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Although the shop was only a narrow building between two large department stores, he located it fairly quickly and parked nearby. He grabbed the tuba by its dented loops and tucked it under his arm, then strode into the shop. A bell attached to the door clanged, and moments later a silver-haired man with a stained apron over his clothes emerged from the curtained opening behind the tall counter. The man’s eyes went directly to the tuba.
“Is this the tuba I got a telephone call about this morning?”
Joseph didn’t know anything about a telephone call, but how many people would call about a damaged tuba? It had to have been Gil. Still, he should be sure. “Did the call come from Falke?”
“It did. A fellow named Baty said it would arrive today.”
Then it was Gil, probably calling from the post office. No one in town had telephones in their houses. “This is the one, then.”
The man patted the counter’s smooth wood top. “Set that right up here, young fellow, and let me take a look at it.” He muttered to himself as he examined the horn from bell to mouthpiece, his thick gray eyebrows pinched together in concentration. When he finished, he straightened and gave Joseph a serious look. “Are you the Baty who called?”
“I am a Baty—Joseph Baty—but the one who called is GilBaty, the director for the men’s and boys’ bands in Falke. I’m his cousin.”
“Well, the Baty who called asked for a written estimate for repairs. Can I send it with you?”
Joseph shrugged. “Jo. Er, yes.”
The silversmith took a pencil and pad of paper from a little drawer. He scratched several lines of print on the page and pulled it free of the pad. Then, he folded the page and handed it to Joseph. “I’ll need at least a week, but when I’m done, this horn will look brand new.”
The shelves of the shop were filled with plates, bowls, pieces of cutlery, decorative lidded boxes, and every shape of cup imaginable. From the looks of the items, this man knew his trade. Joseph didn’t doubt his promise. He slipped the note into his shirt pocket. “I will let my cousin know. Thank you, sir.”
The man started to pick up the horn, then paused. “You said your cousin is the band director in Falke?”
“That’s right.” Should he also mention that Gil had only been the director for three weeks and would leave the position at the end of the summer? Before he decided, the man spoke again.
“He should come to the county’s End of Harvest celebration on August 19.” The silversmith plucked a printed flier from a tray on the corner of the counter. “It’ll be quite a day. A parade, lots of good food, pony rides for kids…and a farmer from Galva plans to bring his gasoline-powered tractor to town for folks to take a gander at.”
Joseph knew about the annual End of Harvest celebration, but he’d never attended one. Pa was always too busy working to take the family all the way to McPherson for a day of frivolity. He couldn’t understand why the man thought Gil wouldbe interested, but he took the flier to be polite. He glanced at it, and a single line,Band Competition—Prizes!,near the middle of the page caught his attention. He tapped the wordcompetition.“What’s this about?”
“Isn’t that something? It’s brand-new this year. Now, having bands play, that’s nothing new. Bands have played at the End of Harvest celebrations for years already. But this year there’ll be judges here from Topeka, sent by Governor Hoch himself.” The man offered a solemn nod. “This is why the Falke band should come. Seems the governor’s wanting to have a big hullabaloo in January to celebrate Kansas’s forty-fifth birthday, and he’s on the lookout for one special band to play on the capitol steps.”
Joseph gaped at him. “In January? They’ll freeze their fingers off.”
The man laughed. “I can’t argue with you there, but that’s what I heard. After the bands play, the judges will give first-, second-, and third-place prizes. Cash prizes, I hear.” He leaned forward slightly, his eyes sparkling. “These judges will go all over the state, to county fairs and such, and all the first-place bands will then compete to play at the capitol. The one that gets picked overall will have its expenses paid for travel to Topeka.”
Joseph stared at the flier. The Falke band was good. Especially with Gil directing it. Did they stand a chance to play for the governor?
“Be sure and tell your cousin to bring his boys’ band over for the competition. The more bands involved, the better.”
Joseph shot the man a startled look. “Boys’ band?”
“Mm-hmm. It’s a competition for the state’s youth—to encourage them in music, the governor said. Or so I heard.”
So it was only for boys’ bands. Wouldn’t Earl’s confidencesoar to take part in such a competition? Then a worrisome thought intruded. “Um, is there an entrance fee?”
The man shook his head. “No fee, but registration closes June 16.”
Joseph sagged with relief. If there was a fee, the frugal community members might balk. For sure Ma would balk.
“Have him call or write to the county clerk.” The silversmith flicked the sheet with his finger. “All the information is at the bottom of the flier.”
Joseph rolled the paper into a tube and held it up the way Gil waved his baton. “I’ll be sure and give this to Gil. Thanks for telling me about it.”
“You’re welcome. Have a good day now.” The silversmith picked up the horn and disappeared behind the curtain.
Joseph returned to his wagon and headed for home. He couldn’t stop thinking about the End of Harvest band competition and the possibility of the Falke boys’ band taking part. They’d only gotten started. The chances of them winning were, as Pa would say, as likely as snow on the Fourth of July. But if they registered, they’d have something to work for. Gil would probably spend more time with them. Earl would like that. Joseph had never seen his brother so excited about anything before.
Then Ava’s face flashed in his mind’s eye. Despite Joseph’s warnings, she would continue to seek Gil out. Continue to pine after him. Unless he was too busy to pay her any mind. Then she’d have to give up her futile pursuit. When Joseph gave Gil the flier, he’d encourage him to take the band to the competition. For Earl’s sake, and for Timmy’s, who needed all the encouragement he could get. And for Ava’s sake. It was past time for her to let go of Gil.
