A Reckoning

by Linda Spalding

  Mama, I wish we could find you a doctor. Gina…come back here with me.

  I want to ride Judy through the little sparkly pools.

  Mama, it says in this pamphlet that it takes four yoke of oxen to break up the soil in Missouri. It says mules won’t do it. Martin, will you untie Judy?

  Do it yourself, you can reach.

  Lavina adjusted her leg. It was central now, the only part of her that mattered. The wash was hung on a line strung from the wagon to a poplar tree and she could hear a distant thunder roll. Who put out those clothes? Bring them in. She would not have the trail diminish her standards, having nothing left in her veins. Bring them in, Father. She twisted a piece of her sleeve between her fingers. She chewed on it, sometimes biting her hand. She said: You who spent your life within a mile of the bed on which your mother suffered your birth. Why can’t you see that your brother is lost to cards.

  Mama, hush! You sound silly.

  How will you speak to people in valleys you never imagined or on hills you never climbed? Lavina rebuked her pain with another pull at the sweet and relieving syrup. Get the clothes in out of the rain.

  41

  Overtaken by a solitary rider, John felt fear and relief. Having exchanged names, the two men rode along for a while, casting quick glances at each other. The horse was Arabian, the man tall. He carried a single-bore. The woods through which they rode were lit by the sun and by the elaborate songs of unseen birds. Where might you be heading? asked the other rider as if John’s destination were conditional.

  Tell me first where I am.

  The rider studied John. He chewed on the inside of his cheek and gave a quick kick to the Arabian’s flank. Then he pulled at the reins. It seemed he was undecided about whether he would ride with John or not.

  John was surveying the ground as if to find a map in the mud.

  Lost your way?

  John said: Slave. Then he said: A person.

  The two horses moved now at the same pace, agreeably. Ran off, did he?

  John looked at the rider’s fine coat, which was draped over booted legs, and at the boots, which shone. A man name of Lucas has her.

  In good faith or otherwise?

  John blinked. What has faith to do with it? Does not each one of us pursue his own interest?

  The Arabian exhaled loudly and her rider patted her long neck, declaring: If you mean happiness when you speak of interest, perhaps it is yours that is the concern? He smiled at a truth shared between men.

  John brushed at the long hair blowing in his face. I ask simply, do you know Mister Lucas?

  He is due south ten miles, very well off, very much what…I assume you would expect, although I know nothing of your expectations.

  They had reached a brook burbling across the path and they slowed their horses, John calling out: Over here! and easing his mare into the shallow drift of water. It rushed around hooves, clear as air. This is as good as any place, John noted, as if they had agreed to stop together. A cool breeze came through the trees. Suddenly hungry, John wondered what food the other man carried.

  His companion leapt off his horse, put a blanket down, and gestured at its scratchy surface. Myself, I am heading to Knoxville to defend the state of the Union.

  John knelt on the blanket while his host pulled a chunk of hard cheese out of his saddlebag along with a bundle of bread. How pleasant to lie for an hour facing the sky on his way to a meeting with Mister Lucas. He must gird his loins. Another quick prayer. And a meal.

  The host unrolled a cloth bag full of meat. He cleaned his knife on the edge of his blanket after cutting two slices. Chewing, he spat up a piece of gristle and blew it downwind. After Lucas, what next?

  John was watching him from a prone position through the loose weave of his hat. City bred, he thought. Those clothes were not made by a wife. Out loud he said: I have pulled up stakes. I’m going west, he added, where all parties can start out on equal footing. Fairness is the idea out there, rather than privilege. He said this manfully, not having thought of fairness as a reason for doing anything until now but picturing a log house, his children busy with lives of abiding virtue.

  Equal footing? Well, if you include the Natives, I suspect those who were born on the land you will take from them in the name of fairness may not agree.

  John got up stiffly and took from his saddlebag a jug that he filled with water at the brook. Well, he said. Indeed. He grabbed his hat from his head and placed it over his heart. I will take no advantage in that case. Any land I take will be fairly bought. Now he saw a vision of Lavina by the stove that his wagon was even then ferrying across Kentucky. No more slaves. Not for me. I freed one and all. His headache had returned with a vengeance.

