July 1, 2003
Rose sat on a rock beside the small fire, watching the sky lighten overhead as she slowly stirred what had become their typical morning meal—a mix of oatmeal and early ripening edible seeds, flavored with a little sugar and whatever wild berries could be found this early in the season. This morning, the mixture contained some still-good acorns that Rose had found, ground, and leached with boiling water, along with crushed green manzanita berries and the first wild strawberries, which were ripening early this year.
Daffodil and Rose had taken to splitting and sharing the camp chores, their agreement to do so unspoken since Rose had chosen to stay with Daffodil, rather than going off on her own again. Daffodil, while accustomed to solitude when in the wilderness, welcomed Rose, who had proven to be an unjudgmental, eager learner with a sense of humor and the ability to laugh at herself, even if she did carry a melancholy, faraway look at times for unexplained reasons. Rose, for her part, needed a friend, someone who wouldn’t push her beyond what she felt capable of doing. While she had wanted to be alone when she had first left Masline, she had healed inside to some extent, and valued Daffodil’s close, if unusual, friendship. The two young women had quickly become close confidantes, although each had secrets that they would share with no one.
Rose looked up as Daffodil ducked under a branch on the trail back up from the spring, several full canteens of water in her arms. As Rose removed the cereal from the fire, Daffodil took her place, pouring the contents of one of the canteens into a pan and setting it to boil in the hot coals. Rose spooned the cereal into two bowls, along with some reconstituted dry milk, and set them on a flat rock often used as a table.
Setting the other canteens aside, Daffodil sat beside Rose, taking one of the bowls and a spoon and digging into her breakfast. Unwrapping a small, leafy bundle, she handed Rose two of the cattail roots she had dug up and washed, leaving the other two for herself. The ate in amiable silence for a few minutes before Daffodil spoke up.
"I think it’s time to move," she told Rose. "It’s not good to stay in one camp indefinitely. We’ll use up the resources and not leave enough for the wildlife if we stay much longer, and the latrine area is getting a bit...ripe."
Rose nodded in agreement. Food was becoming more scarce in the immediate area, and the brushy place, although far from water and their camp, that they had chosen to use as a bathroom could be smelled from quite some distance. She hated to leave the peaceful camp in the woods, but humans couldn’t live in one wild spot indefinitely any more than most animals could. It was time to move.
"Where should we go?" she asked, biting into one of the crisp, potato-flavored cattail roots, a delicacy she had never tasted before setting off into the wilderness.
Daffodil shrugged. "I prefer to stay on the fringes of civilization in the summer, but sometimes it’s good to be around more people, so it’s up to you. We can find another camp in the mountains, or go to the town near here. You decide—although if we make another mountain camp, we’ll need to go into town long enough to get more food supplies. I don’t have much money, but I can probably find some quick jobs taking care of people’s yards or washing their cars. Sometimes, if there’s a lot of tourists around, or some kind of festival, I try to sing and dance for money—though I never seem to make much." She looked at Rose. "How are you at singing and dancing?"
Rose thought for a moment. "I’m a pretty good singer, I think—I’ve sung in front of the people in my church, and I had a part in a musical in high school. As to dancing—I can do it, but I usually make it up as I go along."
Daffodil nodded. "So do I. I don’t have much formal training—and can you imagine doing ballet on the street?"
"I’m sure it could be done."
"Yes, but it isn’t as much fun as making up your own dance." She paused. "What kind of songs do you know?"
"Mostly popular songs and songs from musicals, plus some songs from when I was a little kid."
"I know a lot of those, too, plus a lot of oldies and folk songs, both in English and in other languages."
"You remind me of my former roommate, Mari Lopez. She loved folk music. Pete Seeger was her favorite."
Daffodil nodded enthusiastically. "His music is the best, along with that group he was in, the Weavers. And then there’s Joan Baez, and Peter, Paul, and Mary, and lots of small-time singers that hardly anyone ever heard of. Those small-time singers are the ones who keep the art alive, although there’s also country music, which has a lot of similarities, and folk-pop. Music of the people, not just of a few elite. There’s even a folk song about surfing the Internet."
"There is?" Rose had always thought of folk music as something that consisted of old ballads and some protest songs.
