“We could arrange hours that allow you to finish your responsibilities there.”
Andre looked uncertain.
“Why would you do this for me?”
Evelyn answered without hesitation.
“Because I believe you deserve a chance to become the man you’ve been working so hard to be.”
He felt his throat tighten.
She continued gently.
“And because I believe you would be good at the work.”
Andre looked toward the window.
Outside, a train moved slowly along the tracks, its wheels making a steady rhythm.
He remembered watching those same trains with his mother when he was younger.
She used to point toward them and tell him that there were more possibilities in the world than he could see from their porch.
He had almost forgotten how much he once wanted to discover them.
Evelyn waited patiently.
Finally, Andre spoke.
“I’d like to try.”
Her face brightened.
“Then we shall begin with that.”
He smiled, still uncertain whether he was dreaming.
“Thank you.”
Evelyn reached across the table.
“No, Andre.
Thank you for trusting me.”
Later, while Willa was finishing her pie, Andre told her about the apprenticeship.
She nearly dropped her spoon.
“You’re going to work with the trains?”
“Partly.”
“And learn business?”
“That’s the idea.”
She smiled so broadly that Andre began laughing.
“Mama would be so happy!”
The words came naturally.
Neither of them had to pretend they did not hurt.
Andre nodded.
“I think she would.”
Willa reached over and hugged him.
Evelyn looked away for a moment, giving them privacy.
When she turned back, her own eyes were moist.
That night, after Andre and Willa returned home, Evelyn sat alone beside the boardinghouse window.
She thought about the boy’s face when he spoke of his mother.
She thought about Willa’s excitement.
And she thought about the little house beside the cottonwood grove, the one Andre had said he would never willingly leave.
There were many things money could do.
It could build warehouses, purchase land, repair roads, and pay wages.
But it could not return a mother to her children.
It could not give Evelyn back the years she had spent too busy to enjoy the people she loved.
What it could do was make the days ahead gentler for someone who had already endured more than enough.
She stood and went to her desk.
There, she began writing another letter.
Over the next several days, Andre’s life slowly began to change.
He continued working at the livery stable in the mornings, but during the afternoons he visited the grain office.
The manager, Mr.
Whitaker, was a careful man with round spectacles and a habit of placing every pencil exactly parallel to the edge of his desk.
He was not accustomed to teaching young apprentices.
At first, Andre felt awkward asking questions.
But Mr.
Whitaker soon discovered that the young man listened closely and remembered details.
They began with simple records.
Andre learned how shipments were counted, how grain prices were recorded, and how railway charges affected the money farmers received.
He learned to read long columns of numbers, compare invoices, and check that deliveries matched the orders written in the office books.
Sometimes he made mistakes.
Mr.
Whitaker corrected them firmly but without cruelty.
Andre worked hard to avoid making the same mistake twice.
By the end of his first week, he could explain why a delayed railway car might cause trouble for several different ranchers.
Mr.
Whitaker seemed pleased.
“You ask sensible questions, Carter.”
Andre smiled.
“My mother used to say I asked too many.”
“Well, keep asking.”
For the first time in months, Andre came home with stories about things he had learned rather than simply how tired he felt.
Willa listened while they ate supper.
Sometimes she helped him practice calculations.
Sometimes they laughed when he confused a figure or forgot a word.
Their evenings began to feel different.
The worry had not disappeared, but it no longer filled every corner of the house.
Then, one afternoon, the county notice returned to the center of Andre’s thoughts.
He had been walking home when he passed the county office and noticed the clerk arranging papers near the front window.
The sight reminded him that the deadline was only days away.
He stopped and counted the money in his pocket.
His first apprenticeship payment had helped with food and coal, but it was not enough to cover everything he owed.
He stood outside the building for several minutes.
Finally, he went inside.
The clerk recognized him.
“Afternoon, Andre.”
“Afternoon, sir.”
“Here about the property account?”
Andre nodded.
The clerk opened a ledger.
They reviewed the amount together.
Andre asked whether he could make a partial payment and settle the rest over the following weeks.
The clerk looked regretful.
“I wish I could promise that, son.
But the deadline’s set by the county.”
Andre lowered his eyes.
“I understand.”
The clerk spoke gently.
“You’ve been doing your best.
Everybody knows that.”
Andre thanked him.
He left the office and stood on the wooden sidewalk, watching wagons pass.
His chest felt heavy.
He had been so hopeful about the apprenticeship that he had almost allowed himself to believe the house was safe.
Now the old worry had returned.
He could find more work.
He could ask Mr.
Sullivan for an advance.
But he knew the stable had its own expenses, and he did not want to put another burden on the man who had already helped him so much.
By the time he arrived home, Willa was reading beside the stove.
She looked up.
“Did something happen?”
Andre tried to smile.
“Just a long day.”
Willa studied him.
She knew his face too well to believe that.
“Is it the house?”
Andre stopped.
Then he nodded.
She closed her book.
“How much do we still need?”
He told her.
For a moment, she looked worried.
Then she stood and went to her bedroom.
Andre heard a drawer opening.
A minute later, she returned with a small cloth purse.
Inside were coins she had saved from errands and small gifts.
She placed them on the table.
“You can have these.”
Andre looked at the coins.