Dear Austin (6 page)

September 12, 1853

Dear Austin,

So much has happened, I don't know where to begin. I suppose I should start, with the night before last, when Jupiter and I left Sudbury. We met up back of the Hepples’ cow barn after midnight and took off through the woods. Neither of us knew how to get to North Carolina. All we knew was that it was south of Sudbury.

We walked toward the Fenton place, and when we got there we just kept on going, following along the canal. We slept out under some pine trees along the bank, and the next morning we ate the gingerbread along with the rock candy for our breakfast. After that, we walked along the canal until we met a barge that was heading south. The bargeman was friendly enough and offered to give us a ride downstream. I asked if he had seen a young girl with yellow ribbons and two men pass by, but he had not.

Neither Jupiter nor I had ever been on a barge
afore, and it was great fun to glide along the water. We got off about ten miles downstream, and the man threw us each a potato from a barrel for our supper. We walked some till we grew tired.

As I “write this I am sitting by a fire that we made from some birch twigs and brush. The sun is going down, and we're roasting our potatoes and some ears of corn that we picked from a farmer's field. I even found an old licorice stick in my pocket, which we decided to eat first. We were both grinning at our good fortune as we chomped on the hard licorice, when we heard an owl hooting in a sycamore tree over our heads. I looked over at Jupiter. The smile had left his face as his eyes searched the branches above us.

I knew who he was thinking of. I am thinking of her too.

“Could be they don't have any owls living down in the Carolinas,” I said, trying to make him feel easier.

“Could be,” his shrug seemed to answer. “Or could be they got worse,” his eyes seemed to say.

We sat there for a long spell just watching the fire and listening to that owl hooting at the moon.

Your brother, Levi

September 1853

Dear Austin,

We traveled clear on down into Virginia today, though I'm not sure what day it is. On the road you lose track of time. You also get mighty thirsty. We drank up a lot of the hiccup remedy, not on account of nerves but from thirst. I sure wish we hadn't done that. There's just enough to ward off one more fit, I reckon.

Got a ride from a schoolteacher by the name of Miss Milly Keck, who had a shiny black trap and a fine-looking bay. Miss Milly invited us to take a seat beside her, if we cared for a ride. This was no easy matter, as the seat was short and Miss Milly was on the bountiful side.

It was about noon from the looks of the sun and hotter than a day in July in Sudbury. We had drunk most of our water and so were much relieved to be given a ride. Lucky for us, Miss Milly was traveling almost forty miles to visit her ailing mother. When she asked where we were headed, I told her we were
visiting family down south. She gave us a peculiar look but didn't say more.

When we stopped to rest and water the horse, Miss Milly reached for a basket at her feet. I nearly fainted with hunger when she opened it, for the smell of buttermilk and bacon biscuits was too good to be true. Having had nothing to eat since the night before, Jupiter and I could have eaten that whole basketful by ourselves.

But afore we had the chance to try, Miss Milly insisted that we offer some to “William first, as he'd be offended if we were to eat without him,” she said.

Jupiter looked behind us, and I looked under our seat, as we were both wondering where this “William” could be hiding.

“He simply can't abide bad manners,” Miss Milly continued, nodding toward her horse.

We turned our attention to the bay and then back down at the basket of biscuits. Neither of us had ever met a horse who cared one way or the other about manners, and we wondered just what that would look like. But Miss Milly didn't give us a chance to
see, for she had already reached into the basket and was offering William a biscuit.

Then she told us how special a horse her William was and how he was named after a great poet. She recited a poem all about love and roses by an English fella called William Shakesomething. She said she liked his poetry so well that she had to name her horse after him. She reached back into the basket and fed William three more biscuits.

We finally parted company at a crossroads, and Miss Milly pointed to the road leading south and told us that “parting was such sweet sorrow.”

I shook my head, not knowing how to answer, on account of I wasn't sure just what she was so sorry about. But I sure knew that I was sorry to see William eating all those buttermilk biscuits—especially since Jupe and I only got one apiece!

