As the car ate up the miles, Ragni’s mind wandered to her work. Who messed around with the Byers ad? Has it happened before and not been caught? I thought I could trust my team with my life. What can I do to figure out who did it—and why? When those thoughts hit nothing but a dead end, her mind veered off on another tangent. When she recognized Daren on the movie playing in her thoughts, she stuffed those memories in an ironclad box and buried it—again. A fire to cleanse all the hurt might have been nice.
Then there was her weight. Even though she’d lost five pounds last week at the spa, she still had thirty to go. Just the thought of dieting made her want to dive for the snack sack. But it was too far back to reach without stopping the car, a good move on her part. She finished the last of her coffee-gone-cold.
They say it takes twenty-one days to establish a new habit. If only I could have stayed at the spa twenty-one days. But then eating healthy was far easier with someone else to do the cooking, and workouts were more fun with a trainer and gardens and celebrity-style pools. Anyway, three weeks at the Golden Dreams Spa would have broken her bank account.
“You just have to do it yourself.” She repeated the positive affirmation she had written to help her succeed. “I am slim, supple, and strong. I love to eat right and stretch my building muscles every day.”
She was not an abject, absolute failure. The life coach had truly helped her. But I was counting on the two weeks at the lake to help me use the things I learned. So I’ll just have to do them in North Dakota. Look on the positive side. Cleaning that house will be a form of exercise. Why, I’ll even chop wood for the fire. Nuts! I didn’t bring an ax.
“If life hands you lemons, make lemonade” had been one of the many signs on the walls at the spa. Great, but lemonade takes sugar, and that’s not on my diet.
She glanced over at her passenger. Shouldn’t it be Erika’s job to keep the driver awake? Or at least to keep the driver from thinking too much?
After a quick stop at a drive-through, at which point Erika ordered a fair amount for not seeming to care whether she ate or not, Ragni’s thoughts took off again without her permission. Erika and I going to the beach, the zoo, movies, the Museum of Natural History. Tiptoeing through the Egyptian exhibit, whispering as if talking aloud might wake spirits from the tombs. Eating kettle corn, slightly sweet and salty. Drawing and painting together. They’d started with finger paints when Erika was a toddler—covered reams of paper with fat markers—and progressed through tempera to acrylics and watercolors, graduating to the myriad colors of pencils and pastels.
What had ruptured that bond? The day Erika donned the black of goth, she’d acted like she didn’t know who Ragni was and didn’t care. Had there been warning signs? Did I do something that set her off? Ragni knew Susan had the same questions. So many times they’d hashed them over and never come up with any answers. Other than the hope that this was only a phase and if they ignored it, perhaps it would go away.
Perhaps was right. It had been two years now. In August, Erika would turn fifteen. Ragni again thought back to their art years. Why, she’d not even brought a sketchpad along, let alone paints or colored pencils. How dumb. But then how long had it been since she’d had the energy or desire to do any kind of art? Alone or with Erika?
I used to think I was an artist. I used to think Erika would be an artist. I used to live to create. Her mother had told her she got her talent from her great-grandmother Ragnilda. Was there even the slimmest possibility that on this trip she might find out something about the woman that would bring her own artistic desires back?
West of Fargo, Ragni needed a break from her thoughts and Erika’s silence. She pulled over at a rest area. “I’m going to walk around,” she said, but Erika didn’t reply. At this point, Ragni was not surprised.
With the June air warm on her face, Ragni watched the wind rustle the leaves of the trees that shaded the walking area—the contrast between the leafy green and the intense blue of the sky made her breath catch. The fragrance of freshly cut grass reminded her of the backyard of the house she and Susan had grown up in. They used to spend summer afternoons lying on the lush carpet, looking for cloud critters. Never had Ragni dreamed she’d one day be living in an apartment building on the third floor.
