Hoggee Page 5

  “I’ll be strong enough to go back to the barn soon,” said Howard. “Tomorrow I’m going to try to stand, and I’ll try walking.”

  “There be no hurry, boy. We’re mostly used to you now.” Then he laughed. “Molly, though, she misses you a good bit. Looks behind me, she does, when I come in, and shakes her head in disgust.”

  Howard spent a lot of time worrying about the money. He wanted to go back to the barn. He wanted to see if the money was really under the hay. Sometimes he thought finding the purse in the snow had been part of the strange dreams brought on by the raging fever. He wondered what he would do with the money. It was not his, and he knew he should return it, but to whom?

  Finally, he decided he would take just enough to buy a little food until spring. The rest he would return to Mistress O’Grady. She would know what to do with it. He felt better.

  The next day he did stand. Laura and Gracie helped, one girl holding to each of his arms as he pushed himself up against the wall. His breaths came heavily, and his knees shook.

  “Ma says it’s being in bed so long makes you weak,” Laura said. “She says you’ll get your strength back a bit at a time.”

  He nodded, then let his body slide down against the wall. “Thank you for helping,” he said when he had caught his breath. He stretched across the mattress. “I’d like to try again, later, if you could help me again,” he said.

  They said they would, but Howard grew tired of waiting. He decided to try by himself. He rolled to the wall, sat up against it, and began to struggle to push himself up. Something made him look toward the door. Sarah stood there in the doorway, watching.

  “Hello,” he said.

  The girl said nothing. She looked at him for a moment. Then she came toward him, walking across his mattress. She took his arm and began to pull upward until he was standing.

  “Thank you, Sarah,” he said.

  For a moment she stared into his eyes, then she turned and ran from the room. “Sarah,” he said. “Sarah, wait.” She did not look back.

  The next day it happened again. He had just started to push himself up when he felt her eyes upon him again. “Sarah,” he said. He spoke softly, hoping not to scare her away, but then Laura appeared beside her. She took Sarah’s hand and pulled her away.

  He stood leaning against the wall for a moment and had just started to slide down when Laura came back. She stood in the doorway, her arms folded across her chest. “Leave Sarah be,” she said. “I told you Grandpa would be fit to be tied was he to find you bothering her.”

  Howard let himself slide down to sit on the mattress with his back to the wall. “I wasn’t bothering her,” he said. “She just stopped in the doorway, and I spoke to her. That’s all.”

  Laura let out a deep breath. “You can’t talk to Sarah,” she said, “and she can’t talk to you.”

  “Why?”

  “She can’t hear, and she can’t talk.” Tears began to well up in her eyes and run down her cheeks. “She wasn’t born that way. Ma says it came on her after a terrible fever when she was about a year old. They didn’t know she couldn’t hear until our da accidentally dropped a big crock on the floor behind her. He yelled, too, but Sarah just sat there in front of him and never looked his way. She’s lived most of her sixteen years now never hearing a thing. Grandpa says folks would poke fun at her if we was to take her places, and he don’t like company to come into our house. You’re the first one ever.”

  “Deaf and mute,” said Howard.

  “Yes,” said Laura, “now you know. Ma has taught her how to work some by pointing and such, but that’s it. She ain’t right, that’s all, and you’ve got no call to be worrying her by trying to talk to her.”

  Howard nodded. “I won’t try to talk to her again.”

  “Good,” said Laura. She turned and left the room.

  That night Howard woke to a strange sound. It came from the main room, and after a moment he realized someone was crying. He crawled to the door, pulled himself up in the doorway, and looked out into the dark room.

  Someone sat on the kitchen bench that had been moved to be beside the window. Moonlight came through the window, and Howard could see that whoever was crying was too big to be Gracie; it had to be Laura or Sarah. The sobs were loud and strange, and he realized they came from Sarah.

  He had never heard such a sorrowful sound, such desperate crying. He wanted to go to the girl. He wanted to comfort her, but how could he?

  Leaning against the wall, he made his way to the kitchen table. He would hold onto it and be able to walk to the bench where Sarah sat.

  Howard breathed hard. He lifted his feet as little as possible, saving his strength. Knowing she could not hear him, he tried to think how to let her know he was there so she would not be frightened when she saw him. He looked around the room. A broom stood near his door, and he made his way back to get it. Then when he had inched forward enough, he held the broomstick out to touch Sarah’s shoulder.

  She turned to see him. Howard thought she might run, but she didn’t. She sat very still and watched him move toward her. She had stopped sobbing, and she wiped at her eyes with her hand. She wore a heavy flannel nightgown and a white ruffled cap like the one his mother wore for sleeping.

  There was room for him on the bench beside her, and he almost fell onto the spot. For a moment they sat quietly. Then Sarah scooted away from him and began to cry again. Howard reached out and touched her hand. She turned to look at him, then got up and hurried away into the bedroom she shared with her mother and sisters.

  For a while Howard sat on the bench and stared out into the night. The heaviness he so frequently felt inside had grown. Now he no longer felt sad for himself. Sarah’s sorrow was so much heavier.

  Two days later he went back to the barn. Old Cyrus had made him a walking stick, and he leaned heavily on it when he had to stop to rest. Laura and Gracie walked with him. Gracie carried a lunch of bread and cheese she had tied up for him in a cloth. Laura stayed close beside him in case he needed help, but he was able to walk alone.

  “It will be strange, you not being in our pantry,” Laura said when they were inside the barn door. Gracie made a face, and he laughed.

