Prayers for Sale by Sandra Dallas

Author:Sandra Dallas [Dallas, Sandra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mountain, Older Women, Depressions, Colorado, West, Travel, Fiction, United States, Suspense, Historical, Female Friendship, 1929, Cultural Heritage, Contemporary Women
ISBN: 9780312385194
Google: uaBXQJjKPhgC
Amazon: B0044KN194
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2010-02-01T06:00:00+00:00

“Time to eat,” Hennie said. The women secured their needles in the quilt and stood up, moving to Hennie’s kitchen and the big dinner plates. Stacked like they were, the plates were a series of red rims with white showing through where they had been nicked and chipped over the years. But they were real English china, and the women were proud to eat off them. While Hennie took Nit’s chicken from the warming oven and dished up her own pot roast from the back of the range, the others removed the dish towels from the platters and plates they’d brought with them and complimented one another on the offerings.

“Sugar bread,” Zepha whispered to Queenie, pointing to Edna’s pound cake. Bonnie commented on Nit’s chicken, and Edna told Zepha she’d hadn’t had ashcakes since she didn’t know when and had been hungering for them. Carla insisted Bonnie grew the best salad lettuce in Middle Swan; Hennie said she didn’t know how Carla could bake such fat loaves of bread at ten thousand feet. They all asked for half-moon pies. Someone even complimented Monalisa on her relish. The women took their chairs from the quilt frame and carried them to Hennie’s big table and sat to dinner, quiet while they ate. “It’s the best eating I ever did eat,” Nit said, as she fed the last of her sugar cake to Queenie, who was sitting on her mother’s lap, and the others agreed.

After they were finished with the dinner, they returned to the frame for a final hour of quilting. Drowsy with the big meal, the women were quiet now, gossiping a little, commenting on their stitching. Someone asked Hennie for another story, but she said, “My tongue’s been going like a clapper in a cowbell, and I best rest it. But first, I got something to say.”

Hennie paused until the others looked up from their stitching and stared at her.

She took a deep breath and blurted out, “This’ll be my last year on the Swan. I’m moving below to live with my daughter.” Hennie hadn’t intended to announce her plans that way, but she’d have to let her friends know sooner or later, and that afternoon seemed as good a time as any. She’d tell them all at once, so there would be less gossip about it.

The women were quiet for a moment.

“You’re leaving out?” Bonnie asked, stunned.

Hennie nodded.

“It won’t be Middle Swan without you here,” Edna said. “You’re as much a part of this place as the gold yet in the ground.”

“And the rocks on the dredge pile, too,” Hennie replied. “But it can’t be helped. After all, the Lord would be taking me soon enough anyway. The only difference is I’ll be leaving on my own two feet instead of being carried out.”

The women were silent then, until Hennie said, “Leaving’s not my idea. Mae’s been pestering me and wouldn’t give me any rest until I agreed to live with her. She keeps asking what if I fell or had heart failure.

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