Esther

by Jim Cox

  When Esther’s fifteenth birthday had passed, it had been an exciting time because she was allowed to invite boys to her house for short visits. At first, she had no idea what to do or how to prepare for a beau’s visit, but her mother was attuned to the situation and guided her. They prepared refreshments, such as pie, cookies, lemonade, and the like.

  There’d been many callers during the weeks that followed, but Esther came to fancy a boy named Luke who had a good disposition. She remembered how Luke was about her height with a handsome physique. She enjoyed being around him, and after a time he became the beau who most often came visiting. In fact, the word got around that he was Esther’s steady beau, so calls from other suitors slowed down considerably and that’d been just fine with her.

  One beautiful fall day, only two weeks until her sixteenth birthday, someone had knocked on the front door. “It’s probably Luke, Mother, I’ll get it,” Esther remembered calling out as she headed for the door. When the door swung open a bit, she’d stepped back in total surprise—it was Johnny standing with a big grin with his hat in hand. Esther found herself speechless.

  “Howdy Esther; I thought I’d come out for a visit,” Johnny said. “We ain’t talked for a spell and that ain’t being neighborly. Can I come in?” She swung the door wide to let Johnny in, and looked around outside for Sarah, but only saw one horse hitched to the tie-rail.

  “Where’s Sarah?” she remembered asking a bit firmly.

  “I haven’t seen her for a couple of days,” Johnny answered as his face sobered a bit.

  “Then, why are you here?”

  “Ain’t I allowed to call on ya’ or are you all tied up with that Luke fellow?” Johnny had asked. “He ain’t suited for you, Esther…you can do a lot better than him.”

  “That’s none of your business, Johnny. Luke is a fine young man, and I enjoy being around him.” She didn’t offer Johnny a seat, so they’d both stood in silence ʼtil Johnny suddenly hissed out with a snarl on his face, “I ain’t tied to Sarah; she don’t mean much to me, only someone to hang around with.”

  “Well, she means a lot to me, and I wouldn’t do a thing to hurt her. If you dump her, it will break her heart, and I won’t be a part of that.” Johnny got the feeling he was not welcomed, so he nodded and headed for the door.

  He was about to step into the stirrup when his tall, slender body and handsome looks got the better of Esther, and she’d called out after him in a friendlier voice, “I’d like to spend time with you, Johnny, but first I’ll have to talk with Sarah and get her permission.” Johnny tipped his hat and rode away smiling.

  The wedding went off without a hitch the following year; Sarah was Esther’s bridesmaid. They’d lived for three months with Johnny’s parents until their own log cabin was completed, two weeks before they celebrated their first Christmas. The cabin was a small dugout room with a fireplace centering the east wall—a table and chairs was in front of it with a bed in the back corner.

  They’d struggled financially the first year. But Esther made sure they had plenty to eat due to her large garden, eggs from yard chickens, and milk from Sadie and Sally their cows and plenty of salted-down pork meat to get through the winter. The extravagant things such as material for dresses were missing, but it didn’t much matter. Johnny seemed to enjoy the long hours he spent working in the fields with his pa, and Esther stayed busy helping her mother-in-law do barn chores, tending the garden, canning several jars of fruit and vegetables, and other similar jobs. Johnny helped me with the women’s work whenever possible, and they always spent a relaxing time together in the evenings. Even though their days were full of back-breaking work, they were happy.

  The following January Esther missed her period and recalled realizing she was pregnant with their first child. She and Johnny were ecstatic. They had worries about the financial dilemma this might present, but things would work out—they always do.

  This new juncture in their lives caused Johnny’s mind to start thinking and preparing for the welfare of his family—what was best for us to do? This was natural for him. He was always wondering what was over the next hill, so to speak, and was willing to take the chance of looking.

