The Brushstroke Legacy Read online

  “Isn’t that beautiful?”

  “What?”

  “The bird song.”

  “I guess.”

  “Wish I knew what kind of bird that is.”

  “So, go buy a book on birds.”

  “Good idea.” Ragni inserted the key, and the trunk popped open as if it couldn’t stay closed any longer. She studied the mass. Now, where did I pack the cleaning supplies? She pulled out her duffel bag and dug down on the right side of the trunk. Pushing aside the tent package, she located the bucket filled with brushes, soap, bleach, scrub rags, and rubber gloves. “Here we go.” She closed the trunk and set the supplies on top of it, handing Erika the empty bucket. “I’ll meet you at the privy.”

  Erika groaned but took the bucket and headed back to the river. “We’d better hurry.”

  Ragni grabbed gloves, the long-handled brush, bleach, and a rag and walked around to the front of the house to enter through the gate. When she pushed against it, the gate fell over instead of swinging open. Whoever had closed it last had just propped it in place.

  She set her supplies down, already wishing for a second bucket— first thing on the shopping list. She leaned the gate against the sagging fence and headed across the yard, if it could be called that, toward the tilting outhouse. Weathered silver gray, the vertical boards had buckled at the bottom, and more than one needed a few nails pounded in to tighten the siding. Perhaps it would be easier to just dig a hole and… No, we can do this. She used her stick to bang on the door, slamming a warning to anything that inhabited the interior. The handle squawked when she turned it, but it took two hands to pull the door open. A wooden bench stretched from one wall to the other, with a hole cut in the middle and narrow boards facing the front. She needed a broom to take down all the cobwebs, but it didn’t look like any other critters had taken up residence. At least none she could see.

  Using her brush as a weapon, she cleared the doorway enough to step inside and look down the hole, into blackness but for a small beam of light from one side. Oh, for a hose with running water. We could clean this in a minute. A spiderweb fell across her face as she stepped back. Trapping a scream before it found air, she backed out and ordered her heart to take it easy while she wiped the offending threads away.

  If that’s the worst that happens, consider yourself lucky. She paused to listen. What if bees had moved in? Surely she would hear humming. Just get to work. You want Erika to think you’re a wimp? Somehow the self-talk lacked conviction at this point.

  “It looks like it might fall over.” Erika set the bucket down at their feet. For someone wearing combat boots, she sometimes walked like a cat.

  “I’m sure it’s sturdier than it appears. After all, there’ve been windstorms and bad winters, and it’s still standing. Would you please go get the broom?”

  “You really came with everything, didn’t you?”

  “I tried.” Ragni watched as Erika strode back to the car. Right now those boots of hers looked like a good idea. But laced and tied would make more sense. Ragni stared down at her white tennis shoes. Number two on the shopping list: boots.

  Knowing how Erika hated spiders, she’d better get them cleaned out first. Wielding her long-handled brush like a sword, Ragni brushed her way in, knocking down castle-sized webs and sending their inhabitants scurrying into the abundance of corners and cracks. She brushed them from the slanted roof and along the upper framework, down the walls and the floor. Then, having poured bleach and soap into the bucket of tan water, she started at the top and scrubbed her way down, sloshing plenty of water into the corners and cracks.

  “Yuck.” Erika shuddered and made a face. “You have cobwebs in your hair.”

  “Get ’em out.” Ragni frantically brushed at her hair.

  Erika complied, all the while making tsking noises. “There.”

  Ragni shuddered. “Thanks. From now on, I wear a scarf over my hair.”

  “Did you bring a cap with you?”

  “No, did you?”

  Erika nodded. “I’ll get it.” Back to the car.

  Ragni stared at the hole in the center of the bench. What lived in there, and how to…? She stepped outside and hollered. “Bring a flashlight, will you please? It’s in the glove box.” While she waited, she tipped part of the remaining water down the hole, stepped back, and listened. If she heard something moving around down there, she’d probably join Erika—with her feet never touching the grass between the privy and the car.