"It’s not well-known, possibly because it’s really boring."
Rose laughed. "That would explain it."
"You probably know some folk songs yourself. A lot of children’s songs are old folk songs, and so are many hymns. Some popular songs are also taken from folk songs, and there’s a lot of folk-country songs. Folk songs are what I usually sing in towns or cities. A lot of them don’t have any copyright, or the copyright has expired, so there’s no problem with people saying you’re stealing from them. And I know some people who are in a band. They aren’t famous or anything, but they sound good anyway."
Rose was fascinated. "You’ve done so many interesting things. You remind me of...someone I used to know." She didn’t want to talk about Jack.
Daffodil looked at her, recognizing the sad, far away look in Rose’s eyes. Knowing that Rose wouldn’t tell her what she was thinking, she changed the subject.
"I think we should leave before we make a mess of this place. If it’s all right with you, I’d like to pack up and leave today."
Rose was a little startled at the sudden decision, but nodded. "We can go. I’m not sure yet whether I would rather go into town for a while or find another wilderness camp, but since we need more food anyway, we can decide after we get to town."
"I don’t have the money for a motel room or anything like that," Daffodil cautioned. "I know you said you have money, but it’s amazing how quickly it goes. At this time of year, in this area, it’s better to camp out, even if we do stay in town. We could camp outside of town and come in to work, if no one offers us a place to sleep or there’s no place in town where we can camp out. You never know."
Rose was uncomfortable with the idea of sleeping in the home of strangers, but was beginning to trust the judgment of both Daffodil and herself. Whatever happened, happened, and she would take things as they came. If things didn’t feel right, they could always go elsewhere.
*****
They broke camp quickly, washing the dishes in some of the clean water Daffodil had brought from the spring and boiled, then packing up everything and loading it into their backpacks. Rose still kept a number of items in her purse, while Daffodil had a fanny pack that she wore in front, since there was no space in back with her large pack.
By nine o’clock, they were ready to set out. After kicking dirt on the fire and stomping on it to be sure there were no live coals that could start a brush fire, they looked around the camp once more, making sure that nothing had been left behind. Each had a canteen and a water bottle tied at their hips through with pieces of cord strung through their belt loops, and straw hats pulled low over their faces to protect them from the sunlight on the trail, which they ordinarily would have avoided at the brightest time of day.
Rose was sorry to leave the camp—the spreading, cooling oaks, towering pines, lichen-encrusted boulders, and small spring had been peaceful—but she knew that Daffodil was right. If they stayed any longer, they might spoil the beauty of the place, both for themselves and for anyone who might come after them. Although the trail on the cliff above had been destroyed by the earthquake and subsequent aftershocks, there were other ways of getting to the canyon floor, and someone else might get there one day. They had taken away all of their trash that they hadn’t been able to reuse or burn, as well as any trash that they had found while on foraging expeditions. It was best to leave a place in as good a condition as possible.
Daffodil turned back to Rose as they started along the overgrown animal trail that eventually led to the highway. "Keep an eye out for aluminum cans, bottles, and things like that," she told Rose, "especially after we get to the highway. There’s a recycling center in town that will pay us for things like that. We can do the environment a good turn and get some money for food and such while we’re at it."
Each of the women already had a plastic garbage bag secured to their packs, but still easily opened to add whatever they found. They already had quite a collection of recyclable materials that they had found, but they were always willing to pick up more.
The walk to the highway, about two and a half miles, took an hour and a half. The heavy packs slowed their steps, and they had no set timetable for getting into town, so they stopped wherever it seemed pleasant, admiring a beautiful view, resting in the shade of a large aspen, or picking and eating ripe berries when they grew beside the trail. Once, they stopped to watch a doe and her fawn grazing by the trailside until the animals noticed their presence and melted into the brush.
They knew that they were nearing there highway long before they ever saw it. Even at a distance, the sounds of vehicles moving along the road could be heard easily, and a few people were present once they reached the highway and turned toward the town, about three miles away.
Other hikers greeted them in a friendly manner, although some looked askance at their well-worn clothes and wrinkled their noses at the scent of wood smoke that permeated both women. Others didn’t notice. Few people dressed in their best for hiking, and the scent of smoke was understandable if they’d been camping.