We walked till twilight and didn't meet anyone else on the road. In the woods we found a hollow that made a good bed. Jupiter is lying beside me, staring up at the sky. I wonder if he's thinking about Darcy again. I suppose he is. I'm thinking about her,
too, and about Miss Amelia back home. I hope she isn't having any of those heart palpitations of hers, worrying about me. Well, the light is gone, and I best get some sleep for tomorrow s journey.

Your brother, Levi

September 1853

Dear Austin,

It's been a while since I could sit down to write you. We hitched a ride on the back of a preacher s buggy that took us on a long and bumpy journey through the state of Virginia.

After that‘, we walked for a few miles afore coming upon a good-size pond. We found an old man sitting there in his wagon. He had driven his rig into the water to tighten his -wheels. Jupiter and I decided to have a swim to cool off. The old man smiled and tipped his corn-shuck hat as we swam by him. Do you remember what Old Man Grissard looks like? This old fella had the same leathery-looking face and red nose.

He seemed friendly enough, sitting and picking at his teeth with a goose quill, but there was a curious smell about him. As we swam in closer to his wagon we could see that his leg was stretched out afore him with one pant leg rolled up. Bound to his leg with a string were two live toads!

“I expect it seems a curious sight,” the old fella
spoke up. He went on to tell us that his name was Fergus T. McGrath, and he explained how he had been bitten by a copperhead that very morning.

“Twas lucky for me I had my chickens in tow.” He pointed to the crate of chickens in the back of his wagon. Fergus went on to tell us how he had killed one, slitting it down the middle, and then tied its entrails over the bite. When the chicken began to turn cold, he threw it off and caught the toads.

“Their bodies draw the venom out,” Fergus explained as Jupiter and I stared bug-eyed at the toads, which still had some life left in them, for they would wiggle every now and then. I kept thinking of Plug Ugly and was glad that Possum was not there to witness their struggle.

When the toads finally died, Fergus untied the sorry-looking things and threw them into the water. He said his bite was all cured, and to celebrate he drove out of the pond and shared some dried beef and cottonseed tea with us.

“Be still, oh, mah heart,” I said as I got a whiff of the dried beef.

Jupiter looked at me and grinned. We were both thinking of Possum then.

“Be still, oh, mah heart!” Fergus repeated. “Sounds like a song.”

Then he pulled a mouth harp out of his pocket and began to play. Every once in a while he'd stop and start to sing, “Be still, oh, mah heart, my gal and I had to part…” It went on and on like that, with lots of good rhymes.

We traveled with Fergus T. McGrath in his wagon for the next two days. He told us some good tales, and he knew lots of songs. But as much as we enjoyed his singing and his stories, I have to admit that we were not sorry to leave him, for the company he kept was hard on the nose. After sharing a wagon with a crate of chickens, three piglets, and six ducks, the smell was mighty powerful.

We had confided in Fergus all about Darcy and how we hoped to find her. He told us about a slave auction “some five miles south of here,” where we might look for her. “But you must be careful. And Jupiter here best not do the looking,” he cautioned.

He said he wished he could take us there himself, but he had pigs to sell. We understood and promised to be careful.

When we parted ways, Fergus seemed concerned and wouldn't let us go without giving us the rest of the dried beef, two turnips, and an onion.

I felt so grateful for all that he had done for us -. that I wanted to give him something. The only thing I had was old turnip head. (I will make another one for Reuben, I promise.) Fergus laughed when I put the stick into his wagon and said that it was the best exchange of turnips he'd ever had!

By the time he let us off, the critters’ stink was all over our clothes, and we were desperate to find a crick or river to dunk ourselves in. We walked for a couple of miles but didn't find one. As it turned out, that was lucky for us.

What we did find were three young men who were sitting in the shade of a locust tree. At first I was hoping that they might offer us something to eat, but when we got up closer to them, I could see that they had been sucking on a jug for a spell.

“Now, take a looky here,” one of them called out on seeing us. He had a round pockmarked face under a straw hat and poppy eyes that reminded me of Plug Ugly.

“Who might this little master and his slave be come walking our -way?” he taunted. At first I thought they might be all gurgle and no guts, so Jupiter and I just kept on walking.

“Now, you two stop right there,” the man -with Plug Ugly's eyes barked so loud that my hair stood on end. The others both turned to look at us as we stopped dead center in the road.

