Harriet del Mar was the girl's name. The eldest of the three children growing up on the lonesome ranch near Sage, the folks always called her Hattie--not that she cared much for either version, as both evoked the same masculine, rough-hewn quality of the people and the land surrounding her. Hattie del Mar grew up longing for something greener and softer than windswept Sage could offer.
The del Mars were hard-working but poor. Hattie didn't see too much of her daddy, as he spent days tending stock and looking after his hardscrabble but well-earned ranch; when he came indoors evenings for supper, he was too tired to talk much. Mama was a much larger presence in the girl's life, quietly, and usually gently, guiding her daughter in the feminine accomplishments that the men of this world took for granted...cleaning house, doing laundry, cooking meals of meager portions that were at least moderately nourishing, and looking after the younger siblings. It was hard and always thankless work.
If the parents had little to get by on, their children had even less. The number of toys among the three of them could be counted on one hand. And among these few treasures, Hattie knew she had the best: a beautiful, rosy-golden, lifesize Shirley Temple doll that her folks had scraped hard to give her one Christmas some years before. Going to the pictures was a very rare occurrence for the del Mar family, and Hattie cherished each exposure she had to that silvery mirage that stood in such stark contrast to her dull brown world. The doll preserved by its very existence some dim sparkle of that enchanted realm, and immeasurably brightened the child's days and nights.
"You boys go help your daddy," Mama said in an emphatic tone that just masked an underlying exhaustion. She glanced out the window where the day's dying light delineated her husband's form struggling to corral the sheep into their pens for the night. "Hattie, you come help me with the dishes."
As she stood beside her mother, Hattie looked out the kitchen window onto the twilit scene of her brothers and her father moving together with determination and resolve. The fly-spattered window was so small against the wide Wyoming horizon and the looming sky above it that stretched on forever. She had lived here her whole short life, yet this scene could still somehow awaken some nameless, persistent dread in her young breast. Her mother's voice brought her back from her silent vigil.
"The church social is two weeks away. I'm a goin to be baking two pies, an apple and a cherry, and I want you to help me. I'll be mending your good dress, so I don't want you wearin it till the social's come and gone. Ya hear?"
"Yes'm", Hattie quietly replied. She wasn't fond of church, but she was always grateful to get out of the house, and anyway, whatever mama or daddy said was how it was going to be.
At that moment, the three male del Mars walked into the house. Hattie tensed as she saw that things weren't right with them. Her father's face was red and glaring, while K.E. wore a scowl that perfectly mirrored the old man's mien; Ennis, the youngest, was pale and solemn, with a hint of tears glistening in his soft eyes.
"Elizabeth," the old man barked, "that no-good weakling son of yours'll be the death of me!"
"You mean Ennis?" Liz asked, though she knew she didn't have to. "Why, whatever has he done?"
"The boy can't handle one goddam animal, not even a woolly, even if his damn life depended on it! Lost his grip on one of 'em sheep, let the pen door swing open, and the whole flock of 'em go scattering. Me and K.E. had a helluva time roundin 'em up again. Boy's got a lot to learn, tell you that much!"
Hattie glanced at Ennis, who was, secretly, her favorite. There was something soft and gentle about the boy, so different from most of the other folks in these parts, be they adult or child, and reflecting some amorphous quality that Hattie sensed in herself. Tears had always come easy to Ennis, though the old man and K.E. had done a lot to dam up those free-flowing emotions, and nowadays one saw a premature stoicism on that delicate face, tears noticeable but safely stifled within. Thus did Hattie recognize her brother at this moment.
"Now, Tom, you know the boy tries his best. He'll get things right, given a little time and patience on our part." Liz del Mar had always strove to maintain a thin veneer of peace in her troubled household. "K.E., take your brother and get warshed up in time for bed. Hattie, you go along too."
Hattie was glad to absent herself from her vexed and fearsome father at this point. The man seemed barely human when overtaken by anger. "Boy's had enough time, plenty of time", she heard him say as she turned her back against the grimy, yellowish kitchen.
The boys cleaned up first, and then it was Hattie's turn for the bathroom and evening ablutions. She brushed her hair, as her mother had taught her, and slipped on her white cotton nightgown. She wasn't quite done when there was a tap at the door.
"Sis?" It was K.E. "Sis, I'm gonna ask if Ennis couldn't sleep with you tonight. He's been driving me wild with his kicking and elbowing durin the night, and right now I'm so mad at him I kin hardly stand to be next ta him. I know it's a big favor, but would ya do it? Mebbe we could trade chores or somethin fer later."
One of the privileges of being the only girl among the del Mar children was having one's own room and bed; the boys had always had to make do with smaller quarters and one bed between them. The only other people Hattie had ever slept beside were her own parents, when she had been a baby, and later, on those occasional nights that were troubled by bad dreams. She otherwise relished her nocturnal solitude, in fact had taken it for granted, and was not at all keen to sacrifice it now.
"I guess so, K.E., if you're so sure that you couldn't stand'im tonight." She spoke with a distinct lack of enthusiasm, but noted the steely resolve in her young brother's face. "But just tonight, ya hear? You get 'im back tomorrow fer sure."
"Sure thing, sis. I'll send him over."
Ennis was already there when Hattie opened the door into her room. He was standing stiffly, quietly, with the air of shyness that always lingered around him, like a faint but discernable fragrance that had always marked him as a special presence, even as a baby. He had donned his pajamas, hand-me-downs from K.E. into which he had not yet quite grown, his bare feet just noticeable under the drooping hem of the legs. He looked at Hattie expectantly, deferring to her almost instinctively as the elder and the mistress of her quarters.
To be continued, probably on the fanfic board...
