Warning: Colorful language!

Chapter Thirteen

June 19th, 1922
Miles City, Montana

That morning as Rose prepared french toast for breakfast and Jack worked on squeezing oranges for juice, they both felt as if one immense weight had been lifted from their chest in regards to Charlie's possible drinking. The cigarettes, they decided, they could live with for the time being. Knowing the boys he was hanging out with were simply as ignornant of expensive alcohol as Charlie was, they thought they were doing the couple a favor clearing bottles that seemed to never be used in the eyes of a child. Jack wondered in the back of his mind if Eleanor had ever asked Ivan anything about missing liquor bottles.

Just as the couple were getting breakfast finally slung together, Valentina made her appearance. She was wearing a beach robe and sandals, her hair already braided back for the day. She thanked her mom for her plate and seated herself at the table. Jack set an orange juice down beside her and leaned in to kiss her forehead.

"Are you going swimming today?" Jack asked.

"Yeah," Valentina nodded after a swig of juice, "Melody, Oliver, and I are going down to the fishing hole. It's supposed to be really hot and the water is high enough to get into!"

"That sounds like fun!" Rose grinned, setting Charlie's plate down to await his arrival. Rose was pleased to hear Valentina wouldn't spend the whole day cooped up inside practicing her trumpet, "Do you want me to pack you some snacks?"

"Oh, yeah," Valentina nodded, "Especially fruit. Do we have strawberries?"

"Well, of course," Rose laughed as she leaned into the ice chest and held the small wicker crate up, "You're the only one who is eating these, Tina."

"Just dump 'em into my backpack, I'll take them all," Valentina grinned. Rose laughed again and shook her head. Daintly, she made a small pile of the strawberries on a gingham linen and gingerly tied a knot off on the top. She brought it to the table, setting it beside Valentina, "Thanks, Momma."

"Have fun today, darling," Rose said softly.

Valentina left shortly after ten o'clock. She and her friends were eager to get a good spot that wasn't on the rocks, which made it unenjoyable to sit down. Jack was taking his time basking in all the morning light bleeding through the bay windows down onto the kitchen table. He read the Miles City Tribune slowly, relishing weekend mornings when he could take his time. Rose came back into the kitchen after seeing Valentina off and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Charlie's still not up yet."

"Well, let's wake him," Jack said, folding the newspaper up, "It's a beautiful day!"

"I'll go get him," Rose told him, already walking for the archway. She paused and looked over her shoulder, "Could you maybe throw his breakfast back in the pan so it's warm?"

"Roger," Jack nodded, hopping from his seat.

The clunk of her heels were loud. She was sure he would be awake by the time she made it down the hallway to him. Rose knocked gently and leaned her head in to hear any shifting, "Charlie?" She said, knocking once more. After no noises became apparent, Rose opened the door. When she walked in and peered over his mess of a train collection, she spied him still in bed. His window was open, allowing a soft draft in.

"Good morning, Charlie," Rose greeted, leaning against the wall on her arm. Charlie stirred and rubbed his eyes, looking at his mother groggily, "How late were you up last night? Were you playing with your trains again?"

"Mom, it's summer time," Charlie squinted as he adjusted to the light. His hair was molded upwards, "There's no schedule for anything."

"Well, I'm certainly not about to allow you to sleep the whole day away," Rose peeled the quilts back on his body. Charlie was glad he had changed back into his pajamas when he came home after two in the morning again, "Get up and take a bath. Scrub your face, under your arms, the works. It's a nice day outside. Got any plans?"

"Yeah, actually," Charlie grinned, sitting up now and stretching out, "In the early afternoon."

"Don't keep them waiting," Rose told him as she went into his attached bathroom and turned the faucet on. Slowly she adjusted the temperature just right and watched it fill the porcelain claw foot tub, "I want you smelling fresh when you come out, alright?"

"Got it," Charlie nodded as he trudged in, kicking the door shut behind him.

...

The bike path Lawrence said to take for the high perch at the fishing hole was extremely tiresome. A lot of his was an uphill climb and Charlie strained his legs pedaling enough to make it to the next crest. He finally breathed in relief, however, when he spotted Ivan, Peter, and Lawrence's bikes tangled up in the tall wheat grass off the trail. Charlie came to a skidding stop, kicking rocks up to announce his presence.

