horse-drawn wagons all vied for space along the newly paved road.
I, on the other hand, found downtown Dunn on a Saturday too tame for my taste. I wanted to be in the middle of this changing world, the energy of the crowd surging through my limbs like an electric current. I glanced at Ma again, eyes open now. A little more relaxed. Maybe if Iâd opted for the touring car with a back seat instead of the roadster sheâd have been more comfortable. But I couldnât remedy that now.
I eased my Tin Lizzie behind Mr. Glasscockâs dry goods store and stilled the engine. âIâll meet you here in an hour. Is that enough time?â
Ma nodded as I helped her from the motorcar. Sheâd shop while I took care of a few errands and socialized a bit. Afterescorting Ma into the store, I stepped back onto the street, dodging in front of an automobile and then behind a wagon. I found myself walking in front of the post office and wondered if Clay had written.
The familiar ball of jealousy pulsed in my chest. Ma would have been happier for me to have been drafted instead of Clay. Me too, come to that. But though Clay knew Ma depended on him, his eyes had lit with a surge of pride when the notice to report had arrived, even as heâd apologized for leaving us. And in the end, I couldnât begrudge him the opportunity to restore our family honor. Not after all weâd endured.
I turned toward the street, as if somehow I would see Clay, in his khaki uniform, strolling down the sidewalk. A child flashed past me, shoes kicking up dust, shirttail flying in the wind. A horse shied. A motorcar jerked to a stop. The boy ran on, disappearing into the livery stable.
JC.
Shared experience pulled me in his direction. Would he remember our encounter at the funeral? Would he accept my offer of friendship? I knew what he felt. And I knew what it had meant to me to have Mr. Slicer to turn to.
But as I reached the other side of the street, Blaze climbed down from a wagon in front of the Feed and Seed. He stopped as if wanting to talk. I glanced toward the livery. JC could wait.
âReady to play some ball, Blaze? Only three weeks now.â
âYes, sir. Iâll be glad to be on the court instead of digging in the dirt.â He glanced down at his overalls, speckled with sod.
âLong day already?â
He nodded. âBeen at it since sunup.â
âYou finding time to get your schoolwork done, too?â
Blaze ducked his head. âI donât know, Coach. Iâm trying. Ireally am. But . . .â He glanced at the wagon, and I read all his unspoken words. His pa worked him hard, leaving little time for pursuits of the mind.
I sighed. âDonât give up. Youâve got six weeks behind you already. Only a few more months to go. And this year, thereâll be a diploma at the end.â
Blaze stared past me. His jaw ticked. âYou might be seeing graduation, Coach Vaughn, but Iâm not lookinâ further than basketball season right now.â
I clapped the lanky senior on the shoulder, noting that it seemed more solid than last year. He might not like helping his pa plant and harvest, but it strengthened him all the same. âI hear ya. It wonât be long now.â
Like Blaze, I yearned to be out on the court, teaching the boys teamwork and strategy, tenacity and focus and giving your all. But until November, Iâd be content with my classroom full of students grappling with numbers.
âDonât worry. Weâll get you through, just like we did last year.â
He didnât respond. His focus had fixed on the opposite side of the street.
I glanced behind me, expecting to see Blazeâs girlfriend, Nannie, and a cluster of her friends. They often arrested his attention in class. But my grin fell away as I saw heâd fixated instead on three men in uniform. My gut clenched. With Fort Sill nearby, soldiers werenât an unusual sight in Dunn,