Beatty and I talked and talked. She told me everything I’d missed in Muddy Springs. I told her all about being in the CCC, and about the fellows, and about 597th’s projects. I even told her about Maggie. Some, anyhow. “She’s a really nice girl.”

“Would she have become your girl if you’d stayed in Montana?” Beatty asked.

“No. It’s not like with us. She and I want different things. She was already figuring that out.”

It wasn’t till I’d finally wound down that Beatty said, “What you haven’t told me is what took you to Montana to start with. I could understand your leaving Muddy Springs, but why did you go all the way up there?”

So then I started back at the beginning, with that first letter from Ma. Beatty was the one person in the world I’d never tried to hide anything from, and I wasn’t starting now.

It felt good to finally tell it all.

She just held my hand. “I guess you felt pretty abandoned,” she said. “Like I still do sometimes, when my dad gets so busy with his airline jobs he puts off visiting. Only that’s nothing compared to, well . . .”

“I won’t ever be like my pa,” I told her. “When people count on me, I won’t let them down.”

Fast as I said those words, they hit me about as hard as anything ever had.

Because that was just what I was doing, wasn’t it?

I was going off and leaving my fellows to Hakes and Compton. To whatever else might happen if Hakes didn’t deal with the equipment problems. To disappointment over having to put patches on a project the fellows had thought was perfect.

I guessed they’d get over it, especially the ones who wouldn’t be coming back for second hitches, but that didn’t make it right. I didn’t want it that way for any of them.

And I didn’t want to be my pa.

Chapter 34

The trip back to Monroe took a day and most of a night, what with rain-slicked roads slowing traffic and storms sidelining one of the trains I hopped.

The station was locked, and so I started walking toward camp. The morning was damp and blowy, and every step landed me in another puddle, but at least it wasn’t raining for the moment.

A dairy truck pulled up. “You one of the CCC’ers?” the driver asked. “I got rounds to do in the other direction first, but if you want to jump in, I’ll get you to your camp by breakfast.”

“Thanks,” I said, getting in. “I can’t believe how wet everything is. It was dry when I left here the day before yesterday.”