The boys were hunched on the edge of the small cliff. Charlie came over to see they were digging wooden dowels into the ground. When he spied a rocket sitting beside Lawrence he zipped towards it, but the older boy slapped his hand away.

"Hey, these aren't like those pesky dumb fireworks you're used to handlin'," Lawrence told him, barely throwing him a second glance as he manuevered his dowel back and forth in the mushy mud from the morning dew, "These have a lot of gunpowder in them. They can pop whenever they want to, just 'cause it doesn't like the way you're jerking it around."

"Yeah, they're live, Charlie. Like the land mines they used in the Great War."

"I know what you mean," Charlie nodded, "One exploded in front of my dad and some of the metal from the casing on the bomb got stuck in his knee and that's why he has a cane."

"That's kind of cool," Peter nodded, "My dad was deemed too old to serve. Pretty lame. My brother never left America durin' that time. Always said he was gonna get his forged papers and get over there to fight for the cause, but... he was chickenshit."

"Forget about all that," Ivan waved his hand dismissively, "Look how many kids are down there! It's perfect!"

Charlie leaned over the edge for a moment but saw Ivan with his eyes on him. His heart rate spiked and he immediately back pedaled out of Ivan's reach, "Yeah, there's a lot of them," Charlie paused for a moment and shifted his feet back and forth, "These aren't gonna hurt anyone, right?"

"Well," Lawrence shrugged after he finished securing the final dowell, "that's not my decision to make."

"What do you mean?" Charlie asked, furrowing his brow.

"I dunno how they're gonna explode," Lawrence looked up from cutting string, "I don't know who they're gonna hit. And... I don't really care," He smiled before he returned to his task of winding the string around the rockets, securing them to the dowels.

Ivan and Peter joined in on the task, leaving Charlie to simply watch. Delicately, the boys made small knots to secure the bottle rockets. Charlie had always wanted to play with these explosives but his parent's had never allowed anything like that in their house. Every fourth of July was just small poppers and sparklers. Charlie wandered towards the edge of the cliff again, watching the children frolick in the water down below. The shrill shrieks of the kids reached his ears, along with the splashing of water. He watched a girl with vibrant blonde hair wander back on shore, laughing about something. That's when Charlie felt his entire body freeze. He thought he recognized that blonde girl and now he knew why. She plopped down on a towel beside her friends and the one directly beside her was Valentina.

"Oh no," Charlie whispered to himself, his eyes locked on his sister. He turned back towards the boys. Lawrence was divying up matches, "Hey, guys," Charlie came towards the group. Lawrence handed him a match, "Seriously... this isn't going to really hurt anyone, is it?"

"I dunno," Lawrence shrugged, "I don't really care, either."

"Why're you bein' a wet blanket?" Peter scowled, "Move outta the way before someone notices us!"

"Charlie, get next to your bottle rocket!" Ivan ordered, waving his hand furiously.

Charlie nearly gulped audibly. He turned to look back over the cliff. Valentina and her jazz mate buddies, Oliver and Melody, were laid out on their towels, laughing up a storm about something. Ivan grew impatient and came to stand beside Charlie. He was about to give him a shove when he turned his head in the direction of Charlie's. He paused and grinned rather wickedly.

"Oh, I see the problem," Ivan began to laugh, turning back towards their frustrated friends, who were at the ready to launch the bottle rocks, "Charlie's sister is down there!"

It was Lawrence's turn to smile now. He came to his feet and joined Charlie and Ivan near the edge of the perch, "Well, ain't she easy to pick out," Lawrence said, "What's her name?"

"Tina..." Charlie mumbled, crunching his boots into the parched grass.

"Valentina," Ivan corrected him.

"Valentina," Lawrence echoed, arching his eyebrows, "Must be a negro name."

"Don't call her that!" Charlie curled his hands into fists, snapping the match he had been given, "Call her by her name or don't call her anything at all."

"God, you're so sensitive," Lawrence laughed, "Lighten up. Don't act like you don't notice. Whatever, she's not gonna get hurt. Besides, her dark skin will hide it."

Charlie ground his teeth together, "You don't have to be such an asshole."

Lawrence paused, cocking his head at Charlie, "What'd you just call me?"

"You... you heard me," Charlie nodded his head, doing his best to keep his bravery inflated.

