“All right. I'll see you tomorrow.”
Jessie smiled, the lines in her face crinkling like parchment paper. “You've saved the day.”
“I'll go right now and tell my folks. See you later, Celeste.” Laurel walked out into sunshine.
Chapter Twenty-One
LAUREL PLUCKED A FIRM ROUND BERRY. STARING AT THE HALF-FILLED container, she said, “It takes a lot of berries to fill a bucket. I wish they were bigger.”
“Nothing good comes easy,” Jean said.
Laurel selected another cranberry, examined the small maroon fruit, then set it on her tongue. When she chewed, its taut skin popped and tart juice filled her mouth. Laurel puckered. “Oh, these are sour.”
Jean chuckled. “They're supposed to go in your bucket, not your mouth. They'll make good pies and jelly. I'll make a pie for tomorrow.” She looked across the road at their home. “I can hardly believe we're moving in.”
“How many do you want?” Laurel asked, knowing it would take most of the morning to get a substantial quantity.
“Well, we didn't pick many raspberries, and I'd still like to get some of the high-bush cranberries. Norma made jelly out of some. It's the best I've ever tasted.” She eyed the large milking bucket she'd brought. “I'd really like to fill the bucket today. We can come back for more after we get settled.”
Laurel frowned. She'd rather finish packing. They could move some of their things into the house. The berries would still be here in a couple of days.
“Come mid-winter, we'll be glad for these,” Jean continued.
“I know, but we have lots more days to pick. Shouldn't we be packing?”
“We'll have time this afternoon, and a lot of it is already done.” Her fingers deftly searching, Jean added, “Plus, we can't know when the weather will change. It's been so nice. I'd rather be out here in the sunshine than the rain. And there are currants and mossberries still to be picked.” She moved to another bush. “It's September. We've already had frosty nights, and I thought I saw a skiff of fresh snow on the mountains this morning.”
Laurel dropped more berries into her bucket, then studied Mr. Jenkins's cows just beyond the fence. They grazed contentedly. She'd been told that as long as the cows were at ease there were no bears nearby. The colonists had taken to watching cows and carrying rifles. They'd never had to deal with grizzlies before, and after several sightings and some horrible stories, they'd grown leery. “Have you or Daddy seen any more bears?”
“We did see one pretty close to the camp yesterday, but he wasn't interested in us. He was busy eating berries. The bears are fat and happy these days. There's plenty for them to eat. From what I've been told, they become real gluttons this time of year, getting ready for their winter sleep.”
Laurel glanced around. “They eat a lot of berries.”
Jean straightened, kneading the small of her back. She smiled at her daughter. “Laurel, I think this would go more quickly if you thought more about picking and less about bears.”
“There's no harm in being cautious.” Laurel added another handful to her pail. “I heard a couple of Mr. Jenkins's calves were killed.”
“Those two were up in his far pasture,” Jean said as if distance made a difference.
“Was it a bear?”
“That's enough bear talk. I don't know what killed them. Let's just finish here.”
Laurel nodded, but before bending to her task, she glanced about once more just to make certain they were alone.
The following morning Mr. Jenkins and Mr. Prosser arrived at the Haspers' tent to help load and move the family. Drew Prosser had his pickup and Tom Jenkins his wagon. Adam and Robert were also there ready to lend a hand.
While the men loaded furniture, Laurel and her mother boxed up the last of the food, dishes, pots, pans, and other small items. After everything was loaded, Jean climbed into Drew's truck, holding Susie on her lap.
“Climb on in here,” Drew called to Laurel.
Laurel glanced around. It was a beautiful day; the sun felt warm. “I think I'll walk.”
“All right then. We'll see you there.” Jean closed the door, and the truck pulled away leaving a cloud of dust.
“Hey, do you mind if I join you?” Robert asked, falling into step beside Laurel.
“No, I don't mind,” Laurel lied. She'd hoped to be alone to enjoy the beauty and serenity of the valley.
“I bet you're excited. My mother and sisters can hardly wait. Next week it's our turn. Mom said she'd stop by tomorrow or the next day.”
“That'll be nice,” Laurel said, paying more attention to her surroundings than to Robert.
Drew's truck steered around Tom Jenkins's wagon. Adam stood in the back of the wagon. He glowered at Robert. “Hey, we could use some help,” he called.
“I s'pose I ought to go with them.” Robert tipped his hat to Laurel. “I'll see you at the house.” He loped after the wagon, climbing inside while it was still moving. Bumping over dried ruts, it nearly tossed him out before he found a seat on a wheel well. He waved to Laurel.
Laurel slowed her steps, wanting to enjoy the solitude of the valley. Red and yellow leaves still clinging to their hosts shimmered beneath fall sunshine. The pungent smell of moss and ripening berries hung in the air, and clusters of tall slender stalks of vivid pink fireweed bent in the breeze.
When Laurel arrived at the cabin, Susie already sat in her high chair, a half-eaten cracker in hand. Boxes waiting to be unpacked sat on the kitchen table, and Jean was bent over a flour bin, a large sack of flour in hand. She straightened and looked at Laurel. Blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes, she said, “Oh, good. You're here. Could you help me?”
Laurel crossed to her mother and held the bin open while Jean finished emptying the sack. “I'm sorry. I should have ridden with you.”
“No. That's fine. But I'm glad you're here now.”
“What do you want me to do?”
