She raised her eyebrows. “Miss?” She echoed how I’d said it. “Miz? Maggie will do. Where are you from, Moss?”

“Texas. Louisiana before that.”

“What brought your family up here? Or are you here by yourself?”

“Hey, hold up!” Nate told her. “You don’t just give a guy the third degree.”

“I’m not.” Maggie’s expression was half laugh and half apology. “At least I didn’t mean to.”

“I don’t mind,” I said.

The beep of a car horn interrupted us, and Mr. Schieling pulled up. “You boys remember your train vouchers?” he asked. He handed Nate and me each a box. “Your lunches. You’ll be in camp for supper. Now you two do Monroe proud.” He tipped his hat. “Maggie.”

As he drove off, I said, “He seems like a nice fellow.”

“He is,” Nate replied, “although he owned a bank that went belly-up a few years back, and folks that lost money hold it against him.”

Maggie said, “Sure they do, along with the people whose places he foreclosed on first. If he’s nice, it’s because he can afford to be, coming out with enough to open a business.”

Nate shot her a disapproving look. “You shouldn’t talk against him, Maggie. You need to understand the economics—”

“What I understand, Nate Lundgren, is that nothing you read in a book is going to keep people who’ve been hurt from being resentful. Aren’t I right, Moss?”

Right as rain, I thought. I’d never forget the day my family’s belongings went on the block, starting with the hundred acres that had been in my family for almost as many years. It was pretty land, spreading out around a low, dogtrot house with deep-shaded porches.

The auctioneer’s gavel had knocked again and again, until almost everything my folks had owned was gone for less than what they owed.

“Moss,” Maggie was saying, “I asked you, ‘Aren’t I right?’”

“I reckon,” I said. “But I don’t see much point in dwelling on what can’t be helped.” I lifted the lid on my lunch box. A powerful smell of freshly fried chicken wafted out. “And this is a nice meal Mr. Schieling gave us.”

“Gave, my foot,” Maggie said. “He’ll get paid back.”

“Sis, give it a rest!” Nate said. “You’re going to have Moss thinking you are the most stubborn girl—”

“No,” I answered quickly.

“Anyway, how’d you get off from the store?” Nate asked her. “Didn’t you go in early for inventory?”

Maggie exclaimed, “Goodness! I forgot all about work.” She gave her brother a quick peck on his cheek. “You take care, now, and you write about everything that goes on in that CCC. And don’t worry about things at home. Moss, it was nice meeting you.”