Hoggee (17 page)

Most of the day Howard worked with Sarah. Mistress Donaldson, glad to excuse the girl from her chores, bustled about her work with a smile on her face. Laura and Gracie worked in the kitchen garden during the morning. Before the noon meal, Mistress Donaldson brought up potatoes from the root cellar. “ 'Tis a good thing we've more growing in the garden now,” she said, and she laid them on the table to peel.

“Potato,” said Howard, making sure Sarah saw his lips move. “Potato.” He took a potato in his hand. Then he made the sign, the down-turned right index and middle fingers thrust repeatedly onto the left fist.

Cyrus was not as pleased as his daughter. When he came in to eat, he looked suspiciously as Howard and Sarah made signs to each other over their food. “Don't make no sense to me,” he muttered.

“You can learn to do this, too,” Howard said.

Cyrus grunted. Then he turned to Laura. “Pass me more potatoes,” he said.

“No,” said Howard. “Let Sarah do it.” He reached across the table, touched Sarah's hand, then pointed to Cyrus. “Potatoes,” he said, and made the sign. Sarah picked up the bowl that sat between her and Laura. She handed it to her grandfather.

“I don't know as I believe in this,” Cyrus grumbled, but Howard had caught a look of pleasure in his eyes.

In the afternoon he had a chance to work with Laura. They sat at the table just as before, but Laura read much better now. “I practice every day,” she told him.

“You need the second primer,” Howard said. “I'll buy it for you.”

“I'd not like to see you spend your money,” said Laura.

Howard smiled. “I'll see about borrowing one from Mr. Parrish at his school,” he said, and happiness spread through him. It felt good to be sitting at the table again beside Laura, his hands at times brushing against hers on the book. Sarah no longer stood at a distance with a look of longing. She moved about the kitchen, doing chores and practicing the signs for the things there.

They closed the book, and Howard wrote the sentence “The girl can read her book” for Laura to read. After the third sentence, Laura stopped and sighed. “I've something to tell you,” she said, but she did not look at him.

Something in her voice made Howard steel himself for bad news. “Grandpa came to me in the garden. He said Jack had a word with him this morning.”

“Oh,” said Howard. He could no longer sit still beside her. He got up and moved to stand by the kitchen window.

Laura paused for a minute, then went on. “Jack wants to keep company with me, he does.”

“Oh,” said Howard again. He jammed his hands into his pockets. “What did Cyrus say?”

“Grandpa said yes. He's pleased as can be.”

“That's good, I guess,” said Howard, and his shoulders sagged.

“Well,” said Laura, “I said no. I told Grandpa I don't be ready to be courted by anyone.” She twisted her body toward him. “Would you look at me please, Howard Gardner?”

Howard turned. “Yes,” he said.

“I told Grandpa to pass on to Jack that he could ask
again next year. I didn't tell Grandpa, because, of course, he'd rave, but what I really want is to go to school.”

“I know. It's what I want, too.”

“I think we are cut from something of the same pattern, Howard,” she said.

He smiled and came back to the table. “I'll write more sentences,” he said. All the rest of the day Howard thought about what Laura had said,”… cut from something of the same pattern.” Laura understood him. Did that mean she understood that he, too, would someday like to keep company with her? He wondered if he would ever be able to say so. He could not quite imagine saying those words aloud. Besides, there was Cyrus. Laura's grandfather already had her future husband picked out.

That night Howard spread his blanket again on the floor beside Jack's bed. “We'll go back to the barn tomorrow night,” he said.

“I don't know as Cyrus will hear of that,” said Jack. “He is pleased to have us as guests, I believe.”

“We can't stay here eating the man's food for two weeks.” Howard took off his shoes, but accustomed to sleeping in his clothes, he did not undress. He stretched himself out on the blanket. “I mean to find work tomorrow.”

“Work? For two weeks? I doubt anyone would take you on for that short a time.”

Howard drew in a deep breath. “I may not go back to the canal,” he said. “I may find work and stay here in Birchport.”

Jack laughed. “You tried that, remember? No, your place is on the canal with me.” Jack seemed to think the subject was closed, and Howard said nothing more.
When the lantern was blown out, though, he did not sleep. He lay on the floor going over the day's events in his mind.

