by Ann Towell
We stood behind a shelf of goods watching Max as he spoke with a group of men warming themselves by the stove. I’m sorry to say I don’t rightly remember who was there. It didn’t seem important at the time.
We eavesdropped as they talked about the “Negro problem” to the south of us. That meant the people living on Crooked Line. The men claimed the Negroes worked for less than the whites because they wanted to steal the jobs for themselves. Moses had already told me that wasn’t true. The Negroes worked for low wages because low wages were all they were offered.
Max said something about how him and John were going to teach those blacks a lesson. I was angry, but I didn’t worry too much because they were a bunch of cowards to my way of thinking.
Anyway, we got to funning between ourselves, and I said to Moses, “When he leaves, we should shoot something at him.”
Moses looked at me like I was crazy. “What good will that do?”
“I’m not sure, but it’s a powerful temptation.”
We both stayed there for a minute, crouched behind the shelves. Then I made up my mind. “I’m gonna do it. If we stay hidden, he won’t know it’s us.”
“Yeah, right,” Moses rolled his eyes at me. “He’s not a complete idiot, you know.”
“But think of how good it will feel to hit him. I won’t use a stone, just some mud so he won’t get hurt.”
Instead of mud, I picked up some frozen manure once we were outside. We didn’t have to wait very long. As Max left the store, I took aim and got him right between his shoulder blades. Max turned before we could duck behind the corner of the building.
Moses pulled on my sleeve.
“Run, Titus.” He dragged me along as he ran. “Don’t look back. It’ll slow you down.”
We ran like the hounds of Hades were after us. After a good number of blocks we stopped, out of breath and hid behind a line of wagons.
“We got rid of him sure enough.”
“How?” I asked.
“By running faster than him.” Moses started laughing.
“Sh!” I whispered. “Do you want him to find us?”
“Don’t look so scared. Do you see him anywhere here?” Moses spread his arms out wide.
We sat down on the ground, tired from the running. I looked up at the wintry sky and saw snow clouds moving in. Flakes started to fall slowly around us. Moses raised his face to the sky too.
“You know something, Moses?” I said. “It felt powerful good to get him like that.”
“I bet it did. I kinda wish I was the one that got him.”
We both laughed, then. We didn’t care if anyone heard us or not. It was good to laugh like that with the snow falling and wetting our faces. Still, I was sure that Max would get back at us somehow for the morning’s excitement. Troublemaking was his stock in trade.
“We should get to the wagon.” Moses pointed to where a group of people were forming in front of the Oxford. It might be a good day after all.
That night I mentioned to Uncle Amos what I’d overheard in the general store. “Who was he talking to?” Uncle Amos asked.
“I didn’t know them,” I replied.
“I’m sure John’s behind this and …” Uncle Amos never completed his sentence, but I could see he was a little disturbed by what I’d told him.
He looked up at the clock on the mantel and said, “It’s time to be off to bed, son.” So we all turned in and wished for the new house to be done.
CHAPTER
12
With winter there were fewer people to take on a tour of the town, so Moses and I hauled the clay that was left after drilling the wells. We also loaded ash trees and hauled them to the different well sites. We didn’t do this work alone: Mr. Croucher helped, and we used his horses. The wagons weren’t made for oil runs. You needed a special kind fitted with a barrel lying sideways to hold the oil.
Uncle Amos and Lem would take our horses and deliver the oil barrels to the refinery. It was easier taking oil on the frozen roads. Sledges were used once the snow was on the ground and it made the work a lot easier.
Uncle Amos’s house was done and it cost a pretty piece. As Aunt Sadie would say, money ran through everyone’s fingers like water. I preferred to think it ran like oil, black and grubby sometimes, slippery other times, but it kept running.
Uncle Amos decided it was time to move in. We swept and cleaned the house that smelled of sawn lumber. There was a hallway that led to the front door with parlors on each side of it. The windows looked out over the road. The kitchen was at back and there were five bedrooms upstairs.
