by Ann Towell
Though I hated to have help from a girl, I asked for it anyway. “I can’t see. Could you help me find a place to sit down, out of the way?”
The girl took me by the hand. Her hand was rough in mine, like she was used to hard work. She led me away from the heat. I kept stumbling over mud clods on the road, made slippery with oil and mud.
“Slow down or I’ll fall,” I protested.
“You ain’t gonna fall. Just hang on.”
She jerked my arm and pulled me along. I followed as best as I could. The smoke started clearing up a little and I could make out a building ahead of us. We scrambled up the wooden sidewalk, and she took me to a bench that was in front of a store. She was bent over me.
I wiped my eyes with the back of my shirtsleeve. I could see her now, and she was beautiful. I jerked my head back away from her, because she was getting too close to me and it was uncomfortable. She stepped back in annoyance.
“What’s wrong with you? I wasn’t gonna bite.”
Whenever I was around girls I got awkward and stumbled over my words. That happened this time too, so I stopped talking except to say, “Thank you for your help. I can look after myself now.”
“I suppose you kin see now!” She had her hands on her hips and looked at me sternly. “How’d you git your eyesight back? Moses help you?”
I laughed, pulled my glasses out of my pocket and tried to clean them with my shirttail. The girl grabbed them out of my hand and went to the horse trough for water. She dipped the glasses in and then proceeded to clean them on her apron. When she thought they were clean enough, she handed them back to me. I put them on my nose and gazed at her. Seeing clear didn’t change her appearance one bit. She still looked good to me. Then she put a cloth in the water to wet it and wrung it out a little. I wasn’t sure what she was going to do with that.
The flames and smoke were still there, but we weren’t in the thick of it. I wondered what happened to Moses and if I could find him before I headed home. While I was sitting there thinking, the girl was tapping her foot with impatience. She stared down at me and was about to say something when it seemed like she changed her mind. She did this a couple of times and then finally took a deep swallow.
“You should be fine now. I’m going down there to have a look-see.” Her voice had the music of the Irish tongue.
I got up from where I was sitting. “I’m coming along.”
“No, you’re not. You’re a wee mon that needs caring for.”
“I’m not wee,” I was indignant. “I’m almost as old as you.”
“Don’t give yourself airs.” She looked daggers at me. “I’m fourteen, and that’s a fact.”
Though my birthday wasn’t for another ten months, I told her I was thirteen. You could see she didn’t believe me by the look on her face. But to tell you the truth, she lied to me too. She was only thirteen herself, not much more than a year older than me.
“Well, almost,” I admitted sullenly. “My birthday will be here soon enough.”
“When?”
“Soon enough.”
She turned away with a huff and jumped down into the muddy, oily mess that was the street. Some splashed back on her skirt, but she didn’t notice.
I jumped down behind her. “What’s your name?”
“Mercy, Mercy Merriman.”
“Titus Sullivan, that’s me.”
We both walked down toward the creek. The commotion was still all around us and I kept looking for Moses. The smoke was a bit less thick because the fire was headed downstream. There was no chance I was going to be blinded again and at the mercy of a girl named Mercy. She put the wet cloth to her mouth, and I followed her billowing skirt as best I could. If I concentrated on what was just ahead of me I could see well enough where I was going. People were coughing and cursing and trying to put out the fire. It was hard to tell what they were doing because I was too far from the real action. I didn’t dare go any closer though. Mercy had left me far behind by now.
I stopped for a minute to catch my breath and wondered how I could have lost both Moses and Mercy all in one day. My lungs were fit to bursting with the black smoke. I thought maybe I had best head back to Uncle Amos’s house. I had had enough excitement for one day.
Uncle Amos was at the door to meet me. “I got worried about you, boy. Where’ve you been?”
“Lost in the smoke. It’s so dark.” In truth it was like night had fallen over the whole town. I was coughing by this time. Uncle Amos watched me with a very concerned look.