From the other side of the house came the sound of Cyrus's snoring. Howard had heard the sound before, and he imagined that it was very much like the sound an elephant might make. Another sound came to his ears. He pushed himself up to rest on his elbow. The sound came again, but it was faint, overpowered by the snoring. He listened for a moment, but he heard nothing more and lay back on his blanket.

He had just drifted off to sleep when a scream from Mistress Donaldson woke him. “A ghost!” she yelled. “There's a blooming ghost in here!”

Howard jumped up, ran through the main room, and into the bedroom where Mistress Donaldson and the girls slept. Mistress Donaldson stood on the bed she shared with Gracie. Her head, covered with a white cap, almost touched the low ceiling. Laura and Sarah were also awake, Sarah sitting up and Laura standing beside their bed. Only Gracie, her face turned into her pillow, seemed to sleep through the noise.

“Saints preserve us!” screamed the woman. “He's flying again!” There was no shade on the window, and bright moonlight poured into the room. Howard followed the woman's pointing finger, and he, too, saw it across the room. A white shape seemed to float from the chest to the washstand. “I seen him first when he come into the room,” yelled Mistress Donaldson. “On the floor he was, but then he took to flying.”

Howard moved toward the form. “Be careful, Howard,” Laura called. Howard stepped into the room and
was at the end of the bed when he heard Gracie's giggle, stifled by the pillow.

“Out of the way, brother,” said Jack. Howard turned to see his brother behind him. Jack had armed himself with the walking stick Cyrus kept by the door. He had not yet changed from his winter underwear. He stood in the doorway wearing his long johns, the stick raised above his head, ready to strike.

Howard almost laughed, but he did not step out of his brother's path. Instead, he moved closer to the form.

Mistress Donaldson saw Jack then. She got out of the bed and went to him. “I don't know, lad, as you should strike it,” she said, her voice worried. “It just come to me that it might be the ghost of my poor Jacob, come back to see how we're getting on.”

Howard could see the form better now. “I doubt it is anybody's ghost,” he said. He was close to the form now, and it moved from the washstand back to the chest. White strings drifted after it. Howard reached out to grab one of the strings and lifted the white cover.

“A squirrel!” yelled Laura. The animal scurried down from the chest and ran toward the doorway. Howard got to the bedroom door in time to see the squirrel run into the main room and out a crack in the front door.

He handed the white cloth to Mistress Donaldson. “My apron,” she said. “I put it on a chair in the kitchen.” She turned the apron over. “I left a bit of cake in the pocket. The creature must have got his head in the pocket and couldn't shake the thing.”

“I'm going back to bed,” said Jack. He put down the
walking stick and moved quickly across the main room to disappear into Cyrus's room.

“It's a mercy Da didn't wake up,” said Mistress Donaldson. “The man can sleep through any ruckus, he can. He'd have been considerable excited, and ranting about who left the door open.”

Laura laughed. “You were considerable excited yourself, Ma, and Jack in his unders!” She laughed again. “I wish Gracie had been awake, though. She'd have had herself a merry time. Mayhap I'll wake her now and give her a good laugh.”

“No,” said her mother. “I don't want her stirred up now. You can tell her tomorrow.”

“Good night, all,” said Howard, and smiling, he went back to his blanket.

Jack lay on his bed. His eyes were closed, and he breathed as if asleep. Howard, certain his brother could hear him, said, “You were real brave, brother, ready to fight that squirrel. Looked good, too, in your long johns.” He chuckled, and he went to light a candle. He laughed again when the words were carved.

The next morning Gracie sat outside the bedroom door, waiting for Howard. “You won't tell about George Washington, will you?”

He shook his head. “Nobody has asked if I have an opinion as to how that squirrel got in.”

She laughed. “Did you ever see such carrying on? I just got me a peek once or twice, but you got to see it all.”

He smiled. “It was fun, but you'd better not let George in again, Gracie.”

“I won't. I was plumb amazed that he come in at all. Then when he stuck his head in Ma's apron, I made a
streak to get into bed because I knew he might rouse someone up.”

The conversation at breakfast was all about the squirrel. Gracie's only comment was, “I wish I could've seen it all.”

