The Brushstroke Legacy (5 page)

“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 said 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.

She slid her card through the door lock and entered the room, half expecting to see Erika back in bed. “Hey, you’re ready.”

“You said I had to hurry.” Erika pulled out a toothed clip and twisted her wet hair into place. While Ragni watched, she stuffed her duffel bags full and swung them over her shoulder.

I was hoping for something other than black, but
… “I sure hope you brought some shorts and tanks along. It’s going to be hot.” She lost Erika’s mutter as the girl strode out to the car.

They found the Cowboy Cafe located just beyond the Catholic church. Though Erika wrinkled her nose at the simple exterior, the cowboy pictures and memorabilia inside caught her attention immediately.

“You lucked out. We’ll have a table ready in a moment,” called the young woman taking orders.

Ragni glanced around. Brands were burned into wood, and old pictures of ranch scenes and rodeo events lined the walls. A group of men at a longer table toward the rear all wore Western shirts with snaps and long sleeves. These weren’t the fancy embroidered shirts one sees at a Western boutique. Worn and faded, these shirts had seen plenty of hours outside, just like the tanned faces of the men wearing them. Brimmed straw hats or baseball caps with farming logos hung on the chair backs.

“Here you go.” The ponytailed waitress beckoned them to a table for two among a line of tables near the front.

“Coffee?” She smiled at Ragni.

“Yes, for me.”

“Do you have espresso?” Erika asked.

“Sorry, no. Plain coffee or with sugar and cream.” The waitress didn’t look much older than Erika.

“I’ll have hot chocolate.”

“Coming right up.” She tipped the cup and filled it for Ragni. “Wait, this is leaded.”

“That’s what I need. Thanks.” Ragni smiled, then flipped open her menu. But before studying it, she sniffed the air. “Did you see that sign for caramel rolls?”

Erika shook her head.

“I can smell them baking. They weren’t fooling—homemade caramel rolls.”

“So.”

“So maybe we should take some with us. There’s only a little store at the gas station. We can get some things there, but the real shopping is twenty miles away. We could have stopped on our way in, had I known that.”
So much for the diet. Maybe I should just put it on hiatus until I get home.

Erika looked up from her menu when the waitress set a cup of hot chocolate by her. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, what’ll you have?” The waitress raised her order pad, ready to write.

Ragni nodded to Erika.

“Pancakes with a side of bacon.”

“One, two, or three?”

Erika glanced to Ragni, then up to the girl in jeans and a T-shirt that said, “Ask me, I live here.”

“They’re big.” She spread her fingers. “Almost plate-sized.”

“One.”

“Good choice. Only ones can finish three are growing boys and hard-working men.”

Ragni grinned up at her. “You say that like you know.”

“Been workin’ here almost a year. You learn a lot that way.” She grinned back. “And you?”

“I’ll have two eggs over easy, sausages, and burn the hash browns.”

“Toast or caramel roll?”

“Do you have rye toast?”

“Sure do.”

“Then rye toast, and four caramel rolls to go.”

Erika raised an eyebrow. “Four?”

“Good as they smell, you might have to fight for yours.” Ragni sipped her coffee. Definitely diet hiatus. “Your grandmother used to make the best caramel rolls. I have her recipe in my file at home. How she would have loved to come with us.”

“She always made pancakes for Sunday morning breakfast, then we’d have to hurry to make it to Sunday school on time,” Erika said.

“Back when you lived right across the street?”

“Uh-huh. When Mom went to work at Cook County, and we moved closer to her job, I hated not seeing Grammy and Poppa so much. And now Poppa can’t come get me anymore.” She traced the pattern in the wood table with her fingertip and looked up at Ragni. “I take the bus out there sometimes, but it isn’t the same.”

Hey, she’s talking. Three cheers.
But Ragni made sure she didn’t show her jubilation. “I know.” Alzheimer’s takes away all kinds of living. She closed her mind at a memory of her dad’s look of frustration when words failed him. “How long since you spent the night at Grammy’s?”

Erika shrugged and stared down at her black-painted nails. “Don’t matter.”

Ah, but it does.
“I sure miss him, the way he used to be.” Ragni’s voice broke on the words.

