Chapter 23: Her Own Sign

Della's POV

The sign went up on the first Saturday of March.

Cal held the ladder, and the old rancher held the other end of the board.

Peg stood in the yard in her good coat and told them both they were crooked.

The board was a cedar plank that Cal had kept in his shed for eight years.

I had painted the letters myself in black on cream.

CHEADLE HORSE TRAINING, it said, and under it, smaller: Della Cheadle, Owner.

"It's level," Cal said.

"It leans left," said Peg.

"It's level, Gran."

"I'm confused, dear. I may be wrong."

The old rancher laughed so hard he nearly dropped his end.

I stood back in the road with my arms crossed over my chest and looked at it.

The east barn was mine.

It had a tin roof that needed patching and a well that ran sweet.

The deed sat in the kitchen drawer at the house.

On the back, in Cal's handwriting, it said my nineteen hundred dollars was paid, and under it: Balance to be agreed.

Nobody could take it from me, and I kept remembering that at odd moments.

My back was clean.

The ink had gone completely by the third week of February.

I had stood in front of the mirror that morning and turned around, and there was only skin, and a freckle I'd forgotten.

I hadn't cried.

I had gone out and fed the colt.

The first trailer came up the road at ten.

It was a battered two-horse hitch, and I knew it from the dust on the side.

A woman climbed out of the cab and pulled off her gloves.

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