They wheeled square about and marched into the other saloon. Its screen door slammed loudly behind them. Laura held her breath, but that one door’s mosquito netting stayed smooth and whole.
Laura laughed till her sides ached. She could not stop when Mrs. White snapped out that it was a disgrace to snakes, what men would do with liquor in them.
“Think of the cost of all those screen doors,” Mrs. White said. “I’m surprised at you. Young folks nowadays seem to have no realizing sense.”
That evening when Laura tried to describe those two men so that Mary could see them, no one laughed.
“Goodness gracious, Laura. How could you laugh at drunken men?” Ma wanted to know.
“I think it is dreadful,” Mary added.
Pa said, “The tall one was Bill O’Dowd. I know for a fact that his brother brought him to a claim out here, to keep him from drinking. Two saloons in this town are just two saloons too many.”
“It’s a pity more men don’t say the same,” said Ma. “I begin to believe that if there isn’t a stop put to the liquor traffic, women must bestir themselves and have something to say about it.”
Pa twinkled at her. “Seems to me you have plenty to say, Caroline. Ma never left me in doubt as to the evil of drink, nor you either.”
“Be that as it may be,” said Ma. “It’s a crying shame that such things can happen before Laura’s very eyes.”
Pa looked at Laura, and his eyes were still twinkling. Laura knew that he didn’t blame her for laughing.
Chapter 7
Nine Dollars
Mr. Clancy was not getting so many orders for shirts. It seemed that most of the men who could buy shirts that year had bought them.
One Saturday evening Mrs. White said, “The spring rush seems to be over.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Laura.
Mrs. White counted out a dollar and fifty cents and gave it to her. “I won’t be needing you any more, so you needn’t come in Monday morning,” she said. “Good-by.”
“Good-by,” Laura said.
She had worked six weeks and
earned nine dollars. One dollar had seemed a great deal of money only six weeks ago, but now nine dollars was not enough. If she could have earned only one more week’s wages, that would have made ten dollars and a half, or two weeks would have made a whole twelve dollars.
She knew how good it would be to stay at home again, to help with the housework and do the chores and work in the garden, to go walking with Mary and gather wild flowers, and to look forward to Pa’s homecoming at night. But somehow she felt cast out, and hollow inside.
Slowly she went along the path beside Main Street. Pa was working now on the building at the corner of Second. He stood by a stack of shingles, waiting for Laura, and when he saw her he sang out, “Look what we’ve got, to take home to your Ma!”
In the shade of the shingles stood a bushel basket covered with a grain sack. Inside it there was a small rasping of claws, and a cheeping chorus. The chickens!
“Boast brought ’em in today,” said Pa. “Fourteen of ’em, all healthy and thriving.” His whole face was beaming with anticipation of Ma’s delight.
He told Laura, “The basket’s not heavy. You take one handle and I’ll take the other, and we’ll carry them level, between us.”
They went down Main Street and out on the road toward home, carrying the basket carefully between them. Sunset was flaming in crimson and burning gold over the whole sky. The air was filled with golden light and Silver Lake to the east was blazing like fire. Up from the basket came the chickens’ wondering and anxious cheeping.
“Pa, Mrs. White doesn’t want me any more,” Laura said.
“Yes, I guess the spring rush is about over,” said Pa.
Laura had not thought that Pa’s job might end.
“Oh, Pa, won’t there be any more carpentering, either?” she asked.