Friday, October 21, 1910
It was just another Friday at Eagle Creek School. Sarah sat at her desk looking over some history notes. Her mind drifted to Emily and Lynn. She imagined them having fun, visiting exotic locales. Her world seemed droller with each passing day. She looked over each student that walked in to the eleventh and twelfth grade classroom.
Russell Stead was born in Eagle Creek. Sarah grew up with him but his perpetual nervousness around girls resulted in a strained relationship. She knew all about him. He knew all about her. But the few conversations they had were through intermediate parties. For example, Pete Jackson might say, "Hey, Russell! Tell Sarah about the elk I shot last Saturday."
Russell's father was a butcher and an upstanding citizen. Russell was always an under achiever. 
Kissing him at last year's Christmas Ball had been one of the biggest mistakes of Sarah's life. Emily had dared her to dance with him, and she did. Russell was aloof and mysterious, but also annoying at times. He had little interest in social skills, it was as though he was coasting downhill on a bicycle, enduring the maddening slope hoping that adulthood would bring more options and less fetters.
Judy Butler had book-smarts but very little else going for her. She did not want to spend time with the other girls. She and Sarah shared the same restroom with the scented soaps and paintings of butterflies, but beyond that, they simply had nothing to talk about. She never went to River City. Her family did not go to church. No one knew what her father did or what her parents looked like except as people on a wagon who appeared every weekday at 8 am and then 4 pm. They must've had some influence because she was the only girl to be excused from wilderness training.
Emily had tried to speak with her on multiple occasions but to no avail. She had little interest in boys. She was the kind of girl who'd go to the beach and read, A Tale of Two Cities. One day, a man would utterly relate to such a maneuver, but now, such gallantries were as distance and unattainable as Camelot. 
Alma Gumble was sixteen, the same age as Sarah, but she'd gone into school late. Her mother wanted Alma to be a proper young lady so she'd not gone to school until her freshman year. Her social skills left much to be desired. Alma was a square, faux diamond in a round, gritty world. Her father was comptroller and had managed to bring the small budget for the City of Eagle Creek more into the black. Up until Arthur Gumble, the city's budget was always a fluidic matter. Some years there would be barely enough money to light the lamps on Main Street and other year's the town would be quite prosperous.
Arthur Gumble's methodology of investigating and, to some, badgering folks to be accountable for every cent seemed to go against the sense of trust for the common man the town wished to extol. Not that there was anything wrong with being frugal, far from it, rather, his strict pseudo-perfectionist demeanor made pleasant conversations with the man almost impossible. He did not choose to socialize with anyone in the town.
Sarah's father, who had been elected to represent interests of rural residents on the city council found him to be an odd duck. He had been over to the Gumble house on a couple of occasions but Arthur would only meet with him on the front porch. Michael usually went along with his recommendations, but begrudgingly so.
The worst part of the situation involved Rafe Tallard. Rafe was the first and only mayor of Eagle Creek since 1880. He had been in the community when the town hall was the backroom of a livery. Everyone loved Rafe. He was highly respected, but as the years drifted by he seemed less enchanted with the job. Rafe was mayor because everyone expected him to be the mayor. Three of the seven times he ran for the position he did so unopposed. Hubert Fry, a shoe salesman, who had moved into the community last autumn, was making waves. He not only sold new foot-ware to practically everyone in town, he had successfully put forth the idea that it might time for new management in government.
Rafe more or less ignored him. When Hubert publicly challenged him to a debate, Rafe said he was not interested. Such a public misstep shocked some and convinced others that Rafe was simply tired of being mayor. Rafe's waning passion for civic affairs left him more and more susceptible to Arthur Gumble's influence. But Rafe decided to go out with a bang, he began to tie his star to Arthur Gumble's so if Rafe was re-elected a eighth time, the obnoxious irritant would stay. To many, this was practically an invitation from Rafe for retirement. Tuesday, November 7, 1910, was going to be a big day in the history of little ole Eagle Creek.
Alma was mostly oblivious to this closed door intrigue. Most of her time was spent on thinking about herself. As a sophomore, she'd openly flirted with Tommy so unsuccessfully that one day during lunch he flat out told her, "Alma, I am not interested in you. Please leave me alone." 
When Lynn, Emily and Sarah, among others laughed at the spectacle she decided to punish the world by running away. She had everything she needed to excuse herself from the rubbish theatre of small town life. She packed her bags and headed for the depot. Although the train conductor was legally required to sell her a ticket, he refused because, in his own words "something didn't smell right." Unwilling to wait any longer in the leaky train depot in a blowing rain storm, she gave up and walked back home. For her, pneumonia, and the week away from school it required was a sheer blessing.
Both girls would be willing to attend public functions in a public area, such as Sarah and Emily's Fifteenth Birthday Party, but only through much cajoling. Once there, both of their odd personalities would play out. Judy would ask Sarah about school work, and she would happily oblige her interest for a maximum of five minutes. Any longer than that and Sarah might begin screaming at her, "I don't care about school work when I'm not at school."
