Ed and Nora decided to leave Shoup before the end of 1918. Nora was homesick for her sisters in Hailey, and her father and brother Walter were working at the Gold Hill mine in Quartzburg, where there was work waiting for Ed. Family lore suggests other reasons as well: the isolation of the ranch, the confinement of the river canyon, and Nora’s increasingly strained relationship with her mother-in-law.
Annie’s behavior was being quietly scrutinized by friends who believed she was losing her mind. People sometimes asked Ed and Nora, “When are you going to do something about Annie?” as though Annie were a problem that could be solved. Ed and Nora would laugh, knowing that if they ever tried to do “something” about her, Annie would leave doctors and lawyers alike feeling like country bumpkins. Nora thought her half crazy and had had her fill.
With the war ending, agricultural prices were already expected to fall, and that uncertainty likely added weight to their decision. Ed put Nora and Lois on the train and stayed behind in Shoup to settle matters on the ranch. When he joined them in Hailey, they bought a wagon and team and joined Bill and Walter in Quartzburg.
Quartzburg lay forty-four hard miles north of the Arrowrock Dam, reached by steep mountain roads that made every trip an undertaking. The town had sprung up during the Boise Basin gold rush and survived on quartz mining long after the easy gold was gone. During and after the Great War, mining revived, bringing wages when other work failed.
Lois was enrolled in school, and when winter came, snow arrived early and stayed late, cutting the town off for long stretches. Even so, Quartzburg was a community in its own right, with shops, a restaurant or two, saloons, and a post office. Ed came home for lunch and was back again for dinner, free of ranch chores. Lois spent time with her Grandfather, Uncle Walter and had playmates of her own.
About the time Nora believed she wouldn't have any more children, she found herself pregnant again. Having lost her mother just after childbirth, she feared giving birth in an isolated town. They moved down to Boise in time for the birth of Eleanor Beatrice Callahan who was born on June 28, 1919, and then returned to the ’Burg.
One midday, as Ed was home for lunch, the sound of the mail stages horn drifted up the road then stopped at their house. Ed stepped toward the door while Nora peered through the curtain. The rumble seat was occupied, and there — jolting along in plain sight — was Nora’s younger sister Babe and her husband, Carl Nisson.
Nora let out a squeal and ran outside just as the driver helped Babe down. Without thinking she threw her arms around the startled driver’s neck and kissed him soundly before turning to Babe, then to Carl, who was holding baby Noreen. She gathered all of them into a laughing embrace.
The driver became a close family friend and never tired of telling the story, claiming Nora’s kiss was the best tip he had ever received. Nora was mortified every time he told it.
Carl was a miner, and the young family settled in a small house near Centerville, about twelve miles away. In 1920 Babe was pregnant again and as her due date approached her anxiety grew. The nights that Carl worked the graveyard shift, Nora stayed with her for days at a time, leaving Ed and Lois to manage on their own until Ed put a stop to it.
“Hell, Carl,” he said, “bring Babe and Noreen over to our place.”
Ed was good to Babe. Before turning in each night he tapped softly on her door and asked, “You okay, Babe? Just yell if you need us.”
Like Nora before her, Babe went to Boise for the birth and returned home with a healthy son they named William Nisson.
Bill Williams and Walter eventually returned to Hailey. Walter married Dawn, the widow of Curtis Jackson, who had been the brother of Walter’s brothers-in-law, Frank and Ralph Jackson.
In 1921 Nora was expecting again and did not want to be snowed in when her time came. They moved down to Boise before winter set in. Ed found work at a logging camp a day’s travel from town and came home whenever he could get a few days off.
On Christmas Eve, Nora was seven months pregnant and counting on Ed to make it home. She had a doll on layaway for Eleanor, but with Ed working out she didn’t have enough money to redeem it — much less buy a gift for Lois.
By afternoon rain began to fall. Then the temperature dropped and the streets turned to ice. Even if she had money there was no safe way for her to travel uptown alone. As darkness fell and snow began drifting down, panic set in. The thought that her girls might wake to no Christmas at all pressed down on her until she could hardly breathe. Neighbors stopped by throughout the day and evening to wish them a merry Christmas. Finally, in a moment she would regret all her life, she snapped at eight-year-old Lois.
“If anyone else says ‘Merry Christmas’ to me, I’ll slap them in the face.”
Almost immediately there came another knock at the door.
Nora started toward it, but before she could reach the handle the door burst open and Ed came in shouting, “Merry Christmas!”
No one was slapped. There were hugs instead — tight, laughing, relieved ones. Ed had not been paid in full but the men had been given a small advance. Leaving Lois in charge of Eleanor, they made their careful way uptown before the stores closed. They redeemed the doll from layaway and found a pair of red bedroom slippers for Lois—fur-lined, with fancy trim around the ankles. On Christmas morning, Eleanor cuddled her dolly while Lois danced around the room in her new slippers.