A Dry Creek Courtship

Charley Nelson sat with his empty coffee cup in one hand. A checkerboard was laid out on the table to the right of his chair. If he looked past the woodstove, he could see through the windows of the hardware store and out to the street. He’d been looking through those windows for the past twenty minutes, waiting for Elmer Maynard to finish talking about the paint job he planned for his old white Cadillac.

Before Elmer had started talking, Charley had set up the board so they could play. Then he’d gotten a fresh, hot cup of coffee. Elmer didn’t even seem to notice the board, he was so busy debating the virtues of midnight blue and ocean blue when applied to a car. Charley was amazed a man could have so many opinions about the different shades of blue yet never have any strategy when it came to a simple game of checkers.

Between the stillness out the window and the drone of Elmer’s voice, Charley was almost dozing when he heard a sound in the distance. At first, he couldn’t really make out the sound, but as it got louder he placed it quickly. It woke him right up. “What’s that woman doing?”

Charley set his coffee cup down on the table and looked around him with a scowl. The hardware store was having a sale on nails so there were a dozen men leaning against the counter, wanting to make purchases. “I thought we all agreed no one was going to jump start that battery for Mrs. Hargrove.”

Not a man dared lift his gaze to Charley and that included the salesman who was just there to bring in a new display case of shovels. He didn’t even know Mrs. Hargrove.

Finally, Elmer jutted out his chin and said. “We didn’t agree. You told us what you wanted, but that didn’t mean we agreed with you.”

“Yeah,” a couple of the men said.

“Well, you should have enough sense to agree. All of you.” Charley stared down each of the men who dared to meet his gaze. He knew Edith could make most of them do anything she wanted if she put on her Sunday-school-teacher voice. But he thought he’d impressed upon them the need to stop her from driving that beat-up old car. The thing barely ran. It was a break-down waiting to happen.

There was another moment’s silence, broken only by the crackling of the wood in the stove.

“I’m the one who jump-started the battery for her,” Pastor Matthew finally said from where he stood behind the counter. He’d been going over the catalogue to fill out the order form for new nails. “It seemed the Christian thing to do when she asked.”

Charley’s face got red but he figured he couldn’t very well tell the pastor to stop acting like a Christian. Everyone knew it was his job to do things like that. Trust Edith to pick the one man in town who Charley couldn’t easily scold.

“Well, I don’t think it’s a good idea. Not a good idea at all,” Charley muttered.

“She’s not a bad driver,” Elmer said. “For a woman, that is.”

“She’s an excellent driver,” Charley snapped back. “That’s never been the problem. It’s that car. It should have been chopped up into scrap metal years ago. The muffler is almost worn out and those windshield wipers are about to fall off.”

“Well, then you should fix it up for her, if you’re so worried,” Elmer said.

“It would take more money to fix that car than to buy you a new Cadillac,” Charley said, even though he knew it wasn’t strictly true. Still, it was foolish to fix up that eyesore when it would cost less to buy a reasonable used car that a dignified woman like Edith would be proud to drive.

“She’s awfully fond of that car,” the pastor said from the counter. “It seems it was the last car Harold bought before he died. Memories, you know.”

Charley grunted. He didn’t like to speak ill of the dead, but he couldn’t help it. “That man never could pick a car that was worth anything. I can’t understand why she’d want to keep a rattletrap around to remind her of Harold’s poor judgment when it came to cars. He always planted his wheat too early, too, but that’s neither here nor there.”

“Well, if you’re so set on her having a new car,” Elmer said as he hooked his thumbs on his suspenders, “why don’t you just sic that nephew of yours on her? It’s Conrad, isn’t it? You told me he’s adding a used car lot to that garage of his and I drove by the other day when I was in Miles City. Let him sell her something.”

“She might not be able to afford a new car,” the pastor cautioned.

“The ad in front of Conrad’s shop said they never turn anyone away,” Elmer said. “So money should be no-o-o problem.”

“He got that sign from another car lot that had gone out of business,” Charley said. “Conrad doesn’t want to put much money into signs before he knows if he’ll get any customers.”

“Well, he shouldn’t put up a sign if he doesn’t mean it,” Elmer said. “That’s the worst thing he can do for business. Besides, selling something to Mrs. Hargrove would be business so I’d think he’d hop right on it. Everyone in the county will notice if she’s driving a new car. A good word from her could bring him more customers than he’ll know what to do with.”

