Father unto Many Sons

by Rod Miller

  But it was Richard who answered. “Good hell, Pa! He killed a man! Our own kin! And he kidnapped Peter!”

  Lee shook his head sadly. “Sometimes, boys, you just got to do what you got to do. Sure, Ben’s dead. But he brought it on hisself, sounds to me like. He could have just given you-all the books in the first place. Abel only did what he had to—and he got the job done.”

  Later, Peter told the part of the story he knew. And again voiced his wish to be set free.

  Lee pondered it for a while, then said, “Where would you go, if we was to turn you loose?”

  It was Peter’s turn to ponder.

  “I cannot say, Sir. At first, I would have returned to Shelby County. But, without the job with Mister Pate, there is nothing to hold me there. I did not leave anything behind but a bank account, and I can obtain those funds no matter where I wind up. And, truth be told, working for Ben—Mister Pate—wasn’t all that pleasant. I see that now that I am away from it. Richard suggested earlier I might be released in Little Rock, but Abel decided otherwise.”

  Richard interrupted Peter’s story. “That’s another thing— Abel comes more and more to think he can tell me and Mel what to do. The boy can’t remember his place.”

  Lee said, “It looks to me, Richard, like you and Melvin might do well to pay attention to your younger brother.”

  He thought another minute or two as his older sons fumed, then spoke to Peter. “Well, Peter, I don’t know what to do with you. Abel’s got a point that you might go to the law the minute we set you free.”

  “I would not do it, Sir. You have my word.”

  “Would you swear to it on that Bible?”

  “Absolutely, Mister Pate.”

  “Well, come morning we’ll pack up and go on to Fort Smith. Maybe by the time we get there we’ll have an idea what to do.” When they packed, the journal and family Bible, wrapped in sacking, went into the wagon’s jockey box.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Emma Lewis stood breathless on the makeshift dance floor. She, like practically every other female residing in Fort Smith, including her three sisters, found it all but impossible to sit out a dance. Women were at a premium in the town, especially with the influx of army troops and workers imported to rebuild the military post.

  Her previous partner had scarcely dropped her hand and bowed when another stepped in, took her by the hand, and requested the pleasure of the next dance. It had been so all evening for Emma and the other women—from the sixty-twoyear-old wife of a merchant all the way down to Emma’s sister Jane, who was only thirteen.

  The dance floor, an almost-level platform of nailed-up planks sprinkled with candle shavings, was lit by the dim glow of lanterns hanging from corner posts and bonfires laid in stone circles at each side of the rectangle. The two fiddlers, the banjo-playing soldier, and a woman with an accordion—the only female not on the dance floor—were as weary as the dancing women from playing nonstop through the evening. One of the fiddlers announced the next song would be the last, as the hour was late and the men all had work the next day.

  The Lewis girls, too, had work the next day. Morning found them, as usual, filling wooden washtubs, adding boiling water and lye soap slivers, scrubbing soggy garments against washboards or stirring and beating them with a dolly stick in a dolly tub, rinsing, then hanging laundry from the web of clotheslines strung about the creek-side work area.

  The job was not easy, but the nature of it allowed all the time the girls needed to compare notes about last night’s dance and the men they took a turn around the floor with.

  “That Lieutenant Anderson dances like he has wings on his shoes.”

  “Oh, but Matthew Adams from the brickworks, he is lighter on his feet still.”

  “That soldier Griffith—I disremember his Christian name—he danced well early in the evening but later, well, too much drink made him tangle-footed.”

  “Did you see the two who came to blows? I don’t know their names, but they were going at it hammer and tongs. It must have been a dozen men it took to pull them apart.”

  “I suppose such behavior is to be expected. Many of the soldiers are from the South, and the brick makers and builders are New England Yankees.”

  “Aye, and add whiskey to the mix and trouble will not be avoided.”

  “Still and all, the men here are better behaved than those Missouri Pukes we lived among, times past.”

  “Emma, I do believe that Sergeant Beauregard is sweet on you.”

  “Oh, Mary, he is not!”