I laughingly asked Uncle Amos what he needed all the space for. Seems he was going back into doctoring. He had his friend, James Wakefield, make a sign, and he hung out his shingle before we moved in. James also made the beds that were in the one front parlor. This was going to be the local hospital. There were constant cases of cholera fever, since the drinking water wasn’t as good as it should be. We always had to boil our water before we drank it. The crowded conditions in the hotels didn’t help much either.
We were going to have a party before we moved the beds in. Lem was to play the fiddle while Uncle Amos played the guitar. There would be dancing and merrymaking. While we worked at sweeping the place clean, there was a knock on the door. We weren’t expecting anyone for a while yet, but when I answered the door, there was Mrs. Ryan, standing on the porch with a book in her hand.
“Well, Titus. I thought I’d find you here. I’ve come to speak with your uncle.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied. I opened the door wider so she could come in.
“Mr. Sullivan?”
“Yes?”
“I’m Mrs. Ryan, Titus’s teacher. Seems he’s been truant most days this past month. Is there a reason why he’s absent from school?”
Uncle Amos looked at me and I hid a little behind Mrs. Ryan.
“Is this true, Titus?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Come from behind your teacher, boyo. There’s no hiding behind petticoats.”
So I stood in front of my uncle, my face red. I don’t suppose there was anything I could say that would make either of them happy.
“He’s such a bright pupil, it seems a waste for him not to be in school,” Mrs. Ryan said.
“What were you up to when you weren’t in school?” Uncle Amos asked.
I told him about the business Moses and I had started. He seemed a little startled. Then he turned to Lem. “Did you know of this?”
It was Lem’s turn to be embarrassed. “Yes, sir.”
“I wondered why the horses were gone some days. Just assumed you had them, Lem. Mrs. Ryan, I believe Titus and I owe you an apology, and we’ll see that he’s back in school next week.” As an afterthought he added, “I’ll speak with you later, Titus.”
Well, sir, I was discouraged by this news as you can well imagine. I had provided a service for the village that I thought was more important than sitting in school all day, looking out the window, and wishing I was some-wheres else. Mrs. Ryan talked with my uncle awhile longer in the hallway while I continued to sweep.
I didn’t rightly know then what they discussed, but I was to find out later that night. They had agreed to let me continue my business two days out of the week, and I would go to school for three days. I would do assignments for Mrs. Ryan and hand them in at the end of the week. She knew that I was ahead of my class, and she was willing to give me private lessons. I was extremely happy when I found that out.
Our dance that night was a festive affair, and many people came throughout the evening. There was dancing in one parlor and eating in the other. We borrowed chairs from neighbors so people had a place to rest in between the dances. Snow fell softly while we were inside. By the end of the party the ground was covered, and it was beautiful with the full moon shining down on all the white stuff.
December passed quickly and with no trouble. We all wondered where John and Max had disappeared to, though no one
missed them. Then Tom told us they had been arrested in Sarnia for drunk and disorderly conduct. There was still the occasional grumbling about wages, but all in all, everything seemed fine.
I got a few letters from Aunt Sadie while I was in Oil Springs. Mostly they just told me she was coming at Christmas and that she would take me back to London with her. I talked with Uncle Amos about that, and he was pretty quiet on the subject. Maybe he thought Aunt Sadie was right in wanting me to go back with her. I tried not to worry so I could enjoy the new house more.
I liked all the windows because you could look out and see a good chunk of the whole town, depending where you stood. The shanty had been dark with only two little windows. There was supposed to be some furniture shipped by train from London. Aunt Sadie had picked it out under instructions from Uncle Amos. On Saturday we were all going to go to the town of Wyoming with the sleigh and sledge to pick things up.
Moses and his family were headed back to Chatham for Christmas and would return after a week. One day Moses and I had done a few runs and were reading at our house when Mercy came for a visit.
“Is Lem home?” she asked.