But you can change that, she reminded herself as she strode back to the car. If you want a house with yard and flowers, grass to mow, and real neighbors, all you have to do is go find one. You don’t need a man to buy a house. Lord, will I ever get to that place? When she arrived at the car, she found the car doors locked and Erika gone.
Ragni glanced toward the women’s rest room and leaned her backside against the car to people-watch and wait. What’s she doing in there—taking a bath? Just as she leaned forward to go check, Erika ambled around the corner of the building, dark sunglasses matching the rest of her attire. Tie your shoelaces before you fall and break a leg. She refrained from sounding like her mother by swallowing the words that leaped to her lips.
“You got the keys?”
Erika shook her head.
“But you locked the car.”
“You should never leave the car unlocked.”
Ragni closed her eyes. Both keys and purse were still in the car. Don’t say it. You should have taken them with you.
“Don’t you keep a spare somewhere?”
“Yeah, in my wallet.” Pounding the car roof would do no good. “Along with the Triple A phone number.”
“You don’t have to yell at me. Wasn’t my fault.” A touch of whine made Ragni shudder.
“I’m not yelling!” I am speaking through gritted teeth. It’s hard to yell through gritted teeth. Why did I leave my purse in the car? I never leave my purse in the car. She crammed her fists into her back pockets to keep from slamming them on the car, warning herself that swearing wouldn’t help either, no matter how viciously the words burned her tongue. She glanced around, searching for possible help.
“If we can get a hanger, I can open the door.”
Ragni jerked her attention back to the girl standing on the other side of the car. “Where did you learn how to break into cars? What kind of people are you hanging out with?”
“Mom had to do it once. I helped. I’ll go ask those people with the motor home.” Erika strode across the parking lot, leaving Ragni with her mouth hanging open.
Sometime later she slid back into her seat, glanced over at Erika, and shook her head. “Thanks.”
Her earphones back in place, Erika didn’t bother answering. A few miles later, Ragni popped in an audio book, The Secret Life of Bees. Next time she looked over, Erika had her earphones around her neck and was listening to the book. Could this be construed as a breakthrough?
The sun was easing toward the western horizon when they drove past Dickinson. The road sign said Theodore Roosevelt National Park and Medora thirty-five miles ahead. Ragni exhaled a sigh of relief. They’d made it before dark.
“Watch for the exit signs to Medora, would you please?” She glanced over to see if Erika heard her. The slight nod surprised her.
“I read that people can sometimes see the wild horse herd in the park from the freeway, and the buffalo.”
“Wild horses?” Erika sat up straighter. “How will we know when we are at the park?”
Ragni wriggled driving tension out of her shoulders as she answered. “It must be fenced. They wouldn’t let animals like that wander loose. I mean, I’ve seen fences for pastures. These must be better.”
“Are there really buffalo?”
“That’s what the magazine said. We can ask at the hotel. Maybe we can make a trip through the park while we’re here. The Badlands are supposedly beautiful—strange shapes, lots of wild animals.”
Erika shrugged, her universal response to all suggestions, it seemed.
Ragni blinked to refresh her eyes and rolled her shoulders again. I’m so tired of shrugs. Eleven hours since they left Chicago. She’d never driven so far in one day in her life. N
ot that she’d been on many road trips since the family vacations of her youth, and back then her father drove. There was a big difference between driving and riding. Often she’d been reading, at least when she wasn’t fighting with Susan over who had her foot on the wrong side of the car and whose turn it was on the Etch A Sketch. Strange that they’d made no trips west. They’d been to Florida for Disney World; Washington DC for the history, government, and museums; Niagara Falls; and lots of camping trips along the shores of the Great Lakes and into northern Minnesota. Someday she’d get to Yellowstone.
“Ragni, look!” Erika squealed.
Ragni took her eyes off the road enough to catch a glimpse of a huge brown creature. “Was that what I thought it was?”
“A buffalo. It had to be. Looked just like the ones I’ve seen in the movies. And that must be the fence you were talking about.”
