Promises

By Carolyn Twede Frank

Hattie is barely twelve when her pa’s “business adventures” disrupt her family and move them to the new town of Tropic, nestled in the shadows of old Ebenezer Bryce’s Canyon. Her pa views the town as opportunity. Hattie is hopelessly shy and views it with apprehension; she dreads the task of making new friends. More than anything else, Hattie wants to be like her father—not afraid of meeting new people, talking to strangers, and standing up for herself. So it is with trepidation that she accepts her pa’s challenge and promises to make new friends.
Hattie forms more promises as she struggles to make friends, finding companionship in places she wouldn’t have expected and learning that there is a difference between complaining and standing up for oneself.
Promises is a heartwarming story of friendship with a touch of mystery and adventure set in the days before Bryce Canyon became a national park. Drawn from the memoirs of Hattie Adair Jolley and her children, it is a realistic glimpse into the past and a delightful story for readers ages eight to eighty.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Carolyn Twede Frank
• Release date: Feb 25, 2012
• ISBN: 9780985251314

Carolyn Twede Frank

Carolyn Twede Frank grew up in a small town in Utah. Her love of writing first expressed itself in the third grade when she was given the assignment to write poetry and discovered the fun of creating rhymes. In high school, she had her own column in the school newspaper, and one of her articles took third place in a national editorial writing contest. She began college with a minor in journalism. When an instructor slashed her writing up one side and down the other, she decided she wasn’t cut out to be a writer—even though the teacher gave her an A, and told her that his harsh critiques were meant to prepare her for the real world. In 2006, as a participant in her neighborhood book club, she read a novel that bothered her immensely by its contents. She thought, “I can write a better story than this!” Her love of writing was reawakened after twenty five years of dormancy, and she immediately began her first novel, Fleeing Flagstaff. Promises is Carolyn’s first published novel. Carolyn currently lives in Utah with her husband and youngest daughter, where she continues to write and love life. You can visit her website: www.carolyntwedefrank.com.

Book preview

About the book: Promises

Hattie is barely twelve when her pa’s business adventures disrupt her family and move them to the new town of Tropic, Utah, nestled in the shadows of old Ebenezer Bryce’s Canyon. Her pa views the town as opportunity. Hattie is hopelessly shy and views it with apprehension; she dreads the task of making new friends. More than anything else, Hattie wants to be like her father—not afraid of meeting new people, talking to strangers, and standing up for herself. So it is with trepidation that she accepts her pa’s challenge and promises to make new friends.

Hattie forms more promises as she struggles to make friends, finding companionship in places she wouldn’t have expected and learning that there is a difference between complaining and standing up for oneself.

Promises is a heartwarming story of friendship with a touch of mystery and adventure set in the days before Bryce Canyon became a national park. Drawn from the memoirs of Hattie Adair Jolley and her children, it is a realistic glimpse into the past and a delightful story for readers ages eight to eighty.

Dedication

For Danielle, who never ceased to believe in me.

Acknowledgements

This novel is the result of the instruction, inspiration, and support I have received from many people.

Author, Carol Lynch Williams saw the potential in this story, and pointed me in the right direction when I first started writing seriously.

My dedicated critique group, Matt, Walt, Jane, Brittany, and DeNae, helped me hone my skills as a writer, lending instruction, input, and an overabundance of patience.

The ladies of my book club, and the enthusiasm with which they read one of my early drafts, gave me the encouragement I needed to see this story make it to publication.

Tristi Pinkston, my editor, her keen eye and judgment refined my story.

Authors Incognito, my Yahoo writers group, gave me their support and friendship to keep me going when I felt like quitting.

My mother-in-law, Florence Jolley Frank introduced me to her family’s stories and memoirs, spawning the idea for this book.

And most important of all, my husband and children have been very patient through this whole process. Especially Danielle, my youngest, and my only one who loves to read, she’s been my cheering section.

Chapter 1

April 29, 1898

Yesterday was Hattie’s birthday. No one remembered. Mama didn’t bake a big cake like usual. Turning twelve should have made her happier.

Hattie’s eyes grew moist. It was hard for her to focus on the endless view of sagebrush. Billows of dust, kicked up by the team of horses, only made it worse. She felt like a pioneer, riding in a covered wagon, venturing into the unknown.

Is this what Grandma and Grandpa felt like when they crossed the plains?

No.

She knew her grandparents had been forced out of their home in Nauvoo and moved west to Utah because of religious persecution. Hattie’s family was only moving from Orderville to the town of Tropic—in the next county. There was no reason for them to leave. Everyone in Orderville loved them.

The rhythmic creaking of wagon wheels seemed to sing her thoughts.

Why . . . why . . . why . . .