  Martha said, “Pa won’t hold with any of us taking up with an army man. Especially not with war coming.”

  “Nonsense. There will be no war,” Mary said.

  “Some say so.”

  “Aye, Martha, and they have been saying so for years.”

  And on and on they talked until midafternoon when a man unfamiliar to them came along. He looked to be about their father’s age and stood waiting, hat in hand, until the girls paid him attention.

  “Good afternoon, Sir,” Mary said. “Is it clean laundry you are wanting?”

  “No. No thank you, ladies. I’m lookin’ for a gentleman who goes by the name of Daniel Lewis. I was told he has set up housekeeping hereabouts. Do you know him?”

  “Aye. He is our father and this is his home, such as it is. I am Mary Lewis, his oldest.”

  “Is your father about?”

  “I am afraid not. He is at work in the brickyard. But you will find him here this evening should you care to call again.”

  “I will do that. Thank you,” the man said with a slight bow. He set his hat upon his head and turned to go.

  “A moment, Sir,” Mary said. “Can I tell father who came calling?”

  “Of course. My name is Lee Pate.”

  “We shall see you later, Mister Pate. I assure you father will be expecting your visit.”

  With another bow, Lee walked back to near Fort Smith where he had left his family and Peter waiting with the wagon earlier that day. Peter was still there. And Sarah. And Abel. Richard and Melvin, however, were nowhere in sight.

  “Where are the boys?”

  “They’ve gone on into town to have a look around,” Sarah said.

  “Should have waited, like I said.”

  “Oh, they won’t come to any harm. It’s been tiresome waiting. What did you learn in town?”

  Lee took off his hat, pulled a rag from his pocket and mopped his forehead and the hat’s sweatband. “No shortage of work here. Finding a place to live, now that’s another matter. Army’s putting up a new fort and the workers have taken every place with a roof.”

  Sarah said, “What are we to do, then?”

  “I was told of a family—man with three or four girls, I think— came to town a while back with a pair of wagons. They set themselves up in a nice camp on Mill Creek. Went to have a look, and see if we could join them.”

  “And?”

  “Daniel—that’s the man’s name, Daniel Lewis—is workin’ in the town. Girl of his said come back this evening. Why don’t you come along with me, see what you think?”

  Sarah nodded. “I suppose. I do tire of living out of this wagon and cooking on an open fire.”

  “Might be the best we can do, for now.”

  Sarah laughed without mirth. “No. The best we could do we left behind in Shelby County.”

  Lee called for Abel and sent him to Fort Smith to fetch his brothers. “Take Peter with you, if you care to. But keep an eye on him.”

  “Thank you, Mister Pate. I swear I won’t cause any trouble for you-all,” the captive said.

  It did not take long to locate Richard and Melvin. After trying the streets, grog shops looked to be a likely prospect. In the second saloon they tried, Abel and Peter found Richard and Melvin propped at the far end of the bar. A bucket of beer sat before Melvin, residue of its foamy contents clinging to his scraggly mustache. Richard drained off the contents of a shot glass and refilled it from the whiskey bottl
e at his elbow.

  “Well lo and behold! If it ain’t my baby brother, Abel. Come to have a drink with us, did you, Abel?”

  “You know better than that.”

  “How ’bout you, Peter?”

  “No thank you, Rich. I would not care for anything right now.”

  Richard tossed back the contents of his glass and refilled it. “What brings you-all out on this fine afternoon, then?”

  Abel said, “Pa wants you two back at the wagon.”

  “Some particular chore he’s got in mind for us?”

  “He didn’t say. He just said he wanted you-all back, and that ought to be enough.”

  Abel looked at Melvin. Melvin looked at the floor. Richard swirled his glass around and around on the bar, watching the whiskey climb the sides. He stopped and poured the shot down his throat.

  “Well, it ain’t good enough for me. You tell the loony ol’ coot I’ll be back when I’m damn good and ready.”

  Abel reddened at the insult to their father. “C’mon, Rich! He’s your Pa!”

  “That he is. But I ain’t a kid anymore and I ain’t dancin’ to his tune ’less it suits me.”

