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else is an advantage if a customer is short of cash; he just pays what he has in his pocket and writes what he owes in the account book. Some people say my way of doing business hasn’t turned a profit since Josie died. Can’t say whether that’s true or not, but I know it’s kept goods flowing through the Chene and helped more than one family during hard times. Still and all, I’m probably not as good at running the store as I am at being postmaster.
    The morning that dog showed up, I was just about finished sorting the letters when the screen door opened and slammed shut again. I knew from all the commotion coming with her it was Mary Ann Bertram. She’s married to Mame’s nephew, York Bertram.
    Mame’s baby brother, Martin, settled in Plaquemine after the war. He never came back, even for a visit, but his son, York, moved here a few years ago, bringing his bride, Mary Ann. They’ve made a good run of the old homestead where Jakes Bayou splits off from Lake Mongoulois and takes its own winding way down to Lake Chicot. The Bertrams had a sugar mill on that point before the war. Now York’s turned it into a place to make lumber, charcoal, whiskey, and I don’t know what all.
    York’s plum crazy about machines—in fact, that’s how he met Mary Ann. Her pa has a big machine shop in Plaquemine, and York was always fooling around in the shop with her brothers.
    Mary Ann, now, it’s critters she loves, especially those horses that pull her wagon. She does a handy business delivering goods from the Jakes Bayou dock all around our island, including to my store. That morning she brought a hunk of ice for my icebox. Mary Ann is as jolly as York is glum.
    â€œAdam Snellgrove, I’ve seen pigpens cleaner than this! If there was another store around, I’d shop there.” She always starts talking soon as she gets through the door, sometimes before.
    I’m tall, and her blue eyes were even with mine as she pushed her way through the merchandise. Instead of a bonnet, she pulls a felt hat down over her hair and ties it with a leather cord. As usual, a man’s flannel shirt was tucked into canvas work pants, which were tucked into tall rubber boots. She gets her rough-and-tumble ways from being the only girl in her family.
    â€œWell, you’d be the expert there,” I said. “How’s that new litter coming along on those Dr. Legeare vitamins?”
    â€œEating like hogs, ever one of ’em. Never saw a turnaround so quick on a bunch of runts.”
    â€œI don’t remember who ordered those vitamins or even what kind of livestock they were for, but I’m glad they came in handy,” I said, and I meant it.
    Mary Ann has helped all of us at one time or another with our animals. You’d never know she wasn’t from the Chene—in fact, only been here a few years.
    â€œHmmph,” she grunted with the effort of moving a crate. “There’s no telling what’s packed away in here. If you’d ever clean this place up we’d all know.”
    She swiped a cloud of dust off a pair of black rubber boots and checked the size on the bottom before placing them on the counter.
    â€œThat rooster spurred another hole in York’s boot, the left one again. I told him not even you are going to sell me one boot, so tally up this pair. It’s gonna aggravate the tar out of him to have those two extra right boots. Whatcha wanna bet he’ll be dancing a jig trying to get the right one spurred next time. Any mail for us today?”
    â€œNope, I just got through sorting what Val brought in,” I said. Just then Alcide Verret pulled open the screen door. The old spring waited a bit before slamming closed behind him. I always listened for the time it just couldn’t pull anymore. Then I’d change it out. That meant looking for my extra springs, and I hadn’t gotten around to that yet.
    Cide’s suspenders