  Esther was feeling terrible and had returned to the table from throwing-up, due to morning sickness, when Johnny had sat his coffee cup down, looked into her ailing eyes, and told her they should be moving. It was time to move away from his folks and build their own future. He wanted to find a job giving them a comfortable income and provide a larger house to accommodate their growing family. Esther had felt totally against the idea and wanted to stay where they were for security reasons, to have Johnny’s mother close by during her delivery and to be a helping hand with the baby’s care.

  But in March Johnny found a farming job close to Albertville, a small community in western Virginia paying a dollar a day during the planting and harvest season and fifty cents for the other days. The couple were also provided with a two-bedroom log cabin and all of the food they needed from the farm produce. Their lives on the farm were some of the happiest times of their marriage. Both of their children were born on the farm, and their cabin became quiet livable and comfortable place. Everything seemed to be falling into place.

  The years flew by. The children were growing like weeds. Mark was seven and Joan was five. Both were spending time in school learning to read, write, and figure out numbers, a feat most children of the time didn’t undertake. Johnny and Esther had been frugal with their spending and had saved up a little over five hundred dollars toward a dream they’d both had since their wedding—to have a place of their own—to buy a farm.

  In the fall of that year, their dream was fulfilled. They’d purchased an eighty-acre farm near the Virginia Foothills eight miles west of Albertville. It wasn’t the most fertile land in the area, but Johnny thought he could make a go-of-it; he was wrong. For the first three years, they battled the weather. Two years of drought and one of rains. However, the fourth year brought optimism. Their fields of brownish wheat stalks waved in the gentle July breeze topped with exceptionally large heads of grain, waiting to be harvested within the next few days. Scythes had been sharpened, binding cords had been rewound, the threshing machine had been maintained and greased, and a neighbor boy had been lined up to help in the work—everything was ready.

  Esther remembered waking up to a frightening feeling. She had things crawling all over her. Even under the bed sheet. “Wake up Johnny,” she’d called out as she quickly lit the lamp.

  “Grasshoppers…our house is filled with grasshoppers,” Johnny yelled. “Take care of the kids and close the east windows and front door while I try to chase them out the back—they’re naturally trying to go west.”

  Esther had his breakfast ready and coffee poured by the time Johnny had come in from the fields an hour after sunrise. Words were unspoken. He went to the table and sat with his head and shoulders drooped, not even making an effort to sip the coffee before him. When he finally looked up and found her eyes, he’d said through sobs and water-filled eyes. “It’s over Esther. The grasshoppers have eaten every kernel of wheat in our fields.” All she could do was stand behind him with her head leaned against his and her arms around his neck as they both cried.

  In the fall of fifty-four, they’d moved on to Idalia and bought a smaller farm a few miles from town. The farm purchase included two cows, several chickens running about at their free will, a sow and boar, along with a half grown litter of eight pigs. They’d brought their own team of drafts from Albertville.

  The bank had loaned them $4,800 to purchase the farm which was nearly the full purchase price, so in order to make money for the mortgage and to accumulate some savings, Esther started her a weekly route in town peddling milk, butter, and eggs. By their second year, she also sold a large verity of vegetables and fruit. But money was tight, and she’d started taking in mending from women on her route to make ends meet.

  They hadn’t lived on the farm near Idalia long when Esthe
r started noticing a difference in Johnny’s behavior. He insisted on being called John, not Johnny. He started going to the saloon in town daily and came home with whiskey breath. As the weeks passed, the effect of his drinking became more noticeable on his routine actions around the house and farm. He started leaving most of the barn chores to Mark and eventually he didn’t even help with cutting the firewood. He fell way behind in tending to his fieldwork. Seeds were planted much later than other farmers in the area, John didn’t cut his field weeds, and he was soon behind harvesting his crops.

  “The worse day of my life occurred during this period of our marriage,” Esther whispered to herself. She’d confronted John one evening when he had returned home from the saloon and told him that he had fallen into a bad lifestyle which was unacceptable and that he needed to stay home and keep away from the saloon and the detestable bar friends he had acquired.