Charley reached over to get his empty coffee cup and then stood up. “I guess it couldn’t hurt to talk to him.” He walked over to the counter and set the cup down. “Conrad has to prove himself a salesman someday. If he can sell a car to Edith, he can sell a car to anyone.”

The pastor looked up from his order form and nodded at Charley. “That woman knows her mind, all right. She won’t be easy to convince if she doesn’t want to be.”

“Some women get a new car just because they like the color,” Elmer said. “Remind your nephew to talk about color with her. The blues are always popular. Tell him to say it’ll match her eyes.”

“Edith’s eyes are green,” Charley said as he started walking to the door.

“Hey,” Elmer called out, “we haven’t had our game yet. Where are you going?”

“I’ll be back,” Charley said. “I just need to check up on that car.”

Charley stood on the porch of the hardware store and looked down the road. He could see Edith’s mustard-colored car in the distance, billowing out enough smoke to show that it was still moving. He shook his head as he walked over to his pickup. It wasn’t easy to talk sense to a stubborn woman, but he had to try.

Edith stopped her car at the point in the road near where the coulee started to dip. Autumn came fast and furious to this part of Montana. When she got out of the car, she looked in all directions and could see the brown patches of grass that had already turned for the year. Farther out, she could see the Big Sheep Mountains.

Edith made sure her socks were pulled up as high as they could go before she took her bucket and started to the edge of the coulee. The ground sloped down gradually and she had to be careful not to slide.

She wasn’t more than eight feet down the slope when she heard the sound of a vehicle stopping on the road above. She supposed it was one of the hands at the Elkton Ranch making sure she was all right. Everyone in the whole county knew her car so they wouldn’t be wondering who was walking down in the coulee; they’d just be stopping to make sure she was okay.

“I’m fine,” Edith called out. She was far enough down in the coulee that she couldn’t see who it was that had parked. “Just going to pick some chokecherries.”

“Well, that’s a fool thing to be doing.”

Edith didn’t need to see the man to know that it was Charley up there. She hadn’t seen him for two days, she thought in annoyance, and he decided now was the time to talk to her. Her daughter hadn’t put the pins back in Edith’s bun securely and she could feel her hair starting to pull loose. Even with the hat on her head, a person could still see her sagging hair. She probably looked frightful. Plus, the hat was yellow and she always had thought it made her face look a little green.

“You don’t need to come down,” Edith called back. The best thing would be if Charley just went away. Then she wouldn’t need to worry about how she looked. “I’m doing fine.”

She didn’t know why she was suddenly worried about how she looked when it was only Charley. He knew she was a plain-featured woman with work lines on her face. He’d probably seen every one of her gardening hats over the years.

Charley stood at the top of the coulee and saw Edith slowly walking down. He could kick himself. He’d completely forgotten about picking the chokecherries. His mind had been on that old car of hers. He should have remembered she’d need those berries to make her harvest-dinner jelly.

“I’ll be right there,” Charley said as he started down the coulee. Edith was holding herself stiff and he wondered if her arthritis was acting up. “You don’t need to be climbing down no coulees.”

“I can certainly pick a few chokecherries,” Edith said. “Just because I haven’t done it for a few years doesn’t mean I can’t.”

Charley noticed the woman didn’t even turn around to face him. That didn’t bode well.

“I’m sorry I forgot.” Charley kept right on going down the side of the coulee, sidestepping instead of walking straight to keep his balance. “I can get the berries now though. Just give me a few minutes.”

Charley caught up with Edith as she reached the chokecherry bushes. They were gnarled and rooted deep in the sandy soil with nothing but thistles to keep them company. Those bushes had been there for decades and each year they were red with chokecherries until the birds from Canada started picking the berries off as they flew south.

There were no red berries in sight.

“They’re all gone,” Charley said. The birds had already been here. The bushes were picked clean. “I’m sorry. Maybe there’s some left over on that hill by the Morgan farm.”

Those berries were never as plump and Charley knew that, but he saw no reason to remind Edith of that fact.

“It’s all right,” Edith said. “I can get by without chokecherry jelly.”

Charley noticed that she still hadn’t looked at him. “But you always make chokecherry jelly.”

“Only because there’s no peaches around.”