So the girl can still get excited about something. The thought brought a smile to Ragni’s face.
Not much later, she saw the exit to Medora. She followed the signs as they crossed over the freeway and drove a curving road down into the valley. Corrals with horses and signs for trail riding trips lined both sides of the pavement.
“Watch for the Bunkhouse Motel.”
“You didn’t tell me there were horses here.”
“Who knew? We’ll get checked in and then go find a restaurant for dinner.” They passed the Badlands Motel on their right.
“Turn left up there.” Erika pointed at the sign for the Bunkhouse Motel.
“Thanks.” Ragni drove over the railroad tracks to follow the paved road to the Bunkhouse. Cliffs loomed to the north and west across the river, with rolling hills to the south. From what she could see, Medora wasn’t a large town, but a thrill had begun in her middle and radiated outward. She parked near the office and unsnapped her seat belt. They’d made it. Leg one of the so-called vacation accomplished. After slinging the strap of her purse over her shoulder, she stepped out of the car and headed toward the door, not bothering to see whether Erika was following her.
“Just one night?” the clerk asked.
Surely we’ll be ready for camping by tomorrow evening. “Yes.” Why did she feel as if she were stepping out on a limb with the ground mighty far down?
She turned to see Erika studying the rack of promotional brochures against the far wall. Maybe there was hope after all.
Ragni filled in the registration card, glancing up to catch a look of disgust on the face of the older woman behind the counter. She was staring at Erika. Perhaps the kids in North Dakota don’t do goth. Now, wouldn’t that be a treat? She pushed the card back and smiled in spite of herself. “Is there a restaurant you could recommend for dinner?”
“There’s the Cowboy Cafe over on First and the Iron Horse on Pacific.” She pulled up a map of the town from under the counter. “You’re right here, and the Iron Horse is here. The Cowboy Cafe, here.” She made X’s in the appropriate spots. “You been to Medora before?”
“Nope, first time. I’m here to check on a log cabin that my great-grandmother used to own. It’s still in the family.”
“Oh, what was her name?”
“Ragnilda Peterson. The cabin is out south of town on the banks of the Little Missouri River.”
“Hmm, not familiar to me, but Gladys Jones will know about her. She is our unofficial local historian. She keeps track of all the families that used to live around here.”
“My uncle, Einer Peterson, lived there last. He died about twenty years ago, I think.” Ragni glanced over her shoulder to see Erika standing behind her, the sullen look securely back in place.
“You’ll find Gladys’s number in the phone book. Hope you enjoy your supper and your stay here. If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Thanks, you’ve been most helpful.”
Back in the car, they waited to cross the tracks. Ragni suddenly wished they could go stay near the cabin that night. Now that they were so close, she wanted to leap over the final hurdle and get there. Shoot, I forgot to ask about a grocery store.
She watched the traffic crawling by. From what she’d read, small towns in the Dakotas were dying out, and here they were in a traffic jam.
When a gap came in the line of traffic, she hit the gas so hard that the back wheels spun, and then she had to slam on the brakes to keep from plowing into the car ahead. That’s all I need, a fender bender in the wilds of North Dakota. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Erika grab the dashboard. At least something gets a rise out of her.
“Sorry. I didn’t think we were ever going to get out.” Ragni glanced down at the map, as they moved forward, then held it in one hand and tried to read it without rear-ending anybody.
“Here, I’ll tell you where to turn.” Erika took the map and studied it.
Ragni rolled her lips together. At least the kid was paying attention now. Maybe I should act helpless more often.
“If we go to the Iron Horse, it’s straight ahead.”
“I see the sign. Or should we drive around and see the town first?”
“I’m starved.”
“The Iron Horse it is.”
“You s’pose they always have this many people here?”
Ragni watched for a break in the oncoming traffic and swung left into the parking lot. “I doubt it. I read the population somewhere. Only seven or so people live here. That leaves the rest as tourists.”
“Like us?”
