Luvella barely had time to arrange her festival records on the kitchen table before the people started coming in. Steckie was first; Mrs. Maarten and Mrs. Kiergen came up together; Mr. Melk, the farrier, and Mr. Pearson, the country storeowner, came in next, followed by Mr. Johannson, who handed a lease for Luvella to sign, then Mr. Smythe and finally, Mr. Harley, the banker.
Luvella immediately read the simple letter, leasing the caboose to her for just six months and handed it to Daddy to read. When he nodded approval, she signed it and handed it back to Mr. Johannson. “Only six months?” she asked him, her brows wrinkling together.
“Sorry, Luvella,” he answered. “The railroad wants to honor your proposal to rent, first, but then wants to have the caboose available for a possible sale.” He shrugged and sat down.
Luvella waved the lease in front of everyone there. “This paper means my crafts’ business is officially living in the caboose. Now you can stop in and see all the work my parents and brothers did to get it in good repair.”
With congratulations being sent from around the table, she smiled and sat at the head, glancing at Steckie.
Steckie, who usually began the town meetings, spoke from his chair. “Luvella, this festival is your bailiwick. You lead the way today.”
Luvella smiled a brief thank you, then still sitting, looked at everyone. “First of all, I want to apologize for being gone all week, but…”
“Uhh, Luvella, I’ll take care of that later,” Daddy spoke up, giving her a “let this one go” look.
She dipped her pen into the inkwell in front of her. “All right. Ummm, let’s start with you, Mrs. Maarten. How are your plans coming along?”
Thirza Maarten stood, looked down at the paper in her hands, and blushed a little. Luvella realized this is the first time she’d seen Mrs. Maarten speak at the group’s meeting. “Mr. Smythe has kindly offered to rope off a twelve by twelve area in front of his inn for us to set up a table and sell picnic lunches. We’ll have those two long tables Mr. Andersson had built for our other picnics. I have seven young ladies who have promised delicious lunch baskets for nice, hungry young men.”
Everyone laughed, even Mrs. Maarten. “If we can get some large baskets, I’d like to have some women put together picnic baskets for families. Of course, we would need all our baskets a week or two before the,” she hesitated, “the bonanza.” She smiled, as if in triumph. “You can put that in your advertising, Luvella. Maybe encourage people to come from nearby towns, like Forksville and Eagles Mere and even Dushore.”
Luvella widened her eyes and smiled her excitement, not wanting to interrupt Mrs. Maarten. The woman, bolstered by the approving murmurs in the room, continued, “Mrs. Kiergen has met with Mr. Smythe, and they’ve decided to have chicken and a roast pig—Mr. Melk will sell one of his pigs to us for half price.” There were more murmurs and nods. “Mr. Smythe will have lots of potatoes and coleslaw at the inn. And I have a list of people who will bring loaves of bread and pies for dessert.”
Mrs. Kiergen whispered something to Mrs. Maarten. “Oh yes,” Mrs. Maarten added. “We can put prices on our picnic baskets when we know what the baskets will cost us.” She sat down.
Luvella was writing as fast as the pen would scratch across the paper, dipping it into the inkwell at intervals. She looked up. “Remarkable job! The three of you! Next, Mr. Smythe.”
The reports continued. Luvella told them all of her pride in their dedication, cooperation, and especially in their results. “Thank you all for our vision,” she added to herself.
“I’ve seen samples of the baskets we’ll be getting and they’re beautiful. Very well made. The price range is ten cents for very small, like for my soaps, twenty-five cents for the other small ones up to fifty cents for the largest ones—for your family size picnic lunch. We can charge double their prices, easily. I’ll have a better idea of how many they can provide us in a few weeks.”
“Anything else?” She looked at the faces looking at her.
Mr. Smythe stood, turning his hat round and round in his hands. “I’m making plans for this here festival, but Mr. Bocke really wants to have me turn the hotel over to him. He’s got the money, he says, and Mr. Harley keeps asking me to pay the bank money I haven’t got.”
Whispers and mumbling and shuffling of feet permeated the room. Mr. Harley, protruding his chin and scratching his neck, coughed, as if something were stuck in his throat.
