Chapter 11 Claire
Claire was absolutely mortified. What would Red think of the way her sisters were acting? She wouldn’t blame him if he turned the truck around this minute and headed home.
That stunt Frannie pulled. And Bridget. Since they stepped off the bus, Bridget hadn’t had a kind word for their little sister. Now, Bridget was threatening to lock her in the truck for the rest of the day like a naughty dog.
How quickly Claire had forgotten that her family was a far cry from Father Knows Best. In fact, what was going on right now in the truck was the reason she’d escaped to Yellowstone in the first place.
The winter Frannie turned sixteen, their once-peaceful house became a war zone with Frannie and Dad in open combat.
By the time spring came, Claire was sick and tired of being the peacemaker.
When Millie told her of her plan to work at Old Faithful for the summer, Claire grabbed on to the idea like a lifeboat on a sinking ship.
Her job at the Old Faithful Inn laundry was hot and sweaty work, but Claire spent her free time falling in love with Yellowstone—and not worrying about her rebellious teenage sister pitted against her overprotective father. The summer of freedom was glorious . . . and then she met Red.
Claire tried to catch Red’s eye and let him know she appreciated how his quick thinking averted disaster between her sister and the bear. He kept his attention on the road as if World War III wasn’t going on around them.
She’d tried to smooth things over with Red this morning. Before anyone else was awake, she’d left the house and walked barefoot through the dew-wet grass to where Red was sleeping outside.
He’d been awake—watching the sun rise over the mountains—and lifted his bedroll so she could slip in.
The lilt of birdsong accompanied the rippling music of the river as she curled into his warmth and tucked her head under his chin.
“I missed you,” she told him. He pulled her close, and in the beauty of the sunrise, all was well. If only it could stay that way.
Now, the road wound past Morning Glory Pool and Castle Geyser. She’d love to show both wonders to her sisters, but the mood in the cab was mutinous and Jenny was starting to fuss. “Let’s go straight to Old Faithful,” she murmured to Red. He nodded once, his jaw tight.
Red followed the line of cars into the parking lot and found a space among the station wagons and convertibles. Claire gratefully unstuck her hot legs from the seat and scooted out of the truck with a fussy, wet, and hungry Jenny.
“Do I need to hold your hand or are you going to act your age?” Bridget griped to Frannie as they clambered out.
“I’m not a child.” Frannie sulked.
“Then stop acting like one.”
Frannie stuck out her tongue at Bridget.
Red held out his hands for Jenny. “I’ll take care of her.”
Claire passed Jenny to him with dismay. Red would rather change a diaper than listen to her sisters quarrel, and she didn’t blame him. Five minutes later, Claire sat between fuming Bridget and unrepentant Frannie on a bench facing the famous geyser.
A ranger with a megaphone gave his spiel. “Ten thousand gallons of water heated by volcanic magma has kept Old Faithful spouting about once an hour for as long as we’ve known her.”
By the time the ranger finished, Red joined them with Jenny.
He cradled her in his arms and gave her the bottle Claire had packed in the ice chest. Claire watched him, a sudden surge of love for him.
He hadn’t grown up with family. All this was new to him, and he was being patient with her difficult sisters.
Red looked up from feeding Jenny and caught her gaze, his expression softening. Maybe they could salvage the day.
“There she blows, folks,” the ranger said.
The spouting began and the crowd leaned forward, oohing and aahing over the column of boiling hot water arcing into the clear blue sky. Bridget took a dozen pictures and even Frannie said, “Pretty cool, I guess.”
As the crowd dispersed, Claire led her sisters toward the Old Faithful Inn, Jenny happily babbling in Red’s arms. Claire showed her sisters the laundry building hidden behind the imposing hotel.
“The laundry maids were called bubble queens,” she told them.
“And we all lived together in the dorms over there.” She pointed to the building next to the laundry.
“That window up there in the top row, second from the end, was mine and Millie’s. ”
“And when you didn’t work, you got to do whatever you wanted?” Frannie asked, suddenly taking an interest.