"You think I'm an asshole?" Lawrence withdrew a cigarette that had been tucked behind his ear. Deftly he lit his match and cherried the end of it, "You know whose the real asshole, Charles?" Charlie didn't say anything. He only unsteadily held eye contact with the older boy, "All the adults in this country. The so-called "leaders". They don't do anythin' but bring us young people down. So, we've got to send a message loud and clear. And that message, our mission statement is: you fuck with us, we'll fuck you. Got it, Charlie?"

"But..." Charlie nearly felt lightheaded, "if this is about getting to the adults, why are we hurting people our age? Aren't they supposed to be part of the mission?"

"You really don't get it," Lawrence shook his head, walking back towards his bottle rocket with a plume of smoke trailing after him, "You don't start at the top, Charlie. You bang on the chains of the ones buried down with you. You light a fire and then it's like a gas oven. It only rises from there," Lawrence stuck his cigarette between his lips, glancing to Charlie from beneath his brown bangs, "I suggest you get the hell out of the way."

In one deft move, Lawrence lit the short fuse on the bottle rocket. Charlie gasped sharply and hit the deck, little rocks jabbing him all over his torso. The bottle rocket squealed and the wooden dowel wiggled as the spark began to light. Charlie lifted his head and watched as the bottle rocket launched, easily breaking free from the string. It spiraled down the side of the cliff and all the boys clambered to the edge to witness the outcome. The rocket was heading straight towards the water where a dozen heads were bobbing. Shortly before making to the surface, the bottle rocket exploded, raining green and blue sparks down over the water. Down below the cries of kids rang out and they scattered in the water. Peter scrambled and lit the next bottle rocket.

Charlie watched in sheer horror as the next bottle rocket zoomed down below exploding just over the shoreline where more children screamed and ran. Charlie watched as Valentina, Melody, and Oliver began climbing to their feet, looking on in confusion. It was their turn to run, however, as Ivan lit the next bottle rocket. Valentina held her hands up over her head and she darted out the gate on the heels of her friends, their beach towels and tote bags momentarily forgotten.

"And the finale!" Lawrence grinned, striking a match and firing the bottle rocket that was meant to be Charlie's. It whizzed just over Charlie's head, making the boy recoil downwards, bumping his chin against a rock. The bottle rocket spiraled out of control, crashing into a large pine tree nearby, the cast a cool shadow on the far end of the fishing hole. The bottle rocket exploded and the tree branches lit up in flames.

"Oh no!" Charlie came to his knees, his eyes growing wide as a saucer, "We should get the firemen!"

"Not our job," Lawrence waved his hand dismissively. He slung his ratty backpack over his shoulder and began towards his bike, "Let's get outta here 'fore someone connects some dots. Peter, throw the dowels off the cliff. Everyone split up, but don't take the same trail down. Go down the mountain and hope for the best. Later," Lawrence jerked his bike from the mangled mess and hopped on, immediately disappearing behind some rocks.

Peter and Ivan were gone in a flash, leaving Charlie standing there on the perch, gazing down at the fishing hole. The tree was slowly becoming more consumed in the flames. Some branches had already fallen into the water, too weak to hold on. Smoke rose from the recreational area. Charlie hurt deep inside, watching that large pine tree burn away. He had watched it grow taller for years. His eyes followed the shoreline, looking at all the forgotten stuff. The view of the vacant fishing hole pained Charlie. Distantly, he heard the siren of the fire department. Quickly, he turned and hopped on his bike, pedaling fiercly through the dense forest.

...

Jack and Rose took the alone time to go to the farmer's market just a few blocks over in the neighborhood park. They had already accumulated a fair basket full of carrots with luscious green leaves, royal purple cabbages, large Idaho potatoes, fresh apples and pears, and a loaf of sourdough bread. They were smiling over their wares as they wandered further down the aisle of booths. They bought avocados and then white onions.

"What about that bakery booth?" Jack asked, giving Rose a nudge as she organized their wicker basket. Rose looked up, tucking a curl behind her ear.

"Oh, I don't know," Rose shook her head, glancing towards her husband, "I already have Coca-Cola at the house. I don't think we need a baker's dozen of cookies, too."

Jack laughed, wrapping his arm around her waist, "Oh, come on," Jack grinned, giving her a squeeze on her hip, "It's summertime and they're kids! Let 'em live a little!"

"Say that to me when their teeth are black and falling out," Rose said, turning her head to the side.