Daddy stood. “If you’re done, Luvella, I’ll take over.” She nodded and sat down.
“Mr. Harley…Jude.” Daddy looked directly at him. “Could the bank relax its rules a few more weeks until after the festival? If that doesn’t bring the hotel back to solvency, then I’d be willing to help Ben out. Anyone else here willing to loan Ben some money later on to tide the inn for a couple months?”
Mr. Pearson, Mr. Johannson, and Mr. Melk quickly replied with ‘Ayups’ and raised hands.
Daddy had more to say. “Now, something’s been bothering me all along about Mr. Bocke. Does anyone know anything about him?” Daddy looked around at all the shaking heads. “Ben, do you know where he’s from?”
Mr. Smythe said, “No, Will. He’s never said. He just asks questions and tells me he can’t wait much longer, that he’ll spend his money elsewhere.”
Daddy tweaked his mustache. “He was actually spying on this house the other night. I’d sure like to know where he came from and what he’s about.”
Mr. Johannson raised his hand. “Will, d’ya want me to send some inquiries out on the telegraph? At least to the bigger towns near here, like Dushore and Williamsport? I don’t like his always nosing around, either. And the railroad wants some proof that he’s able to actually buy the caboose and its land before they take it away from Luvella here.”
The women gasped and all eyes turned on Luvella. “I’m fine for a while,” she said, and held up her lease.
Daddy pointed his finger at Mr. Johannson. “Excellent idea about checking on him, Lars. He’s not the only one who can snoop.” Everyone chuckled.
“Now,” Daddy said. “Luvella, I have all the toothpicks the world will ever need, ready and waiting for the festival. And a place in front of the sawmill to set up some baskets for sale.” He walked away from Luvella a little and faced the people.
“Margaret’s aunt took sick a while back and was…on her last legs. Her husband came here to ask Margaret to take care of her during her last days. Margaret couldn’t, so Luvella went in her place. Luvella has told us how the family and neighbors were really kind to her and how they were there every day to help with Aunt Hilda and guide Luvella in what to do. When Hilda died, they were there all day and into the night, taking over for Luvella.”
Everyone nodded their heads and smiled at Luvella. Murmurs of “That’s nice” and “How thoughtful” floated in the air.
“The fact is,” Daddy said, “Hilda’s husband, Isaac, is a Muncee Indian, and so are several of the people who helped Luvella and were so nice to her.” He looked each person, one by one, in the eye. “And they are the same people who will be weaving the baskets for our festival.”
Now the whispers multiplied and sounded like the beginnings of a dust storm. Daddy waited a moment.
“There’s something else,” he said, and immediately had everyone’s attention again. “Luvella insisted to her Uncle Isaac that she could ride back here to Muncy Valley alone. So when a rattler spooked her horse, which threw Luvella to the ground and broke her ankle, she was alone in the woods. The rattler also bit her on the other leg, so she was in bad trouble.”
Everyone looked at Luvella’s braced ankle.
“Now, Steckie and Ben, you both met Luke yesterday. He’s Isaac’s sister’s grandson, just returned home from the U.S. boarding school in Carlisle. He was hunting in the woods and found Luvella there. He told us that she had taken good care of both her legs, but she was feverish and delirious from the snake bite.”
Mr. Johannson interjected, “Luvella, you’re
the only girl I know who coulda survived that!”
Everyone laughed. “Ayup. Ayup.”
Daddy smiled, too. “Luke helped her get home safely. He’s a good lad, smarter than most of us, has had more schoolin’ than us, too, and, as it turned out, he put his life in danger for Luvella’s sake.”
There wasn’t a sound in the room. Everyone stared at her father, waiting for what would come next.
“Luvella had dozed off on the last leg of their trip here, so they overshot their turn. They came to the tenant houses, and I guess the hot weather brought some men outside in front of the tavern. One man called out ‘Indian,’ and the rest took over. They attacked and beat Luke. He told Luvella to ride away and leave him there.”
When Daddy hesitated, Steckie asked, “What happened then?”