  The other man took up the blanket. So there was no ready buyer? His voice overrode a vigorous splash of urine. He laughed and noted: A vow of celibacy is not too difficult in a land of men, but tell me, do we continue on from here together?

  John considered the remark about celibacy as they mounted their horses, one offering to keep watch in case the other needed sleep. He took a cigar out of his pocket and pinched off some tobacco, and with the old mare moving rhythmically, he felt the herb expand under his tongue. He kept a cigar in his breast pocket in order to deny temptation. But a tiny chew couldn’t hurt. I died in the barn, he thought, feeling nothing but scorn for his body. And when he woke, the other rider was gone so completely that he thought their conversation must have been part of an unpleasant dream and he turned around in the saddle and looked at the dark hills of Virginia far behind him and at the sky that tenderly held its light.

  42

  In Louisville there were frame buildings along the waterfront stretching back for five or six blocks; wagons littering the outskirts; pigs and cows roaming, the air broken by shouts, boat whistles and smoke, neighing horses, the lowing of cattle and barking of dogs. Martin brought the mules in, using his new driver’s voice. Hey on now, easy theeere…He was proud of himself and his wagon, which scattered chickens and ducks fore and aft on the narrow streets where roosters were crowing possessively. He gazed at the fancy buildings. Brother Borden said the city was owned by French Catholics, who had even established a seminary for young ladies, but the English were buying up any available property, creating social havoc. And the French were really Canadian, and the English were old enemies. But at least they speak English…

  I can’t wait to set my feet down on solid ground, Electa said, crawling up to the front of the wagon to sit next to her brother. We must find Mama a doctor first thing.

  Oh hush up, will you? I got to drive and this road’s getting skinny…

  Watch out for that little dog! Oh look, Gina, come up here and look at this big pretty city.

  Where are we? their mother asked from a folded pallet in the back of the wagon. Look out for Patton, now, when we get to town.

  Mama, you just lie down and be peaceful until we get some help for your injury. Martin was holding the reins, holding his chin up, keeping his mouth straight without a smile to be seen. He thought three females were a lot to ask of a boy who was mastering roads that were full of wildlife and carts and bigger wagons, and still they went on as if there was some reckoning to come, some plan in the works, although he had no idea what was going to happen if his brother didn’t show up. He wanted to shout: Patton! Where are you? Help!

  A mile farther into town and there was the great Missouri, a big, wide wash of bilge covered by sails and skiffs and canoes and steamboats with paddle wheels and boilers mooing like enormous white cows and Martin felt a rush of joy at the sight of them and wished he could board one of those big boats that were more like the ships he had seen in pictures. They were bigger than houses. Brother Borden said the town had promised free land to anyone who would build a hotel or a factory, anyone who would stay, but down at the waterfront, even the geese were streaming upriver, going west. Everyone wanted to get away to the new lands that were opening up, lands full of fertile soil and gold. Or
else they had come to welcome the boats just now docking with a set of treasures to unload. Every whistle brought an assembly to the wharf on this river that was the outlet to the sea as well as the best passage west while Martin was following a wagon up ahead of him and worrying about his bear. How was she going to handle this mess of people? And noise? And excitement? And there was food in the streets that she wanted to grab and she was pulling, making the wagon tip and the pony was nervous and pulling the other way and Martin wished they would find a place to stop before everything turned over in the road. As the Jonesville mules and horses plodded on, a mellow sun gilded the surfaces of the buildings in Louisville, a city of gold named for a king. Those French people had planted fruit trees and they were in vivid bloom, purple and red and pink all over town like overhead garlands. But now Lavina begged Martin to find a place where they would not have to pay a fee for the wagon and where she could find a latrine. Please! The bear was still tugging, pulling backward, and Martin was sure the wagon would overturn in the city confusion, its contents spilling out and all of them crushed, so he decided to stop even if they had to pay. People screamed at the bear: Dangerous! Is it trained? But those who had traveled with Cuff only laughed. Cuff had become their mascot. Martin found a place where a few of the others had parked and once they had settled, Lavina told him to see to the livestock. Quietly then, she asked for Electa’s help. She needed her arm. She needed to find the latrine and then a doctor. Later, but soon, they must go to the wharf and find a ticket agent and Electa must read and decipher the contract with that paid-for education the family had afforded her. Lavina pictured an unknown doctor frowning and glaring at her, lifting her skirt, and within the hour they had brushed their best clothes and set out in a hired buggy, Lavina wearing her bonnet with silk ties and talking mostly to herself. Her dress had small tucks on the sleeves and bodice that flattered her long figure and she had added a collar that buttoned in an unusual way. What do you think?