Hattie turned around. Long Valley had slipped from her view. She could only see unfamiliar hills behind the family’s black-topped carriage. The buggy jostled down the road, lagging behind the wagon by a good hundred yards. Mama was at the reins. Hattie didn’t recall ever seeing the family carriage so full. Any inch of space not occupied by her brother or sisters was stuffed with personal belongings. Then again, she never recalled seeing their old wagon anywhere but out in the field filled with hay. Now it rolled slowly down a rock-infested road, overflowing with bedding, pots and pans, a long pine table, and a handful of mix-and-match chairs. How Pa managed to squeeze in the family pump organ and phonograph player, she’d never know. But she was glad—whether playing it or listening to it, music always brought her comfort. Sitting on top of the organ was ten-year-old Ethel. Hattie glanced up to the freckled face of her sister. At least Ethel was smiling.

You hanging on good? Hattie hollered.

Yeah, but tell me when it’s my turn to ride up there with Pa, Ethel said, her red pigtails bobbing up and down. Her right hand held on to the rope that secured the organ in place. With the other, she grasped a small cage. Bessie, their best laying hen, clucked louder than usual. The chicken didn’t look too happy in the cage, and Ethel was doing her best to comfort the animal.

Hattie returned her attention to the long, dusty road. The ugliness brought the painful move back into her thoughts. Usually she kept her feelings to herself. But her world, as she knew it, was ending. She had to say something or explode.

Pa, Hattie muttered. Why did we move? It was not a real question. She didn’t expect a real answer. Mama had already told her of Pa’s longing for more land. She knew that ever since the United Order had been abolished eight years ago, Pa had made his little portion of land flourish. It made sense that Pa would want more. An uncomfortable ache in her chest encouraged the need to say something. I loved our house in Orderville. The white picket fence, the orchard, and all those flowers—it was wonderful.

I’ll build us another wonderful house, Pa said.

It’s not just the house I’ll miss—it’s Lou.

Lou?

You know, Louise Lamb, my best friend. What am I going to do without her?

She and Lou had been friends as long as she could remember. They lived next door to each other in Orderville. Hattie never had to meet Lou, introduce herself, and make friends with Lou—she was just there—kind of like family.

There will be other girls your age in Tropic, I’m sure. Pa winked while a familiar warm smile filled his face. His expression then changed to one more serious. Now, Hattie, You can’t let your timid nature rule your life forever. This here move’ll be just what you need. It’ll help you learn to meet people; make new friends. Promise me you’ll try.

Pa didn’t understand. He had no problem meeting new people, talking to strangers, standing up for himself. Hattie hated her shyness. More than anything, she wanted to be like him.

And she needed to be more like him if she ever hoped to survive in this new place.

Promise? Pa cleared his throat.

Okay. It came out an unassertive squeak. She turned and gazed at him. Everyone loved Pa. His coarse red hair waved slightly as it rose from his head. A bushy orange moustache grew on his upper lip, spreading one inch past his constant smile on either side. A soft, round nose and merry eyes; who wouldn’t like Pa? She adored him—except when he disrupted her life with his business adventures.

With heaviness in her voice, Hattie whispered, but there’s plenty of land closer to Orderville.

Tropic’s a new town, Pa said. It was almost like he had heard Hattie’s thoughts—he couldn’t have heard her over the clomping of horse hoofs. Settled only six years ago. Acre-and-a-quarter lots are sellin’ for seven dollars and fifty cents. It’s opportunity, Hattie.

Seven dollars and fifty cents, Hattie mumbled. Is that good? Somehow she knew the answer before Pa said anything. Though she wasn’t knowledgeable in such matters, she knew that Pa was, and their prosperity had something to do with that.

‘You bet it’s good! But I got more than just land for that price.

Really?

Yep, I got our new house—‘course it will need some addin’ on to. But it’s on the edge of town next to some good farm land.

Why would someone practically give their house away—especially with so much opportunity there?

Well, there’s one slight problem with the town of Tropic. Pa’s voice took on a less light-hearted tone. There’s not much water; lots of good farm land, protection from the cold season, but just one small spring.

That doesn’t sound like opportunity—sounds like disaster. Hattie’s lower lip slid between her teeth, an anxious feeling churned in her stomach. Why would the prophet send members to settle a town there?

He didn’t. It was settled by a few men who saw the potential and settled it themselves.

But no water? Why would we want to move there, Pa?

Hattie, my girl, Pa said with a confident smile, with opportunity often comes risk. I’m sure that’s why that other guy sold out.

Other guy?

The fellow I bought the house from. He must not have been willing to wait for the canal to do its job.

Canal?

Yep. A man named A.J. Hansen—ambitious fellow. I think he’s the bishop in Tropic. He practically built that there ditch by himself. Met him once while I was travelin’ to Salt Lake City. He was buying tools for diggin’ and blastin’.