“Best to stay inside. I’m going to go see how I can help. If it spreads down the creek, other communities like Wilkesport will be affected. Can’t have that now, can we?” He left without glancing back, disappearing in the thick, black smoke.
I was tired of coughing and went into the house. It was going to be very strange living here. Uncle Amos had prepared a pallet on the floor for the two of us. I lay down and stared at the ceiling that was covered in cobwebs. A spider caught a fly in its web. The drone of the frantic fly gave me the loneliest sensation. After awhile I just fell asleep and didn’t wake up until Uncle Amos and Lemuel came into the house.
“That was amazing and scary,” Lemuel began. “I didn’t think we’d ever get it out. There’s some right smart-thinking men in this community.”
Uncle Amos lit a lamp and then bent down to the hearth. He moved the coals around a bit and put another piece of wood on the fire. Hours had passed between me coming home and most of the blaze being put out. The air was a little clearer, but I looked out the window and could still see a glow from the flames. The stink of smoke and oil hung heavy in the air.
I leaned up on my elbow. “The fire’s not out. I still see it.” I said.
“We chopped down trees.” Lemuel sat on the pallet beside me. His eyes were bright with the excitement of battling the huge inferno. “Many of us went downstream on horseback.”
“Whatever for?”
“They wanted us strong guys to cut trees.”
“To cut trees?”
“Yeah. We cut them down and spread them across the creek. Others cut sod and collected clay from the banks. We made a huge dam. There was nowhere for the fire to go after that.”
“It’ll eventually burn itself out.” Uncle Amos said.
I smiled up at my big brother. “I wish I could’ve helped you. I couldn’t see through the smoke and my glasses were all dirty …”
“Don’t worry none, Titus. Men were needed for this work.”
I knew Lem was trying to comfort me, but it only made me feel worse to realize I was so weak and shortsighted. I looked down at my pale hands and felt shame. They were tiny next to my brother’s big work-rough hands. I put them under my legs, trying to hide them.
Uncle Amos turned to me, “You’ll be helping like that soon enough. Why, by next summer I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve grown half a foot.”
There must have been doubt in my eyes ’cause when I looked up at him he said, “Honest and truly, you will grow, Titus.”
I could feel the heat rise up to my face. Lem looked back and forth at the two of us, mighty puzzled. Lem was big, strong, and true, but he surely wasn’t the smartest of the lot. I smiled at them both and kept my thoughts to myself. I had to see it first to believe it.
The thing that puzzled me the most about Uncle Amos was that he was so different from what Aunt Sadie had said about him. She even called him a disgrace. He didn’t seem a disgrace to me at all. No sir. He is the most honorable man I ever met.
Lem looked like he was ready to drop off any minute. Uncle Amos was stirring something in a pot over the fire. I went over to help him. He asked me to cut some bread and pour water into cups. As the pot warmed up, the smell of rabbit stew filled the air. Lem was leaning against the wall, his eyes closed, his face black. I imagine mine was too. Uncle Amos had washed his in the basin by the door. Drops of water shone in his beard.
“How long before the air clears?” Lem asked, opening his eyes. He coughed in
to his hand and looked at Uncle Amos.
“A day or two. That was one huge conflagration. I wouldn’t be surprised if Sadie and Robert could see the smoke all the way in London.”
Lem’s eyes widened. “That’d be amazing. The smell is horrific. I didn’t reckon on it when I decided to come out here. It’ll take some getting used to, right Titus?”
“It sure will, but I like everything else. Except for the forest.”
In fact, the bush that surrounded this town was so thick and swampy it was creepy just to walk out into it. I’d had enough of it when we came here on horseback. But I supposed we would have to go through it again to get Lem’s fiddle and wagon back. I didn’t dare whine about my book or penny whistle.
CHAPTER
7
Tom Abrams, our neighbor, was a reporter for the new paper called the Oil Springs Chronicle. The banner at the top of it read And the Rock poured me out Rivers of oil.