  Striking, Mama. Electa had seen the dress many times. Her mother’s dressmaking was usually given over to Gina, who wore flounces that might better belong on a Romanian girl, according to Lecta.

  What will your father say?

  Is he coming, Mama? Do you think?

  Lavina stared solemnly out of the buggy, her leg throbbing and distinct under the wrap of skirt.

  Losing the farm, said Electa softly, touching her mother’s hand. Probably he could not see himself starting up again, Mama. How can he ask for charity from his own sons, who own the warrants, when he has no money? So he stayed back.

  Lavina was still staring at the unfamiliar city. When the buggy stopped in front of a small frame building, Electa stepped down and reached again for her mother’s hand. And think of Gina and how she gets confused when you talk about Papa.

  Lavina was holding her skirt, gingerly testing her weight on the ground, which seemed still to be moving. She seemed to exist in pieces. She was holding her breath. I will not pay in advance, child. Just a down payment for tickets. She wanted her syrup.

  This is a clinic, Mama.

  I told you, tickets first.

  That isn’t what you said. But there was no one to see them, no doctor on duty. Lavina would have to come back in two hours.

  You are limping more and more, Mama. We’ll come back right after we enlist a boat. Electa watched a woman cross the muddy street with a pram. A child peered out of it like an old dignitary. One day he will inherit all of this, Electa thought, the town, the river, this whole country we are making. Lucky baby. His mother will be dust and he will be a smiling old gentleman with a cane. He will know how our lives turned out. The young mother wore a red jacket belted at the waist. She wore short crocheted gloves and a tall, feathered hat. A hooped skirt! Electa studied the effect of its graceful swaying. She longed to ask about the hoop but it would never do to speak to someone on the street. Still, she wished she could somehow learn how this young mother’s life had been arranged. Was she in love with the man she had married, or did she marry for the jacket and hat? Did she live in a house or a cabin? Was her husband a riverboat captain? Would she reduce a man to shame if he went bankrupt? Would she leave him to starve on land he did not own?

  Lavina limped along the wooden sidewalk, ignoring the shoppers but staring at windows as if she had never seen commerce.

  Ma, don’t stare. Electa wished to press her own nose against each window but only glanced and then looked away. In one, there were French clocks and German buttons and Irish shoehorns and English porcelain dogs. In another, there were fabrics along with needles and thread and ribbon and crochet hooks and quilting frames. In another, spades and hoes, seeds and plants in damp hemp wraps. Some shops sold only one kind of thing. One sold only hats! At the livery, they could buy a horse or rent one. At the butcher’s they could buy enough salted meat to last a long winter in the woods. At the grocer’s there was fruit neither of them had ever seen, shipped up from the Caribbean. Lavina stopped at a stall and paid for a mug of coffee. Come here, child. Have some.

  Mama, it is common to take food in the street.

  It fortifies me. Lavina made an ugly sound with her wet lips to annoy the daughter whose paid-for education had given her airs.

  Fortifies you, Electa said under her breath.

  There be a great many saloons hereabouts, Lavina said then, echoing old Ruth Boyd, and wishing Electa would laugh at her improvisation as she used to do. And just you look at the fancy ladies in their hoops.