  “Rich. . . .”

  “Abel. . . .”

  “How about you, Melvin?”

  Melvin sipped his beer, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and tried—without much success—to stifle a belch. “I told you not to call me Melvin. I go by Mel now.”

  “You comin’ or ain’t you?”

  Melvin looked at Richard. Richard gave his head a slight shake.

  “No, Abel, I don’t guess I am. I’ll stay here with Rich.”

  Abel left the saloon with Peter on his heels, wondering all the way back to the wagon what he was going to tell his father.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Lee squatted low, head leaned into the cow’s flank. The milking almost finished, he grasped the teats between thumb and forefinger and in turn stripped the last of the milk from the udder. He looked into the pail. Not deep enough in there to drown a field mouse.

  He stood, patted the cow on the hip, and carried the bucket to Sarah. She shook her head at the milk—little more than a puddle. “It’s a good thing we’re not relying on that cow to feed us or we’d starve for certain.”

  “They tell me work is easy to come by here. With me and the three boys working, we ought to have money enough to eat well.”

  Sarah poured the milk into a skillet sizzling hot on the fire with grease from the bacon she’d just fried. When the milk boiled, she tossed in a handful of flour and stirred until it thickened into gravy. She plopped biscuits for herself and Lee onto plates and spooned gray over the top then forked on slices of bacon. They sat on the wagon tongue, plates on their laps, and ate.

  Sarah saw Abel and Peter coming back from town, gestured their direction with her fork and said, “What about Peter? We planning to keep on feeding him?”

  Lee watched them coming for a moment. “Can’t say. We’ll have to figure something out. Maybe he’ll find work and pitch in something for the pot.” He chewed his food and waited for Abel and Peter to make it back to the wagon. They did, and stood in silence. “Well, Abel?”

  Abel took off his uncle’s hat and hung his head. “We found ’em, Pa.”

  Lee waited.

  “They didn’t want to come back with us.”

  Lee said nothing.

  Abel stood the silence as long as he could. He turned the hat slowly in his hands. “They was in a saloon.”

  Lee clenched his jaw, shook his head slowly. “Drinking?”

  “ ’Fraid so. Rich is drunk, but he ain’t silly-stupid so. You can’t tell with Mel—you know how he is.”

  “That sound right to you, Peter?”

  “Yes, Sir. Rich was adamant about not coming back. Even angry, you might say.”

  Sarah said, “Lee, you ought not expect those boys to do your bidding without question anymore. They’re not children, you know.”

  Lee stared at her in disbelief. “They may not be children, Sarah, but they are still our boys. You know as well as I do they weren’t brought up to be drunkards.”

  “They might not of been raised drinkers, but these past months puttin’ up with you and your craziness could sway anyone to take it up.”

  The comment stunned Abel. Even Peter was taken aback. Only Lee appeared to take it in stride. He removed his hat, smoothed his hair with the palm of his hand and resettled the hat. “We’ll deal with this later. Right now, I’m going to visit Daniel Lewis and see if we can set up camp near him. Sarah, you’re welcome to come along.”

  She stood, took Lee’s plate and stacked it on her own and set them on the wagon seat. She smoothed her apron front, did her best to tuck stray locks of hair back under her bonnet. “May as well, I suppose. Abel, Peter, there’s food cooked. Help yourselves. I’ll worry about cleaning up when we get back.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Abel said. He put on his hat and watched his parents walk away.

  Their day’s laundering done, the Lewis girls bustled around the area of camp that served as kitchen and dining room attending to their father, keeping his plate and cup full. Mary saw Lee and Sarah coming and walked out to greet them.

  “Welcome back, Mister Pate. As you see, Father is at home now and if you don’t mind talking as he finishes his supper, he will be pleased to see you.” She turned her attention to Sarah. “I suspect this must be Missus Pate.”

  Sarah confirmed it with a slight nod of her head. Lee said, “Yes, Miss, this is Sarah.”

  “Pleased to meet you—”

  “—Mary. Mary Lewis.” By now the other three sisters were lined up beside Mary. “These are my sisters, Martha, Emma, and Jane.” The girls dipped with slight curtsies in turn.