It was dusk, Tom was coming down the main street, and the creek was still burning. Everything was blue and gray except for the flare of orange color. Mercy walked behind him, intent on her own thoughts. Lem and Uncle Amos were in the house, trying to rustle up some supper.
Tom sat on the wooden stoop beside me and began talking about the day’s events. It had taken hours to build the dam and everyone was exhausted. Mercy plopped down beside Tom as if she had known us all for a long time. Tom smiled and said hello, then looked at me as if asking how I knew her. Mercy exclaimed over the size of the fire.
“That was the largest yet,” she said grimly. “Not the first, nor will it be the last, but it was the worst.”
“Folks got to be more careful where they place the hot coke,” Tom replied.
“Hot coke?” I asked.
“They use it as fuel for the refineries.”
“You’d think they’d move the refineries away from the crick.” Mercy sniffed and wiped her face with her sleeve.
“Where’d you go?” I asked her.
“Downstream a bit. I watched the men cut the trees and helped get sod and clay to pile on the dam.”
I was sorry to have missed the action. Even a girl had done more than me. Tom must have understood how I felt because he turned to me and said kindly, “There’ll be other fires, believe me. You’ll have hordes of opportunities to be heroic in this town.”
Mercy laughed. It was her laughter that lured Lemuel out of the house. As soon as Mercy saw him I knew something was up. She sat straighter and smoothed out her blackened gown. “I saw you cut the trees.”
Lem smiled. “Me and a bunch of other guys.”
“You related to him?” she asked me, pointing to Lem.
“My brother. Lem, this is Mercy Merriman.”
“Miss Merriman,” Lem almost bowed over her hand. I’m sure Mercy blushed, though it was hard to tell under all that dirt.
I scooted over to make room for Lem, and he sat between the two of us. We talked quietly as the dark descended. Then we went in, inviting Mercy to eat with us. Tom stayed for supper too, and it was a nice way to end the evening. The glow of the lamps hanging on the wall shone on the circle of friends. I felt real happy. I knew I had done right to come here. Here was where I belonged.
CHAPTER
8
The next few days the wind picked up and the swampy bush became a dark and noisy place. Aunt Sadie would have said it was unnerving. It roared like a huge beast stalking its prey. I covered my ears often.
I stayed in the comfort of the cabin, though Aunt Sadie would have laughed at my notion of comfort. There was little enough in it to appeal to most women. That’s why the town had very few women compared to the hordes of men. There was no real comfort there, only adventure and thick, black oil that slurped around our feet if a wildcatter couldn’t stem the flow from his well soon enough.
Uncle Amos and Lem went to retrieve the wagon we had left behind, but they came back empty-handed. Lem supposed it was possible he was mistaken about the exact place, but the ruts said otherwise. It was a hard lesson learned: never to leave your belongings behind, even if you’re trying to escape someone as wily as John Longville.
Occasionally, Uncle Amos and Lem would make a run to Sarnia with someone’s oil on the new plank road. It usually took a couple of days to do a run, so Tom would come and stay with me. Tom lived with his brother, another oilman.
I suppose you’re wondering what happened to John Longville and how he came to town. I don’t rightly know when he arrived, but one day Tom and I went down to Yates’s store for supplies and there he was.
Many of the local oilmen came from the United States of America, and were very interested in what was going on back home. There was a group of them sitting outside listening to someone reading a newspaper that had news from the south. One made a disparaging remark about “darkies,” while another laughed.
“Well, there seems to be enough of them here. It’s like I’m right back home.”
I turned to the speaker because I recognized John Longville’s voice.
Tom stared at him too. “You have a problem with that?” he asked.
John grunted and then noticed me. “I shoulda known you’d be hanging around with another troublemaker.”
“Are you referring to him or me?” Tom asked, pointing at me as he spoke.
“That kid is nothing but trouble,” John announced. “He and his brother walked off with ten dollars of mine.”
I was too surprised to answer that unjust accusation. We never even saw the ten dollars, let alone stole it from him.
