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By Root 885 0

took the train to Mica Creek the weekend before the auction. I thought about simply sending Mama a money order, but Ole would surely ask where she’d gotten the funds, and she’d have to say where it came from. Maybe he wouldn’t mind knowing it came from reform women, though he’d be very upset if he knew the women had been part of the sponsors and that Mama and I had accepted funds from them. Besides, giving her the money and the mortgage wouldn’t necessarily allow Ole to relieve Mama of his order that she never speak about the trip. What I wanted was a way for Mama to be freed from both the agony of the foreclosure and to speak again of her experiences. Olea was right. Our stories belonged to us. Mama ought to be able to speak about hers.

As the train clicked south, I thought it would be best if I spoke to my stepfather alone. I’d tell him I had the money to save the farm and the condition was that he must let Mama speak again of the journey. I’d been right to tell Olea that he wasn’t a mean-spirited person. Only stubborn at times, seeing things in certain ways that no amount of evidence or even practicality could change. I’d have to be a superb negotiator.

I breathed a prayer of relief as I stepped off the train and saw my stepfather’s wagon parked in front of Schwartz’s store. Perfect timing. I opened my parasol against the cold drizzle. The scent of snow filled the air. I’d wait until he picked up whatever he’d come to town for and then ride home with him. On the way I’d put my proposition to him.

But when my stepfather came out, my mother was with him. Well, it might work fine to have them both together, so Mama could hear me fight for her, stand up to my stepfather the way she used to. And Ida and the others wouldn’t be around to witness it.

Martin, my stepfather’s friend, walked out with them, helped Mama into the wagon as I approached.

“Well, look who’s here?” Martin said. “Your lovely daughter all dressed like a fine lady.”

“Ja. She’s grown up now,” my stepfather said.

“Clara?” Mama said. I put my foot on the step, covered us with the umbrella.

“May I ride with you?”

“Must be doing pretty good, all that store-bought finery she’s wearing,” Martin said. “Your fine shoes will get muddy.”

“I have a good job in town now, Mr. Siverson,” I said.

“Maybe she’ll attract a rich farmer and you can borrow his tractor after she goes in wedding thoughts,” Martin said.

Norwegian men had no trouble speaking of money with each other or assuming where a woman’s thoughts might go, wedding or naught. But women taking on financial matters, that was an affront.

“I’ll get one of my own one of these days,” my stepfather said.

“Ja, that would be good for your back and all. Make harvest easier.”

His friend still held out hope that they wouldn’t lose the farm, or Martin wouldn’t have spoken quite so teasingly nor have ended with encouragement about a tractor. Yet everyone must know about the auction and its purpose.

“It’s good to have girls to take care of you in your old age,” Martin said. “Otherwise age only leads to worse things.”

My stepfather laughed. “One generation plants the trees, the next one gets the shade.”

Martin lifted my fabric bag into the back and pulled the canvas over it and the lumber loaded there. I held on to my fur purse. “What are you going to build?” I asked.

“Making repairs,” Ole said. “Before the sale. It should go into the hands of someone new in best condition.”

My mother winced.

He flicked the reins and we started off as Martin stepped back under the store porch and waved.

“That’s the reason I came to talk to you,” I said. “I have a proposition.” I cleared my throat from its soreness. “Mama. Papa. I’ve come into money of late. You won’t have to have the auction. I can pay the mortgage and the back taxes. You can start fresh.”

“What are you saying?” Mama said. She twisted to look at me.

My stepfather pulled the wagon up short, clucked to the horses so they knew to relax. “What’s this?”

“I have enough money to stop the foreclosure. That’s why I came, to give it to you.”

“Where would you get