  The girls escorted the Pates to the table under a canvas fly where Daniel Lewis sat at his supper. Sarah looked enviously at the thick slabs of bread, the cold roast beef sliced thin, cheese, and pickles.

  Daniel wiped mouth and hands with a napkin, then stood, bowed slightly to Sarah and offered a hand to Lee. “Daniel Lewis.” Lee shook the hand and introduced himself and Sarah.

  “My daughters warned me of your coming,” Daniel said. “My apologies for your catching me tucking in, but I’m just home and hungry. Would you care to join me?”

  “Looks tempting, Mister Lewis,” Lee said with a glance at his wife. “But me and Sarah, we just ate ourselves.”

  Daniel nodded. “Sit, please. Now, what is on your mind?”

  Lee explained they had come from Tennessee and hoped to lay over in Fort Smith for the winter, to work and earn money in preparation for pushing on in the spring.

  Daniel smiled. “I find myself in much the same circumstances.”

  Sarah, eyeing the well-outfitted campsite and the two wagons, and seeing the four oxen lying on their bellies contentedly chewing their cuds, could see the Lewises’ “circumstances” far exceeded their own.

  “What we were wondering, Sir, what with houses and such scarce as hen’s teeth, is if you would allow us to set up camp here along the creek. Looks like you’ve chosen a right fine place to pitch your tents.”

  Mary bustled around gathering the supper leftovers and dinnerware, trying not to intrude but not wanting to miss a word. The other daughters, equally curious, hovered nearby.

  “It has proven providential,” Daniel said. “We are near enough to town for convenience’s sake, but far enough away to assure privacy. For the girls, don’t you see.”

  “Them girls might be the fly in the ointment,” Lee said. “See, I’ve got three boys—not boys anymore, men—and there’s another man who—well, he’s—I guess you could say he’s been travelin’ with us. You might not want them boys so close by.”

  Daniel laughed. “Not to worry, Mister Pate. My girls can take care of themselves when it comes to fending off unwanted advances. They—all except Jane, who is too young as yet to attract that kind of interest—are well and truly experienced at handling menfolk.”
/>   “So you don’t mind?”

  “Not at all. As they say here in America, it is a free country.”

  Lee stood and this time offered his hand. Daniel gave it a vigorous shake. Lee said, “Thank you kindly, Mister Lewis. I reckon we’ll be joining you-all here tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Twilight darkened into night as Lee sat on the doubletree astraddle the wagon tongue, head resting against the wagon box, watching stars prick holes in the dome of the sky. Only glowing coals remained of the campfire. A ways off, he could hear the staked-out mules grinding grass and the occasional jangle of halters when they shook their heads, and he heard Sarah’s rattly breathing from inside the wagon where she slept.

  He heard Richard and Melvin long before he saw them. He tossed a couple of pieces of split firewood onto the coals and flames flared up. In the nearing distance, Richard would say something Lee could not make out, Melvin would laugh and snort, then Richard would laugh, and the performance would repeat. The brothers walked into the dim light, Richard grasping an uncorked and mostly empty bottle of whiskey.

  “Pa!” he said. “Thought you’d be snorin’ up a storm long ’afore now.”

  Melvin thought that funny.

  Lee cleared his throat and spat. “When I went into town today, I thought I told you boys to wait here by the wagon with your Ma.”

  Richard drank from the bottle. Melvin poked him in the ribs and Richard passed the bottle along. “We waited some. Got to feelin’ like I was growin’ roots so we decided we’d go take a look-see at Fort Smith.”

  Lee said, “It weren’t but a few hours you-all was asked to wait.”

  “It was long enough. Too long.”

  “You-all had pressing business in town, did you? So what did you-all see? Anything other than the bottom of a whiskey glass?”

  The brothers glanced at each other and then seemed to take an interest in the dirt at their feet.

  “You-all know I don’t hold with drinking.”

  “Aw, Pa,” Melvin said, hands in pockets and scratching at the dirt with the toe of his boot. “You been known to take a drink.”