“No,” I said, about to close the door. Then I realized how rude that would be. It was cold out, and we had hot tea on the table. I could hear Aunt Sadie’s voice in my head, telling me “Invite her in. It’s the least you could do.”
I admit I sighed and groaned a bit, but I opened the door wide. “Come on in, there’s tea.”
Mercy followed me through the hallway to the dining room, where we were sitting. “When’s he coming then?” she asked.
“What? Who? Oh, Lem. Probably tomorrow.”
She hung her shawl on the back of a chair and poured tea for all of us, like it was her own house or something.
“Who makes supper when they’re gone?” she asked.
She picked up her cup and sipped some tea as she stood behind Moses looking at his book. Then she turned to me.
“Could you teach me?” she whispered.
I didn’t know what she was talking about. Was she asking me to teach her how to cook?
Moses interrupted, “She wants to learn to read, Titus.”
“Lem knows how to read too, right?” she asked.
“Yes,” I hesitated. “Is that why you want to learn?”
“I guess.”
“It’s hard work, just ask Moses.”
Mercy thought about that for a minute, then she said, “Can we start now?”
I grabbed my school slate and began to teach her right then and there. You see, this proved I didn’t need to go to school because I already knew enough to teach someone else. I think I learned even more, teaching her. Seems I could probably have taken over for Mrs. Ryan.
Mercy was a quick learner. When she finally could read, we got to memorizing poetry. That was another thing altogether. Moses found some of the poems just plain silly. He said Beowulf was more interesting than talking about “a host of golden daffodils.” Mercy didn’t agree. She was partial to the poems of Wordsworth. She especially liked “I wandered lonely as a cloud.”
“That reminds me of you,” she told me. “Even when you’re with people you seem lonely.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“You sort of watch everything with a different look on your face, like you know everything better than us.”
That made me sound like I was proud, and I wasn’t at all. No, sir. I’m more of a coward as even John Longville could see. When this all started to happen he called me a coward and laughed when I couldn’t talk back.
Seems Mercy wanted to quit working for her aunt. Because none of us appeared to like housework, it was easy convincing Uncle Amos to hire her. She got one of the extra bedrooms upstairs and made sure we had food to eat and that the house was kept neat. She even cleaned the hospital rooms. Someone else came in to do the laundry.
It was December 23, almost Christmas. Aunt Sadie and Uncle Robert were coming on the train. Lem thought he would borrow Tom’s sleigh to pick them up in the morning. Moses had already left with his family for Chatham with the promise he would return in the New Year.
I cleaned a patch of frost off the window that morning so I could look outside. I was real nervous about seeing Aunt Sadie, so I wished I could stay in Oil Springs while Lem went to get them. I went on down to the store to pick up some provisions while Mercy was blacking the stove.
At the store I looked over the potatoes and picked the nicer ones, the way Aunt Sadie taught me. I heard someone clear her throat behind me and turned to see Miss Ryan at my elbow. Her eyes were twinkling and she asked me if I had any plans for Christmas.
I told her about my aunt and uncle coming from London. Then I asked her if she was heading home for Christmas.
“This is my home now,” she pointed down the street.
“Did you buy a house?” I asked.
“Yes I did.”
“Do you have family coming for Christmas ma’am?” I asked.
“Heavens no.” She smiled at that. “They think I’m crazy for living here.”
“Why do you want to be here ma’am? I don’t mean to be impertinent.”
She waved her arms as if shooing a fly away from her. “Don’t worry young man. I like it here. I like the rough and tumble way of life. It suits me fine.”
“Have you drilled a well, or do you have a well on your property?” I asked.
“Not yet. But I’ll strike a gusher. I’ll bet my bottom dollar on it,” she wrapped a scarf around her bonnet and headed for the door. I stood holding potatoes in my hand until I finally remembered my manners.
“If you’re alone for Christmas, you could come and spend the day with us.”
She turned then, a smile lighting her face. But the smile didn’t linger. She looked at me, serious-like. “You should check with your family first, Titus, before you ask a guest. Your uncle might not take it too kindly.”
