*
LARGE MARGE AND NATALIE and Geneva worked all day alongside Leni and her parents. The Alaskans labored in silence, communicating with grunts and nods and pointed fingers. Natalie put a chain saw in a cage thing and milled the big logs Dad had cut down into boards all by herself. Each fallen tree revealed another slice of sunlight.
Geneva taught Leni how to saw wood and hammer nails and build raised vegetable beds. Together they started the PVC pipe-and-plank structure that would become a greenhouse. Leni helped Geneva carry a huge, heavy roll of plastic sheeting that they found in the broken-down chicken coop. They dropped it onto the ground.
“Sheesh,” Leni said. She was breathing hard. Sweat sheened her forehead and made her frizzy hair hang limply on either side of her flushed face. But the skeleton of a garden gave her a sense of pride, of purpose. She actually looked forward to planting the vegetables that would be their food.
As they worked, Geneva talked about what vegetables to grow and how to harvest them and how important they would be when winter came.
Winter was a word these Alaskans said a lot. It might be only May, almost summer, but the Alaskans were already focused on winter.
“Take a break, kiddo,” Geneva finally said, pushing to her feet. “I need to use the outhouse.”
Leni staggered out of the greenhouse shell and found her mother standing alone, a cigarette in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other.
“I feel like we’ve fallen down the rabbit hole,” Mama said. Beside her, the unsteady card table from the cabin held the remnants of lunch—Mama had made a stack of pan biscuits and fried up some bologna.
The air smelled of wood smoke and cigarette smoke and fresh-cut wood. It sounded of chain saws whirring, boards thumping onto piles, nails being hammered.
Leni saw Large Marge walking toward them. She looked tired and sweaty, but was smiling. “I don’t suppose I could have a sip of that coffee?”
Mama handed Large Marge her cup.
The three of them stood there, gazing out at the homestead that was changing before their eyes.
“Your Ernt is a good worker,” Large Marge said. “He’s got some skills. Said his dad was a rancher.”
“Uh-huh,” Mama said. “Montana.”
“That’s good news. I can sell you a breeding pair of goats as soon as you get the pens repaired. I’ll give you a good price. They’ll be good for milk and cheese. And you can learn a shitload from Mother Earth News magazine. I’ll bring you over a stack.”
“Thank you,” Mama said.
“Geneva said Leni was a joy to work with. That’s good.” She patted Leni so hard she stumbled forward. “But, Cora, I’ve looked through your supplies. I hope you don’t mind. You don’t have nearly enough. How are your finances?”
“Things are tight.”
Large Marge nodded. Her face settled into grim lines. “Can you shoot?”
Mama laughed.
Large Marge didn’t smile. “I mean it, Cora. Can you shoot?”
“A gun?” Mama asked.
“Yeah. A gun,” Large Marge said.
Mama’s laughter died. “No.” She stubbed out her cigarette on a rock.
“Well. You aren’t the first cheechakos to come up here with a dream and a poor plan.”
“Cheechako?” Leni asked.
“Tenderfoot. Alaska isn’t about who you were when you headed this way. It’s about who you become. You are out here in the wild, girls. That isn’t some fable or fairy tale. It’s real. Hard. Winter will be here soon, and believe me, it’s not like any winter you’ve ever experienced. It will cull the herd, and fast. You need to know how to survive. You need to know how to shoot and kill to feed yourselves and keep yourselves safe. You are not the top of the food chain here.”
Natalie and Dad walked toward them. Natalie was carrying the chain saw and wiping her sweaty forehead with a bunched-up bandanna. She was such a small woman, barely taller than Leni; it seemed impossible that she could carry that heavy chain saw around.
At Mama’s side, she stopped, rested the rounded tip of the chain saw on the toe of her rubber boot. “Well. I got to feed my animals. I gave Ernt a good drawing for the cache.”
Geneva strode toward them. Black dirt colored her hair, her face, splattered across her shirtfront. “Leni has the right work attitude. Good for you, parents.”
Dad laid an arm along Mama’s shoulders. “I can’t thank you ladies enough,” he said.
“Yes. Your help means the world to us,” Mama said.