Either Will or Mary checked the mailbox each day, sometimes twice, to see if there was news from their girls. Two weeks after Catherine had left for nursing school, Will found her first letter stuffed between the newspaper and an advertisement for Carter’s Little Liver Pills. Although he dropped the advertisement, he raced to the house with the letter firmly in hand. “Mary, a letter from Catherine.” He thrust it toward Mary who was still at the kitchen sink.
“Well, open it, Will. Can’t you see that my hands are all wet?”
Will grabbed a scissors off an open shelf and snipped the end off the envelope. He tapped the envelope on the counter so the letter fell to the opening, and then he fished it out. But he didn’t have his glasses. “Mary, where’d you put my reading glasses?”
“Where’d I put them? I’ve got enough trouble keeping track of my own.”`
Will searched the living room, and after feeling down the side of his easy chair and under the cushions of their divan, he found his glasses tucked away in his writing desk drawer, right where they should have been. Why hadn’t he looked there first? He supposed that searching the desk would have been far too logical. Besides, he seldom found them there. He walked back into the kitchen and read the letter to Mary.
“Dear Mother and Dad,
“I hate to be writing this letter, and I hope that you aren’t too shocked. I’ve dropped out of nursing school.”
Mary gasped. “She’s dropped out? Why, she’s hardly begun. How could she do this? Why did Ruby let her?”
“There’s more,” Will said.
“I just couldn’t take the white walls, bedpans, and blood. I should have known—I did know, and, Ruby agrees, I did it to be near her. She told me before I started that it might not be for me, that it took a strong stomach. I ignored her warning. And I shouldn’t have. It’s one thing to talk about it, but another thing to see a patient vomiting all over a nurse while he sits soaking wet in his own urine. I just can’t do it, and it’s better to decide now than wait until I’ve wasted the scholarship money. Miss Watkins, the administrative nurse, says if I drop out now they can still give the scholarship to another needy applicant. I think that my decision is best for everyone.
“Ruby says that I can stay here in Milwaukee with her for a while to think over my future—and to give you time to recover from my sad news. But maybe it’s not so sad. You’ve told me, Dad, the one thing worse than making a mistake is to persist in it.
“I love and miss you both. I hope that you still love me.
“Catherine”
“Do I still love her?” Will said. “Why, I love her more than ever.”
“I shouldn’t be surprised, I suppose. She was always afraid of blood.” Mary headed back toward the kitchen. “I hope she can find a career that will keep her independent. I don’t want her to be forced to rely on a man, even if he is a good one.”
* * *
Before Will left for the field to cut soybeans, he told Petr, “Put fresh bedding down for the calves and horses and get the hay down for tonight’s milking.” He started to walk away, but stopped and turned back. “Don’t go into the silo. It’s beginning to look dangerous in there. Damp and crusted corn’s built up on the sides. We’ll pull it down when both of us are here.”
Will hitched Ned and Ted to the binder and headed to his bean field. The binder had a reel that whisked the bean into a sickle bar, which sheared the stems and dropped the beans and their stems onto a canvas. The canvas carried the plant to a binding mechanism, which tied twine around the bundle. Will made sure to keep the twine’s tension loose; when tied too tight, soybean bundles would mold under the twine. Once tied, the bundle was discharged onto the ground behind the binder. Later, Will and Petr would stack these bundles into shocks that resembled miniature Indian tipis, and leave them to dry in the sun until they were ready to haul to the barn or silo.
Will finished cutting his bean field shortly after noon. As he headed in for dinner he planned how he and Petr would return to the field to gather and stack the scattered bundles for drying.
Already late, Will rushed to the kitchen table. He was surprised that Petr wasn’t there waiting; Petr always beat him to the table. Mary spooned cold fries and Spam onto his plate. Will wrinkled his nose, but kept his feelings about Spam to himself. He’d rather have ham, but knew that Mary was doing her best to save them money.
“Where’s Petr?” Mary asked. “I thought he’d come in with you. I haven’t seen him all morning.”
“He wasn’t in the field with me. I asked him to do barn work. You haven’t seen him? He never misses a meal.”
Will picked at his food. “He’ll probably be here in a few minutes. He must have run into a problem.”