  Nothing. What would want to live in there anyway? Anything that wanted dark and protection, that’s what. Which meant—Her mind balked at the possibilities. Most likely rabbits weren’t inhabitants. Good thing we don’t have to trap rabbits for food like they do in books. Or shoot a deer. Now that would be the day when I did that.

  “Here.” Erika handed her a hat and the flashlight. “Is it ready to use?”

  “About. You’ll need toilet paper. There’s a roll of that in the trunk too.”

  Erika rolled her eyes. “Why didn’t you say that earlier? Where?”

  “In the box with the dishes and pots and pans. Further back, same side.” As soon as Erika stomped back toward the car, Ragni dug up her courage and shone the beam down the hole. Looked like a pile of dirt in the bottom with nothing scampering out of sight. She dipped the brush in the remaining water and flailed around under the bench, reaching to the walls on all four sides and scrubbing the underside of the bench as well. Then she sluiced the last of the water over the floor and watched it run off through the cracks between the boards.

  Erika returned and peeked inside. “I’m not closing this door, so you turn around and stand there, okay?”

  “Did I hear a ‘please’ in that?” Ragni raised her eyebrows.

  “Oh, for… Please stand there. Is that better?”

  “Much.” Ragni turned her back and studied the house from this side. Three sets of windows. How many people lived in this house at the same time? The last section seems to have been added on. Was that after Great-grandma had come?

  “There now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” she asked as Erika joined her.

  “I didn’t fall in, if that’s what you mean. I left the TP.”

  “Thanks.” Ragni stepped in and pulled the door closed. There was plenty of light coming in from the cracks and a couple of knotholes. Above the door, an opening must have once been covered by a screen. A huge fly buzzed around her head. I’ll never take my bathroom at home for granted again, she promised herself. That and running water. Third item on the list: Handi Wipes for washing hands.

  Back outside, she dumped the cleaning things in the bucket and headed for the house. “You ready to explore?”

  “I guess. How about one of those caramel rolls first?”

  “You hungry?”

  “Uh-huh. I tried to call Mom, but the cell phone doesn’t work here.”

  Very good. At least Erika remembered she had family.

  “It didn’t in Medora either,” Ragni said. “The way the town is set down in the valley messes up the signal, I guess.”

  “She’ll be worried.”

  “No she won’t. I called from the phone in the hotel. We used to do that all the time, in the olden days, before cell phones.”

  Erika ignored her aunt’s sarcasm. “But how will I talk with my friends?”

  The look of panic on Erika’s face made Ragni want to laugh, but she resisted the urge. “Save it for when we go to town, I guess, and use a pay phone.” Right about now, Ragni wished she’d thought to bring a thermos along to fill with coffee. A cup of hot coffee to go with the caramel roll sounded like a fine reward for cleaning the outhouse. To think I agreed to all this instead of two weeks in a cabin at the lake with a full kitchen, two bedrooms, a loft, and indoor plumbing. She handed Erika the bucket. “We need more water.”

  Erika grumbled as she strode off, but at least she did it. Hauling water wasn’t going to be as easy as Ragni had thought. How romantic it had seemed—hauling
water, restoring her family’s heritage. Then Ragni thought of the deepening worry lines on her mom’s face, her twisting hands, and the hurt in her eyes. That was why she’d come: a smile on her mother’s face again would make it all worthwhile.

  Ragni dumped soap in her hands and then water from the gallon-sized drinking bottle. She scrubbed and rinsed, then dried her hands on a napkin from the stash she kept in the well on the car door. Brushing cobwebs off her shirt-sleeve brought up a picture of the shower she’d taken for granted at the hotel this morning. Was it really only this morning? Four or five hours ago? It seemed like another lifetime, as did her life in Chicago, as if she’d stepped into an alternate world.

  Erika set the bucket down with a thump that sloshed water over the edges. “Well…”

  “As soon as you wash your hands, we’ll have our lunch.”

  “Snack. I want real food for lunch.”

  “Like I told you, I bought sandwich fixings for now, and we’ll have hot dogs tonight. If we have time to make a fire pit, we’ve got enough downed branches and trash here to have a real bonfire.”