  “Damn you woman,” he shouted as his backhand smashed into the side of her face, knocking her to the floor. “There ain’t no woman gonna tell me what I can or can’t do, and that especially goes for you.” Esther had been stunned with his brutality, but she’d come to endure much more from her husband.

  While lying under the canopy of pine trees in quiet sobs, Esther remembered that terrible day as if it had been yesterday. Then she looked at her children, turned to her side and slept.

  Chapter Twelve

  In the afternoon two days later Esther and the kids topped a hill and looked down upon the Cherokee River. It was larger than most rivers Esther had seen and had a brownish cast to its rambling westward current. Directly below them, along a slight inward bend in the river sat the barge, tied to a dock that extended out about six feet over the water. Up a hill to the west of the landing was a small barn with an attached corral containing a couple of horses. A man in the barn loft was tossing down bundles of hay to a man on the ground. Esther headed for the men, and the kids followed.

  “Howdy ma’am,” a middle-aged man said as Esther walked up. “My name is Charles Owens; is there something I can help ya’ with?”

  “I’m Mrs. Taylor; we were told by Mr. Connors, who I believe has travel arrangements with you on your departure tomorrow, that there may be room for us. If that’s correct, we’d like to make the arrangements.”

  “Wait a minute, ma’am, my older brother, Doyle takes care of all the business matters—you’ll have to talk with him.” Stepping back a couple steps and with hands cupped around his mouth, Charles called out, “Come on down Doyle, there’s a woman and some kids down here that wants to go along with us tomorrow.”

  Esther was surprised when Doyle came down; she was expecting him to look like his brother, Charles, who was a short, hefty man with a balding hairline. Instead, Doyle was a tall, well-built man with a full head of curly, dark brown hair. He was handsome and spoke with a deep voice.

  After introductions, Esther explained for the second time about Mr. Connors and asked if there was room for them and what the cost would be.

  “Where’s your husband, Mrs. Taylor? Shouldn’t I be talking with him?”

  “He won’t be traveling with us, Mr. Owens. There will only be my two children and me, along with Blue.”

  “Who’s Blue, ma’am?” he asked looking around.

  Esther smiled, pointed to the mule, and said, “Blue’s our mule, Mr. Owens.”

  Doyle shook his head, “We don’t take any livestock on the trip except for our two horses my brother and I ride back here.”

  “Blue’s not very big, Mr. Owens. I’m sure you can find room for him—I’ll pay extra if you feel it’s needed.”

  Doyle paused without agreeing, and he wasn’t delaying over whether or not he should take Blue, but whether he should allow a woman and two children to make the trip unescorted. He took a lengthy gaze at Esther, her gangly son, and her young daughter, and said, “I’m sorry ma’am, but I don’t think you ought to travel with us. The trip’s a might dangerous for the likes of you.”

  “I assure you, Mr. Owens, we are as capable as anyone,” Esther replied with a great deal of firmness. “My children and I are accustomed to hard work. The challenge of river travel won’t make us a burden to you in the least.”

  “I don’t have doubts about your ability to stand the travel, that’s not what I’m concerned over.”

  “Then what are you talking about, Mr. Owens?”

  Doyle took a deep breath, composed himself, lowered his voice and said gently, “It’s your looks, ma’am.”

  Esther quickly refuted, “We’ve been walking for three days, Mr. Owens, and haven’t had a chance to wash ourselves or change into clean clothes. I wouldn’t think you’d hold that against us?”

  “That’s not it either, Mrs. Taylor,” Doyle said even more gently.

  “Then what is it, Mr. Owens? What makes the trip dangerous for us? Please tell me.”

  “Like I said, it’s your looks, Mrs. Taylor…yours and your daughter’s, and I’m not talking about you being dusty from travel or how fresh your dresses look, but about the womanly features you possess. There are river bandits in these parts that kidnap fair-haired women such as your daughter and yourself and take them to Mexico where they’re sold to prostitution lords. A fresh young woman as beautiful and shapely as your daughter would bring big money.” Doyle paused and took another long look at Esther. “That goes for you too, ma’am. A woman as handsome and shapely as you would be a prize.”