They made their way slowly into town, picking up recyclable trash along the way and seeing more and more people as they approached. With the Independence Day holiday fast approaching, there were more people than usual in town, and the number of vehicles, as well as the raised prices on such commodities as gasoline, reflected this.
"Looks like we got here at a good time," Daffodil remarked. "The holiday is just a few days away, so there are plenty of tourists that we can offer to wash cars or carry bags for, and maybe we can do some performing of patriotic songs on the holiday itself. I’m assuming you know some of those songs?"
"Several," Rose replied. "My dad liked to sing those songs. I think I got my voice from him."
Daffodil nodded. "Good. We have a plan, then. Now, let’s see. The first thing to do is to go by the recycling center and drop all of this stuff off. Then we’ll go to the market and get some food and car washing supplies, and then look for work."
"It’s hard to believe there’s a recycling center in a town like this," Rose commented, as they approached the building, set away from the rest of the town by about a block and surrounded by trees.
"They don’t actually do any recycling here," Daffodil explained. "They just collect stuff and ship it out. They get paid for that, and we get paid for bringing it. See how small the building is? They don’t have space to do the actual processing."
After they had dropped off their trash bags and been paid for their collections, they headed to the plaza in town, where the market was located. Comparing prices carefully, they purchased non-perishable foods that they could take with them, as well as some other necessary supplies for themselves and the things they would need to wash cars.
Rose stopped at an ATM machine, withdrawing forty dollars when it looked as though they would need more money to cover the cost of the food. But before she could spend her money, Daffodil tugged on her arm.
"Let’s see if we can get a discount."
Rose gave her a shocked look. "Isn’t that stealing?"
"Not if you get permission. See here? This package was ripped open. The food is still good, but it’s unsalable. We might be able to convince the manager to sell it to us for a lower price, rather than just throwing it away. That way, it won’t be a total loss. And if they won’t, we wait until they put things in the dumpster, and then take whatever is still good. Taking trash isn’t stealing, you know. And see this slightly wilted lettuce?" She gestured to a cart of things bound for the trash. "No one wants to buy them, but stores don’t like to lose money on things if they don’t have to. And offering them a third of the price for things they’re just going to throw out sometimes works, especially in independent establishments like this one."
Rose wasn’t so sure, but when Daffodil assured her that if all else failed, they would pay the full price, she agreed. After all, it was up to the manager, and if they were told yes, it wouldn’t be stealing. Packing the things they had already purchased into their packs, they returned to the store, filling two shopping baskets with opened containers of beef sticks, snack foods, raisins, and bags of chips, wilted or bruised produce, dented cans, and a couple of thawing microwavable meals. Looking around, Daffodil located the manager’s office.
"Excuse me, ma’am," she said, looking inside the open door.
"Yes? Can I help you?"
"We were shopping, and we found quite a few packages that had been ripped open, and also some wilted and bruised produce and thawing frozen food that someone left where it didn’t belong."
The managed sighed, mumbling something about disrespectful tourists, and nodded. "Thank you. I’ll have someone clean those things up and throw them away."
"Actually," Rose cut in, "we already did that. But instead of just throwing them away, so that you’d lose all the money you spent on them, we were wondering if we could buy them at the wholesale price? That way, you wouldn’t lose any money, and you wouldn’t have to bother with cleaning up. We already collected it, so if you don’t want us to buy it, we’ll just leave it with you and you can easily put it in the trash."
The manager looked surprised at the offer, but noting the shabby state of the two women’s clothing, she guessed that they didn’t have much money. "Let me see what you have."
They handed over their baskets. "We didn’t open any of the packages ourselves," Daffodil added. "We found them this way."
She nodded, believing them, and after looking through their baskets, she nodded again and made up a purchase note. "The bags that are almost full I’m charging you the wholesale price for. The others are half-price, and the produce is one-third the price. The frozen meals are free, since they are too far gone to be refrozen. Take this note to the cash register, and the clerk will charge you what I’ve written."
Daffodil thanked her, taking the note and heading for the cash register. They needed a little of Rose’s money to pay for the food, but it was far less than they would have paid otherwise, and there was still cash left in case they needed it.