  “We could do that on the riverbank. Nothing there to catch fire.” Erika hadn’t been to Girl Scout camp for nothing.

  “Good idea. Easier than digging a fire pit.” Ragni had played mom or chaperon on many of the Brownie and Scout outings when Susan couldn’t get off work. “You think we should get a fishing pole when we go to town?”

  “You know how to clean fish? I did it once and I’m not doing it again.” Erika shuddered. “Slimy things.” She stared at Ragni, her eyes round and her chin quivering.

  “What?”

  “That was always Poppa’s job, to clean the fish, and Grammy would fry them.”

  Ragni blinked a couple of times and cleared her throat. “Those are good memories, huh? He taught both your mother and me to fish when we were kids. He did love to fish.” She thought a moment. “I’ll bet that’s something he could still do. They say that the short-term memory is the first to go, and he’s been fishing since he was a little boy. I wonder.”

  “What if he got upset and fell out of the boat?”

  Ragni nodded and tipped her head to the side in a sort of shrug. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll look into it when we get home.”

  She pulled a bottle of water from the ice chest, handed it to Erika, and got another. “Bring out the caramel rolls. I’m starved.” One bite and she closed her eyes, the better to savor the flavor. “Not quite as good as your grandmother’s, but better’n any bakery.”

  Erika peeled off part of the outer layer and ate it first.

  “Do you know that’s exactly the way your mother eats caramel rolls?”

  Erika paused. “So?”

  “So…she always told me I ate them wrong, back in her bossy days.”

  Ragni sat down on the car seat, her feet still on the ground. “I think we’d better buy us two lawn chairs too. I couldn’t fit any more in the car, or I’d have brought some.” She dug a pad of paper and a pen from her purse. It was time to start the list.

  They heard the truck coming and turned to watch. The road wasn’t used much—this was the first vehicle they’d seen.

  The truck had seen cleaner days. Its driver slowed and pulled in next to them. He settled his straw hat in place as he stepped from the truck and came around the front.

  “Hi, welcome to Medora. I’m Paul Heidelborg. I own the land around here, and I’m the one who wrote to Mrs. Clauson about the house.”

  So this is Paul Heidelborg. Why did I think he’d be much older? Ragni wiped her hands on her pants and stood to greet him. “I’m Ragni Clauson, and this is my niece, Erika.” Extending her hand, she nodded. “We saw you at the Cowboy Cafe this morning, didn’t we?”

  “Weekly ritual.” He shook her hand, his smile as wide as the sky above them. “Welcome to Medora.” He nodded to Erika. “Hope you both enjoy your time here. Anything I can do to help, let me know.”

  “Thanks.” If this is North Dakota hospitality, so be it.

  “I live back there, first ranch on the right as you come down the cut.”

  “Can we swim in the river?” Erika asked.

  “Don’t know why not, if you don’t mind freezing. Won’t warm up much until into July. How long you here for?”

  “Two weeks. Do you mind if we camp here?”

  “This is your land, from that fence line to that other down there.” He pointed beyond the corrals and a small field. “You can do what you want. You have a little more than three acres. Old Einer quit farming some years before he died, and my dad bought the remaining fields from him. Would a bought the whole thing, but the old man would have none of it. Said he was born here and figured to die here.”

  “You know much about my family?”

  “Some. Might be some pictures up to the house, if I can find them. I’ll give a look and bring ’em by.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You been in the house yet?”

  “No, that’s next.” She caught him in a questioning look at Erika, who was studying him from under her lashes. He was worth studying. The shirt fit just right, like they’d been friends for some time; same with the jeans and the honest-to-goodness pointy-toed boots with a heel. The oval metal buckle on a tooled belt sported a bucking horse. When he tipped his hat back with one finger, she could all but hear John Wayne drawling. Hazel eyes wore crinkles at the edges that matched his smile, but concern rode roughshod over laughter.

  “You really plan to camp here? I mean, the house is in pretty bad shape.” He smoothed back his mahogany hair that sported a wave either genetic or hat-sculpted.

