The Seekers (54 page)

But as he set Amanda on her feet and started brushing snowflakes off her brows and eyelashes, he thought again of the immense distance still ahead of them; thought of all the cheerless roads yet to be walked; of all the strange doors that might or might not open when he knocked—

It seemed too great an effort to ask of any human being, let alone two who were not even adults.

But Jared was able to banish that kind of pessimism very quickly. All he had to do was remind himself of what lay waiting for him back in Boston. Hungry and tired as he was, he showed firmness in guiding Amanda to the chair the farmer’s wife pulled out from the table. Her son, a blond copy of his father, was awestruck by the visitors.

Jared spoke because he knew he must. “I’d like to thank you for doing this. We’ve come a long way today.”

The farmer stood his flintlock in a corner, saying nothing. His wife broke the tension with a smile. “That is very clear. Please—sit down and eat.”

Jared and Amanda stayed four days with the German couple. Jared split eighteen cords of wood for the farmer, whose name was Konigsberg. The young man never quite lost his suspicion of the visitors. But his wife, whom he called Hilde, accepted their stories at face value, and treated them generously. By the time the cousins set out with Konigsberg on his weekly trip to Lancaster for supplies, the woman had persuaded her husband to give them not only a good-sized ration of corn, but some bread and a thin blanket as well.

“That will keep you a little warmer on the way to Pittsburgh,
ja?
”

The wagon creaked and swayed. From the head end, Jared heard the teamster cursing. His whip popped like a gunshot.

The driver, Francis Quilling, had agreed to take them to Pittsburgh on this, perhaps the last trip he could make before the roads became impassable; he had agreed because Jared would provide the extra strength needed to free the wheels from deep, muddy ruts.

Quilling was a garrulous man, and a braggart. No one made shrewder investments than he did. His house was one of the largest and finest in Lancaster, envied by everyone. His seven children were all supremely intelligent, paragons of Christian virtue. And during good weather, he wouldn’t lower himself to take help along on one of his runs; he could do it all, no assistance required.

But he did admit that in early winter, particularly after the sun shone for a while, boggy places presented a problem. If the wagon mired, Jared’s job was to jam pieces of plank beneath the iron tires, then help Quilling push the wheels while the straining horses pulled the wagon forward over the boards.

It was just before sunset. Amanda sat staring at her cousin in the wagon’s dim interior. Quilling had allowed Jared to take a short rest because the ground hereabouts was frozen hard.

As Jared yawned, Amanda touched his hand. “Where are we going, Jared?”

“Why, you know very well. Pittsburgh. Be there in a couple of days, Mr. Quilling said.”

“And after that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can’t we stop in Pittsburgh?”

“We’ll have to, until the river opens up again.”

She shook her head. “I mean for longer than that.”

“No, we’ve got to keep going.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know yet, Amanda!”

“But I’m tired!”

“Then sleep. Put your head down.”

“I mean I’m tired of walking and being dirty and hungry—”

“We’ll find a place to stop,” he said, sounding confident.

“I don’t believe you. I don’t think you know where we’re going. You’re just pretending. Telling me lies. Aren’t you?
Aren’t you?
”

He didn’t reply. She rolled away from him, covering herself with the blanket given them by the Konigsbergs. He stared at her filthy hair, accused by her silence but unable to admit his guilt aloud.

An old poster preserved on the wall of an emporium in Pittsburgh provided the first hint of an answer.

Even in winter, the boat yards at the head of the Ohio didn’t shut down. Work was done indoors, in sheds that protected the river craft under construction. Jared found a job as a boy-of-all-work in the noisy Suck’s Run yard at Boyd’s Bluff, across the Monongahela from the busy town. All during January and into February, he ran nails and lumber to the laborers sawing and hammering on flatboats and keelboats that would take to the water when good weather came.

At the end of his fourteen-hour day, Jared rode the ferry raft back to Pittsburgh. The ferrymen worked in pairs, using long poles to push away floating chunks of ice. The trip was always tedious because Jared was always exhausted. All he wanted to do was clean the sawdust and shavings from his hair and his body, then go to bed and sleep.