Erika shrugged again, and the sullen mask fell back in place.

So much for meaningful discussions.

The men laughing at the table in the rear caught Ragni’s attention. They obviously knew each other, calling comments to those at another table in the room. She’d heard of cafes where locals gathered. This looked to be the place for Medora.
If only I could ask that older man if he knew my Uncle Einer.
Actually he’d been her great-uncle, but he’d never married. Was there a story there too? How come her family didn’t talk about the earlier days? Didn’t her mother remember anything? Surely she must, but she’d been so concerned about Dad lately that Ragni had not wanted to bother her with questions before the trip. Guilt twinged at how hard she’d fought coming out here. Had her mother been paying the taxes? Surely she had title, or did the cabin belong to Harriet, her sister who’d died two years earlier? So many questions without answers.

“There you go.” The waitress set their plates in front of them. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Not that I can see. Thanks.” She realized that while she’d been
thinking, someone had refilled her coffee cup and set water glasses on the table. Glancing up, she caught Erika’s wide-eyed stare at the fluffy pancake on her plate.

“Its huge.”

“She warned you.”

“I know, but…”

“But you thought perhaps she was exaggerating?”

“I guess.”

Ragni glanced up when she heard the men scraping back their chairs. As they filed past, one of the younger men caught her eye and smiled. He tipped his head slightly, like an old-fashioned bow. The older man brought up the rear, settling his hat on hair gone nearly white. He too nodded and smiled.

“Mornin’. Fine day we’re having.”

Ragni nodded and smiled back. “Sure is.” She reluctantly turned back to her food so she wouldn’t stare. As they paid their checks at the glassed-in counter, they swapped banter with the short, aproned man running the cash register. From the sounds of it, he might be the owner. She wished she could see what was going on. Her mother hadn’t called her nosy for nothing.

Erika continued eating without comment.

“Everything okay?” Their waitress stopped beside the table.

“The hash browns are perfect. Thank you.”

“Good, can I get you anything else?”

When Ragni shook her head, the young woman laid their check on the table. “Your caramel rolls will be ready when you are. We just took a new pan out of the oven.”

If none of them get as far as the cabin, it won’t be for want of trying.

“Come again,” the man operating the cash register said as they left.

Ragni waved. They most likely would be back. The fragrance rising from the foam box in her hands attested to that.

Back in the car, she turned to Erika. “Okay, we need to decide what we are having for lunch and dinner.”

“Now?” Erika shook her head. “I just ate enough for two days.”

“You’re not worrying about your weight, are you?”

Back to the shrug.

“Oh, for cryin’ out loud. You’re not fat.”

“I’m not thin either, so don’t get started. You sound just like my mom.”

Heaven forbid. Of course I might sound like your mom. She’s my sister.
Ragni decided silence was the better form of wisdom. “Be that as it may, we will not be running back to town every day, so we have to make some decisions.”

“Whatever.”

Ragni felt like slamming the steering wheel. She’d already come to hate that word, and they’d only been together two days. Well, a day and a half—sort of. And had teenagers turned shrugs into an alternate language? If so, she’d be bilingual before heading back to Chicago. “Okay, I’ll tell you this. I’m getting sandwich makings for lunch and hot dogs and beans for dinner. Easy to fix on the camp stove. I’ll buy milk and cereal for breakfast. And fruit if they have it. Anything else?”

Erika had her earphones back in place and was tapping the beat with one finger.

After getting groceries, they had to drive past the motel on their
way out of town on the gravel road. Ragni almost swung in and made reservations for the night, but one glance at her niece and she kept on driving.
A little roughing it might be good for you.
They passed cattle grazing along the road, oil wells and storage tanks, the sign for the Bible camp turnoff, and several nice houses. After they left the main road and curved on down Plumely Draw, as the map called it, she saw dirty white cattle standing in a pond drinking. Finally, they dropped down to a flat valley with a ranch off to the right. The instructions said that was the former site of Teddy Roosevelt’s Maltese Cross Ranch. Ahead, tall trees lined what had to be the riverbank, since the rest of the flat was taken up with fenced fields.