  “I brought a tent, camp stove, the things we’ll need.”

  “I see. Wouldn’t you be more comfortable at one of the motels in town, I mean…?”

  So, he thinks we can’t manage? What’s the problem? I know how to set up a tent and cook on a camp stove. Her tone cooled. “Are there fire restrictions here?”

  “Ah, no. You just have to be careful.”

  “So we could have a fire down on the beach?” Erika crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the car.

  “The beach? Oh, you mean the riverbank. Sure, if you want. Just put it out when you’re finished. We’re not in the park here.” He touched the brim of his hat again. “Well, I’ll be goin’. You need anything, give a holler.”

  Ragni smiled and nodded. He got back in his truck and laid his hat on the seat beside him. She returned his wave and glanced over to see Erika waving as well.

  “Seems real nice, doesn’t he?”

  Erika shrugged. “He’s right. Staying at the motel sounds like a really good idea.”

  Ragni shrugged. “We’ll set up the tent after we tour the house.” Sure hope this fool tent goes up easier than the last time. Dad said… She couldn’t allow herself to remember how old the memory was.

  “I forgot to ask if we need a key.”

  “Guess we don’t then,” Erika answered.

  The two of them stood in front of the door. What was left of the screen door hung off to the side, first cousins with the drunken gate. Will the house be fixable, or is it too far gone? Ragni wondered. After all, she and Erika didn’t have to fix it; she could hire that out. Just clean it enough so they could cook in the kitchen if they wanted to and have a roof over their heads in case of a storm. Her mother would understand if the place was beyond hope—wouldn’t she? Will I really learn anything about my great-grandmother, or is this all a wild goose chase?

  She glanced to her niece, who looked back at her and shrugged. Just turn the knob, she ordered herself. She reached out and grasped the old glass knob, which felt cool in her hand, and turned.

  Nothing happened. She turned it the other way, raising a screech of rust on metal. She jiggled the handle and tried twisting it again. The handle moved, but the innards of the door mechanism failed to follow instructions.

  “Is it locked?”

  Ragni shook her head. “I think it’s rusted s
hut. I should have brought a can of Coke.”

  “Coke?”

  “I read that Coke will take rust off anything. I tried it once, and it worked.” Another thing to add to the shopping list: a carton of Coke. Would Diet Coke work as well as regular? This time when she twisted the knob, she shoved against the door with her shoulder.

  Nothing.

  “You twist and I’ll push,” Erika suggested.

  “Don’t hurt yourself.”

  “Puh-leese.”

  “Okay.” Ragni used both hands on the knob, and Erika threw her weight against the door. It squeaked and squawked in protest, but it moved.

  “Once more.” Erika drew back. “Now.” On this thrust the door creaked inward and a rush of fresh air followed. Erika stepped back and ushered her aunt ahead of her. “You go first. It’s your gig.”

  They stepped into what was evidently the kitchen. A rust-spotted cast-iron cookstove stood against the right-hand wall. Cupboards lined the other walls, and opposite the stove stood a sink under a window. A hand pump at the edge of the sink said there had been running water of sorts at one time. Ancient and curling linoleum still covered part of the floor.

  Erika wrinkled her nose. “Something stinks.”

  “Most likely mold and mildew. And dirt.” Someone or something had broken one of the south-facing windows, which accounted for the bird that flew out when they stepped in.

  “If there’s a bird in here, there might be other, er, wildlife,” Erika said, grimacing.

  “As in mice?” Ragni opened one of the cupboards. “Lots of mice.” She shut the door. Please, no rats. Mice I can handle, but rats… She shuddered. “We need mousetraps, that’s for sure.”

  “Can you set a trap?”

  “If I have to. We’ll get some bait too. Good thing I brought a measuring tape. We’ll have to buy glass for that window.” It needs to be weatherproofed. That’s what Dad would say. Strange how much she’d been thinking about her dad on this trip. If only he were here. He loves fixing things. Why didn’t we come out here as a family? It isn’t that far, after all.