“Well, Luvella had my Colt and when she fired it, everybody stopped.”
The men in the room guffawed. “Luvella coulda fixed them good.” “Did you show ’em your blue ribbons, Luvella?”
Luvella lowered her head and smiled.
Daddy added, “Luvella held them at gunpoint as she and Luke galloped off. She led Luke to the shortcut up the mountain here and the men chasing them missed that and then gave up the chase.”
Daddy paced again. “Except for one man.” He looked at Mr. Smythe. “Our Mr. Bocke. He came up the road and right to our house.”
The people muttered to each other and shifted in their chairs.
“Here’s the thing,” Daddy said. Luvella knew this would be his punch point. “Margaret and her whole family shunned Hilda for marrying an Indian. Now Hilda’s dead, and we can never make that up to her. Margaret feels awful about that.
“But we, here in Muncy Valley, which, by the way, is named after the Muncee Indians, we here in Muncy Valley can show the world that we are good neighbors and live by the golden rule. We can buy the Indians’ baskets and sell them—helping both us and them. And we can welcome them into our village and into our festival.”
Daddy let out a long sigh. “We can all profit from that!” He waited a second and then sat.
Silence! Luvella thought of how quiet the world is just before a wicked storm. She waited. And waited. Would there be a wicked storm here in Mama’s house? Finally, she was about to end the meeting, but was thinking of what to say.
Steckie spoke up. “I met Luke yesterday, and he seemed like a regular sort. He sure took good care of my little sister-in-law. But I was wondering, Will. What if some ornery types get wily at the festival? Like those ones at the tenant houses? What will we do?”
Mr. Melk said in his husky voice, “Ve could sic Luvella on dem.”
The laughter cleared the tension for a welcome second. Then silence hung in the air again. Luvella thought of Luke, how those men had hit and kicked him, yet he was concerned only for her safety. She thought of Hannah, and Uncle Isaac and Mrs. Raven and the others, all quiet, gentle people who welcomed her into their circle.
Still no one spoke. The heat rose in Luvella, to her neck, to her face. Why couldn’t at least one other person speak up, say yes! We will open our town to them. We will eat with them… Still, there was silence. Does that mean that Luke will never be able to come here?
She stood up, rage belching poison arrows from her eyes. She saw Daddy, out her corner vision, looking at her, his own eyes wide with his sense of impending disaster. She gathered her papers, her pen and inkwell, slowly, purposefully, as she picked her words.
“Since you don’t want to let my friends from the Muncee tribe into our town, we won’t have baskets to sell. We won’t have a basket bonanza without the baskets. And you won’t have me to help you anymore.” She looked every single one of them in the eye.
“This meeting is over,” she said softly. She turned her back on them and thudded up the stairs to her room. Any place to be away from them!
“Luvella! Luvella!” Mr. Smythe was on his feet, gesturing with his arm. “C’mon now, Luvella. Don’t be like that.”
Luvella hurried up the steps and closed her bedroom door behind her. She could hear Mr. Smythe pleading to Daddy to beg her to reconsider, to be in charge of the festival. “It doesn’t have to be a basket bonanza,” he said. Others were talking, too, everyone to each other. Then a quiet settled over them.
Daddy’s voice was loud. Luvella was sure he wanted her to hear him. He said, “This was Luvella’s meeting. You heard her. The meeting’s over, and I think you’ve all made a terrible mistake. Now that there is no festival.”
Chapter Sixteen
The ride into town was quiet. Luvella fixed her vision on the wagon wheel tracks on the road before them, usually devoid of heavy traffic markings this far up. Their house was the highest up the road, even though it was only half way up the mountain. Her father, concentrating on driving the wagon, uttered a kind word to the horse every little while.
In front of the caboose, Daddy helped Luvella down from the wagon. “Will you be all right today? First whole day all alone here.” He peered at her.
“I’m fine, thank you. I’ll be fine.”
