August 27, 2003
Rose hummed to herself as she pounded a tent stake into the ground. This was one of the nicest campgrounds she had been in—as green and pretty as the western Sierras, but warmer, even if it was still cool this close to the coast.
She and Daffodil had chosen a spot under a large, sprawling tree—at midweek, there weren’t so many people camping, so they had their choice of camping spots. There was a small stream nearby, but they could get their water from faucets here, so they didn’t need to bother to fetch and purify the stream water, which was just as well, since wood had to be purchased and there as only a little non-recyclable trash that they could burn. They would have a cold dinner tonight, but that wasn’t a great hardship. They had dealt with worse things.
When the tent was up and the beds made, Daffodil slipped over to the stream to pick the wild blueberries that most people couldn’t even identify, let alone think of picking, while Rose went through their food supplies, opening a couple of cans and packages and getting water from the faucet at their campsite.
Rose sighed contentedly as she got dinner ready. With Reno and the trouble they had gotten into far behind them, she had finally relaxed and was able to enjoy each day without wondering if someone was following them. The campground was quiet and cool, the sun sinking low in the sky. It was a perfect evening.
Smiling to herself, Rose began to sing, taking a song that she had learned from Daffodil and making up new words as she went along.
Early one evening
I was rolling around
I was feeling kind of mean
And shot a ground squirrel down.
She laughed to herself at the ridiculousness of the song, then decided it wasn’t so ridiculous as she shooed a hungry squirrel away from the plates.
I strolled along home
And I went to bed
Well, I laid my pistol
Up under my head.
I strolled along home
Yeah, I took my time
And I went to bed
Thought I’d sleep some
Laid my pistol
Big .22
Up under my head
I keep it handy.
Daffodil came back and listened to her, rolling her eyes. Rose ignored her and went on.
Early next morning
About the break of day
I figured it was time
To make a getaway
Stepping right along
But I was stepping too slow
Got surrounded by a sheriff
Down in Oregano.
"Oregano?" Daffodil looked at her like she was crazy.
"What? It makes sense," Rose retorted. "We’re in Oregon and the ground squirrels are a nuisance. Oregano works better than Mexico, which is what’s in the original song."
"You probably would be surrounded by a sheriff if you shot a ground squirrel. Cruelty to animals, you know."
"If people were a little crueler to the ground squirrels, they might not be so aggressive." She turned, making a flying leap at their plates as another squirrel approached, showing an unholy interest in the trail mix.
Daffodil smirked. "The dirty plate is yours."
"Oh…be quiet." She brushed away the dust and threw a pebble at the squirrel, who was waiting just out of reach. "Think we could get away with hunting a couple of those pests? We could get some wood for a fire and cut them up for stew. Nobody would know the difference."
"Squirrel stew…" Daffodil wrinkled her forehead thoughtfully. "Sounds good, but I think we should restrain ourselves. There’s no use getting in more trouble."
"For those pests, it would almost be worth it." Rose picked up a sunflower seed and threw it at the squirrel to see what would happen. The squirrel, obviously not expecting it, ducked and scurried away as it had from the pebble, then scampered back out, grabbed the seed, and scrambled back into the bushes.
"Aw, you scared it," Daffodil teased her.
Rose was about to reply when three young men from a nearby campsite approached them, their flashlights bright in the growing darkness. She glanced up at them, then turned back to her dinner, deciding that ignoring them was the best course of action.
They weren’t so interested in ignoring her, though. One of them bent down to speak to her.
"Mind if we join you?"
Rose gave them a disdainful look. "Yes. We do mind."
He didn’t listen. "I heard you singing a little while ago, that weird song about squirrels and oregano. You sound really good."
"What part of no do you not understand?" Rose set her plate down, her eyes narrowing. "We’re trying to eat here."
"Sorry. We just heard you singing and had to say hello. We’re a band ourselves, see? Me, Angel, and Jim. Oh, and I’m Tim, by the way."
"Good for you. Why don’t you go sing for someone else?"
Rose turned back to her dinner when Daffodil looked more closely at the three young men. "Tim? Tim Myers, is that you?"
Tim looked at Daffodil, who had been sitting some distance away, unnoticed by them. "Daffodil Kirkpatrick! What are you doing here? Last I heard, you’d headed back to California."
"That was last winter. I’m back in Oregon for a while, I guess."
"Cool. Who’s your friend?"
"This is Rose DeWitt-Bukater, formerly of Masline, California, now a citizen of the world." Daffodil tossed her head, daring Rose to refute her words.
Rose just rolled her eyes at her. Citizen of the world, indeed!
"You know these guys?"
"Sure. Rose, this is Tim Myers, Jim Patterson, and Angel Morales, all from Texas, originally. We were neighbors a few years ago. By the way, Tim, how are things going for the band?"
He shrugged. "Okay, I guess. We need a better singer." His eyes fell on Rose. "Hey, maybe you could—"
"No."