After another ten minutes passed, Will pushed his chair from the table. “I’m going to look. It’s not like him to be late for a meal.”
Will hurried to the haymow and called up the ramp, “Petr.” There was no answer. He hustled up the incline and stepped into the loft. “Petr, are you in here?”
When there was still no response, he feared that maybe Petr had fallen down a chute. The loft was full of first and second crop hay, so there was no place to hide. Will rushed to each chute, looked and hollered down, but still no response.
It wasn’t like Petr to just up and leave. Will ran back down the ramp and around the barn to the milk house door. He rushed through the milk house and into the barn. He didn’t see or hear a thing. As he hurried down the aisle, he hollered “Petr” toward the opening into the silo. There was no response from there, either. He headed toward the house to ask Mary to telephone their neighbors, said that maybe he went visiting. He knew there was little chance of that. Petr seldom left the farm.
Before he got to the house, Mary opened the door and Teddy rushed at him. “Mary, call Earl and James. Ask if they’ve seen Petr.”
He was about to search the grain bin and machine shed when he heard Teddy barking in the barn. He ran back inside and found Teddy barking into the silo opening. He ran down the aisle toward Teddy.“What’s there, Teddy? What do you see?”
When he looked into the silo, he saw it, too. Petr was buried past his neck, with steaming, loose corn silage filling his mouth. When Will muttered, “God help us,” he saw Petr’s eyes blink and his head move a little. Petr’s left arm was buried, but his right was raised above the loose silage. Will saw those fingers beckon, as if Petr was motioning for help. Will knew that he had to act fast. He also knew that he couldn’t enter that death trap without risking both their lives. “Don’t move, Petr. Don’t even wiggle a finger. I’ll be right back.”
Will raced toward the back wall of the barn where he kept a rope for moving his calves. He grabbed the rope off the hook and ran back to the silo. Petr’s life depended on an accurate throw. “Petr, I’m going to try and hit you squarely in the hand so that you can grab hold.” Will tied knots at the end of the rope to give Petr something to grip. “For God’s sake, don’t try to reach for it if I miss.”
Will knew that the slightest movement could bring more silage tumbling down on Petr. Will tossed the rope. He missed Petr’s open hand by a foot. Petr reflexively reached toward it—and Will’s worst fear was realized. More silage tumbled down, but it fell against the back of Petr’s head, pressing his face further into the wet mush.
“Stay still, Petr. Concentrate. We’ll get this done. Don’t move your hand or even twitch an eyelid. Not until the rope hits your fingers.”
Will pulled the rope in and coiled it. “Dear Lord, let me get this right. Please, Lord, guide this to his fingers.”
Will closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. He felt a rush of panic as he inhaled the sweet and sour smell of the mass that was consuming his friend. Staring at Petr’s hand, Will tossed the rope again. This time it dropped on Petr’s fingers and slipped into his hand. Will could see Petr’s eyes brighten with hope. “Petr, I’m going to wait a moment before I start pulling this rope. Concentrate on holding it tight. Clutch that rope like it’s a pot of gold.”
Will knew that Petr was as strong as anyone in the township, but could he do this? Could he hold the rope tight while the steaming mass beneath him gripped and sucked his body down toward certain death? “Petr, I’m going to count to three, then I’ll pull with all my strength. I’ll start slow. I won’t jerk the rope. Just slow and steady. Are you ready?”
Petr blinked his eyes and flicked his fingers. “We’re going to get this done, Petr. Here goes. One.” Will paused. “Two.” He paused again. “Three.” He pulled on the rope. Petr’s fist clenched the rope so tight that his fingers turned bright red. Will pulled harder and felt all the slack leave and the rope tighten. He kept the pressure on. Petr’s arm stretched so far toward Will that it looked as if it was the arm of one of those circus rubber men, but Petr’s body didn’t move. Will didn’t want to pull the rope from Petr’s clenched fist, so he relaxed it for a moment. He could see fear creep into Petr’s eyes. “Hold on Petr. I’m going to keep a steady pressure on the rope. When I feel you moving, I’ll pull harder. Hang on Petr. We’ll make it. You’ll be out in a minute or so.”
