Hoggee (7 page)

“I don't think I want to learn to read,” said Gracie. “I think that reading might make my brain all topsy-turvy.”

After two days in the barn, Howard felt strong enough to walk to town. He took his stick to lean on, and he took the purse. He used the canal bridge to cross Main Street and get to O'Grady's Inn. He stood outside the window and looked at the sign. Below the letters were pictures of a bed and of a table with dishes on it. Signs like that, Howard knew, were for people who could not read. If he did not teach her to read, Laura would need such signs all her life. What about Sarah? What would become of her after her grandfather and mother were gone?

He shrugged his shoulders. He could not spend time right now worrying about Cyrus's granddaughters. He had to worry about himself. Right now he needed to find the courage to go inside the inn. If Mac saw him, he might get beaten up again. He didn't want to encounter O'Grady, either, but standing a few feet away, he was not close enough to see who was in the dining room. He would have to get closer.

He edged his way toward the window. Finally, his nose touched the glass. He put his hands up around his face to block the light from outside, and he could see into the inn. Two tables had customers, and Mistress O'Grady stood behind the counter. O'Grady or Mac could be in the back. They could come in at any minute. He drew in a deep breath and stepped toward the door.

Mistress O'Grady looked up as he entered. Howard
walked across the room, his eyes always on the door that led to the kitchen. “Hello,” she said when he was beside the counter, “Ain't you him that O'Grady promised the job to, then went back on his word?”

Howard nodded. “I am, but I've not come to cause trouble.” He leaned closer to her. “I've a matter to talk to you about, but I'm concerned…” He paused and looked toward the kitchen door.

“Well, boy, there's no one in the back if that's what bothers you. I've sent that rascal Mac off to the butcher's; won't be back for a while. O'Grady's poorly and gone upstairs to bed.”

“It's about this purse,” Howard said, and he drew it from his pocket. “I found it the night Mac fought me behind this place. Remember you called him off of me?

“Aye, I recollect. Wasn't sure, though, it was you.”

“It was, and I am beholding to you, but it's the purse that brought me here. There's money in it, and I thought you might see that it got returned to the owner.” He held the purse out to her. “I'd have been here sooner, but illness slowed me.”

The woman made no move to take the purse. She leaned her plump arms on the counter. “See here, boy,” she said, “I wouldn't be a-knowing who lost that purse.”

“I thought it might be Mister O'Grady's or maybe Mac's.”

She shook her head. “Either of them lost a purse with money in it, there would have been plenty of noise around here about it. Besides, Mac is a bully and a thief.” She laughed. “My husband, well…” She shook her head and reached out to push Howard's hand back toward him. “You keep the purse, and its contents, boy.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“I am. Now set yourself down over there. I've just enough stew left to give you a nice bowl.”

The stew warmed him, and he felt stronger and more confident. Just as he was going out the door Mac appeared. Mac pushed his way through the door and made a sort of sound like the growling of the hungry dogs. Howard wanted to run, but instead he looked Mac in the eye and continued through the door.

He had given some consideration as to how he would buy food and had decided to ask old Cyrus about paying to eat with the family. It was growing dark by the time he walked from town. Might as well go in now, he told himself. Cyrus would be in the house after having finished his evening chores.

Light from the lamp came out the window. This time it did not make him lonely. He knocked, and Gracie opened the door. “It's Howard,” she called. “Mayhap he's sick again.”

“You sound hopeful,” he said to her. “Do you wish me sick again?”

Gracie grinned. “It was a frolic,” she said, “having you in the pantry.” She stepped aside for him to enter.

“Well, I'm sorry, then, to tell you I'm a little weak still, but fit enough to walk to town.” He followed her inside.

Old Cyrus sat at the table smoking his pipe, and the girls cleared the table. Mistress Donaldson dipped hot water from a large kettle into a dishpan that sat on a small cook table beside the stove. “We've just finished,” she said, “but there's a bit of beans left in the bowl, I believe.”

