Oma lives with my aunt and uncle in Richfield.”

  “Are those their names?”

  She smiled. “No. Sorry. That’s what I always call them. It means grandpa and grandma in German.”

  “And that’s where you’re from too, right? Richfield?”

  “Yes.”

  “That must have been hard on your father to come here and have to leave his mother behind.”

  “Very. And Mama too. She’s also close to my grandmother. But I miss her the most. She and I are very close. Papa calls us kindred spirits.” Her brows had furrowed as she spoke, but then she brightened. “I miss her very much, but Oma has agreed to move out here next year. She has bad arthritis, and the doctor says this dry climate would be good for her.”

  “Yes,” Mitch said with a droll smile. “We do have an abundance of dry climate in Bluff.” Then he had another thought. “Were your grandparents members of the Church?”

  “Yes, they were baptized in Germany.” They had reached the great old cottonwood tree with the long rope swing on it. The river, not yet fully into its spring flood stages, filled the air with a soft murmur. Mitch was happy to see that no one else was there. Edie increased her pace, smiling back at him over her shoulder. “Can I swing first?”

  “Of course. Want me to push you?”

  “Of course.”

  As she reached the swing, Edie turned around and backed up to it, grasping the ropes with both hands. The swing’s seat was quite high off the ground. For Edie it came to her waist, so when she tried to pull herself up, she didn’t quite make it. Mitch stepped in behind her, took her by the waist, and lifted her up.