“I don’t suppose Uncle Amos would mind all that much, but Mercy might,” I replied thoughtfully.
“Is she cooking the Christmas goose?”
“Yes, but she was complaining a little this morning about having to cook everything by herself.”
“Have you bought the goose yet?”
“Uncle Amos is killing one as we speak.”
“What do you say we go now after you get your provisions? I need to speak with your uncle about your schooling.”
I wondered if I had done something wrong, but wasn’t about to ask, seeing as I was so nervous that I dropped the potatoes on the floor. She bent down and picked them up, putting them gently back in my arms.
We lugged the groceries home and put everything in the kitchen before looking out back for Uncle Amos. He had slaughtered the goose and was busy plucking it.
When we reached him I said, “I invited Mrs. Ryan for Christmas dinner, seeing as she’ll be alone.”
I hoped that would distract her from talking about my schoolwork. I just remembered an essay I was supposed to hand in and hadn’t got finished yet.
Uncle Amos looked at both of us kind of funny-like, and then he smiled at Mrs. Ryan and me. “A pleasure I’m sure,” he said. “I hope you like stuffed goose.”
“Who doesn’t?” I piped up.
“Do you need help with the plucking?” Mrs. Ryan asked my uncle.
“Now ma’am that wouldn’t be a fitting way to treat a guest would it?” Uncle Amos joked. “But Titus can put a kettle on so we can all have tea when I’ve finished here.”
“That’ll will be fine,” Mrs. Ryan lifted her skirt slightly to keep it out of the wet snow as she walked back to the house.
“Titus.” Uncle Amos said it softly so only I would hear. I went to him. “You sure you want your teacher here for dinner?”
“Yes. She’s pretty nice, and she’s a good teacher most of the time.”
Uncle Amos smiled. “It was thoughtful of you to think of someone else at Christmas.”
I waited to see if he had anythi
ng more to say, but he didn’t. I followed Mrs. Ryan into the house. She had just put some water in the kettle and put it on the stove.
“This house doesn’t look too much like Christmas does it?” she said, turning to me.
“We just moved in, ma’am, and not all the furniture has come yet. There’s some coming tomorrow with my aunt and uncle.”
“Why don’t we go out to the woods to see if we can borrow some evergreen boughs?”
It was kind of nice the way she pretended the trees were like people and might give us permission to take a branch of two off of them. It was good to find someone else with an imagination in this town.
“I know where there is a very kind tree, one that just loves Christmas,” I played right along with her.
We laughed together as we gathered boughs and the bittersweet that grew along a fencerow. Back home, we put the boughs on the mantle and scattered the bittersweet amongst them. It looked real pretty. The rest of the bittersweet went into a vase on the big table.
By the time we finished, the goose was plucked and in the pantry under a clean tea towel. Mercy was back in the kitchen making pies and the tea had been poured. Uncle Amos got out his pipe and went to the corner cupboard for his tobacco. Mercy shooed me to the root cellar to fetch some apples. By the time I came back, Uncle Amos was smoking comfortably on a kitchen chair, reading a book. Mrs. Ryan looked relaxed sitting across the table from him. She took the apples from me and began peeling them while Mercy worked on the pastry.
I sat down to help with the apples. I didn’t mind one bit because Mrs. Ryan never told me to do it. She’s not bossy like Mercy. I found myself talking to her about things, just the way I do with Uncle Amos. Once I caught his eye on me, and he was grinning. I was probably talking too much and tried to be quiet, but the words just came out. I told her about Moses and me and our business, and I told her about John Longville.
“You don’t like him?” she asked me.
“No, ma’am,” I solemnly replied.
“Well then he must be a no-good bounder, and I won’t like him either.” There was a little bit of laughter in her voice, but I knew she was kind of serious too. Uncle Amos pretended to ignore us, but I knew he wasn’t reading because he hadn’t turned a page for the past five minutes.