“Moss, wait. I heard Dad. He was wrong to take his worry out on you, but he’ll get over it.” She glanced toward the house. “At least, if the crops don’t get flooded out, he will.”

A fine drizzle started up. “You want to go wait this out in the barn?” she asked.

“If I can’t do anything here, then I ought to get to camp,” I answered.

“Before you go . . . Are you going to tell me where you went?”

I looked down at her, realizing I’d likely never again see her face so close-up. I must have taken a shade too long to answer.

“It had to do with Beatty, didn’t it?” she said.

I nodded.

She looked away. “I was guessing that. But it was pretty much over between us, anyway, wasn’t it? Not that anything ever really started.”

“Maggie, I wish—” I stopped, not sure what I did want.

“It’s okay, Moss,” she said. “It really, really is.”

She pulled her quilt tighter. “I better go get some clothes on, so I can help Dad and Nate. And if you want to do something, you might try talking sense into that camp. It’s got a responsibility that’s not being met by a work strike.”

“I’m going to try,” I told her. “I am going to try.”

Chapter 35

A woman driving a pickup with several crates of eggs in the back gave me a ride to town, and the Feed & Grain delivery driver, working despite its being Sunday, took me the rest of the way to the Cold Day Camp entrance. The grounds were deserted, and I angled over to the mess hall, figuring everyone was at breakfast.

But inside, there was only Sam, Sergeant Ruffino, and the kitchen crew drinking coffee. “When they saw me, there were surprised exclamations from everybody but Sam. He just nodded. “Good to see you back,” he said.

“Thought I’d try to help, if Captain Hakes will let me,” I said.

“Hakes isn’t letting anybody do anything,” Romeo said. “He won’t even let us make meals until the guys agree to go back to work. But I guess you don’t know that the camp’s on strike.”

“Nate told me. I stopped by his place on my way here. But no meals? What’s everybody eating?”

“We were just trying to figure that out,” the mess sergeant said. “I was thinking we might put out bread and peanut butter for people to help themselves. I can’t disobey orders, but I don’t want to see the fellows go hungry, either.”

“Are you going to fix things, Moss?” Romeo asked.

An A Barracks guy I didn’t know very well laughed. “What makes you think the guys will listen to Trawnley? They wouldn’t listen to President Roosevelt himself right now.”