“I guess. But at least we had family that used to live here.”
“But everyone moved away. How come?”
“Good question.” Ragni locked the car doors. “Maybe we’ll find some answers during our time here.” Lord, I pray I’ll find some answers…
“Come on, Erika, roll out.”
“What time is it?” Her mutter came from under the pillow.
“Eight. I let you sleep in.”
“Its summer. I always sleep until I wake up on my own.”
“Not here you don’t. We need to check out, find some breakfast, and drive to the cabin before it gets too hot.” Ragni hoisted her duffel bag. “I’m loading the car. If you want a shower, you get up now.”
“Some vacation.” Erika threw back the covers and stomped into the bathroom.
Ragni shrugged and headed out the door. Knowing Erika would not go without a shower, she packed her duffel in the trunk, slammed it shut on two tries, and meandered over to the office to check out. As she paid her bill, she asked for suggestions for a good breakfast place and directions to the nearest grocery store.
“I like the Cowboy Cafe best for breakfast, and the only grocery store is the gas station on the other side of the Iron Horse. For real groceries, we shop in Dickinson or Beach. It’s about a half hour either way.”
“I see.” So much for being prepared. Ragni glanced at the woman’s name tag. Patsy.
“Anything else I can do for you?”
“Thanks, Patsy, I guess not.”
“You’ll be staying around here?” Patsy stuck her pen into salted hair slicked back into a bun. From her laid-back ease, she’d never been friends with hurry.
“Camping out by the river at my great-grandmother’s cabin.” Actually it had last been Uncle Einer’s. How come we never refer to it as Einer Peterson’s cabin?
“What was her name?”
“Ragnilda Peterson. She came here in 1906.”
“One of the old-timers. That the old log cabin right along the river before the McCutchen Ranch?”
“I don’t know.” Ragni dug in her purse for the instructions on how to find the cabin and handed them to the clerk.
“Must be. I don’t know of any other cabin out that way on the river. Two gigantic cottonwoods that look a hundred years old front the old place. My mother went out and took a start from the rosebush that still grows in the yard.” She passed the paper back. “You aren’t going to live there, are you?”
“I brought camping gear. The letter my mother received sa
id the place was in pretty bad shape.”
“That’s an understatement.” Patsy stapled the credit card receipt to the larger hotel form.
“We’ll do what we can.”
Patsy looked over her half glasses, as if assessing the visitor. “Honey, there’s no electricity or water. There used to be a well—you’ll see the rock cistern—and the privy is tipped.”
“Guess we’ll have to bathe in the river. I’ll buy water for drinking.” Ragni wrinkled her nose. “Privy, eh?”
“If I were you, I’d take plenty of bleach along for scrubbing the outhouse. I’m sure rats and mice and such have moved into both buildings. Beware the snakes—critters like abandoned houses.”
Ragni shuddered. “Good thing I brought the tent then.”
“You thought of sleeping here a couple more nights? At least you’d have a comfortable bed and a hot shower. The pool might feel real good after working out there too.”
“I’ll keep it in mind. I thought camping would be a good experience.”
“How long you staying?”
“Most of two weeks.”
“See ya around then. Maybe I’ll drive on by and see how you’re doing.”
“I’d like that.” I might need to see a friendly face after a while.
On her way back to the room, she stopped to gaze off to the west and marvel at all the colors in the buttes, from tan to red to orange and gray. Tall trees bordered the river, and a huge red house sat up on the hill. She needed to find out about that place. She sucked in a deep breath of fresh air. No auto exhaust or hot streets or people nearby. Instead, she smelled mown grass along with a sweet fragrance coming from the roses in the flower bed. Or was it from the honeysuckle on the rail fence? She’d heard a train during the night, but she’d gone right back to sleep. Rotating her shoulders, she stretched her hands over her head. The pool would be open in an hour. Should they hang around and…? No, we’re out of here. I just want to get to the cabin.
The Brushstroke Legacy Page 4