“Did we ever!” Claire thought of the fun times she and Millie had as savages—the name for seasonal park employees. “We saw everything, went hiking and camping, and to dances.”
“That sounds pretty neat.” Frannie looked impressed.
Claire’s spirits rose as she caught a flash of the little sister she remembered.
Next, Claire led the way through the big red doors of the castle-like Old Faithful Inn.
“This is the place for the tourists with money,” she explained.
Bridget and Frannie both looked up in wonder.
It’s what all the tourists did when they first saw the soaring height of the lobby.
Staircases and walkways made of peeled lodgepole pines crisscrossed the outer walls, and high windows showed glimpses of sky and wisps of clouds.
“It’s one of the largest log structures in the world,” Claire told them as they crossed the lobby strewn with bentwood chairs and wrought iron candelabras.
The three-story stone fireplace was cold in the summer months but still impressive.
Red held Jenny where she could see the swinging pendulum of the enormous clock that counted off the minutes between Old Faithful’s performances.
Bridget edged closer to Claire. “Now do you see what you left me to deal with?” she whispered, jerking her head toward Frannie, who was peeking into the dining room full of well-dressed tourists.
Claire pressed her lips together as guilt stung her. When she’d told Bridget she was going to Yellowstone for the summer, Bridget had moaned that she was deserting her to deal with Dad and Frannie on her own. Even after she married Red, Bridget hadn’t let up on the guilt trip. “She’s not so bad.”
“Hey, you guys,” Frannie interrupted, practically yelling across the lobby as she pointed to the dining room menu posted on the wall. “I could murder a hamburger and fries.”
Claire joined Frannie at the double doors that led into the dining room. “We have sandwiches and pop in the cooler,” she told Frannie.
“Which you’d know if you got up in time to help her make them,” Bridget chimed in.
Frannie’s brow wrinkled. “You mean the sandwiches that were in the ice chest?”
Claire frowned. “What do you mean were?”
Frannie shrugged. “I didn’t have any breakfast. And the last one went to the bear.”
Claire stared at her sister in dismay. How could she not know that was their lunch?
“Frannie, you are the living end,” Bridget said with her familiar outrage.
Claire looked to Red, joining them with Jenny. They were hours from home and there wasn’t another restaurant for twenty miles.
“What’s the big deal? Let’s just eat here,” Frannie said, as if it was obvious.
Claire couldn’t very well tell her sister that lunch at the Old Faithful Inn would cost more than she spent on groceries for a week. She glanced at Red and then back at the dining room. He passed Jenny to her, then dug in his pocket and frowned at four crumpled one-dollar bills. Not enough.
“You didn’t take any money from the cookie tin?
” It was the wrong thing to say. The money in the cookie tin was what they had left from Marigold, and Red’s expression hardened.
Heat crept up her neck and Jenny began to fuss in her arms. She glanced toward Bridget, hoping she hadn’t heard their embarrassing dilemma or noticed Red’s flare of temper.
No such luck.
Bridget was watching with a sharp gaze, but suddenly smiled brightly. “Goodness, Claire, I completely forgot.” She opened her purse and pulled out her wallet, then a crisp twenty-dollar bill. “It’s from Dad. He told me to take you out for a nice meal on him.”
“Hallelujah, we’re saved,” Frannie crowed.
Claire’s heart dropped as Red’s face went flint hard. “We don’t need your father’s money,” Red answered, his voice like stone grating on stone.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Bridget snapped in her no-nonsense voice. “It’s obvious you do.”
Claire squeezed her eyes shut. Bridget couldn’t have said anything worse if she tried.
“Wowsa.” Now even Frannie had noticed Red’s furious expression.
“Red”—Bridget tried to backpedal—“I didn’t mean anything by it.”
But it was too late.
“I know exactly what you meant,” Red ground out. He took Jenny from Claire’s arms. “Jenny and I will wait in the truck. I’d rather be hungry than eat on your father’s dime.”