Alma would put on her "I'm so happy face" for her mother who would typically be in the background of any function that required her presence. Martha Gumble was always ready to pick up her little girl's fractured ego and tell her how special she was and the other girls are merely jealous of her.
Alma Gumble was like the word "panoply." Charles Wesley's Soldiers of Christ, Arise had always been one of Sarah's favorite hymns. The triumphant anthem could always get the church crowd going even on the dullest of Sundays. The second verse of the songs had the lyrics, "But take, to arm you for the fight, the panoply of God."
Heaven only knows how many millions of saints had sung that line and briefly asked themselves, "What's a panoply?" Doubtlessly, many intended to even look it up in a dictionary or asked the song-leader what it meant. But, the rousing third and fourth stanzas put aside any such astute trivialities. When they got home, only a handful would actually take the time to find out the meaning of the word. And even then, it would not necessarily do anything to enhance the experience of the song. No one uses the word "panoply" in real life.
Alma would barely speak to anyone at school, except maybe to Judy Butler, who not surprisingly, celebrated her as an equal in the endeavor to be above the crowd. They would sit together at lunch and leer at the other students like vain vultures. Alma would look at every student on the playground one by one for a couple of seconds and then whisper something in Judy's ear. Judy would giggle with Alma long enough so as to honestly report to her mother that she had a best friend.
The openly clandestine nature of their conversations used to dry Emily batty. Sarah always found it curious, but wondered why she never heard any of the secrets and observations the girls seemed so delighted to share with one another. All of this pretentious, ambiguity created a well earned suspicion in every girl who was not Alma or Judy, so when Alma would approach Emily or Lynn or Sarah for a hug at a party while speaking in her high soprano tone, "Oh it's so good to see you" the girls would react as though someone had just said, "That's a nice panoply you're wearing." You're not sure what was said nor did you care to know.
For Sarah, Alma's smarmy, subtle jibes were tolerable in a public forum; to welcome all was her motto. But Emily was less agreeable. Emily would stand behind Alma and serve as a commentator by making funny faces or mouthing to others what Alma meant to say or what the hearer is thinking.
Alma: "That's a nice dress." Emily: "…for a fat girl."
Alma: "You need to come over to my house." Emily: "…and clean it."
Alma: "Turn around." Emily: "…so I can remove that knife I just put in your back."
Alma: "I've never seen you look prettier." Emily: "…drop the -ier and replace with the letter y."
Alma: "Isn't he a dream?" Emily: "…as in, only in dreams would he want to go out with you."
Alma: "I wish my hair could look like yours." Emily: "Step one: remove the spiders."
Alma: "I love that eye-liner." Emily: "It's black, like your soul."
Sarah's fond memories of Emily's quips were pleasant but as the days without her had crept by, the world she knew seemed less tolerable. She wondered what else was temporary. Who else could disappoint her? In what manner could she disappoint herself? Or, how might she influence people, even the ones she did not care to know, to live a better life? Too often, the problems that make the most havoc in our lives do so not out of a lack of sincerity but an ignorance of the right question.
"Good morning class." Mrs. Grayson said with enthusiasm.
"Good morning Mrs. Grayson," replied the children with uniform apathy.
Mrs. Grayson aped their blasé reactions. That brought some amount of laughter.
"Tell me what a referendum is… Russell."
Russell stood up. "Mrs. Grayson, a referendum is a bill decided upon through an election."
Mrs. Grayson smiled. "Very good Russell." 
Russell sat down. It was one of the few times he'd answered a question in school with a cogent response.
Mrs. Grayson said, "Last year there was a vote in this town on raising property taxes to support improvements at the school. The vote was 81% for and 19% against. You should be very happy to live in a town so committed to your educational well-being.
With the additional funds, two classrooms were added. Last year, in the tenth, eleventh and twelfth grade classroom I had twenty students. In the new eleventh and twelfth grade I have eight students. This smaller class size permits me more time with each of you and a more precise teaching agenda.
The referendum came with a caveat; certain businesses people, who most actively supported the measure, would be rewarded for their efforts by having eleventh and twelfth grade students work in their businesses as apprentices for one week."
The students groaned.
Alma Gumble grumbled, "So we're slaves?"
Mrs. Grayson snapped, "Young lady, you will not speak to me in that tone."
Alma sighed. She raised her hand.
"Yes, Alma, you have a question or a comment?"
"Mrs. Grayson, does such a measure make us slaves?"
Mrs. Grayson chuckled, "No. An apprentice is someone who works under the tutelage of another to gain a valuable skill. They work during a specific time frame. After that time they are free to seek employment elsewhere. Your parents agreed to this when they signed the back page of your copy of the 1910-1911 Eagle Creek School Guide Book.
You could demonstrate maturity by looking at this opportunity from another angle. The taxpayers of this town had a choice; they chose to surrender more of their funds to improve the school while enhancing their businesses."
The kids were not convinced.
