Ribbons of Steel (8 page)

Chapter Six

Seth readied the team to the wagon loaded down with silver cans full of the morning’s milk. The fields whispered to him as the breeze ruffled the fresh crop of buckwheat on the acres beyond the barn. It swished back and forth like waves on a rolling sea. Even the corn was shooting up through the cool earth and doing well. He expected to get a good yield come fall. He’d have to hire the Hayland boys over on Eastman Hill to give him and his brothers a hand when the tassels turned a golden brown.

He loved to hear the wind blow though the rows of corn close to the house as the long slender leaves brushed up against each other as if they had secrets to share. If the weather held out, they would have plenty of silage for the winter months.

Seth yelled to Catherine as he jumped up on the buckboard and clicked the reins, setting the horses in motion.

“I’ll be back about noon,” he called. “Make sure the boys get their chores done. We’ve got fencing and crops to check after lunch.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. The horses clip-clopped along the bumpy dirt road as his sister stood in the kitchen door and waved him off.

The weight of the milk in the heavy cans kept the wheels of the wagon on the rutted tracks. He descended the steep section of the trail along the tree-lined hillside. The horses had the devil’s own time keeping the wagon from careening over the edge. Seth yanked on the wooden-handled brake, giving just enough pressure against the wheels to keep them from spinning out of control. At the bottom, he released it. The horses relaxed into a steady pace once they turned onto the valley road along the flats.

Adding on to the goat herd this past year had been a smart decision. The milk production had increased, providing a good quantity which enabled him to supply the eastern markets all the way into New York City. Even though he headed into Candor Center, more than another hour’s ride, it was better to unload his milk at the station in Smith Valley where it would be put on the ice cars so it wouldn’t spoil.

Thankfully, the trains were still running. Not sure how much longer they would continue to run because of the pending strike, he could only hope this batch would make it to market.

“Hi’ya, young man,” Amos Grant called as Seth maneuvered his wagon to the platform to unload in front of the station. The man’s smile forced his weather-worn cheeks up against his eyes and made it look as if he was squinting. His silver-gray hair was slicked back. The wide, red suspenders did little to hold up his britches around his plump middle. But Amos Grant was a decent man who would lend a hand in a pinch.

“Ya think’en maybe this shipment is going to make it all the way to the big city? I hear all the main lines are starting to have trouble. Hear they’re shutting down.”

“I hope it gets through. According to my pa, he’s trying hard to keep his men from going out.” Seth jumped out of the wagon to help Amos unload the cans. His boots hit the wide pine floorboards with a thud.

“Can’t say as I envy him his job,” Amos replied, going right to work, hauling out the first can without so much as a grunt. “Now that’s a hard one to deal with for sure. There ain’t no stopping a great many men once they make their mind up against something.”

“You’re probably right. I wish my pa would give up the rails. He’s been talking about leaving them behind for as long as I can remember, but it don’t do no good. He just keeps at it.”

“Must be hard with your ma laid up now. I hear she’s left town to visit a relative out in the California Territory. I don’t know as if I’d chance going out there; it’s Injun territory, son. A woman all alone won’t be able to defend herself none. No siree. Don’t know if I’d let my Millie run off on her own, and she’s not sick like your ma.”

Seth didn’t want to think about the dangers. He’d understood the West to have calmed down some since the treaties with the different tribes were in place. Travel was said to be much safer by train than when Marybelle had gone overland in a covered wagon several years ago.

“She’s not alone. Pa’s boss’ wife and boys are traveling with her.”

Seth handed the billing papers to Amos after the milk was unloaded. The two of them entered the depot office together. Once the station master’s signature and stamp were affixed, Seth shook Amos’ hand.

“Thanks for the help, Amos. I’ll see you again tomorrow morning.”

Amos called to him before he got out the door.

“I hear old Clancy on the other side of the hill had to shoot his dog clean dead. Rabies. They’re suspecting the dang dog got in a fight with a fox. Better watch things up there on your mountain, son. Ain’t nice when someone gets bit by rabies.”

“Thanks, Amos. I’ll be sure to tell Catherine and the boys to be on the lookout. I’ll pick up more ammunition for the rifles so they’ll be ready.”