“Thank you, but I'm not hungry,” he said. “It's food I've come to talk to you about though.”

“Set yourself down then, boy,” said Cyrus.

Both Laura and Gracie stopped what they were doing to listen to the conversation. Howard looked around for Sarah and saw her standing in the doorway to the bedroom, where the shadows almost hid her from sight.

“I found some money outside O'Grady's Inn,” he said. “I tried to give it to Mistress O'Grady, but she said I should keep it. It's enough to pay you for taking care of me and, if you're willing, for eating with you until I go back on the boat.”

Cyrus smoked his pipe, and Howard waited for him to think about the offer. Laura came and put her hand on her grandfather's shoulder. She said nothing, but Howard knew she had something she wanted to say. “As to your sickness, I've no wish to take your money for doing what any Christian ought,” he said. “But there is a bit of work you might do in exchange for stopping at our table now.” He patted Laura's hand. “My granddaughter here says how you're powerful good at making out words. She has a hankering to do the same, and she's persuaded me to let her try. Laura's of the mind that you could teach her.” He blew out his smoke and looked at Howard. “Well, are ye able?”

Howard smiled. “I don't know, sir, but I'd like to try.”

Cyrus stood up. “Well then it's a deal, a lesson after each meal.”

Howard spent the last days of winter concerned with two things, teaching Laura and walking to the canal. He knew it was too early for water to be let back into it, but it would not be long. Seeing the canal on the first day became important to him. He wanted to plunge in his hand, hold it under as long as the cold would allow,
then pull it out to know the water would go on to the sea.

The wind was not so cold now. He wandered about the village and found a shop that had a few books. “Do you have a reading book?” he asked the woman behind the counter. “One that a beginner would use?”

She shook her head. “I'm afraid you can't teach yourself to read from a book, lad.”

“No,” he told her. “I want to teach someone else.”

“Oh.” She nodded and turned to the shelf behind her. “This would do.” She handed him a book.
The Eclectic First Reader for Young Children
was the title, and it was written by a man named McGuffey.

“Yes,” he said. “This will do nicely.” He bought the book, a writing tablet, a quill pen, and some ink. A calendar hung on the wall, and the shopkeeper told him that the day was the last day of February.

Howard loved holding the book, loved walking back to Cyrus's house with it tucked under his arm. Laura loved it, too. He laid the paper, pen, ink, and quill on the bench beside him while he ate, but he had hidden the book under his shirt before going in.

After the meal Howard waited while the girls cleared the table. When Laura sat down beside him at the table, he pulled out the book and put it on the table in front of her. “It's for teaching you,” he said. “You're going to learn from the same book they use at school.”

Laura sucked in her breath with surprise and joy. “Oh,” she said, tracing the letters on the cover. “I never hoped to see a real schoolbook.”

He opened the book and read the lesson to her. Laura was quick to learn even that first night. Back at
the barn, Howard carved his sixth message and felt better than ever he had in his life—except for the time the master said he was a better scholar than Jack.

Each day Howard taught Laura and was amazed at her progress. After going over the previous list, they would read the last story again, then turn to a new lesson. They worked on writing too, starting with the letters of her name.

Each time Laura read, her finger touching every word, Howard would look up to see Sarah standing in the doorway of the bedroom, watching. He knew she could not hear their voices, knew she could not learn anything by watching. Her face, though, held an intent look, as if she were trying to concentrate enough to somehow grasp the meaning of the words in the book.

They were working on lesson six when Howard could no longer stand Sarah's face so full of longing. “I'm going to move,” he told Laura, and he pushed the book so that he sat on the other side of her, away from seeing the bedroom door.

“It troubles you, Sarah watching,” she said. “It weighs on me, too. All my life I've ached considerable over having what Sarah never can have.” She sighed. “It pains me bad.”

Suddenly Howard thought of Jack. Did Jack fret over being so much more able than his younger brother? He wanted to see Jack, wanted to hear about his mother and the girls, but he did not want to answer Jack's questions about the winter. He did not want to see that look in Jack's eyes.

