Page 37 of Wind Valley

“Is it that bad?” asked a soft voice. She looked up to see Ruth Chilkoot hovering tentatively next to her table. “I recognize Sarah’s handwriting,” she explained. “I feel responsible.”

“Oh, just a few spelling and grammar tweaks, that’s all. She’s actually quite a good writer in terms of imagery and ideas.”

Ruth’s face brightened. Like the other Chilkoots, she wore clothes she’d woven or made herself, in this case gray wool trousers with a bright blue sweater belted over them. Surprisingly stylish for the middle of the wilderness. Her reddish-brown braid fell over one shoulder, her hair so thick it didn’t need a tie at the end. Her eyes were wide and gray and somehow both wise and innocent, as if she’d seen it all, but still had hope.

Maura wished she had that kind of optimism.

“Would you like to join me?” She pulled a chair from a neighboring table and swung it over. “Please? I could use a break.”

Ruth sat down, though she seemed poised to take off again at a moment’s notice. “I’m sure it’s partly my fault that you have so much work to do. My excuse is that I was homeschooled myself and grammar wasn’t ever important for the farm. We learned more about math and animal husbandry.”

“That’s definitely not one of the topics I generally cover,” Maura said dryly. “In fact I know nothing about it. You should teach a module for us. I’ve been inviting people to come in and share their knowledge, I’d love to have you take a turn.”

“Oh, I probably wouldn’t have time for that. But I’ll think about it,” she said quickly, seeing Maura’s disappointment. “How are Sarah, Noah and Jeb doing so far?”

“Excellent. I hope they’re enjoying it?”

“They love it. It’s all they talk about.” She smiled wistfully. “The other day, Noah said to me, ‘Did you know there are other places where we wouldn’t be able to understand anything they say, and they wouldn’t understand us?’ He could barely sleep that night, trying to understand it. The next day he started making up his own language. He said he was going to establish his own country with its own language.”

Maura laughed with delight. “Kids are amazing, aren’t they? They’re endlessly inventive.”

Another smile from Ruth, this one also tinged with sadness. “You’re right. But I wasn’t raised that way. For us, working was the most important thing. Contributing to the farm and to the community. I’m happy the younger ones are having a different experience, but it’s strange to me.”

Maura closed her file folder of essays and shoved it to the side. “I think I’m ready for a glass of wine. Would you like one?”

“I don’t usually…” Ruth hesitated, looking at her watch, then around at the late-afternoon crowd, then back at Maura. “Okay,” she said. “Why not? Everything’s different now anyway.”

Maura wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but she smiled and went to order the wine. This time, Bear took her order while Lachlan, elbows propped on the bar, took part in an intimate conversation with Martha.

A stab of jealousy shot through her, uninvited and unwelcome. The two of them looked so interested in each other, so wrapped up in whatever they were discussing.

“Ruth wants a glass of wine?” Bear asked in surprise.

“Is that strange?”

“I didn’t think they allowed alcohol out there.”

“Who’s ‘they’?”

That question brought him up short. “Good point. There is no ‘they’ out there anymore. There’s just Ruth trying to do her best. That wine is on the house. She deserves it.”

After one last glance at the oblivious Lachlan, Maura carefully carried the wine back to her table. “It’s on the house,” she told Ruth. “Courtesy of Bear.”

“What would we do without Bear?” Ruth cautiously tilted the glass to her lips. “This is only my second glass of wine ever.”

“How was the first one?”

“I don’t remember much about it,” she admitted, and they both laughed.

“Do you have a ride home, just in case?”

“I didn’t drive myself in. My truck is at Gunnar’s, getting worked on.” Her face flushed. Maura made a mental note—interesting.

“Elias told me about the strange man who was bitten by a wolf out at your place. Have you had any other incidents like that?”

“Strange men or wolf attacks?” The wine was already going to Ruth’s head. Maura wasn’t sure about the ethics of taking advantage of that, but decided asking a few questions was perfectly harmless.

“Either one.”

---