Chapter Fifteen

June 22nd, 1922
Miles City, Montana

"Alright, Momma! We're leavin'!" Valentina yelled from the front foyer. Rose had been in the kitchen preparing to start making a cake for the family. She had just finished cleaning up from the rather large breakfast of scrambled eggs, hash browns, and sausage links. Rose patted her hands down on a kitchen linen, disregarding it carelessly on the island as she hurried into the front foyer. Valentina was wearing one of her best dresses. It was an olive green silk dress with a black velvet waistband and tulle hemming that gave her a graceful look that flowed with her tall slender body. Beside her was Jack, wearing a dark red shirt tucked in with his typical suspenders. He had been admiring Valentina with a grin as her trumpet case dangled at her side.

"You look marvelous!" Rose exclaimed. She wrapped her arms around her daughter and then adjusted the green bows in her braids. Gently, she readjusted the tulle that fluffed from her shoulders. Rose's smile was ear to ear, "You're as cute as a button! The judges will love you."

"It's not a fashion contest, Momma," Valentina laughed bashfully beneath her parent's adoring gaze, "It's all about the music."

"Well, you're going to wow them in every way imaginable!" Rose said, hugging Valentina tightly again, "Good luck, darling."

"Thanks, Momma."

"Alright, let's get a move on," Jack said, opening the door, "We gotta get you registered. We'll be back this afternoon," Jack pecked Rose on the lips as Valentina lugged her trumpet case out onto the porch, "I'm gonna take her out for lunch, too, so don't worry about feeding us."

"Sounds good," Rose grinned, rubbing his arm, "I love you."

"Love you, too," Jack replied as he closed the door behind him. Rose stood at the bay window in the dining room as she watched Jack and Valentina begin their walk for the music hall. Valentina was talking animatedly with her father, who was grinning widely as he listened to her speak. It warmed Rose's heart greatly.

Once they were out of sight, Rose sighed and looked towards the stairs. Charlie hadn't left the house since the fire. He was constantly moping about and he wasn't interested in anything. Rose went upstairs to find Charlie laying in the window nook up the tall ladder in the library, staring vacantly at the mountains in the distance with its tall pine trees leading towards them.

"Hey, you," Rose said, wandering through the door. Charlie peered down at her, "It's just you and me this afternoon. Do you want to spend some time with me? I was going to make a strawberry cake for Valentina. I'll let you lick the utensils."

"That's alright..." Charlie mumbled, settling back into his cozy nook, "I just want to sit up here."

Rose looked at her son sadly. After a moment, she turned on her heels and left Charlie to himself at the top of the ladder in the library.

...

June 20th, 1922
Miles City, Montana

Jack and Rose had left the children at home. Together, the couple made the half mile walk towards the town hall of Miles City. It was a beautiful building with terra cotta brick and charming gingerbread woodwork along its old decorative wooden pillars. The circular red brick plaza was crowded with the many adults of Miles City. Like Jack and Rose, they were startled by the aggressive fire that would leave a lasting mark on the beautiful greenery surrounding the town sandwiched between all the mountains.

The Dawson's stood on the outer edge of the crowd, looking towards the large balcony of the town hall where their mayor, an elderly man by the name of Edgar Bentley, was consulting with a team of nicely dressed men. Jack glanced fleetingly towards the sea of familiar faces. He and Rose were heavily involved in the community and were on a first name basis with more than half the population of Miles City. Between Rose's literary career and Jack's magazine business, they were a highly regarded couple, deemed the saving grace of the town's dwindling art scene.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Mayor Bentley's airy voice filled the plaza, sending a hush amongst the residents, "I know we've gathered here today under an anxious precedent. I know we're unsettled by the jarring afternoon we had yesterday. What began as a beautiful summer day, quickly turned dark when a popular hang-out spot became the victim of a large and damaging fire. I know many parents who had children down there are here for answers and reassurance. As your mayor, I can promise you both. First, I'm sure you'd like the facts. I have here with me today the Miles City Fire Chief, Mr. Dom Elders. He is going to speak now and afterwards will be available for questions... Mr. Elders?"

Mayor Bentley stepped away from the railing as a tall man with wide shoulders and arms the sizes of tree trunks stepped forward. He was one of the tallest men in the small sleepy mountain-side town. He easily made the rest of the men joining him look smaller than an average American woman. Dom shook hands with the mayor before he turned his attention to the waiting crowd.

