Like a general pushing her army, Mom marched me through one, two, three violin teachers before she came to Mr. Capianelli, who told her that only rarely had he had the honor of teaching a pupil with my gifts.

I was nine, beginning fourth grade, and playing a bigger violin now.

Mr. Capianelli was new to Montana, having come to Missoula for a year's sabbatical from his professional obligations. He hadn't planned to take on students but made an exception for me.

At the start of each lesson, while I tuned and warmed up, Mr. Capianelli talked to Mom about all the great musicians he knew, including some violinists he'd taught.

What I liked best about Mr. Capianelli was that when I played my violin, he played his, and he played so, so well. He would lead, and I'd try to match him, and when I was able to, I could hardly hold my excitement inside.

I didn't like it, though, when he explained what I needed to work on, because he explained it to Mom instead of to me. "Her fourth finger needs strengthening," he'd say, marking passages in my exercise book. "Please see that Tess spends extra time with these."

I spent a lot of time practicing Dad left for his clinic really early in the morning, and my first practice session of the day was the hour before the school bus. Then when I came home from school, Mom worked with me until she needed to start dinner She called it directed practice because she told me what to do from what Mr. Capianelli had told her.

After dinner I played for another hour and that was when I got to play whatever I wanted. If Dad was home he'd listen and smile and sometimes he'd tease me. He'd say he'd heard a violin could make a sound that would crack glass and why hadn't I learned to do that?

Sometimes Mom and Dad argued about how much I practiced. "It's not natural," Dad said. "She ought to be doing more of the things other kids do. Soccer or Girl Scouts. 4-H, maybe."

"Tessie isn't like other kids," Mom answered.

They compromised. Mom ruled six days, but Saturdays belonged to Dad and me. I began going with him to the clinic on Saturday mornings. His assistant let me help feed some of the animals, and arranging pet photos on the lobby bulletin board became my special job.

On Saturday afternoons Dad and I would do whatever I chose. He would ask if I wanted to invite a friend over to play or to go to the movies with us, but I'd say no. Instead I'd ask him to take me exploring We went all over along canyon creeks in the Bitterroots and across the hillsides west of town, but mostly we hiked in the Rattlesnake woods, near home.