"You have something else planned?"
"Why don’t you mind your own business?"
Tim looked at Daffodil. "I like her. I really do. Taking on protégées now, Daffodil?"
"Rose is her own person. She learns what she wants, when she wants, and does as she pleases."
"I bet you’ve taught her everything you know."
"Not quite everything, Tim. And she’s taught me a few things, too."
"I have?" Rose looked at Daffodil incredulously. "Like what?"
"Like how to deal with conflict without getting into trouble."
"Not too well, apparently. You’re quite capable of getting into trouble, and dragging me in."
"Whatever. Hey, Tim, how about adding two female singers to your band? I sing pretty well in a group."
Tim hesitated, obviously trying to think of a way of saying no that wouldn’t get him into trouble. “Um…”
"Not me," Rose told him.
"Why not?"
"Why should I?"
"Why shouldn’t you?"
"Yes, Rose, why not?" Daffodil wanted to know.
"Because I don’t know them. How do I know they aren’t just a bunch of con artists?"
"I know them."
"Good. Now, how do I know they aren’t con artists?"
"You don’t have to give us any money, or credit card numbers, or bank account numbers," Angel put in.
"What else don’t I have to give you?"
Angel shrugged. "Don’t worry about me coming on to you. There’s no one for me but Jim."
Jim smacked him over the head, then agreed with him. "Yeah, we’re an item, so you don’t have to worry about us."
Rose raised an eyebrow. "An item, huh? Okay. I can live with that. What about Tim?"
"Oh, don’t worry," Tim told her, putting a familiar arm around Daffodil. "Daffodil and I are good friends."
Daffodil pushed his arm away. "Lay one finger on me, Tim, and I’ll remove it, as well as any other body parts that are convenient. I think Rose will do the same. Got it?"
Tim just laughed, but he didn’t try to put his arm back around her. "Come on, Rose. Join us. We’ve already got a nightclub gig scheduled in Portland in two days."
"I don’t know your songs."
"We’ll teach you. We sing country."
"Folk-country," Daffodil corrected.
"Daffodil, I’m trying to convince her to join us, not make her think we’re a bunch of hicks."
"I’ve been learning folk songs," Rose told him. "Daffodil has been teaching me. Aren’t a lot of them country songs now, too?"
Tim was silent for a moment, trying to figure how Daffodil could teach songs to anybody—how anybody could stand to listen to her sing long enough to learn the words, let alone the tune. "Well, but wouldn’t you like something more…conventional better?"
"No. Not these days." Rose stood up. "All right. I’ll go along. But remember, if I don’t like it, I’m out of there."
He sighed. "Okay. Whatever you say. You’ll be riding in the van with us, won’t you?"
"I guess we will," Daffodil replied. "It’s probably the easiest way to keep up with you."
Tim looked at her in dismay, suddenly realizing that if the band wanted Rose, they’d have to take Daffodil, too. He sighed, hoping he could keep her away from the microphone—maybe dance, or do a comedy routine.
"Okay. You can both come. Daffodil…how would you like to do some stand-up comedy?”
“Now?”
“No…when we’re performing. I think you’re better at telling jokes than…uh…”
“Singing?”
“Well…yeah.”
“I’m not that bad!”
“You could dance while we sing, too…you could even lip-synch…”
Daffodil looked at him warningly. “I sound just fine in a group.”
“Yes,” Rose interjected. “You sound fine if no one can hear you.”
Daffodil glared at her. “You’re not helping. Besides, if I’m that bad, how did you learn songs from me?”
“I guess I just have an ear for music, is all.”
“So, you admit that I can carry a tune.”
“Daffodil, come on…”
“Admit it. I’m not that bad. I’m not great, but I’m not that terrible, either.”
“You have a limited vocal range. You’ve said it yourself.”
“Some professionals have had a limited vocal range, too. And,” she added, “a lot of them sang folk songs.”
“Name one.”
“Woody Guthrie.”
“He’s been dead for almost forty years.”
“Nevertheless…”
“Girls…” Tim tried to stop their argument, then realized his mistake in calling them girls when they both turned to glare at him. “Ladies…”
“What?!” Daffodil demanded.
“Daffodil, you can try to sing…as long as you blend in with the rest of us.”
“Fair enough.”
“But maybe you could do a comedy routine, too.”
“We’ll see. I’ll think about it.”
Tim nodded, hoping Daffodil wouldn’t ruin the band’s already dismal prospects. “Good. Now, do you want to share our campsite with us?"
"No way!" Rose and Daffodil were in agreement on that.
"You stay at your campsite, we’ll stay at ours," Daffodil added.
He started to argue, but stopped when Daffodil stood up, towering several inches over him.
"Right. See you tomorrow, then."
"Wait." Rose stopped them. "What is your band called?"
"Hard Times," Tim told her. "It suits, don’t you think?"
"Yeah," Rose agreed. "It certainly does."