  Electa ignored her mother. The great white boats in the harbor reflected sunlight like outdoor mirrors. The river in surge. For these two formerly landlocked women, it was a sight to astonish, and still they walked along, trying to appear accustomed to such things. Behind them, rafts and canoes floated downstream and flatboats carried Conestoga wagons or mounds of logs across the water to Indiana.

  I’d like to sit down, Lecta.

  But the ticketing office was crowded and they were told to stand in a line. Some people had baggage spread around them on the floor, cloth bags with wooden handles and boxes tied up in twine as if they were prepared to embark that minute. Refugees, muttered Lavina, scanning the line for familiar faces from the wagon train and seeing only Brother and Sister Borden. Everyone knew that the river was close to flooding and there was no knowing, from one hour to the next, whether a captain would decide to leave or stay. Hadn’t we better wait for calm water? a young woman asked.

  Her husband was bundled in gear he imagined appropriate to the West – buckskin leggings and a black bowler hat.

  I would give this river all due respect, Brother Borden advised the strangers ominously.

  You will be taking a later boat then? Electa was sure she had caught Brother Borden in a small hypocrisy because the worried couple was ahead of him in line. He wanted them to drop out so that his chances of finding a cabin or berth would be better.

  Lavina’s eyes roamed the room, unfocused.

  Brother Borden said, Are you well, Sister? You seem pale.

  My funds are not infinite, Lavina said coldly, pointing her eyes at his. The longer we tarry, the less we eat. She took Electa’s arm with a trembling hand, pulling her head up and blinking with pain.

  And the harder it becomes to pull her daughter away from city life, Electa added in order to deflect her mother’s financial confession.

  Lavina’s pulse was slowing. She began to sway.

  Sister Dickinson, are you faint?

  I believe I am.

  43

  Dear Papa, Today I looked for a doctor after we got our ticket then bought a pound of beef but yankee agencys buy all the best things even boat cabins. They want their people to go out to Kansas because of the vote about slavery. I hope you come soon because mama is so poorly. I will mail my letters today or maybe you are on the road and then you will never read them. Then you will make us happy if you arrive but we have not seen Patton. We cant find him. If anything happens to Mama we will be orphens unless you come. Mama cannot go
by wagon I looked for the doctor but didn’t find him. The shops are nice. I wish you could see the tools. Mama has bought two cabins which are boat rooms. Please hurry Papa. Your loving daughter, Lecta

  44

  That evening Brother Borden made an appearance as Electa was serving up fresh beef stew. May we offer you something good to eat? Electa asked. The question, framed in politeness, was meant to insult the visitor, to repay him for his earlier hypocrisy.

  I have already eaten very well. Where is your mother, please?

  Resting. Add more water to stretch it, Lavina had said before she retreated to the wagon with her head in her hands. Now, while Martin and Gina sat on the grass holding warm bowls of watered stew, Brother Borden stood as if pegged, his chin jutting out and his lips moving noiselessly. Electa tucked her wispy, unclean hair behind her ears and wiped her apron across smoke-stung eyes. When she dropped a spoon on the grass, Brother Borden leaned down to pick it up. Courtly, he was, and Electa did not care for that where her mother was concerned, and yet Brother Borden climbed up into the wagon very nimbly without asking permission, hitching his trousers at the knee and leaving the three children behind on the grass. Then, in the privacy of oiled muslin, he spoke softly: You found a place on the boat, Sister? and he stared at Lavina through round spectacles.

  Lavina got herself into a sitting position and straightened her collar nervously. She had not changed her dress.

  I noticed you seemed ill at the ticket office. Faint, I believe you said. I should have told you that…I am a medic, and perhaps I can help. Sister Borden told me that you have an injury. It was she who sent me.

  Lavina had no reply.

  I am a medic. Was. Gave it up for fear of the cholera. Not proud of that.

  Well, my leg is infected but not with the cholera disease. Limb, she should have said. Limb, limb.

  Your boat’s delay may well prove to be an advantage then.