Free Ribbons of Steel by Carol Henry Page A

over the past two years.
    “Glad to be of assistance. How’s Catherine? She get her nose out of those school books yet?”
    “Doesn’t have a choice now, what with Ma gone out west.”
    Dillard had a crush a mile wide on his sister, but he knew Catherine wasn’t interested in Dillard, or any other man right now for that matter. How many times had he heard her say that nothing was going to stand in her way of becoming a teacher? Except now she might have to put those dreams on hold to take care of the family.
    “A darn shame.” Dillard shook his head as if he were concerned Catherine didn’t want any part of farming. Seth figured Dillard’s hopes just jumped a notch, and the kid would appear at their doorstep with some lame excuse before long. He wanted to tell Dillard he didn’t have a chance in hell, but the young man would find out soon enough.
    Dillard followed him up the steps to the mill.
    “Hi, ya, boys. How ’bout that strike. A whopper, huh?” Stanley Frost grinned, a sack of feed slung over his shoulder. “Best get your milk and feed on the next train while you can. No telling how long before they stop these trains dead on their tracks.”
    “Sure hope we aren’t affected,” Dillard said.
    Seth had to agree. He vowed he’d never work the rails. Never .
    “The other day I was talking to Buck Tanner who works the rails in Hoboken. He says the number of men getting killed from train accidents was hard to be believed. He told me the wages were already so low half the families were dying from hunger.”
    What could Seth say? Accidents were almost as common these days as marking a sow’s ear before the town set down an ordinance to keep them from running loose in the neighbors’ yards.
    “I hear tell some poor soul was crushed coupling the rail cars together,” Dillard said, shaking his head.
    “Buck told me ’bout a fella who lost his legs when the train wheels caught him off-guard and knocked him to the tracks. Train rolled over him before he could get out of the way. He almost got left for dead and might just as well have died. They say he couldn’t work no more. His missus is having a hard time trying to scrape enough money to keep them fed. For certain the trunk line ain’t handing out any benefits or recompense.” Stanley hefted his sack to the other shoulder. “Gotta get Mr. Strang’s wagon loaded, boys, or I’d stand and chat a bit longer. Go on in and give my son your order. I’ll be right back.”
    Yes sir, moving to the country had been the best thing Pa could have done for them. At least in the country they could farm, hunt, and grow food to put on the table. No need to starve here.
    Dillard opened the door for Seth. They headed for the counter where Stanley’s son Harold was writing in his ledger. He was a pimple-faced kid who was good with numbers and keeping the mill organized after school and during summer. He was the town’s intellect, but not much common sense. Seth figured he’d be off to one of those highfalutin colleges or universities somewhere, but the family needed him at home to help with finances. Too bad, because Harold would probably make more money elsewhere.
    “You two here for the usual?” Harold smiled up at them.
    “Sure am,” Dillard said.
    Seth nodded.
    Harold wrote in his ledger and walked toward the back of the building and out the door without a word.
    “He don’t talk much, does he?” Seth turned to Dillard who was propped up against the counter.
    “Nope. Quiet kid. Surprised they let him work here at all.”
    “His uncle owns the place. Amos was telling me Randall Weston and Stanley Frost are half-brothers. Randall’s father died in a haying accident when Randall was six. His mother remarried old Stanley Frost.”
    Before they could expound further on the Weston and Frost connection, Harold returned. His father followed closely behind.
    “Got your order sitting outside for you, gentlemen. I’ll help load in a minute.”
    Seth signed his