Page 27 of Still My Forever

He slapped his knees and pushed to his feet. Sliding the chair out of the way, he offered a genuine smile. “Well, boys, to start our first practice, let’s run some scales in the key of C, with a four-four tempo. Bass drum, please play on the one, and snares, please play eighth notes through each measure. Horn players, we’ll hold each note four counts.”

He held his breath. Would they understand his instructions?

They brought their instruments into position, eyes aimed at him.

“Remember, four full beats per note. We’ll go slowly and with purpose—one, two, three, four.” He moved his baton in beat with his words, hiding a smile at the way all pairs of eyes seemed transfixed by its silver tip. “Ready? And…one.” Gil ledthem through one full scale, listening and observing. To his delight, they were attentive, and most followed the movements of his baton. A few horns were slightly out of tune—he’d fix that next—but his first introduction to their playing encouraged him. So far they were, as Roald had said,sea klüak.

They finished on a high C. When Gil snapped the baton, silence fell. Then the boys grinned at each other, and one of the younger baritone players snickered. The boy next to him bopped him on the arm.

Gil smiled at the boy who’d giggled. “What’s your name?”

“Franky Ediger.”

Ralph raised his mallet. “He’s my brother.”

Gil acknowledged Ralph with a nod. “Franky, I wonder if you were amused for the same reason I came close to laughing.”

The youngster placed his lips against the mouthpiece and warbled out an E-sharp. Then he grinned. “We was all playing the same note, but we didn’t all sound like we was playing the same note.” He stuck his finger in his ear and rotated it, as if reaming something out. “It kinda hurt.”

A few boys gawked at Franky, seemingly appalled, but Gil couldn’t have been more delighted. “If you were able to hear the slight differences in tone, you have an ear for music, which is a wonderful gift. And you’re right. Even though you were all playing the same note, some of the instruments are slightly out of tune. So we have an important job to do right now. We need to get every instrument to match the one next to it. How many of you know how to tune your own instrument?”

Nearly every hand went up.

“Good. This should go smoothly, then. I’m going to divide you into groups. We’ll listen to each horn, choose the one that’s most on pitch, then the others will work to match it. Baritones, you form a circle over here.” He pointed to thenortheast corner of the room. “Tuba and trombone, over there.” He indicated the northwest corner. “Trumpets and French horn, there.” He swung his hand to the southeast corner. “Now, I’ll—”

One of the snare-drum players waved his hand over his head. “Mr. Baty? What about us?”

Ralph tapped the top of the boy’s head with his mallet. “We don’t get tuned, Roy. We wait quietly while Mr. Baty helps the others.”

Gil sent Ralph an appreciative nod, then turned to the baritone players. “Since there’s a whole herd of you, let’s start here.”

Joseph

Several wagons werealready parked around the bank building when Joseph reached town. When he was Earl’s age, he’d walked back and forth from Falke to his farm, but Ma told him to take the wagon and fetch Earl. Ma was a worrier by nature, and she’d always worried over Earl because of his feet. Her fussing got worse when Earl’s growth slowed down, leaving him far behind his peers. She treated him younger than his age because of his size.

Joseph parked around the corner from the bank, then hopped down and meandered to the outside entrance of the bank’s upper level. The door was propped open with a rock, and the sound of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” played by a number of horns escaped the solid limestone block building. He leaned against the rough blocks and listened, his head tilted. One side of his mouth tried to pull into a smile. The song was a childish choice, especially for boys, but they were playing well.

Reverend Ediger waited in his wagon right in front of thebuilding, the reins draped across his knee. He caught Joseph’s eye. “They sound pretty good already, don’t they?”

Joseph ambled to the horses and rubbed their velvet noses. “Jo, and it doesn’t surprise me. Gil knows what he’s doing.” Had he really just complimented his cousin? He’d told the truth, though. Gil already had the men’s band playing as well as they had when Mr. Goertz directed it. Why wouldn’t he do just as well with the boys?

“This band will be good for our boys,” the preacher said, his gaze lifting to the windows on the second floor. “Ralph especially needs something else to do while school is out for the summer. A boy his age can find mischief if he isn’t kept busy.”

The year Joseph turned twelve, Pa had put him to work in the woodworking shop. Gil wasn’t expected to work in there, though, because he was taking music lessons with Mr. Goertz three evenings a week. Joseph asked for lessons, too, but Pa said no—“You can play my trombone on your own. Learning more about music is Gil’s job, because Mr. Goertz says he will be a musician someday. You will be a craftsman, so you need to learn here.” If there’d been a boys’ band then, would Pa have let him join it? He stifled a snort. He wouldn’t have joined it even if Pa said yes, because Gil would have been its star and he wouldn’t have wanted to come in second. He’d always been first in the woodshop, though.

The song ended, and a few minutes later very discordant noises—chairs being dragged across the floor—came from upstairs. “Sounds like they’re putting the room in order.”

“Jo.” Reverend Ediger checked his pocket watch. “Ending at half past seven, just the way Gil said they would.” Feet thundered on the stairs. He shifted his focus to the doorway. “And here they come.”

Boys burst from the entryway, holding tight to theirinstruments, jabbering and laughing. Earl was in the middle of the pack, looking happier than Joseph could ever remember seeing him. Joseph called, “Over here, Earl.”

His brother spun around, then came at Joseph in his waddling gait, pressing the trumpet to his chest as if he carried a king’s ransom. “Hi!”

Joseph chuckled. “Hi, yourself. Did you have a good time?”

Earl nodded so hard he bumped his chin on the trumpet. He yelped, laughed, and rubbed the spot. “I had a real good time. Guess what? My trumpet was most in tune, so the other boys had to match me. Then when Gil put us in order, he put me first.First,Joe. I’ve never been first. Not for anything.”

A lump filled Joseph’s throat. After only one practice, Earl was glowing. He even seemed taller. “That’s real good. Ma and Pa will be proud of you.”

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