Cyrus reached for the biscuits. “Who left the door open, so the creature could get in? That's what I'd like to know.” He turned to Howard. “Did you go out after I went to bed?”

Howard opened his mouth, but Gracie spoke first. “Mayhap it was me, Grandfather. I recollect going out to get a look at the moon. I'm real interested in the moon right now.” Gracie looked down at her plate.

Cyrus put butter on his bread. “Mind what you're doing, lassie,” he said. “We don't want wild creatures roaming around in our cottage.”

“Lands, yes,” said Mistress Donaldson. “We're likely to have a mule in my apron next time.” She chuckled.

“A mule would be fun,” said Gracie.

“This is absolutely my last day in this bed,” said Jack when Howard went to pick up his dishes after breakfast. “I need to be up and about.”

“I'm sure Cyrus will be glad of having his bed back. We'll sleep in the barn tomorrow night.”

“Oh, I don't know as that's a fact. Cyrus will take his bed back, but I wager he'll not have us going back to the barn. Want to stake a half-dollar against mine that we'll spend the next fortnight in the pantry?”

“We've no money for gambling,” said Howard. “Cyrus will want payment if we eat here that long. He's not running a home for wayward boys.”

“I doubt he'd see his future grandson-in-law as a wayward boy,” said Jack, and he laughed.

Howard turned away to keep Jack from seeing his frown. “I'll take these dishes. Then I'm going to town,” he said, and he offered no explanation.

He went first to see the Main Street Bridge. He had drawn the bridge for Sarah and had taught her the sign for fall, the down-turned index and middle fingers of the right hand placed in the upturned left palm, the right fingers flipped over, coming to rest palm up in the left hand. Howard had watched as Sarah made the sign over and over. A tear had rolled down one cheek. She had looked at Howard. He had made the sign with her, and he had nodded his head. They had sat for a time without doing other signs.

Now Howard watched men work on the bridge. The old structure had been torn down, and a new frame was being built. Howard stood watching for a while. The memory of seeing Amazing Alex on the wire flashed through his mind. He saw the man in the red suit with the silver spangles, saw him start his walk across the wire, but that vision was quickly replaced with pictures of the people on the bridge, people Howard had tried to warn. He remembered Laura's face and Jack's. He remembered the shattering boards and the falling bodies, but he did not remember what had become of Amazing Alex. Had the man made it across the canal?

Alex's walk had caused the falling of the bridge. The falling was big in Howard's life, so big that he could not even form words in his mind to say how big. He had to know about Alex. He had to know now. He moved as close as he could to the workers. One man stood on the bank. He took a board from a stack and held it out to a man on the bridge frame.

“I say,” Howard called to the man as he walked toward
him. “Can you tell me, did Amazing Alex walk across the wire the other day, or did he fall? I didn't see.”

The man turned to look at him. “He made it across,” he said, “but no one noticed much. The bridge fell, you know, a terrible sight. It's lucky you are not to have been here. They say Amazing Alex was so upset that he canceled the crossing up at Little Falls.” The man turned away with his board.

Howard moved on down the narrow street. On his right, boats filled the canal, almost end to end, with barely enough room to pass each other. The May sun shone bright on the packet boats and the passengers who filled the upper-cabin deck, ladies with dresses and parasols of vivid colors, men in business suits and top hats, and laughing children.

On a lineboat, a man sat on top of a huge wooden keg with a monkey in his lap. The man shouted, “Good day to you, lad,” and the monkey tipped his red hat. A man staggered from one of the taverns and tried to jump onto a packet boat. He missed and fell into the canal. The bowman threw the man a rope and pulled him aboard.

With one look back over his shoulder, Howard turned onto a side street, walking away from the canal and toward the boys' school.

Howard carved the words at night by the light of a candle in a tiny little room that had become his new home.

Jack had been right about Cyrus. “Go back to the barn? That's balderdash, and I'll hear none of it,” Cyrus said the first morning Jack was out of bed and eating breakfast with the family. Cyrus shook his head and reached for his pipe. “It's the pantry for you, Jack, my boy.” He paused and looked at Howard. “Oh, and your brother be welcome, too, if you consider the feather bed big enough for two.”