"You see, Rose?" Daffodil told her as they walked away. "It wasn’t dishonest at all. We got what we needed, and the store got a fair price and little less work for the employees to do."
Rose nodded, realizing that Daffodil was right. They had met their needs—and she had learned how to bargain, and that there was a fine line between honesty and dishonesty.
*****
Rose and Daffodil carried their packs to the edge of town and into the thick chaparral, fighting their way through in an effort to find a safe place to leave their belongings. They couldn’t carry their packs with them while searching for work, and leaving them somewhere in town wasn’t safe—they might get stolen. They also couldn’t leave their things near any of the trailheads, for the same reason. Few people would venture into the thick brush and chaparral, though, making it a considerably safer hiding place.
About half a mile from the road, they found a small clearing amongst the manzanita, chamise, and chokecherry, where a small fire had gutted the brush a year or so before. Setting their packs down, they stretched out the kinks in their muscles and looked around.
"This would make a good camp," Rose observed, looking around the clearing. The fire that had made the clearing had been caused by lightning and doused a short time later by rain. No people had been in the area in quite some time.
"It would," Daffodil agreed. "We should come back here before sunset, which gives us about five hours to work. Let’s put those frozen dinners on ice for later—"
"What ice?" Rose didn’t remember buying any ice.
"I picked up a freezer bag full of ice cubes from a trash-covered bench on our way out of town. It’s been in the middle of my pack, so it’s still frozen." She dug it out and showed it to Rose.
Rose remembered seeing the ice and several containers of food sitting beside it—not all of them empty. "Daffodil, I think someone was coming back for that."
Daffodil shrugged. "It was starting to melt anyway."
"That’s not the point. It wasn’t yours to take."
"They can get more ice. We can’t. And we have perishable foods that need to be kept cool." She gave Rose an annoyed look. "You can eat rotten food if you want. I’m putting my frozen dinner on ice, along with these vegetables."
Rose sighed. It wouldn’t do any good to bring the ice back. The people who had owned it were undoubtedly gone by now, and they might not have needed it anymore. Using stolen ice to keep her food cool wouldn’t cause any harm, anyway. Certainly, she’d done worse things—she’d broken a man out of jail and made a deal with a murderer to keep her silence in exchange for her freedom. Using partially melted ice that someone else had stolen was the least of her transgressions.
"All right. Put my dinner in there, too. But next time, please make sure no one is using something before you take it. It’s not good to steal from people."
"I know. I know. But it was only ice. There was no food with it, or anything else. It just looked like trash to me."
"And you tell me I should be more observant!"
Daffodil gave her a wry look. "Well, if we find anyone who’s mad because their ice disappeared, we’ll offer them a free car wash. Okay?"
"Okay." Rose sighed. "Let’s just hope they didn’t really need it. Who knows—maybe it was bound for the trash can. But it’s best to be sure."
"I know. I’ll be more careful. Now, shall we get ready to look for work?"
"Aren’t we already prepared for that?"
"Not quite. I hate to say it, but we look—and smell—like what we are—a couple of vagabonds. A lot of people won’t hire vagabonds, even to do odd jobs like yard work or car washing. They assume we’re trying to get money to buy alcohol or drugs, or that we’ll steal something. On purpose," she added, seeing Rose raise an eyebrow. "What we do is wash up a bit—we have enough water for that, and we can get more in town—change into our less worn, cleaner clothes, tie back our hair, and pretend to be local kids looking to earn some spending money doing odd jobs. There aren’t many jobs for teenagers in a town like this, so it makes perfect sense. And so many people commute out of here to go to work, they aren’t here very much and don’t know that we aren’t really local kids. Then we hire ourselves out to wash cars, do yard work, carry bags, whatever needs to be done. Since we’re camping out, we don’t need that much money, so this kind of work should be enough to meet our needs. It doesn’t matter if what we wear to do this is a little worn out—after all, we’re doing dirty work, so we don’t want to wear our best. We can provide a service for people for less money than the professionals, and still do a good job. Everyone benefits."
"What are we waiting for, then?" Rose asked. "Time’s wasting. It’s already mid-afternoon, and we have to walk back to town to look for work. Let’s get going!"
Daffodil laughed, tucking the ice and the food into a crevice in a rock and reaching into her backpack for her clean clothes.