Seth climbed back up on the wagon and gripped the reins, ready to leave. He prayed the train got through in time. He needed those accounts to help get them through the coming winter months in case his father ended up out of work. Once the strike hit, they’d have a hard time making ends meet without his father’s pay. He was in charge and had to make sure the family didn’t starve.

“How’s Miss Catherine doing?” Amos stopped him before he got under motion. “She gonna be able to manage on her own with her ma gone?”

Seth liked talking to Amos, but this morning the man was in too talkative a mood.

“Catherine’s doing just fine,” Seth assured him. “She’s a good shot, too, even though she’s more of a bookworm. Target practices with Timothy and Michael on occasion.”

She might be doing well now, but with their mother out west, they wouldn’t have the canned goods their ma usually put up come harvest. Catherine wouldn’t have the time to do all the work by herself.

“She still aiming to become one of them fancy school-marms?”

“Yep. Planning on taking her exams this summer if all goes well.”

With Catherine trying to manage baby Sarah and the house, Seth didn’t know when she would have time to study for exams. He’d have the boys help with the vegetable garden. Perhaps they could sell some of the extra produce at the markets in Candor.

He’d talk to Catherine to see what she thought.

“Well, you give her our best. If’en she needs anything, you have her give my missus a holler.”

“Thanks. I will.”

Amos’ wife often visited his mother in the afternoons. Perhaps she would consider helping Catherine instead of sitting at the kitchen table sipping tea the entire time she visited.

Seth waved to Amos, turned the wagon around, and headed out.

After miles of traveling, Seth turned his team onto Mill Street along the Catatonk Creek next to Locey’s mill, then down Main Street. Doc Wooster staggered down his front steps. The man was getting on in years. Or he was addicted to his own vials of snake oil. Still, he was the only doctor around for miles.

Seth’s team clopped along on the dry roadway kicking up dust. He slowed the pair so dirt wouldn’t blow against the people walking along the street.

“How’s your mother, young man?” Doc Wooster called out. “She get off okay?”

The doctor was a short, squatty old man. Dressed in a black topcoat and a large black hat added a dash of stature and respect to his position, as did his black, bushy eyebrows and long beard speckled with white. Seth wasn’t fooled for a minute. He nodded and waved, then drove on, making sure the horses didn’t draw too close to the boardwalks where other horses were secured.

Homes at this end of town housed the more wealthy founding fathers and leaders of the community. Seth wasn’t envious of the big, statuesque homes, some with pillars, some more modest but still large and imposing. Large maple trees lined both sides of the wide dirt road. Seth waved to the residents who were out and about. He turned and headed toward Weston’s hay barn next to the tracks.

Dillard Moore arrived as Seth rounded the bend. He skirted around Dillard’s rig and positioned his own team next to the loading platform.

“Hey, Seth, how’s it going? Didn’t see you at the agriculture meeting the other day. Things okay up on the hill?”

“Been busy with family, so couldn’t make the meeting. But the farming end of things is going good. Just took three more cans of goat’s milk to the station heading to Ithaca and New York City. I appreciate the advice you gave me about the herd.”

Seth jumped down from the wagon, sauntered over to Dillard, and shook hands. For a young man, Dillard had a firm grip and a likable smile. His red hair matched his freckle-dotted face. Raised on his family’s farm, he had been a big help to Seth over the past two years.

“Glad to be of assistance. How’s Catherine? She get her nose out of those school books yet?”

“Doesn’t have a choice now, what with Ma gone out west.”

Dillard had a crush a mile wide on his sister, but he knew Catherine wasn’t interested in Dillard, or any other man right now for that matter. How many times had he heard her say that nothing was going to stand in her way of becoming a teacher? Except now she might have to put those dreams on hold to take care of the family.

“A darn shame.” Dillard shook his head as if he were concerned Catherine didn’t want any part of farming. Seth figured Dillard’s hopes just jumped a notch, and the kid would appear at their doorstep with some lame excuse before long. He wanted to tell Dillard he didn’t have a chance in hell, but the young man would find out soon enough.

Dillard followed him up the steps to the mill.