"Like Mayor Bentley said, I'm Dom Elders, Fire Chief," His voice was thick and burley, just like his large body suggested, "Yesterday, around 1:43pm, we were alerted by a resident of smoke billowing from the local fishing hole. When we arrived, we were greeted by two pine trees that were on fire that was quickly spreading to a third. It took my men three and a half hours to get the fire under control. It's been a dry season for us this year and pine is easily combustible under the right circumstances. The Miles City Fire Department spent the rest of the evening combing the fishing hole for any clues as to what caused this dastardly fire," Dom paused and turned towards another man, who was holding something out towards him. Dom took it into his hands and held it up, "You may not be able to tell from here, but these are charred remains of what we determined to be bottle rockets. These aren't your average fireworks, certainly not anything we've seen for sale at the Miles City Booth Market. These bottle rockets contained live gun powder, they were certainly no toy to be trifled with. We're not certain where these bottle rockets came from and we are at even more of a loss as to who could see the pleasure in firing these bottle rockets down onto innoncent children playing in the water. To speak more on the investigation, I would like to have the Police Chief talk, Mr. William Anderson."

A smaller man stepped forward now, "We're looking closely at the remnants of these bottle rockets for any clues as to where they were manufactured and shipped to. I know your children may be upset, but we are asking for several of them to please come down to the police station and speak with us. We are hopeful someone saw something suspcious that could lead us in the right direction. Currently, all we know is that the bottle rockets were launched from the vantage point, known as Bird's Perch, that overlooks the fishing hole. Any information your child may have, we encourage them to speak with us. The fishing hole will be closed for the remainder of the summer for the safety of our residents while we clean it up and do new landscaping on it. The Bird's Perch hiking trail is also closed for the time being. We appreciate everyone's compliance during this time and I want to assure everyone that we are safe. Any further concerns should be directed to Mrs. Ramona Gotz, the secretary of the Police Department. Thank you."

Jack and Rose looked to each other and said nothing. Their eyes said it all.

...

June 22nd, 1922
Miles City, Montana

Rose recounted that day vividly as she began pouring her ingredients together to make her batter for Valentina's cake. When Fire Chief Elders had announced it was bottle rockets, Rose felt her heart sink. It was just like when it was discovered that fireworks had been the cause of the devastating fire at the Bertman's farm. It only hurt Rose more to know Charlie may have been involved this time. Rose refused to completely blame Charlie, however. It was evident he knew something by the way he had basically grounded himself. Rose couldn't bring herself to sit down with Charlie and discuss it. His anxious fidgety attitude rendered it nearly impossible, anyway.

As she lost herself in the task of baking, she brainstormed ways to get through to her son. He had had a rough start to summer, but Rose was convinced he could turn it around with some simple life choices. His new friends didn't have to define who he was. She wouldn't allow them to, either. He was Charles Jack Dawson and Rose had great ambitions for the both of her children. She knew with Jack's blood flowing through him, he would pull through, just like his father always managed to.

Rose gingerly chopped some strawberries into small bits, dropping them into the batter. She watched the fruit slowly sink into the thick batter and she sighed, raking her hair back from her face. She poured the batter into cake pans and put them into the oven. Once she had the timer going, she wandered back into the foyer, staring up the stairs again.

"Charlie?" She called, her voice echoing through the quiet house. After a moment, he appeared at the bannister, peeking his head to look down at his mother, "Why don't you come down here? I could use a hand in the kitchen."

Charlie shuffled his feet for a moment before she heard the thuds of his bare feet against the wooden staircase. Charlie clunked down the stairs and came to stand before her. She could tell he wasn't very happy. Rose gently combed her hair through his hair that was beginning to curl at the ends, "Will you help me clean up and watch the cakes while they're in the oven?"

"Sure," Charlie shrugged, brushing past his mother and going into the kitchen. He pulled the step stool out for himself and began filling the porcelain wash basin with warm water, dribbling soap in it as it pooled. Rose watched her son from the other side of the island.

"I notice you haven't been going out much since Saturday," Rose said as Charlie grabbed a wash rag and began dampening it. He didn't even look over his shoulder at his mother.