With his wages, he and Amanda had been able to take a room in a shabby boardinghouse whose owners, an elderly couple, obviously weren’t too scrupulous about their guests. Jared was never questioned about why he and a small girl were traveling together.

Jared’s pay was low, so the room was tiny. He slept on a blanket on the floor while Amanda occupied the bed. The landlady set a fair table, though. And Amanda had a place to stay during the day, safe from the none-too-savory men who drifted in and out of the downstairs parlor.

Occasionally Jared spent a little of his money to bring his cousin a newspaper. Apart from that, entertainment for Amanda was nonexistent. Confined in the room, she grew even more sallow and unhappy. Only Jared’s return in the evening revived her spirits.

Two or three times a week she questioned him about their destination. He always gave the same answer: “I still don’t know.”

Then they saw the poster.

Jared worked six days a week. One Saturday evening, he took Amanda to a store to buy her some penny candy. As the cousins walked in, the storekeeper was conversing with a couple of rough-looking types lounging in chairs by the cracker barrel.

The storekeeper came to wait on them. Amanda’s eyes glowed as she surveyed the candy spread out in small wooden trays. But Jared’s attention had been captured by the poster tacked to the wall:

March 17, 1811

Premier Voyage

Down the Ohio and Mississippi!

The Unique and Remarkable

STEAM-BOAT

“New Orleans”

constructed by

Mr. NICHOLAS J. ROOSEVELT

Associate of the Celebrated

Steam Pioneer

Mr. ROBERT FULTON

Captain A. Sack, Pilot

Busy counting out licorice pieces, the storekeeper didn’t pay much heed to Jared. The boy continued to gaze at the name of the vessel. Certain things that he’d read and been told about the south came back to mind. How warm it was there. How gentle and easy a life—

True, the Indians had been active in that part of the country. But the military was moving against them. The name of the steamboat suddenly seemed to provide exactly the sense of direction he needed.

The storekeeper accepted Amanda’s coin and turned to her cousin. “That was quite a day.”

Startled, Jared said, “What?”

“The day they launched
Orleans.
Never saw such crowds in this town.” He scratched a white eyebrow. “But you sound like you come from back east—”

“We do.”

“They got steamboats on the New York rivers, don’t they?”

“Yes, but I’ve never seen one.”

“Well, old
Orleans
was mighty handsome. Had a great big wheel in her stern. We sent her off with a hurrah you could hear for miles. She was supposed to make trips between here and the mouth of the Mississippi. Turned out she wasn’t built quite right. She didn’t have the power to get through the falls of the Ohio very easy—and once she did, she never could come back upstream past Natchez. She’s hauling cotton down there, they say. There’s a lot of talk about putting bigger steam boats on the Ohio soon. Then you’ll see goods being carried like you never saw before—”

The storekeeper broke off, swung around. One of the men from the cracker barrel, burly and thick-lipped, had walked to the counter. Pretending to examine a tin of tobacco, he was actually staring at Amanda in an oblique way.

“You want to buy that, Rafe?” the storekeeper asked. “If you don’t, then don’t shake it. Ruins the tobacco.”

“I might want to buy it,” the man answered, nibbling at his lower lip. All at once Jared comprehended why Amanda was being scrutinized.

Though still only ten years old, she was maturing rapidly. Her face promised beauty in adulthood. And her breasts, already grown large for one so young, showed clearly beneath her dirty coat.

Jared tugged his cousin’s hand. From Amanda’s expression, he knew she was aware of the man’s interest. It obviously upset her. Jared doubted that she understood the reason for the attention, though. As he led her past the burly fellow, he heard the tobacco tin rattle back on the counter. Fingers closed on his arm.

“Ain’t seen you two in this store before, have I?”

Jared wrenched loose. “Does it make any difference?”

“Leave them be, Rafe,” the storekeeper warned. His tone made clear that Rafe wasn’t exactly his favorite customer.

The burly man grinned, his eyes lazy-looking in the lamplight. “Hell, I was just bein’ cordial—”

“You can be cordial with folks your own age.”

