Page 20 of Hope’s Enduring Echo

Leo

When Leo and Mr. DeWeece returned to the footbridge Saturday evening, Leo spotted the brown envelope held down by a football-sized rock on the train side of the river even before he crossed. Mr. DeWeece must have seen it, too. He went across the bridge first, then bent over and picked up the envelope. He pinched a corner between his pointer finger and thumb and swung it like a clock’s pendulum, a half smile aimed in Leo’s direction.

“Seems there’s been a delivery made for you while we were on our hunt.”

Over the course of the day, Leo had glimpsed a lighthearted side to the serious businessman, which had put him at ease in the man’s presence. He swayed his head in beat with the envelope. “May I have it, then, before I become seasick?”

The man laughed and handed it to Leo. Leo opened it and peeked inside. The drawing he’d asked for was there along with a smaller, folded piece of paper. His heart gave a little lurch. A letter? Eagerness to read it pulled, but he would wait until he was in his room at the hotel. He took out the drawing, though.

DeWeece angled his head and peeked at the sheet of drawing paper. “What do you have there?”

Leo didn’t hesitate in handing it over. “The Wards’ daughter, Jennie, sketched this.”

Mr. DeWeece gave the pencil image a thorough perusal. “Ah, a trilobite.”

Leo blinked in confusion. “It’s not a beetle?”

“I don’t believe so.” DeWeece pointed to the markings. “If this drawing is accurate, it’s more likely a trilobite. Note the layered scales of the thorax. That’s indicative of a creature that can roll itself into a ball.”

“Like a pill bug,” Leo said, clarifying things in his mind.

The man chuckled. “Well, a pill bug is actually a crustacean, more closely related to a crayfish than to an insect.”

Leo rubbed his nose, embarrassed. He still had a lot to learn. “I see.”

“What’s interesting about this,” DeWeece went on, “is that the skeleton appears complete. That’s fairly rare. Did she embellish the rendering?”

“No, sir. She drew what we saw.”

The man’s face lit. “Where did you find it?”

Leo gave a brief description of where they had been when he spotted the imprint in rock.

DeWeece nodded. “I think I know the area. This is an excellent, very detailed sketch.” He returned the page, and Leo put it in the envelope. “Is she an art student at college?”

Leo wasn’t certain he should answer. He’d already slipped by admitting that someone else in the family currently served as the linewalker. But the man’s assumption that Jennie was a trained artist brought a swell of pride. “No, sir, she’s self-taught. She has a natural gift, doesn’t she?”

DeWeece’s eyebrows rose. “Yes, I should say so. I hope she’ll have the opportunity to hone her gift. She could become an illustrator for periodicals or books.”

Leo couldn’t wait to tell Jennie what DeWeece had said. But then, at once, his elation plummeted. Would he have the chance to tell her? He kicked at the rock that Jennie had used to hold the envelope in place, and a plan formed in his mind. Jennie came by the footbridge every day on the pipeline route. He could treat this rock like a private post office. But he wouldn’t write to Jennie. He’d taken a chance of stirring her father’s wrath by requesting the drawing. Instead, he’d put Mrs. Ward’s name on the missives. Jennie’s mother would share the contents.

Vibrations under his feet and a distant clatter of steel on steel warned of the train’s impending approach. Leo and Mr. DeWeece leaned against the rock wall and watched for the nose of the engine to peek around the bend. Mr. DeWeece waved down the engineer, and the two of them climbed aboard.

Leo flopped onto a tufted seat and sighed. They hadn’t located the bones, but it had still been a good day. Despite his initial apprehension about partnering with DeWeece, he was now grateful for the man’s expertise. He also appreciated the map. Mr. DeWeece marked the areas they’d searched that day, then gave it to Leo so he could use it during further exploration if he chose to hunt on his own.

As they disembarked at the train station, DeWeece said, “Let’s meet here again next Saturday. If you’ve found the skeleton by then, you can show it to me. If not, we’ll search together. Will that suit you?”

Leo drew back in surprise. “You’re not going out on your own tomorrow?”