"There's nothin' to do anymore," Charlie replied, rubbing suddy circles into a utensil, "I think I've done everything there is to do in this town."

"That never stopped you from going out before," Rose shook her head, resting her elbows against the island as she watched her son, "What about your friends?"

Charlie was quiet for a few moments, dropping a few damp utensils into the drying rack, "My friend's aren't much fun, I guess. Maybe we're just a little too different after all."

"Even Ivan?"

"Especially Ivan," Charlie said, still without pausing from his chore.

"So, you won't be seeing them anymore?" Rose asked, checking the timer on her cakes.

"... hopefully not," Charlie mumbled, casting a fleeting glance out the window above the sink.

...

Jack and Valentina found themselves in the lobby of the downtown music hall with nearly fifty other children accompanied by an adult. Valentina's knee bobbed anxiously, causing her trumpet case to wiggle back and forth on the ground below her. Jack had just finished filling all the paperwork out for Valentina's audition and came to sit by her, placing his hand on her knee.

"You're gonna strain a muscle," Jack told her. Valentina stopped and looked at her father, "I just need you to take a deep breath for me, alright? No need to be so nervous. I guarantee you're the most disciplined trumpet player sitting in this lobby right now."

"Do you know who that is over there?" Valentina used her head to nod in a direction. Slowly, Jack lifted his eyes to rest on a girl with blonde ringlets and bright blue ocean eyes. She was wearing a fancy pink dress with glitter stitched into the torso. Beside her, her mother, who she looked exactly like, was speaking rather firmly with her in a hushed tone.

"Am I supposed to?" Jack looked back at his daughter with arched eyebrows.

"Daddy, that's Anita Strong. She's played at Carnegie Hall and even travelled with Brooklyn's Jazz Orchestra. She's top knotch and it's all-too awful she's decided to add the Miles City Junior Orchestra to her resume."

"If she's performed in New York City, what's she doing here?"

"Beats me. She travels anywhere for her music," Valentina shrugged, glancing discreetly towards the young girl with a powdered face, "All I know is she's my greatest enemy this summer, which is a shame, because I read her portfolio piece in the Trumpeteer's Magazine at school this past spring."

"Well, don't worry about her," Jack gave his daughter nudge, "Just worry about yourself."

"Oh, I'm worried," Valentina huffed, falling against the back of her chair.

"Hey now," Jack sat forward, "the director's know you, Valentina. You've been apart of this program for the past three summers. They've watched you grown as a trumpet-player. Have some faith, alright? This is the Miles City Junior Orchestra. They'd be nuts to choose an out-of-towner over a native resident!"

Valentina was opening her mouth to respond when a woman's voice caught everyone's attention in the lobby, "Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you for promptly filling out the registration forms. I think we have everybody's and are ready to begin audtions. We're going to start with those auditioning for the eight chairs of the trumpet section. If you're a trumpet player, please come make a single file line so I can take you to the auditorium. Parents, we ask that you please remain in the lobby."

"Go knock 'em dead," Jack pecked Valentina on the cheek as the girl stood, hauling her trumpet case at her side, "When you're done here, how about we go get some french fries and milkshakes?"

Valentina paused and gave her father a delightful grin, "Sure, Daddy. That sounds nice."

Jack walked with Valentina and watched as she found herself a place in line. There were eighteen children auditioning for the only eight chairs available in the orchestra. Valentina was easily the tallest amongst them all. Jack gave her a reassuring smile and wave. At the caboose of the group was Anita Strong, who looked rather flustered as she followed the march of the other children into the large and dimly lit auditorium.

"First chair, Anita!" Her mother said sternly from beside Jack. He looked to her quickly before watching her daughter, who gave her only a slight nod before she disappeared into the doors of the auditorium, "How long do these auditions last?" Mrs. Strong looked to Jack.

"Oh, about an hour per section. They'll post the final list tomorrow morning outside on the announcement panel," Jack shrugged, leaning against his cane.

"Certainly doesn't move like New York," Mrs. Strong remarked with the cluck of the tongue, "Where's the nearest coffee shop?"

"Just two doors down," Jack told her. She left without a moment to spare. Jack let out a long sigh and sank back into his chair, I'm glad Rose and I aren't like that with our children...