Chapter 8
8
They slept at Martha’s that night, in sleeping bags on a double mattress that Martha hauled out of a storage shed. If you could call it sleep—Ruth kept jerking awake, her heart hammering in her throat. She would have tossed and turned, but she didn’t want to wake Sarah, so she lay still and stared up at the bare raftered ceiling and considered their options.
They needed to stay in Firelight Ridge, that much was clear. Neither she nor Sarah knew anything about how to survive in the rest of the world. Also, she wanted to stay close enough so she could help the other kids if need be.
Gunnar’s offer had been so kind, and so spontaneous. She’d seen the look of surprise on his face when he’d heard his own words. Thinking of it now, she wanted to giggle. The last thing Gunnar needed was two damsels in distress moving into his place. That would really interfere with his summer fun. All those pretty backpackers and rock-climbers and kayakers would wonder why he was babysitting two young women in homespun clothes.
Speaking of which…Sarah hadn’t thought to pack much in the way of clothing. Ruth might be wearing Gunnar’s hoodie for the foreseeable future. She had it bunched next to her now, as a kind of extra pillow slash security blanket. She found the scent of it reassuring—fresh air with a hint of motor oil and a big dose of clean masculine skin.
She rolled over onto her side and snuggled it to her chest. Often, when she couldn’t sleep, she conjured up a scene from one of her books. But none of them would coalesce in her mind, and instead she floated off to sleep remembering how it felt to fly through the forest next to Gunnar’s strong body.
When the deep blue of twilight was just shifting to the gray of dawn, she woke up with a fully formed plan. She crept out of the sleeping bag, pulled on Gunnar’s hoodie, and tiptoed out of the house. The fields were just coming alive with the murmur of birds awakening. The sheep were sleeping in their pen, some bedded down, some huddled together; Martha was keeping them there until her fence was fixed.
Which was where Ruth’s plan would begin.
By the time Martha wandered outside, coffee mug in hand, yawning and stretching, Ruth had repaired about half of the gap in the fence line. She waved at Martha, whose jaw dropped in amazement. The older woman jogged across the field in her mud boots, her hair loose from its usual braids, a cable-knit sweater buttoned askew over a set of long johns.
“You fixed the fence?” she said in disbelief.
“Not all of it. But I should have the rest done soon. Go enjoy your coffee. I’ve got this.”
“How’d you find the tools? You don’t even have work gloves. Handling that wire is hard on the hands.”
“I looked in your tool shed. I couldn’t find any gloves, but it doesn’t matter. We have fences too, you know. I’ve spent a lot of time fixing them. We have sheep, but not as many as you do. I’m quite good at shearing. Sarah is too.”
Martha’s expression shifted as she picked up on what Ruth was hinting at. “Is that so?”
“Yes, actually we both have a lot of experience with farm work. We have cattle, both for milk and for slaughter. I know how to butcher any kind of farm animal.” When Martha flinched, she realized she’d said the wrong thing. “I know you don’t do that here. You just produce wool.”
“I’m a vegetarian.”
Ruth knew what a vegetarian was, but she wasn’t sure she’d ever met one before. Certainly not at the Chilkoot compound.
“We grow all our own vegetables all through the winter, with as little extra heat as possible. We have a special technique and I can show you how we do it.”
“Giving away Chilkoot secrets, are you?”
“I’m a Chilkoot, so it’s my secret, too.”
Martha gave her a shrewd look. Even though her face was weathered from sun exposure, all the lines on her face were from smiling or laughing. Martha was the kind of person who was exactly where she wanted to be, doing exactly what she wanted to be doing. Ruth envied her from the bottom of her heart.
“Chilkoots don’t usually leave the fold. Elias is the only one I can think of. Have you thought about going to him?”
“Yes. But I’m pretty sure that’s the first place they’d check. I don’t want to put Elias in that position.”
“But you want to put me in that position?”
Ruth’s stomach twisted and she felt suddenly sick. She was asking Martha for a lot here, and they didn’t even know each other very well. Over the years, she’d traded with Martha—wool in exchange for fabric—and always found her to be down-to-earth and direct. But as for a friendship, that would go against the Chilkoot way. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m…”
“You’re desperate,” Martha said flatly.
Ruth nodded miserably, but then some hidden part of her that she hadn’t even known existed rose up. She straightened her spine. “But not too desperate to figure something else out. I have a lot to offer for any farmer or rancher. So does Sarah. If any trouble comes your way, we’ll leave immediately. We won’t expect anything from you.”
Martha swatted away an early morning mosquito. “I usually keep my distance from the Chilkoots. I don’t trust them, especially after what happened last year.”
“I understand. But I knew nothing about any of that. Luke didn’t trust me, even before Daniel and I…” She shifted gears, because thinking about Daniel right now might make her cry. He’d begged her to run away with him, but the thought had seemed unfathomable. “You don’t have any workers right now, do you? I haven’t seen anyone.”
“Not yet, but I have a couple of woofers starting soon.”
“Woofers?”
“Willing workers on organic farms. They work a certain number of hours a week in exchange for room and board.”
“We could be woofers!” Ruth said eagerly. “How many hours are required?” She gave a quick calculation of the time she’d spent working at the Chilkoots compound. “Eighty hours a week?”
Martha burst out laughing. “Try twenty.”
“Twenty. Twenty?” Ruth stared at her blankly. “How do you get anything done?”
“They’re not here to work full-time. They’re here to see Alaska and maybe learn a few things.” Martha folded her arms across her chest and narrowed her eyes at Ruth. “But we’re not talking about them. We’re talking about you. Why’d you leave?”
“Sarah,” Ruth said immediately. “The way Luke was talking, we were afraid he might want to marry her off.”