“Hi, ya, boys. How ’bout that strike. A whopper, huh?” Stanley Frost grinned, a sack of feed slung over his shoulder. “Best get your milk and feed on the next train while you can. No telling how long before they stop these trains dead on their tracks.”

“Sure hope we aren’t affected,” Dillard said.

Seth had to agree. He vowed he’d never work the rails.
Never
.

“The other day I was talking to Buck Tanner who works the rails in Hoboken. He says the number of men getting killed from train accidents was hard to be believed. He told me the wages were already so low half the families were dying from hunger.”

What could Seth say? Accidents were almost as common these days as marking a sow’s ear before the town set down an ordinance to keep them from running loose in the neighbors’ yards.

“I hear tell some poor soul was crushed coupling the rail cars together,” Dillard said, shaking his head.

“Buck told me ’bout a fella who lost his legs when the train wheels caught him off-guard and knocked him to the tracks. Train rolled over him before he could get out of the way. He almost got left for dead and might just as well have died. They say he couldn’t work no more. His missus is having a hard time trying to scrape enough money to keep them fed. For certain the trunk line ain’t handing out any benefits or recompense.” Stanley hefted his sack to the other shoulder. “Gotta get Mr. Strang’s wagon loaded, boys, or I’d stand and chat a bit longer. Go on in and give my son your order. I’ll be right back.”

Yes sir, moving to the country had been the best thing Pa could have done for them. At least in the country they could farm, hunt, and grow food to put on the table. No need to starve here.

Dillard opened the door for Seth. They headed for the counter where Stanley’s son Harold was writing in his ledger. He was a pimple-faced kid who was good with numbers and keeping the mill organized after school and during summer. He was the town’s intellect, but not much common sense. Seth figured he’d be off to one of those highfalutin colleges or universities somewhere, but the family needed him at home to help with finances. Too bad, because Harold would probably make more money elsewhere.

“You two here for the usual?” Harold smiled up at them.

“Sure am,” Dillard said.

Seth nodded.

Harold wrote in his ledger and walked toward the back of the building and out the door without a word.

“He don’t talk much, does he?” Seth turned to Dillard who was propped up against the counter.

“Nope. Quiet kid. Surprised they let him work here at all.”

“His uncle owns the place. Amos was telling me Randall Weston and Stanley Frost are half-brothers. Randall’s father died in a haying accident when Randall was six. His mother remarried old Stanley Frost.”

Before they could expound further on the Weston and Frost connection, Harold returned. His father followed closely behind.

“Got your order sitting outside for you, gentlemen. I’ll help load in a minute.”

Seth signed his receipt, then headed outside with a quick goodbye to everyone. He loaded the wagon in record time and was ready to visit Anna Louise Mitchell.

Miss Mitchell’s father was president of the Candor National Bank. They lived in the big two-story turreted Victorian home on the outskirts of the village, just around the corner from the bank. Miss Anna Louise Mitchell was a lovely girl, very proper, and Seth had had a hard time catching her eye. He’d seen her a couple of times at the dry goods store in Candor when he had stopped by to place his mother’s orders when they’d first come to town. Anna Louise had been there with her mother. Mrs. Mitchell was a very becoming woman, and Seth figured Anna Louise’s looks were going to be as good as her mother’s in later years. He considered he had picked well.

The first time they had struck up a friendship was during last year’s Fourth of July’s Old Home Day Celebration. Everyone from miles around attended the big picnic at McCarty’s Field across from the Mitchell’s home. Anna Louise had told him Mr. McCarty had given the site to the village as an athletic field for the town’s ball players and a place to hold special events.

The event had been a day to remember, too. The train carried people in to attend the celebration from the surrounding areas, and the Federated Church next to the bank held a ham dinner. Anna Louise served everyone at the tables. He rallied the nerve to ask her to accompany him to the fireworks later that evening, and she had consented once she learned his entire family would be in attendance. Just being with her that day was like magic.

And it had nothing to do with the star-filled evening sky or the exploding fireworks display. Anna Louise glowed like an angel in the moonlight. He hoped having known her for a full year would open her eyes to his feelings.