"So, we're in agreeance," Jack nodded, "A baker's dozen of macadamia nut cookies, right?"

"Jack," Rose threw her head back and laughed and he relished in the noise, only squeezing her closer despite the basket of goodies between them, "Look at all this wonderful food we already have. I could cook really nice hardy meals out of this."

"You know," Jack shifted his feet and leaned against his cane for a bit more support, "I remember it being 1912... and you couldn't cook for shit. Now look at you, a five start chef. A snooty one, at that!"

"Someone has to keep standards in that household!" Rose said, mockingly defiant, "If it were up to Charlie, he'd have a bowl of ice cream for dinner and an apple pie for dessert!"

"Yeah, and Valentina would only eat those maltballs she loves so much," Jack grinned, "Is there anything in the basket you're going to bake with, at least?"

"Yes," Rose nodded, shifting through the produce. She procured a shiny red apple, holding it up to Jack, "Apple tarts."

"Alright, good enough," Jack nodded, "You're off the hook from the bakery booth this time."

Slowly, the couple began walking again, merging into the flow of traffic at the rather bustling farmer's market. The couple walked past the bakery booth and Rose flashed a grin his direction, "If I didn't know better, I'd say you're the guilty party who wants a cookie for a midnight snack."

"I maintain my innocence," Jack told her. He was about to say more when someone shouted his name. Jack and Rose paused and turned, "Oh, hey, Eleanor."

Eleanor had her long curly blonde hair free on her shoulders. She was wearing a green dress with red trimming; the most fashionable summer dress combo the season had proved to Rose in the magazines. She grinned widely, her ruby red lips gleaming in the afternoon sun.

"Hello you two," Eleanor waved. Her basket contained much less. Some homemade whoopie pies from a confectioner's booth and a loaf of white bread, "Long time, no see," She joked, looking towards Jack.

"Yeah, no kidding," Jack laughed politely, "Kids were outta the house this morning, so we decided to get some stuff done."

"Same here," Eleanor nodded, "It's such a beautiful day, too."

"We've been lucky this summer," Rose chimed in. Eleanor barely even looked towards her, "I'm glad it's dryer than last year."

"Yeah, last summer was miserable," Jack agreed, nodding his head at Rose.

"Jack, was there any work you needed me to do for the office over the weekend?" Eleanor asked.

"Oh," Jack arched his eyebrows, "Don't worry about that, Eleanor. The weekend's are our time off. I would have given you more notice if there was something that needed to be done today. Don't even think about the office until Monday."

"Well, you know, I've been working as a secretary in the filing business for nearly fifteen years. I have a lot of ideas on ways to revolutionize our filing system at the office. It will make things so much more cohesive and easier. Could I maybe have some time with you this weekend to pick your brain?" Eleanor asked, gripping her basket tightly in her hand.

"I really appreciate you eager attitude," Jack told her gently, "But really, this is your off-time. We'll talk about a new filing system on Monday, I promise."

"Alright," Eleanor nodded, concealing any disappointment, "I'll see you Monday, then. Take care!" She waved, glancing fleetingly towards Rose before she began on her way. The couple began on their way out from the neighborhood park.

"Wow, you weren't kidding when you said she was dedicated," Rose said with arched eyebrows, "I've never seen Eleanor so high-strung."

"That's how she normally is," Jack replied, "She likes to laugh and talk a lot."

"She used to be so quiet..." Rose furrowed her brow, "She reminded me of Freida."

"Well," The couple paused just outside the gates of the small park, "I don't quite get that impression. Sounds like we know two different versions of Eleanor."

Rose was about to respond when the loud and crackled noise of a cranked horn rang out. Jack and Rose turned their heads, watching as the town's only fire engine rolled by quickly, several men geared up and dangling off the side of it. The town was so small that slowly residents began to gather in the wake of the fire truck, interested to see what was taking place. Jack and Rose stepped off the sidewalk and entered the vacant street. The cocked their heads out from the tree cover to discover a dark plume of smoke rising in the air not too far away. A man jogged past the couple.

"Hey," Jack called, making him paused, "what's goin' on?"

"There's a fire at the fishing hole!" The man told him, panting. He whirled around and began running again.

"The fishing hole?!" Rose exclaimed, her body flooded in a chill, "Jack, that's where Valentina was going today!" Quickly, she handed the basket off to Jack and began to hurry away. She paused and looked over her shoulder, "Find Charlie."

