“Probably should have done it earlier,” Roy replied. “She’s just feeling sore and sorry, knowing that Elaine will never come home.”

Annabelle said nothing as they continued their walk. The last streetcar of the evening rolled toward them, and her father paused to watch it pass, admiration on his face. Ever since arriving in the city, he had been fascinated by the streetcars, the elevators, and the water system. With his farmer’s curiosity and knack for fixing things, he always scrutinized every facet of the moving parts.

“That sure is a mighty fine piece of equipment,” he said as he admired the streetcar’s brass fittings gleaming beneath the streetlamp. “It’s hard to look at something like that and not dream of all the possibilities.” He continued talking after the streetcar rolled past. “I imagine there’s all sorts of jobs people can do in a city like this. I never had much choice in life. My dad was a farmer in Kansas. My grandfather was a farmer in Ireland. I pretty much always knew what life had in store for me.”

He said it simply and without complaint. Her father never complained. No matter how dire their circumstances, he simply rolled up his sleeves and got the job done.

“I wanted my girls to have choices,” Roy continued. “That’s why I fought hard for you to go to college. Maude thought it was a waste, but I always knew I would do whatever was necessary to make sure the whole wide world was open to my girls.”

A lump grew in her throat. If she lived to be a hundred, she’d never be able to thank her father for the sacrifices he’d made. At times like these, she grew homesick for Kansas. She missed the fields of wheat and their sunflower harvest. After Elaine was married and gone, Annabelle would be even more alone in this big, anonymous city. Once she had seen it as a place bursting with hope, but things hadn’t turned out so well. Would she ever be at peace with the decision she’d made to work for those two horrible generals?

“After Elaine gets married, I think I should come home,” she said.

Her father stopped and turned to gape at her. “I thought you loved it here.”

She did, she just didn’t feel useful anymore. Her parents needed her more than Elaine did. The farm was failing, and maybe what Annabelle had learned here in Washington could be put to good use in turning the farm’s fortunes around. Mr. Bryant would probably even give her some durum wheat to take home with her.

“I’ve learned a lot about wheat that can survive dry conditions,” she said. “It might be the answer. You can’t afford another failed harvest if the drought comes back next year.”