He shrugged, a slight grin lifting the corners of his mustache. “I should probably attend Sunday services. The bones aren’t going anywhere.” He gave Leo a hearty clap on the shoulder. “Happy hunting, Mr. Day.” He hitched his pack a little higher on his back and then departed.

Leo returned to the hotel as quickly as his tired legs would carry him and closed himself in his small room. The good smells creeping under the door from the kitchen made his stomach growl. Hours had passed since he and Mr. DeWeece ate sandwiches, dried apples, and tinned gingersnap cookies for lunch. He was tempted to go to the kitchen and ask for a plate before the leftovers were tossed into the rubbish bins, but Jennie’s letter beckoned.

He spilled the drawing and folded paper from the envelope onto his desk, then snatched up the note. Anticipation collapsed beneath disappointment when he saw how little she’d written. He couldn’t fault the contents. Her words were kind, appreciative, and even friendly. But he’d hoped for something…more. And he needed to set those kinds of thoughts aside. He hadn’t come to Canon City in search of a romantic relationship. His friendship with Jennie was one he would cherish, but it was meant to be short-lived. An era, so to speak, in his life’s history.

“The Jennie Era,” he said to the empty room. Not as dramatic sounding as the Paleozoic or Mesozoic Eras, but definitely warmer and more personal.

Before he got sidetracked, he should write what Mr. DeWeece had said about her drawing. If Mrs. Ward knew what the businessman had said, she might be encouraged to press harder for Jennie to go to school in town. He reached to open his desk drawer and retrieve writing materials, but his stomach rumbled again. Breakfast was a long time away. He better eat now while he had the chance.

He laid out the items so they’d be ready for him when he finished eating, then headed to the kitchen.

Jennie

Clouds rolled in on Sunday evening and lingered all through Monday. Jennie hated cloudy days. Their valley received very little direct sunlight even during the summer months, so when clouds hid the sun’s face and heavy shadows cloaked the entire area, she felt dreary even inside her. The lack of light also made it harder for her to see problems with the pipeline. But when she reached the spot she’d reported last week, a darker patch of wood caught her attention. She touched the wood, and her fingers came away wet. She huffed in aggravation. It was still leaking.

She lowered herself to the ground and examined the area from the underside. A slow yet steady drip fell from beneath the patch of tar the repairman had applied. She scribbled a note describing the issue, then clambered back on the pipe and finished the route.

After supper, Mama recorded Jennie’s finding on a nicer piece of paper and told Jennie to watch for the train. Jennie wanted to wait until morning. With the sun now descending, it was drearier than ever outdoors. She wanted to stay inside near the glow of their lanterns. But Mama shook her head.

“The sooner they know, the sooner they can send someone to fix it correctly. It’s best to hand this off to Mr. Rawling or Mr. Jenkins when the train returns to Canon City for the night.”

Jennie stifled a sigh. “Yes, Mama.” Then she patted her leg. “Come on, Rags. You can go with me.”

Rags’s ears perked up, but he didn’t budge from his spot at Daddy’s feet.

Daddy looked down at him and snorted. “That dog doesn’t listen very well.” He gave him a light nudge on the back of his head. “Go on. Go with Jennie.”

Rags whined in his throat, but he slinked across the floor to Jennie. She rewarded him with a scratch under his chin. “Don’t worry. We won’t be gone long.”

Even though the evening shadows fell long and gray, having the pup’s company made the trek more cheery than the route had been. When they reached the footbridge, Jennie sat cross-legged and pulled Rags into her lap. “Now, listen, the train will be pretty loud, but you don’t need to be afraid. I won’t let it hurt you.” He swiped her chin with his warm, velvety tongue, and Jennie laughed. “You’re welcome.”

She would have enjoyed holding him longer, but he wriggled too much. She let him loose and he circled her, sniffing the grass and smacking her with his wagging tail. With each rotation, he ventured a little farther from her until he went as far as the edge of the footbridge. He stopped at the first board, seemingly mesmerized by how different it looked from the grass. Then, before Jennie realized what he was doing, he trotted across the bridge as easily as if he’d done it a dozen times already.