“Don’t say anything,” Tom instructed me under his breath. “I sincerely doubt that,” he said, as he walked into the store. I followed him, not wanting to be left behind.
“How do you know John?” Tom asked, looking out of the window.
“He traveled with us here.”
“He’s a friend?”
“No.” I shook my head vigorously.
“Well, he’s nothing but trouble,” Tom said. “He’s trying to rile up people about the Negroes working on the wells.”
“Why’s he doing that?”
“Says they work for less pay, and he thinks they’re taking jobs away from the likes of him.”
“Do they want to work for less pay?”
“I don’t imagine.” Tom was watching the men closely while he talked. “I’d recommend you steer clear of him. He seems to have it in for you. By the way, what’s all this about ten dollars?”
“He promised Lem twenty dollars to bring him here with us, but I think he only paid ten. You best ask Lem.”
I puzzled over what Tom had told me and wondered about my friend Moses, who was always working while I was in school. Moses said I was lucky to be learning, but that he needed to help out his family. I didn’t see it that way. I would rather have been with the men in the oil fields.
I was supposed to go to school every day, but truth be told I was bored most of the time. With all the excitement going on around me it was hard to concentrate on my reading, writing, and ’rithmetic. I never did tell Uncle Amos I wasn’t attending school regular. Sometimes I would just head on out in the morning and come back around the time he was expecting me. And that’s what I did all the next week. I watched the men work instead of attending school. I did like my teacher, Mrs. Ryan, but she was not enough to keep me there.
Moses and I would wander off for a bit, if his daddy gave him permission. One day, I went to Adam McCabe’s well and stopped to talk to him. That’s when I saw Moses, working on one of the wells. It was his turn to operate the kickboard. The tapping sound of it rang through the bush. It was like he was dancing a jig because you had to put your whole body into the work. It looked like something I might like to try, so I went up to Moses and asked him if I could. He smiled at me, but shook his head.
“My turn’s almost up,” he told me. “Then we’ll go down to the creek.”
While I waited, I watched the men at their work. Getting oil out of the ground is a mighty i
nteresting task. I was learning about the spring pole that Moses was operating. Usually the pole was a cut-down ash tree. You tied it down at one end. At the opposite end, a really heavy drilling bit was attached by a chain. This chain was put down into the already dug well. Then a type of lever was built over the hole and attached to the ash pole. If you stepped on this lever, or kickboard, the pole would lift, and the drill bit would go deeper into the rock. When the bit worked its way through the rock, someone would add another length of chain so it could drill even farther. When you hit oil, you would have to jump back, or you’d get it all over yourself. The work was hard.
The swamp was full of black ash trees and the men chopped them down to make derricks. They were like tepees sitting over the wells. The men attached a winch to each tepee so they could haul the tools out of the hole by cranking them up on a cable.
Moses made kicking the springboard look easy, so I asked again if I could try. He got off, and I got on, hardly missing a beat. I tried my best to keep it at the same pace as Moses, but I guess I failed.
“Hey you. What do you think you’re doing?” a man yelled. “This is not job for kids. Move along. Moses …”
He didn’t have to finish his sentence. Moses knew he’d better get back to work. I felt embarrassed. It wasn’t my fault I was small for my age. But Moses’s daddy came along and told Moses he could take the rest of the day off.
We ran down the nearest path, intending to come back after taking a look at the creek. A little farther along, we came upon a wagon just sitting there in a little clearing. That wagon looked mighty familiar. I went up and looked at it closely. It was definitely my brother’s wagon. I was excited and so was Moses when I told him the story. We decided then and there to bring the horses and Lem and get our wagon out of that bush.
As we walked back to town, we got this really good idea. We’d use the wagon for driving people around the oilrigs. Seems people from other towns were really interested in seeing what an oil rush looked like, and often they had to wait for the omnibus to return from its rounds. The more we talked about it, the more we liked the idea. We could even make some money doing it. The only problem would be to convince Uncle Amos and Lem to let us use the team and wagon.