Part Two CHAPTER 21

Isobel Ann Farris walked off of the 10:15 train from Denver.  She passed through the small depot, traditionally furnished with mahogany benches and a marble floor, out onto Main Street, and took a deep breath.  Jerkwater had that innocent look of a place that was at least fifteen years behind the times.  She almost expected to see John Wayne riding down the center of the street wearing a white hat  

Isobel straightened her woolen tweed skirt and tidied her massive auburn curls into a bun at the nape of her neck.  Her stomach tingled with nerves but she marched steadfastly toward the small anti-chamber that the directions told her was behind City Hall.  

Her father had belittled her for wanting a double major in archeology and library science but look at her now: the curatrix of The Jerkwater Historical Museum.  And Isobel had been selected over the three other applicants.

In creating the one-room edifice, the Jerkwater Cultural Commission had given Isobel the opportunity of a lifetime, and on her very first job application after graduation. The past is over, she thought, this is the future.  And then she started to laugh at how ridiculous that sounded.