Jennie yelped and charged after him. “Rags!” He flattened himself to the ground, tucking his tail. She grabbed him up. “Shame on you, crossing the bridge like that. I’m not going to let you follow me if you can’t stay close by.” He tried to lick her face, but she arched away. You—” Her gaze landed on the rock she’d used to secure Leo’s envelope to the ground. A square, lidded box twice the rock’s size lurked beside it.

She set Rags on the ground and pointed at him. “Stay,” she said in her firmest tone. The dog hunkered low. Keeping an eye on him, she crossed to the box and picked it up. It’s heft startled her, as did the ants climbing on the outside of it. Grimacing, she flicked the bugs away.

Just then, the ground began to vibrate. Rags jumped up and barked furiously. Jennie dropped the box and grabbed the dog. She darted across the footbridge and put Rags down again. “Run home.” He took off as if someone had fired him from a cannon. Jennie moved to the middle of the footbridge and held the note from Mama high as the train rounded the bend. Mr. Rawling waved an acknowledgment from the engine and applied the brakes. The screech pierced Jennie’s ears, and she couldn’t help wincing. The caboose was even with her when the train shuddered to a stop, so she handed the note to Mr. Jenkins and then waved farewell.

Once the train had chugged off, she retrieved the box. It had to be from Leo. Who else would have left it? Her heart pattered in anticipation of seeing what was inside. But on the top, he’d written “Mrs. Etta Ward.” Jennie jolted. For Mama? Why would Leo send Mama a package?

She checked it to make sure she’d knocked all the ants off, then secured it in the bend of her arm and followed the pathway of trampled grass and patches of rocks to the cabin. Inside, she went straight to Mama and held the box out to her. “I found this by the footbridge. It’s tagged for you.”

Mama turned from the washbasin, her eyebrows shooting up. “For me?”

Her mother’s pleased, surprised reaction erased every bit of disappointment that the box wasn’t for her. Jennie nodded. “Mm-hmm. See what’s inside.”

Mama wiped her hands on a piece of toweling and took the box to the table. From his chair at the window, Daddy angled himself and watched as Mama removed a bit of string holding the lid in place and popped off the lid. Her face crinkling in distaste, she pinched up a single ant and tossed it out the open window. Thick layers of wax-coated paper hid the contents. Mama tore a hole in the paper, then reared back and laughed.

Jennie rested her fingertips on the tabletop and leaned close. “What is it?” With the box open and her nose over it, she already knew. Strawberries and pound cake.

Mama carried the box to Daddy and showed him. Jennie held her breath, uncertain how Daddy would respond. His eyebrows rose the way Mama’s had, and he gave her a startled look. “You reckon Prime and Delia sent this out?”

Mama turned the box and peeked at every side. “It doesn’t say, but that makes sense.”

It made sense to Jennie, too. It probably wasn’t from Leo after all. But why wouldn’t Aunt Delia write Daddy’s name on the box? He was the one who loved the cake and strawberries.

Daddy slowly rose, his gaze locked on the box. “Any ants get to it?”

Mama shook her head. “I don’t think so. It was very well wrapped.”

“Then let’s have some.” Daddy limped to the table and sat.

Jennie fetched the small plates they used for dessert. Mama put a chunk of crumbly cake on each plate and topped the chunks with squashed berries. She put the most on Daddy’s plate. While Mama carried the plates to the table, Jennie took the box and its wad of rumpled wax paper, crumbs, and juice stains to the sink. She started to throw the whole thing away, but the box was nice enough to use for something else. Waste not, want not, Mama always said.

She pulled out the paper and wadded it up for the trash bucket. Only then did she notice a letter-sized envelope in the bottom of the box. It, too, had Mama’s name written on it. And now she knew for sure it was from Leo. She recognized his handwriting.

She glanced over her shoulder. Daddy was enjoying his cake. If she brought up Leo’s name, his mood would turn darker than the landscape outside the window. She put the lid on the box and said, “Mama, may I keep this box? It’s a nice size to hold my hair ribbons and combs.”

“Of course.”

She hugged it to her chest, aching anew for the friend she’d lost. “Thank you.”

Mama pointed to the plate in front of Jennie’s usual spot. “But come eat before you take it to your room.”

Jennie slid the box under her chair and sat down. When Daddy went to bed, she’d give Mama the letter. And she hoped Mama would let her read it, too.