  Esther was taken back and even blushed a bit. After composing herself, she said, “That’s ridiculous, Mr. Owens. I’m a mother of two teenagers, have scars from hard work, and well past my prime.”

  “Don’t kid yourself, ma’am,” he replied with a widening grin. “You’re a fine-looking woman I’m guessing to be in your mid-thirties? You must have had your son when you were quite young.”

  “Surely, you’re stretching the facts, Mr. Owens? I’m sure we will be able to take care of ourselves.”

  “That’s right,” Mark said stepping forward. “I’m the man of the family now; they’d have to come through me.”

  Doyle didn’t argue with Mark but stood in thought looking at Joan and Esther. After a long minute of hesitating, he reluctantly said, “All right, you can come along, but keep your wits about you if trouble comes. You can set up camp for the night over near where you see the wood piles. We leave when it gets bright enough to see. The cost will be fifty dollars for the three of ya’.”

  “How about Blue?” Esther asked with a pleasant expression, hoping she’d gained favor with him.

  Doyle had already turned for the barn but gave an affirmative answer with a wave of his arm and a nod.

  Esther walked behind Joan and Mark who were already leading Blue toward the site where they’d spend the night. She kept a smile after hearing Mr. Owen’s flattering comments. She wasn’t surprised by what he’d thought about Joan because Norm and other men had seemingly been taken in by her beauty, but Esther had not been told that she was a handsome woman with a shapely body for a long, long time. Her eyes were bright as they made camp.

  »»•««

  Seven passengers, including Mr. And Mrs. Connors and a young couple who had arrived late in the evening, boarded the raft in early light on the morning in mid-January 1858 and headed off with the sun to their backs. The temperature seemed extra cold because of the west wind blowing down the river channel into their faces. Coats, hats, and gloves were necessary. The sky was clear, but the sun hadn’t started its warming process yet.

  The barge was huge. It was at least forty feet long, about sixteen feet wide, and had a double pole railing around its perimeter, the top rail being three foot high. A horse enclosure, made of saplings, was in one corner. Both the horses and Blue were tied there and along the interior side of the corral were small stacks of hay bundles. Charles stood at the bow holding a long sturdy pole he used to keep the barge in the main current or push away from obstacles. Doyle was in the stern steering their craft with a large tiller rudder. He als
o had a long pole lying on the floor beside him in case the rudder wasn’t sufficient, and he needed additional guidance, especially through rough water.

  Esther and Mrs. Connors sat on benches along the railing getting better acquainted; the young couple sat apart across the barge from the women. Mr. Connors stood with Charles. Joan and Mark were by the railing up front watching the shoreline slowly pass by. The travel was surprisingly noiseless with only an occasional lapping of water against the large raft’s timbers—this quietness offered an opportunity for them to slip by wild animals getting their morning drink at the river. They saw several deer and once Mark thought he saw the back of a cougar heading for cover.

  After traveling for a couple hours, the sun started warming things up. Gloves were removed, and coats were unbuttoned. They had gone through a “S” curve in the river, turning once to the north and then back to the south before continuing west again, when Doyle centered the barge and announced, “We have normal stopping spots along the river for toilet breaks and to make coffee. The current’s a bit slow this morning, but we should be at our first stop within twenty to thirty minutes. When we get there, we’ll tie up, and you can walk around a bit to stretch your legs, but don’t wander off to far, we don’t want to waste too much time at this stop. Our next stop will be at noontime for our meal, and it’ll be a good one…we’ll be having hominy, fried hog jowl, warmed-over boiled potatoes, and cornbread. Our nightly stop will be nigh on to sunset when we’ll have a light meal before turning in. We need to be fed and watered and on the barge shortly after first light tomorrow morning. Does anyone have a question about our schedule?”