But she wasn’t so sure. She unlocked her door, the first time for her, and entered her caboose. Yesterday, Luke had been with her. She had felt such pride as she showed him all the things she had for sale, and then the beauty of the caboose itself, thanks to her father and brothers. Now…she looked around, trying to lift her mood, to shove aside the feeling of doom that had enveloped her back home. She picked up a sweater from a tabletop and replaced it without examining it.
She didn’t regret what she had said at the meeting. On the contrary, she felt good about how she had said it. She had been angry, but she had remained calm. At least she had appeared calm.
What now, Luvella? If the other business people went ahead with the festival, they would fail—and fail miserably. None of them had ever done any successful marketing. But what about her business? She had had so many plans, little surprises, mark-downs on some of the things that had been here for a while.
She sighed a deep, long sigh and glanced out the front door window to see the hotel. Maybe Anna will come soon, and I can tell her all about Luke. There was no sign of Anna coming across the street, though. The thought never occurred to her that Anna might not come.
Luvella swung down the aisle, wider now with those benches removed, worked her way around behind the desk, and put her lunch in the bottom right drawer. She pulled out her ledger, her pen, and inkwell. After looking at the display cases, she left the cork in her inkwell for now and set her bookkeeping tools precisely on the far corner of the desk, ready for when her customers came in. Want to leave plenty of room for people to browse.
She propped her crutches behind the desk against the wall, and using the cases and tables as aids, hobbled down the aisle, back to the entrance door. She turned to stand there and examined the caboose. What will people see when they first walk in here? She opened the door, stepped out on the small stoop, tried to wipe her mind clear, then re-entered the caboose.
The first thing she noticed was the desk, even though it was in the back. It certainly was a showpiece after Reeder’s refinishing. Then she scrutinized everything—the tied-back curtains, the windows, the glassed display case and the wooden tables and shelves. Reeder—she recognized his workmanship—had used the two benches from the caboose, refinished them, and had them as tabletops on the left side of the aisle. Jake and Bill must have done the sanding, because Reeder could never have gotten all this finishing done in just a few days. The tables had nothing on them right now, but Luvella would change that soon.
I’ll space out the displays so people can see that beautiful wood. Her brothers had sanded and shellacked the benches so a deep reddish-brown finish matched the mahogany of the desk, creating a warm ambiance. They glistened now in the sunlight peeking through the windows.
Luvella paced the width and length of the car. She used the last page of her ledger and, uncorking the inkwell and dipping her pen into it, wrote across the top:
Luvella’s Knit and Knacks. She had been thinking of a name for her new place of business, but still wasn’t sure. That will do for now. Then, she wrote: Approx. ten feet wide X approx. twenty-four feet long. Eventually, she would describe the furnishings and furniture, giving each a value. She had read this was important to establish her “capital.” She already had complete records on her inventory for sale, her cost, and her selling prices.
Her right leg ached from the standing and hopping on it. She sat on the chair behind her desk and looked at the two sides of the aisle. Reeder had left a small walking space behind the glassed case and table, on the right as you entered the caboose. And, the desk, also on the right, already had space behind it, which is where she was sitting.
“That means,” Luvella thought out loud, “that those benches will have to remain tight up against the wall so there will be enough walking room in the aisle.” She studied that left side, where the benches were. “I need something at this end, to add a special touch and to fill in the space but not take up too much.”
By the time she had eaten her lunch and thought and thought, Luvella decided to ask Steckie for some of those barrels that his nails came in. She could cover them, padding the tops for seats, and using part of other barrels to form a small curved back. The barrels were the perfect size to use for chairs sitting at a small tea table. If Reeder could build a corner cupboard where the back wall and the side wall met, a small round tea table and those little chairs, in front of the cupboard area, would make a perfect eye catcher for people entering the store.
She went through her Sears Roebuck catalog to select fabric and colors and cotton batting. Now she was excited; her spirits were lifted; she had a new mission.
I could go see Steckie right now, but I don’t want to miss any customers. She looked out her windows. No one was coming toward her store. It’s odd that Anna hasn’t come to see me yet. I hope she hasn’t taken ill.
She printed a small sign for her door. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.” Then she went as quickly as she could on her crutches to Steckie’s hardware store.
The Heartbeat of the Mountain Page 12