Mrs. Grayson said, "You're helping out the town. It's civic pride in action."
They mumbled and groaned.
"You'll get a week off from school."
They cheered.
"Very good, I am happy that you see things my way."
Sarah raised her hand.
"Yes, Sarah?"
"Mrs. Grayson, if we are working, where will you be?"
"On vacation in Yellowstone. This way the school does not have to hire a substitute and bring them up from Plentywood and house them for five days. It's a win-win situation.
Now then, Mrs. Hall has already selected your job assignments."
Pete asked, "Mrs. Grayson, won't I just work at the hard-ware store?"
She shook her head and pouted. "Oh no. That would be far too easy. Most of you already work with your parents' business in some capacity. The skills you learn would serve you to a degree but creativity is a vital part of learning. You must be challenged.
Pete, you are going to learn how to be a train station master. Max Gordon, depot, 10 am on Monday."
Pete smiled. "That's more sleep for me, I'll do it."
The kids laughed.
"I thought you might like that. Sarah, you will learn about law enforcement. Julius Walsdorf expects you at 8 am on Monday."
Sarah chuckled, "I would enjoy a week away from the bakery."
Mrs. Grayson nodded. "I read somewhere recently that there are only thirty female police officers in this state, so you'll be a member of an elite group.
Tommy, you will need to arrive at 7 am on Sunday morning to the Eagle Creek Memorial Church."
Tommy tilted his head. "But, didn't you say these were businesses?"
"A church is a business in the sense that it owns property. Sam Hines supported the measure by going around and talking to people, that was considered to be his labor on its behalf. He never has to mention it in church and my guess is, he never told anyone to vote for it in order to be a good Christian."
Tommy asked, "Why do I have to show up at 7 am, church doesn't start until 9:30?"
Mrs. Grayson shook her head. "I don't know why. I am just reading this sheet of paper which says: 'Tommy, 7 am, Eagle Creek Memorial Church, Sam Hines.' You'll have to find out everything else on your own.
Judy Butler, you will report to Lucille's Fashions on Monday at 9 am."
Judy replied in a sassy tone, "I don't like that store."
Mrs. Grayson cleared her throat. "Would you like to write 'Lucille's Fashions is the best store in Eagle Creek' one-hundred times on this blackboard behind me?"
Judy looked down and then replied, "No, ma'am. But, my father will not have me…."
"Judy? Judy? The chalk is calling for you. Say anything else except 'Thank you Mrs. Grayson' and you two will become the best of friends."
Judy sighed. "Thank you, Mrs. Grayson."
"You are so very welcomed Judy. You and Lucille will have a lot of fun.
Russell Stead, you will report to Dr. Westbrook's office on Monday at 8 am."
"I'm not a doctor."
Mrs. Grayson gasped, "You're not a doctor?" She swished her mouth and looked over the assignment sheet. "And Dr. Westbrook had you scheduled to perform an open heart surgery. Let me just erase that."
The class laughed.
"Russell, my guess is Dr. Westbrook's has some non-medical related tasks for you."
Russell conceded, "Yes, ma'am."
"That's my boy.
Alma, Monday, 9 am, Montana Chemical Bank, report to Michael Conrad."
Alma rolled her eyes.
"Young lady you're not getting out of this assignment. There's no reason why you can't do well at the bank."
Alma shrugged. "Fine."
"Sam Spurlock, Jackson Brothers Hardware at 8 am on Monday. Wu? You will work Mrs. Kilpatrick down at the Post Office beginning at 7:30 am on Monday."
Both boys were agreeable to the assignments.
Mrs. Grayson said, "All students," she turned to Alma. "All students will work a full week. If you miss any days you will be permitted to return to school only with a doctor's note.
I highly encourage you to show up on time and do the best you can because your employer will be the one who recommends your grade for the week. If you're perpetually late or if you goof off you will grade for this six week period will be lowered.
When you return on Monday after your one week in the professional world, you will work together on a way to improve the community. This is a tremendous opportunity, one that was not afforded to me when I was your age. Think of it as an adventure; you are explorers about to set sail in the wide world of adulthood. Whether you know it or not this is going to be a thrill!
Now then, open your Geography books to page 110 and let's engage in an exciting discussion about dirt."
Sarah's mind dabbled in and out of the classroom the rest of the day. Her heart was in Helena and the friends who had taken off on the kind of adventure for which she had only dreamed.
"It should have been me," Sarah thought. But such opining would bring her nothing but more regret. Perhaps spending the week with Julius would be more entertaining.
She looked forward to spending time with Julius. His thirst for adventure would likely make the week a little more tolerable than being placed on one of the other assignments. Until then, however, she would have to make it through another school day without her best friends.
At times like this, she felt uneasy about the future. She had talent and she had dreams but she had no avenue to properly apply them. But, as her father was found of saying, frustration is just a way of slowing down while climbing to the summit of success. The first falling snow brought a special loveliness. There was still beauty in the world and the constant surprise of renewal. Sarah smiled.