He had thought that perhaps he would lie to Jack
when he returned next month. Maybe he would pull the purse of money out and tell Jack that he had saved the money from his wages.

Laura had her finger on the words in lesson six. “You must not lie,” she read. “Bad boys lie, and swear, and steal.”

Howard almost laughed aloud at the coincidence. He looked down at the words. He would not lie. He would not be a bad boy. He went back to listening to Laura. “When you fall down, you must not cry, but get up, and run again. If you cry, the boys will call you a baby.”

Howard nodded. “Very good, Laura,” he said. “You are an excellent scholar.” He could no longer see Sarah but knew she still stood just across the room. She still watched. He knew that when he left the kitchen to walk back to the barn, tears would push from his eyes to run down his cheeks. There would be no other boys to call him “baby.”

After learning the date on the day he bought the book, Howard had gone back to making his notches on Molly's stall. It was the evening of March 10 when he first saw the water. After the evening lesson with Laura, he walked down to the canal. The moon shone brightly, and the wind was not bitter. The canal had water in it! He bent low over the water to watch the way light from the stars sparkled in the canal.

A great sigh of satisfaction came from him, and even though the ground was still cold, he dropped to sit for a while on the bank. Drawing in the fishy, wet smell so familiar to his nose, he stuck in his hand and watched the waters from Lake Erie separate and move on to the
sea. Soon the sound of spring frogs would fill the air, and he would be back with the mules, walking along the towpath. The rhythm of their feet falling solidly on the hard mud path was a sound Howard now realized he loved. It would be good to be back at work.

Jack came back the next day. Howard heard the barn door open that evening just before dark, and he knew who it was even before he saw his brother. He could feel Jack's presence, and he felt both anxious and reassured.

Howard had already settled down for the night with his blanket under the straw, and he came crawling out just as Jack walked in. The light inside the barn was dim, but it was not yet dark outside. Jack looked so tall, so strong, standing there with the light behind him. Had he grown so much during the winter? Maybe Howard had forgotten how big his brother was.

For a moment Howard stayed quiet. Jack would not expect him to be in the barn. He would think he was still sleeping at O'Grady's. Hoggees would be coming back for the next few days to sleep in the barns before they were assigned to a boat. Last year Jack and Howard had both been assigned to the packet boat
The Blue Bird,
but Captain Travis also owned two other packet boats,
The Yellow Bird
and
The Red Bird.
What if they were not assigned to be on the same boat this year? It might feel good not to have Jack watching him always, but then there would be no Jack to take up for him in the fights that always erupted at the locks. There would be no Jack to make him laugh.

Jack came in, took his haversack from his back, and dropped it near the door. There was food inside, and
Howard knew Jack would have to keep the bag with him after the others boys arrived. Most of the boys were hungry and would not hesitate to steal Jack's food.

Howard brushed away the straw and stood up. “Jack,” he called, “over here.”

“Howard?” Jack waited for Howard to come to him, but Howard did not move. Jack came to stand beside Molly's stall.

Howard stepped out of the stall. They punched at each other's arms, both grinning. “How's Ma?” Howard asked. “And the little ones?”

“Ma was real put out with you for not coming home. She said to tell you not to do that again, said she didn't need money so bad as to have you stay here all winter just to spare your travel money.”

Howard looked down. “Well, I won't be tempted to work for O'Grady next winter. That's for sure.”

“Didn't fare well, did you?”

“O'Grady gave the job to Mac.”

Jack closed his eyes and shook his head. “How did you live, then, all winter with no job?”

“I got another job.” Howard took his own haversack from the rail where it hung on a nail. He opened the pack and brought out the reader. “I'm teaching old Cyrus's granddaughter to read.”

Jack frowned. “He pays you for that?”

“I eat with the family.” He started to tell Jack about the purse and the money, but he decided not to. Perhaps he would tell him later.