Martha’s face tightened. “A little young, isn’t she?”
“Sixteen.”
“Hm.” Another long stare from those wise eyes of hers. “That’s not the whole reason, though, is it? What else?”
A breath of wind whispered through the grass tussocks outside the fence line. One of Martha’s sheepdogs came loping across the field, like a large animated mop with its long ropes of shaggy white hair. Ruth struggled for the right answer. Was there a right answer? Would Martha’s decision hinge on what she said next?
No, only the truth would do here. But Ruth wasn’t accustomed to telling other people about how she felt. It felt strange and terrifying, as if a lightning bolt would strike her down the second the words left her mouth.
Do it anyway.
“When Luke got arrested, it was scary at first, having to be the one making decisions and taking responsibility. But I guess I got used to it. Now that he’s back, he wants everything to be how it was. I just…I don’t think I can do that. I tried,” she said anxiously, bracing for Martha’s judgment. “I went back to homeschooling the younger kids and I did whatever Luke asked, even if in my heart of hearts I disagreed with it. But…” She trailed off, feeling like a traitor for voicing these thoughts. “I didn’t like it. I told myself I’d get used to it, and that the kids needed me right where I was, and that was more important than anything else. But then, with Sarah…”
“You wanted to protect her,” Martha finished for her. “So that was the last straw. You wouldn’t have left if it was just for you.”
“Probably not.” Utterly miserable now, Ruth stared at the ground between her feet. “I must sound like a coward to you.”
“No.” Martha gave her a friendly little punch on the arm. “You sound like a caring person who’s trying to figure out the right thing to do for all the people around her. Let me ask you something. What makes you happy?”
“What?” Ruth looked at her blankly. “What do you mean?”
“It’s not a trick question.”
Still, Ruth floundered, unable to come up with a coherent answer. Sunshine made her happy, finding baby robins in the nest under the barn eaves made her happy, so did her books and the first snowfall and the feel of goosedown tickling her nose…but that didn’t seem like the answer Martha wanted.
“How about this,” said Martha. “Is Luke up to something new? He had some pretty wild plans the last time. Is he going to behave himself like a decent neighbor now?”
Ruth just shook her head. “I wish I knew. I promise I would tell you. I do think he’s working on something, but I’m probably the last person he would tell.”
After another long moment of scrutiny, Martha stepped back, turning brisk and business-like. “You and Sarah can stay here. I can always use more woofers. Twenty hours a week in exchange for room and board. Your first job will be opening up the guesthouse so it’s ready when the other woofers get here. It’s a bit of a communal living space, is that going to be a problem?”
“No,” Ruth said eagerly. “Nothing will be a problem.”
Martha chuckled. “I guess it’s lucky for you that I mostly choose women woofers. I find the guys don’t like to take direction from someone like me.”
“A woman?” Ruth didn’t find that at all surprising. The Chilkoots operated along strict gender lines, except when it came to firearms. Everyone got that training, and those who excelled at it were given permanent guard assignments, no matter their gender. Her older sister Soraya was one of those. “Or do you mean a lesbian?”
Martha’s eyebrows shot up her forehead. “Excuse me?”
“That’s okay, I’m a lesbian too,” Ruth said quickly, not wanting her to feel awkward.
Martha was looking more and more confused. “Really? I thought I picked up on something between you and Gunnar.”
“Oh.” Ruth felt her face color. “That’s…nothing. I mean, not nothing, but we didn’t get married. Obviously.”
“Riiighhht…” Martha dragged the word out, as if she still didn’t understand. “Sorry, how does that make you a lesbian?”
“Well…” Ruth faltered. There was some kind of miscommunication here, but she wasn’t sure what it was. This often happened to her when talking to people who weren’t Chilkoots, and it could sandbag her at the most unexpected moments. “Lesbians don’t get married, do they?”
“Some do.”
“Then…” Ruth shrugged, utterly confused. “I thought that was what lesbian meant. Unmarried.”
“Maybe that’s what it means to the Chilkoots,” Martha said, clearly trying not to laugh. She lost the battle, and burst into a hoot of laughter. While Ruth stared, helplessly, she laughed until tears came out of her eyes.
Still chuckling, she said, “Sorry, kiddo. Let’s just call it a culture gap. But you should know that to the rest of the world, you are not a lesbian, and I’m not either. Understand? And hey, now that you’re out of the compound, maybe you’ll meet a man to marry, if you want that kind of thing.”
Ruth couldn’t possibly think that far ahead, but she made up her mind to find out what a lesbian actually was as soon as possible.
“So do we have a deal?” Martha asked cheerfully, wiping the last of her tears of laughter away.
“Yes, but let me talk to Sarah about it. She should be part of the decision.”
“All right. You let me know. And you didn’t specify, but I’m going to assume you don’t want folks in Firelight Ridge to know you’re here.”
“Not yet. I want to see…well, if anyone back at home cares that we’re gone. Luke might decide we’re not worth the trouble. He might even be glad we’re gone. Me, at least.”
Martha nodded, then turned to head back to the house. “Gonna make some breakfast. You hungry?”
Her stomach had been growling for the past two hours. “Extremely. But Martha.” Ruth hurried alongside her, stopping when she did to greet the sheepdog. “You said twenty hours a week. What am I supposed to do the rest of the time?”
“Not my problem. That time is all yours to do whatever you wish with it. Let your imagination go wild. If you want to earn some money, there might be some opportunities for that, depending on how things go. But right now, let’s go check on your sister, hey?”
Reeling, Ruth followed Martha back to the homestead. Let your imagination go wild. No one had ever said that to her before. That…could be trouble.