Chapter Nineteen

Samuel followed the sound of laughter between two large barns.

As he rounded the corner, he stopped.

Long clotheslines stretched from building to building like rows of colorful banners. Shirts, dresses, aprons, trousers, towels, blankets, and children's clothes fluttered gently in the morning breeze.

Women moved steadily from basket to basket while several girls stood on small ladders clipping garments to the lines with wooden clothespins.

Rebecca looked over her shoulder and smiled.

"Morning, Samuel."

Samuel tipped his hat.

"I didn't realize we owned so many clothes."

Rebecca laughed.

"We don't."

She pointed toward another overflowing basket.

"We just have that many people."

The women chuckled.

Near the washhouse, two apprentices worked a large wringer washer powered by a small gasoline engine that chugged quietly beside the building.

One girl stirred hot, soapy water with a wooden paddle.

Another fed shirts through the wringer.

The heavy rubber rollers squeezed streams of water back into the tub before the clean clothes dropped into a rinse tank.

Samuel watched for a moment.

"I don't suppose this job ever gets caught up."

Rebecca smiled.

"Not unless people stop wearing clothes."

An older woman lifted a sheet from the rinse water.

Two young girls carried it together to the clothesline.

Rebecca nodded toward them.

"Monday has always been wash day."

Samuel looked around.

"It seems half the settlement is here."

Rebecca laughed.

"Only the half wearing clean clothes."

Even Samuel had to laugh at that.

One apprentice reached for a basket of tiny baby clothes.

Rebecca stopped her.

"Those go on the lower line."

The girl looked puzzled.

"Why?"

"So the little ones can help gather them later."

Samuel smiled.

"Everyone has a job."

Rebecca nodded.

"If they're old enough to carry a clothespin..."

"...they're old enough to help."

Nearby another woman folded dry towels while an apprentice paired socks into neat bundles.

Nothing was wasted.

Clothes with missing buttons went into one basket.

Garments needing patches went into another.

Anything beyond repair was cut into squares for polishing rags or quilt pieces.

Samuel picked up a faded work shirt.

"I thought this one was finished."

Rebecca smiled.

"It is."

She handed it to another woman.

"Finished being a shirt."

The woman immediately began cutting it into cleaning cloths.

Samuel nodded.

"So nothing is thrown away."

Rebecca shook her head.

"Not if it still has work left in it."

A gentle breeze swept across the valley.

Hundreds of garments danced softly on the lines.

Children ran laughing between the baskets until one grandmother called,

"Mind the clean laundry!"

They instantly slowed to careful walking.

Samuel looked from one end of the clothes lines to the other.

"It almost looks like a celebration."

Rebecca clipped another dress to the line.

"In a way..."

"...it is."

She looked across the settlement.

"Clean clothes."

"Clean beds."

"Clean towels."

She smiled.

"A clean home gives people a fresh start every week."

Samuel nodded.

"I've been visiting every shop in the settlement."

Rebecca raised an eyebrow.

"And?"

"I've decided every one of them is important."

Rebecca looked around at the women hanging laundry beneath the bright morning sky.

"They all are."

She reached into the basket for another apron.

"Some just don't make as much noise."

Samuel stood quietly for another moment, watching the long rows of clothes ripple in the breeze.

The blacksmith's hammer rang in the distance.

Somewhere a milk cow lowed.

A horse whinnied from the stable.

Here, the only sounds were laughter, clothespins snapping onto the line, and the soft flutter of clean laundry drying in the fresh air.

A civilization wasn't built only by great buildings.

Sometimes it was built one clean shirt at a time.