“Now, Morris, don’t carry on so. If I got a mind to greet somebody—”

“Let me put your candy away,” Jared said, seizing Amanda’s wrist. The chunks of licorice dropped into his other hand. He opened his coat. The butt of the London-made pistol and the sheathed Spanish knife were clearly visible at his belt—as he intended.

He tucked the candy into his pocket. As far as he could tell, the older man wasn’t armed. At the sight of Jared’s weapons, the man’s interest cooled rapidly.

“Shit, you’re makin’ a fuss for nothin’, Morris—” He ambled back to his crony.

Outside, Jared realized just how upset Amanda was.

“Why did that man stare at me like that?”

“Because”—he didn’t hesitate long; it was time she understood—“because you’re very pretty.”

“No I’m not. I’m all dirty.”

“Makes no difference. You’re a handsome girl, and you look older than you really are. That’s why I insist you keep the door locked while I’m over at the yard. And why I never want you to speak to men when I’m not around.”

As they tramped toward the boardinghouse in the winter darkness, Amanda seemed to brighten. “You’re not teasing me?”

“No.”

“We’re so raggedy—I never thought anyone would look twice at us.”

“Not me, Amanda. You.”

“Did he really think I was pretty?”

“You saw how he gawked.”

She nodded, actually smiling a little. Then she shivered. “Mercy. Imagine!” A moment later: “You’re
sure
you’re not teasing?”

“Believe me, Amanda—some men lose their heads over pretty girls, and you’re going to be one of the prettiest. That’ll be nice for you, but it’ll also be a problem.”

In the light from the front of a hotel, he saw her lips still curved in that thoughtful smile.

But it vanished quickly enough. “I want my licorice.”

“Here. Want to know something?”

“What?”

“I know where we’re going.”

“You mean we can’t stay in Pittsburgh?”

“Don’t start that again. I’ve already said no.”

“Why can’t we?”

“Just because.”

“Oh, I’m sick to death of hearing that, Jared!”

“But you’ll like where we’re going.”

“Tell me and see if I will.”

“We’re going down south. A city called New Orleans.”

“Is it far?”

“Not very,” he lied. “We should be there by late spring or early summer.”

“Is it warm?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Did you just think this up, Jared?”

“Why, no,” he said, trying to summon a smile himself. “I’ve had it in my head several days now.”

“Liar.”

He laughed and rumpled her hair.

New Orleans. The more he turned it over in his thoughts, the more certain he was that the poster had provided an invaluable inspiration. He’d decided long ago that they’d never go into the west—into the country where his mother had died and his father had failed.

But the south—that was different. It was a mellow, gentle land. He’d heard that New Orleans was a splendid old city, full of wealthy folk who spoke Spanish and French and lived in a grand style. From the storekeeper’s remarks about river commerce, and from what he knew personally about the frantic pace of boat construction, Jared suspected that New Orleans was also a thriving commercial center. If Mr. Fulton’s steamboats made their appearance on southern rivers as they had in the east, travel and shipping time would be cut drastically. More and more cargo would be moving up and down the Mississippi. Someone who was industrious should be able to find work easily at a major port—

So, for the first time in weeks, each of the cousins had something to be happy about. Amanda had her licorice. And Jared had his destination.

In late February, he quit his job at the Suck’s Run yard. It hadn’t been profitable employment. His small salary barely met expenses. Thus he was immediately forced to look for a means of financing the next stage of their journey. After several days of combing the docks, he managed to sign onto a keelboat making a run to Louisville, at the falls of the Ohio.

But the captain was parsimonious. Jared would be allowed rations and sleeping space for one, not two. He didn’t quarrel. By now he was used to sharing everything with his cousin.

Soon after the boat got under way, he realized again that Amanda had ripened to the point where she was bound to attract the stares of older men. Despite her disreputable appearance and her pale skin, the luminous beauty of her eyes and the curves of her swelling figure drew many a sly glance. Jared kept his pistol and knife visible at all times.

Amanda seemed conscious of the attention. Once Jared caught her returning a man’s rough greeting with a coquettish smile. That evening he lectured her severely. She was too young to experiment with her newly discovered ability to interest the opposite sex!

Amanda retorted that she’d only thought it might be fun to see how bad-smelling, bearded men reacted to a little friendliness—