Bitterroot Lake by Alicia Beckman (best books for 20 year olds txt) 📗

the fire. I will get the rest of the money to you next month, after my hens begin to lay.

You will never know how much I appreciate your willingness to help someone such as me. My—

“Sincere, spelled with two s’s.”

My sincere regards to the ladies of the society.

“Signed, Hulda Amundsen.”

“It’s a thank you note,” Holly said. “No big deal.”

“Listen to this one,” Nic replied. She laid Hulda’s letter on the table and picked up another envelope. Slid out a piece of heavy linen stationery.

Dear Mrs. McCaskill,

My husband and I extend to you our deepest gratitude for your kind assistance in aiding our beloved daughter, Elizabeth, in leaving her unfortunate marriage and returning to us. While she is, naturally, mortified by the situation in which you and your friends found her, she is grateful to once again be among those who cherish her.

Enclosed is a draft, payable on our account at the First National Bank of Cincinnati, for the amount of your generous advance along with an additional sum which we wish to contribute to your endeavors.

“Signed, Mrs. Charles Pennington.” Nic rested the letter in her lap.

“They were repaying loans,” Janine said. “One to rebuild after a fire, the other to go home to her grateful parents.”

“Hulda’s letter mentions ‘the ladies of the society.’” Nic said. “Who, or what, was the society?”

“Wait, wait. I saw another reference.” Sarah flipped through the journal to one of the entries she’d skimmed in the carriage house. “Here it is. That same summer. Caro writes that Mrs. O’Dell—she was the housekeeper—made Con a birthday cake and decorated it with strawberries. ‘A gift from one of the young Society women,’” she read. “Then, in parentheses, like she was laughing, ‘What fun to put it that way!’”

“Mrs. O’Dell was the housekeeper?” Holly asked. “I was named for the housekeeper?”

“Obviously well-loved,” Sarah said. “I don’t know this society they’re referring to, but it sounds like our great-grandmother was lending money, at no interest, to women in trouble.”

As if drawn by a magnet, the four friends stared at the photograph of Caro in her silk dress. Kind eyes, yes, but oh, the firm set of that jaw.

 23

Most of the letters were postmarked Deer Park or Whitefish, although a handful, like the note from Elizabeth Pennington’s parents, had been sent from other parts of the country.

“Two cents.” Janine held up a thin envelope. “It cost two cents to mail a letter in 1924. What is it now? Forever stamps don’t have an amount on them, so you forget how much you’re paying.”

“With inflation, it might not be much higher,” Nic said. “We’ve got about three dozen notes, dated from 1924 to—let’s see.” She flipped through the envelopes, a mix of small squares, large squares, and rectangles, white, gray, and ivory, thin paper and heavy linen stock. The handwriting varied, too, from ornate script to a round hand to simple printing. “Looks like the last letter came in 1938. Right about the time the worst of the Depression was over.”

“Some loans may have been repaid in person, without a note,” Sarah said.

“And the recipients might not all have been literate,” Janine added.

“This woman certainly was,” Nic said. “Her penmanship is exquisite.” She read out loud.

Dear Mrs. McCaskill,

Oh, how I wish you could have seen my children’s faces when they saw the feast delivered to us on Christmas Day. A roast goose and plum pudding! Had it not been for your generosity, our table would have been nearly bare, with not much more than our daily fare of eggs, if the hens are in the mood, rye bread, and boiled potatoes with cabbage. Your Mrs. O’Dell is quite the treasure—

“See, Holly,” Sarah teased. “She was a treasure.”

Not only is her cooking superb, she showed me a few tricks to make good use of the extra provisions. My son played with his new spinning top until late in the evening, and my precious little girl fell asleep with her arms around her new doll.

The men at the mill and their wives have been good to us, knowing as they do the hardships of such work, but there is only so much they can spare, their own paychecks often being stretched to the limit. Your thoughtfulness in including toys for the children and the bottle of rose water is particularly touching, and shows what a truly good and gracious soul you are.

Nic paused and lifted her head, glasses low on her nose. “I’m guessing her husband was a mill worker killed on the job. Little known fact: Montana had one of the first workers’ comp laws in the country, but it was voluntary and the employers all fought it. It was years before the constitutionality of work comp was upheld and employers were required to participate. But I can easily imagine that in 1927, the benefits for a widow with two children would have been pretty minimal.”

She read on.

I have decided that we should return to my late husband’s mother’s home in Denver. Although our relationship has not always been a smooth one, she is very fond of the children, and I will be able to find suitable employment. I hope you will allow the children and me to visit you before our departure.

Yours with a deeply grateful heart,

Mrs. Olaf (Olga) Johannsen

“Olaf and Olga,” Holly said. “I wonder whatever happened to her.”

“Here’s your answer.” Janine held up a card showing a young girl, in coat and hat, carrying a brightly wrapped package up a snowy hill to a cottage, beneath a full moon and a starry sky. “Postmarked December 10, 1928. It’s a Christmas card.”

Dear Mrs. McCaskill,

I think of you often and with gratitude …

She skimmed ahead.

You will be pleased to hear that both children are thriving. My mother-in-law has moved to her daughter’s home a few blocks away, leaving the children and me in the house in which their father was raised. Thank goodness the school district permits widows to teach. Although my salary is sufficient, it does not extend to luxuries, but