“He don't resemble a Muller nor an Ingram neither,” another of them said. “Whose house you from, boy? Who's your daddy? I don't recognize your features none.”

I tried to think of how I should answer this, but afore I could, the tallest man stood up and put his hand on the other man's shoulder as he waved the jug in his hand.

“It's of no consequence, John Lee, whose house he might come from. He's a guest passing through
Horn lands, and shaw, our mama has taught us our manners. Why, it would be downright unmannerly of us boys not to offer ‘em some refreshment.” The other two laughed at this and got to their feet.

“Looks as if his darky could use a little contentment,” one of the men said in a gargly voice as he pointed to Jupiter.

“O’ course, we can't have him holding the jug to his mouth,” he snarled. “That would never do. No, sir, that would ruin the whole batch of this here sweet contentment for any of us.”.

“We'll just have to pour some into him,” the man called John Lee said as he took a wobbly step toward us.

I was trying to figure which way we should run, but they had surrounded us. I could see Jupiter's nails digging into his walking stick as we inched closer to each other. I hiccupped real loud, and one of the men began to laugh. I quick put my hand over my back pocket. Somehow just holding my hand over the flask calmed me enough to keep a fit from coming on. But there was nothing to calm my knees, for
they had begun to buckle beneath me so that I didn't know if I even could run!

But just when it looked as if we were done for, the wind picked up and the man closest to us let out a holler.

“‘Shaw, they got a powerful stink on them!” he cried, backing away from us. The other two pretty much followed suit, coming closer, then backing off as soon as they got a good whiff. That's when I found that my knees worked just fine! We ran off the road and into the woods, and we didn't stop running till our sides hurt. Jupiter was so shook up his teeth were chattering, and I was trying hard not to cry.

After meeting with those bad fellas, we decided it was too dangerous to travel by the road. We'd have to stick to the woods instead. We found a crick and were able to wash the stink off, though we were both wondering if maybe we ought to leave it on, as it served us so well!

The only thing that kept me from crying today was thinking of you, Austin. You're the bravest brother a boy could have, going out alone to Oregon
like you did. And so I kept them tears back behind my eyes, ‘cause I don't want you to ever have to be disappointed in me. I want to be as strong on this trip as you were on yours. You always told me how brave Pa was and how we each had some of him in us. I think you got more than I do, but even with the little bit I got, I aim to use it to make him proud.

Oh, I know Pa's gone, but sometimes I think about what Preacher Tully says about good souls going to heaven. And I think about Pa looking down from his place in heaven, and Ma there with him, listening out for us. And I imagine Pa smiling, ‘cepting when he hears a hiccup.

Your brother, Levi

September 1853

Dear Austin,

I'm not sure what day it is, as we've been walking for so long the days and nights seem to run into one another. We've been living on berries and nuts and not much more. I never knew the state of North Carolina was so big! I guess Jupiter and I just figured once we got here we'd find Darcy right off. Never thought about
not
finding her. Jupiter's shoes are almost worn through, and we're both bit up and bloodied with chigger bites, poison ivy, and beggar's-lice.

We can't seem to find our way out of these woods. If we ever do make it back to Sudbury, I don't suppose I will ever set foot out of Pennsylvania again, ‘cepting to come out to live with you. I sure wish you could be here now, as I know you'd probably find a way to get us out of here.

The nights are the worst, as these woods are full of strange-sounding birds and critters. It's the critters that give us concern. You can feel their eyes on
you at night. Jupiter is most afeared of snakes, but I'm on the lookout for panthers myself.

I knew it was a bad idea as soon as I started, but I found myself telling ghost stories around the fire a few nights back. I told my favorite one about old Bloody Head, and then Jupiter clicked his teeth to let me know that he wanted to hear the one about old Rattle Bones. When the trees creaked in the wind over our heads, we knew it weren't really the trees at all. We knew it was old Rattle Bones come looking to pick our bones clean.

And when we heard some critter in the brush, we were certain it was old Bloody Head come to fetch our heads for his collection! We've been sleeping with our shoes on ever since and doing a powerful lot of praying.

Your brother, Levi,
lost somewhere in the wilds of the Carolinas