Jack nodded and turned in the opposite direction of Rose, walking as swiftly as he could.

...

As Rose got closer to the fishing hole, the town became plagued in gray smoke. Rose's eyes watered as she walked against it. She saw the flashing lights of the fire truck ahead. There was a large crowd formed, many people watching in horror. Rose paused to look beyond the fire truck to see four large pine trees engulfed in flames. Rose turned her attention towards a sheriff who was pointing a civilian in another direction.

"Excuse me," Rose said, darting towards him, "My daughter was here today. Has anyone seen the children?"

"All the children are being held at the old woman's house at the first block corner from here. Yellow house, red shutters. The woman shelterin' them is Shelly Bisson."

"Thank you," Rose said, her mouth growing parched from the smoke. Rose hurried back up the street, spotting the house that matched the description from the sheriff. She nearly leapt up the stairs, desperate to see Valentina immediately. She rapped on the door, waiting impatiently.

An old woman with ashen hair piled atop her head answered the door. She was wearing a long sleeve white button up with a broach pinned to the collar. It was tucked into a high waisted blue skirt with white embroidery along the hem.

"Are you Shelly Bisson?" Rose asked.

"Are you looking for your child?" The woman asked sweetly, "Come inside, dear. The smoke is not good for your complexion," She ushered Rose through the door. The house was very old-fashioned with its cloth wallpaper embellished in floral designs and tall cabinents for ornate china that had probably never been used, "Now," Shelly said, fluffing her beehive of hair, "which child is yours?"

"Valentina, is she here?" Rose asked hurriedly.

"Is she the one who talks about trumpets?" Shelly began to lead Rose through the dining room that attached to a long hallway.

"Yes, that should be her," Rose nodded, relieved, "Thank goodness she's here."

Shelly took Rose to an archway that opened up into a spacious lounge room with a red brick fireplace and large picture windows that were fogged in smoke. Rose felt her heart leap when she saw Valentina sitting in her bathing suit on an ottoman. Valentina's eyes lit up and she got to her feet, immediately wrapping her arms around her mom.

Rose squeezed her tightly before she began inspecting her arms, "Are you hurt?"

"No," Valentina shook her head, "I'm fine."

Rose enveloped Valentina again, pressing the child against her. Rose looked over her shoulder with tears brimming her eyes, "Thank you, Mrs. Bisson. Thank you."

...

The smoke of the incident was slowly began to waft all the way to the Dawson's house. Jack carelessly threw the basket of produce on their porch and walked with brisk purpose out the gate. It seemed like all of Miles City was out on the streets wondering what was going on. Jack gawked at every child he passed, being sure to jog to catch the face of children on bikes.

When Jack stepped onto the main road just outside of their neighborhood, he glanced in the direction of the fishing hole. The smoke had gotten darker which meant the firefighters hadn't put it out yet. Jack gripped his cane tightly, Where the hell is Charlie?!

As Jack walked towards the downtown park, the crowds of people grew thicker. He had to press himself past people, hurried to lay eyes on the well-being of his son. Silently, Jack thought of Rose, hoping she had located Valentina. Jack walked briskly, hopeful that Charlie was there. His son was a creature of habit and Jack could only pray that today was no different.

Sure enough, as the park came into view, Jack spied Charlie standing on a park bench, gawking at the sky. His bike was left discarded in the dirt. Jack blinked his eyes against the dry smoke drifting past as he burst through the final bits of crowd, "Charlie!"

His son's head snapped his direction. When Charlie saw his father, he leapt from the bench, racing towards his father, "Dad! Valentina... where is she?!"

"Your mother's down there," Jack assured him.

Charlie had tears brimming his eyes as the smoke in the area stung his lungs as harshly as those Indian cigarettes Lawrence had given him. Charlie had always been deeply connected with nature. To see it burning in his town shook him to his core.

"We should go home and wait for them," Jack said, "Grab your bike."

Charlie nodded and sniffled, turning towards his bike. He reached down to grab it as the salty tears began down his cheeks. He felt lower than the lowest depths of the ocean. The commotion in the streets rattled him. Charlie wanted nothing more than for the smoke to dissipate and to see his sister back at home. Charlie wheeled his bike over to his father and the Dawson boys walked home side by side amidst the darkening smoke of Miles City.