Will wasn’t sure. He wasn’t nearly as strong as Petr. And even with both hands on the rope and his whole body pulling, he wasn’t getting anywhere, and he was beginning to tire. His fingers tingled with numbness, and his arms felt limp. He knew he had to keep up the pressure. He pulled a little harder. The tension in the rope relaxed a little. “You moved, Petr. Hang on.” Will pulled harder but there was no more movement.
“God give me strength. Help me, please, help me.”
The rope moved forward and Petr’s shoulders emerged from the morass. Petr pulled his trapped arm free and reached for the rope. Will knew that with both hands gripping the rope Petr could endure. He wasn’t so sure about himself. Will felt drained. “God, just this one more time.” He wrapped the slackening rope around his hands, jammed his feet hard against the silo’s floor, and pulled with strength that could only come from God’s power in him. The rope squeezed his hand like a python squeezing life from its prey. Will’s fingers burned, but, miraculously, Petr popped out and slid across the silage to the opening. Will reached inside and helped Petr through the door.
They sat on the floor trying to catch their breath, their backs against the outer silo wall. Will felt so exhausted he couldn’t have said a word, even if he wanted to. For causing all this trouble, Will didn’t know whether to hug or fire his man. Before he decided, Teddy reached up and licked Will’s cheek. Will hugged his dog instead of Petr. “If it wasn’t for you, Teddy, I’d never have known he was in there.”
Will pushed Teddy toward Petr. “You’d better thank God that we have this dog. Without him, you’d have met your Maker, or, given the trouble you’ve caused today, more likely his horned adversary. I warned you, Petr. Why’d you ever go in there?”
When Teddy reached up to lick Petr’s face, he ignored Will’s question but leaned down and planted a kiss on the dog’s nose. Then he looked up, stared into Will’s eyes. “Will, I knew we needed the space in there for this fall’s harvest. I just wanted to pull that old corn down to prepare for the new. I thought I could do it.”
Petr looked so distressed that Will regretted his impulse to let him go. How could he be angry with a man who’d risk his life to make Will’s life a bit easier? He reached over and placed his hand on Petr’s shoulder. “You’re a good man, Petr. I was afraid I was going to lose you.”
Petr flashed a wan smile, and then he turned and headed toward the milk house to change clothes and clean-up a bit.
When Petr came out in clean clothes, he looked a little recovered and refreshed. Will took his arm and guided him toward the house. “We’ve got a lot to be grateful for. Let’s go give our thanks to God and get some food for our spent bodies.”
Mary met them at the house. “I see you’ve found him. I was getting worried.”
Before Will could explain, Mary shoved a letter at him. “This just came from Catherine.”
As Petr headed toward the kitchen, Mary said, “You better get to the table. While you two were out there lollygagging, your food’s gotten cold.”
Lollygagging? He was about to tell her, but instead, he paused, glancing at the letter in his hand. “You start your dinner, Petr. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Will sat on the edge of the big horsehair in the parlor and read aloud:
“Dear Mother and Dad,
“I’ve decided. I’m going to be a teacher. Aunt Kate has said that I can stay with her while I attend teacher training courses at the County Normal School in Dodgeville. Professor Amundsen says that she’ll take me a month late. I’m sure I’ll have a lot of catching up to do, so I may not write again for a while. The professor’s the superintendent of rural school programs in the county. They say that she’s really good, but, don’t tell anyone, she scares the bejeebers out of me. She’s gruff, opinionated, and big. But I’d better learn to live with her. Not only will she be teaching me the next two years, but, if I take a country school here in Iowa County, she’ll supervise me, too. So I’d better get used to her. I’ll try my best. I promise, Mom.
“I’m sure going to miss Ruby. I don’t want to think about it. I’ll have to get used to that, too.
“With all my love,
“Catherine”
“You heard it, Mary,” Will said. “Catherine wants to be a teacher, just like you.”
“She’ll not make much money. Still, it’s an honorable occupation. There’s nothing more important than our young people. I believe she’ll make a difference in many students’ lives.”
“Just like her mother did. She can’t go wrong following your footsteps.”
Will settled into the chair and thought about his youngest daughter for a while before joining Petr at the table. He was grateful she’d found her calling. It was a new beginning for his daughter, and he was glad. The good news from Catherine overshadowed any intention he had of telling Mary about Petr’s close encounter with death.