Blasting, Hattie muttered. That must be some canal.

Oh, it was. Old A.J. was planning on diverting the waters of the East Sevier River over to Tropic, fifteen miles away. He even laid out the streets of the town and sold the lots to help fund the project. If his canal worked, he said there would be plenty of water for all the crops and critters there. Pa paused, twisting the end of his long moustache. Well, I got word a few months ago that his canal is finished and workin’ fine. Me and your ma were tired of cold winters and wanted more farm land, so we decided to move. Pa glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. Didn’t I tell you this before?

No, Pa.

I swear I did. Must have been Will or Eliza; I swore I told all of you older kids.

Hattie kept her eyes on Pa, but said nothing. She didn’t like the idea of living in a town that wasn’t sanctioned by the prophet.

Pa grew silent for a moment. He flecked the reins and the horses took their next several paces a little faster. So when I found that fellow who wanted to sell his land fast and cheap, I jumped on it. And here we are.

Pa’s words added to Hattie’s unsettled feelings. She turned and stared at the road ahead. Tropic. The name rolled from her tongue with uncertainty. Palm trees and beaches formed a gorgeous picture in her mind. She had learned about Tahiti in school last year. But this was Utah. They lived in a desert with scorching summers and harsh winters. The beautiful picture melted, replaced with the reality of her surroundings: drab. At least Long Valley had a fair share of cottonwood trees near the river, and tall junipers covered its yellow hills. But this new valley, if you could even call it that, stretched on for miles with rolling hills pocked with scrawny junipers and the low-lands covered with sagebrush.

Her head bobbed up and down with every bump in the road. The unvaried landscape stretched the minutes into hours that felt endless. When she switched places with Ethel, she leaned her elbows on her knees and made a perch out of her palms to rest her chin. This made it easier to stare at the sagebrush.

Pa, Pa, Ethel shouted. Look at those rocks. Aren’t they the most pretty things you’ve ever seen?

Hattie sat up straight and gasped. She grabbed hold of the organ and turned her body to get a better view. Red rock seemed to erupt from the tops of the juniper-covered hills in the distance. The wagon crept slowly forward, bringing the attraction closer into sight.

Eventually the rolling hills of sage and junipers faded from view, and ledges of red rock and pines surrounded Hattie.

If you children think this canyon is pretty, Pa said, just wait until we get to Tropic. Next to town is a site that’ll be candy for your eyes. This here is Red Canyon we’re comin’ up on. It’s just a little taste—kind of like a raisin you snatch out of the Christmas puddin’.

The team of horses strained. The rutted dirt road climbed the hillside, demanding the extra strength Pa’s work horses were bred to give. Hattie’s ears popped. She had to hold on to the ropes securing the organ to keep from falling off, but the breath-taking view pushed away her sullen mood. Rusty red cliffs appeared carved into myriad different shapes. Some looked like a bunch of carrots waiting to be pulled, some like sentinels guarding the vivid red canyon. Pines trees grew in places that seemed impossible, shooting up from cracks in the rocks. Their needles of blue-green were made to appear more intense by the contrast of the red rock. The fresh scent of the pines treated her nose as she passed near them. She took a deep breath. Never had she experienced anything like this.

Soon the red seemed to dissipate. More and more pines filled the gaps. She could feel the wagon continue to climb. The air took on a chill, and Hattie had to pull on her sweater.

The trees appeared to step aside, like wall flowers, opening up an immense prairie dance floor before her eyes. Scattered sheep grazed on the new spring grass growing between the sagebrush. A couple of ranchers waved in greeting. Pa and Ethel waved back as the wagon rolled across the grassy plateau. Hattie forced her hand to wave too.

She felt the wagon jostle—more than usual. Where was Pa leading the horses?

Certainly not down there.

The pasture ended without warning and the wagon headed down the steepest, roughest road she had ever seen.

Hold on tight, Pa urged.

Hattie could feel the road descend abruptly under the jerking wheels of the wagon. She turned around to see the buggy. The muscles in the horses’ legs bulged as they worked to hold their ground on the sheer, dangerous slope. Her ma’s face concentrated on the task. They were entering another valley—a deep one. Hattie gripped the rope. Her whole body went ridged. More than ever, she wished she was back in Orderville.

Finally, the ground underneath the wagon leveled out. The warmth of the valley soothed her like an extra quilt. Crimson cliffs rose up in all directions but east. They were pretty, but nothing like Red Canyon. She knew Pa was just pulling her leg back there.

The valley soon revealed a small town nestled in a corner. Orderville suddenly seemed large to Hattie.

I see it, Papa, I see it! Ethel hollered with excitement. Her small hands clapped to her mouth and then pointed. Is that Tropic over there?

Hattie looked toward the west side of the valley that had captured Ethel’s attention. She observed a smattering of small wood-framed homes dotting a collection of long, narrow blocks. Several homes had been white-washed a cheerful shade of light cream with matching picket fences. Neat rows of fruit trees, with trunks the size of broomsticks, filled the backyards. Struggling shade trees bordered the dirt streets. Hattie glanced down at Pa, asking the same question without speaking.

Yes, it certainly is! Pa said. The excitement in his voice did not match Hattie’s emotion: disappointment.

The clip-clop of hooves took on a faster beat. Whether the animals anticipated the end of their journey, or Pa had used a heavier hand on the reins, Hattie was unsure.

The creaky old wagon, loaded to the brim with her on top, rolled through the middle of town. The black-top buggy with Mama, her big sister, and three wiggling siblings followed close behind. Pulling up in the rear were her two older brothers on horseback, herding their best milk cow and a few other cattle. Hattie felt like her family was on parade. She glanced around at the houses lining the street, hoping no one would be outside to notice their caravan. Four young children darted out of one house. They stood on the covered porch of their two-story home and waved like they were, indeed, watching a parade.

Hattie looked over each and every spectator with anxiety—and with hope.

Several more children emerged onto porches, one or two grown-ups, but not a single twelve-year-old girl. Not one even close.

The wagon moved past a large house lacking the cheery white-wash. It appeared to sit in the center of town. Who do you think lives in that great big house? Hattie motioned to the out-of-place building.

That’s not a house, Pa said. That’s the church—and the school. They also use it for dances and social gatherin’s, I’m told.

Hattie spotted something out of the corner of her eye at the end of the road. It sparked an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. Her eyes rushed back to the house they now passed. Red and pink tulips bloomed next to purple hyacinths in a kaleidoscope-like flower bed. Shades of yellow-green mapped out the footprint of new lawn. She was tempted to take another glance at the end of the road, but instead moved her gaze to the next yard’s flower garden. Pa drove the wagon past the first pretty house, then the next. One by one, they slipped by white-washed houses with tidy yards. She could be happy with any one of these homes.

Please, Pa, stop!

They passed the last inviting home on the street. Pa urged the horses on. She knew it. Somehow she knew with her first glimpse. Pa kept the horses going toward a house that sat by itself at the end of the road. There were no nice shade trees or fruit trees to be seen, only patches of weeds and a diseased old cottonwood tree claiming their ground in the red soil. Several empty lots partitioned it off from the other homes on the street. It created a picture to her of an unwanted playmate surrounded by taunting, well-liked children.

Hattie lurched forward as the wagon came to a stop.

We’re here, Pa announced.

Chapter 2

Mysterious Papers

Hattie’s little brother and sisters piled out of the buggy like they were on fire. Five-year-old Miriam ran across the dusty yard and into their new house. George looked up at the tiny house and asked no one in particular, How are we all going to fit in there? He didn’t wait for an answer, but joined Miriam. Ethel was at his heels.

We’ll manage just fine, Mama said. She took the baby from Eliza’s outstretched arms and headed into the small dwelling. Eliza grabbed a pile of quilts and followed Mama.

Hattie dragged her tired body out of the wagon. Her feet refused to move toward the house. She glared at the one-story structure and asked herself the same question. Yeah, how are we all going to fit in there? No words escaped her lips, but their feelings settled in her stomach.

Pa loosened the ropes that strapped in the mahogany pipe organ. Remember, this is only temporary. As soon as we get settled, Orson and I are going to start fixin’ up the place. It will be just as big as the house in Orderville.

Her oldest brother Orson looked up from the buggy he had unhitched. Naw, he said with a wink. Let’s make it bigger—and better. He busied himself with the care of the horses. He had a way with animals. Though he wasn’t as tall as most men, he was stronger than most. Hattie thought he looked the spitting image of Pa, except his auburn moustache was not as bushy. Orson was barely twenty.

I can help too, Pa. Will

Reviews for Promises

[skstiles612 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I loved this book. I believe many of my students will enjoy it as well. I could really identify with Hattie. I was just like her. I wanted to speak up for myself, yet was shy enough and let myself be bullied and walked on for most of my life. I still don’t like conflict. I loved the fact that promises meant so much to Hattie. Her promises were driven by a desire to solve a mystery based on items she found in the house they moved into. I definitely understood how Hattie felt when they moved from their home to their new place. That was exactly how I felt when we moved to Florida when I was fourteen. It was almost as if Carolyn followed me around as I grew up and had a microscope that showed her all of my thoughts and feelings. This book reminded me in many ways of the “Little House on the Prairie Series”, which was always one of my favorites. I will have no problem recommending this book to my friends.