  Molly was glad to see him. He went to her and stroked her neck. “You don’t scratch a mule’s ears,” he told Laura and Gracie. “Horses like that, but not mules.” The girls did not stay long. As soon as they were gone, Howard thought of the purse. First he dug under the straw. There was the pebble that marked the spot. He took his knife from his pocket, opened it, and used it as a digging tool. In a moment his fingers touched the material of the purse, and he could feel the money inside. He covered it again with a little dirt and the pebble, put the straw back on top, and stretched out on it for a nap.

  When he woke, he took one of the small boards from the stack. Words pushed up from inside him, and he used his knife to release them. After he had written about Sarah’s grief, he expected to feel better, but he didn’t. He sat leaning against the boards in Molly’s stall, remembering the sound of Sarah’s crying.

  6

  I AM A TEACHER

  They were, Howard thought when he had carved them, magnificent words. Words he had never supposed would be said of him, and he carved them with absolute joy.

  For two days he had stayed in the barn or at least close by. Using his walking stick to help, he moved about until he was exhausted, then fell into the straw to rest. Laura and Gracie brought him food. The first afternoon they stayed. After he had eaten, Gracie went off to play in the haystack. Laura and Howard stretched out in the straw, and Howard told her about his life on the canal. “We’ve been hoggees for three years now. I was eleven and Jack thirteen when we started. I never took to the canal the way Jack has. He loves it, but I’d find another way to live if I could. Still, I think the canal is interesting. We’ve walked on every mile of the towpath, all three hundred sixty-three of them between Albany and Buffalo, through mountains and valleys and swamps. Sometimes when they first open the locks in the spring, I stick my hand in the water that’s come down from Lake Erie. I watch the water separate and go around my hand. I think how the same water that touched my hand will keep going till it gets to Albany. The water will go all the way down the river to New York. Then it will go into the ocean. Water that touched my hand will go into that great sea.”

  “Oh,” said Laura. “That makes you part of the ocean, sort of. I would love to see the sea.”

  “Me, too,” said Howard. “I surely would love to go with that water that touches my hand.”

  The next afternoon he read to them from his book about George Washington.

  “Was he a friend of yours?” Gracie asked.

  “No, he lived a hundred years ago,” said Howard.

  “Oh. Want to see me stand on my head?” Gracie asked.

  “Gracie,” said Laura, “you know Ma told you to stop standing on your head. She says your brain will get topsy-turvy. Besides, every bit of your pantalets would show. It’s not nice to show your pantalets to boys.”

  Grace nodded her head and stared at Howard. “Oh, that’s right. Howard is a boy. You’re the first boy we’ve ever talked to.”

  “I’d like to be able to read and write,” said Laura, and she reached out her hand to touch his book. “Do you think you could teach me?”

  Howard bit at his lip, wondering. He wasn’t sure how a person went about teaching someone to read, and there was another problem. “Do you think your grandpa would object?” he asked.

  Laura nodded. “He will object, but mayhap I can persuade him. He doesn’t want me going to school because he thinks it’s a waste of time, but you teaching me wouldn’t take so much time away from my chores. I’ve heard him talk of the brothers he left in Ireland wh
en he came to this country. I’ll bring them up, tell him that if I can write, I’ll send letters to see if any of them can be found. Grandfather can sometimes be softened, and I believe Ma would be made glad by me learning.”

  “I don’t think I want to learn to read,” said Gracie. “I think that reading might make my brain all topsy-turvy.”

  After two days in the barn, Howard felt strong enough to walk to town. He took his stick to lean on, and he took the purse. He used the canal bridge to cross Main Street and get to O’Grady’s Inn. He stood outside the window and looked at the sign. Below the letters were pictures of a bed and of a table with dishes on it. Signs like that, Howard knew, were for people who could not read. If he did not teach her to read, Laura would need such signs all her life. What about Sarah? What would become of her after her grandfather and mother were gone?

  He shrugged his shoulders. He could not spend time right now worrying about Cyrus’s granddaughters. He had to worry about himself. Right now he needed to find the courage to go inside the inn. If Mac saw him, he might get beaten up again. He didn’t want to encounter O’Grady, either, but standing a few feet away, he was not close enough to see who was in the dining room. He would have to get closer.

  He edged his way toward the window. Finally, his nose touched the glass. He put his hands up around his face to block the light from outside, and he could see into the inn. Two tables had customers, and Mistress O’Grady stood behind the counter. O’Grady or Mac could be in the back. They could come in at any minute. He drew in a deep breath and stepped toward the door.

  Mistress O’Grady looked up as he entered. Howard walked across the room, his eyes always on the door that led to the kitchen. “Hello,” she said when he was beside the counter, “Ain’t you him that O’Grady promised the job to, then went back on his word?”

  Howard nodded. “I am, but I’ve not come to cause trouble.” He leaned closer to her. “I’ve a matter to talk to you about, but I’m concerned…” He paused and looked toward the kitchen door.

  “Well, boy, there’s no one in the back if that’s what bothers you. I’ve sent that rascal Mac off to the butcher’s; won’t be back for a while. O’Grady’s poorly and gone upstairs to bed.”

  “It’s about this purse,” Howard said, and he drew it from his pocket. “I found it the night Mac fought me behind this place. Remember you called him off of me?

  “Aye, I recollect. Wasn’t sure, though, it was you.”

  “It was, and I am beholding to you, but it’s the purse that brought me here. There’s money in it, and I thought you might see that it got returned to the owner.” He held the purse out to her. “I’d have been here sooner, but illness slowed me.”

  The woman made no move to take the purse. She leaned her plump arms on the counter. “See here, boy,” she said, “I wouldn’t be a-knowing who lost that purse.”

  “I thought it might be Mister O’Grady’s or maybe Mac’s.”

  She shook her head. “Either of them lost a purse with money in it, there would have been plenty of noise around here about it. Besides, Mac is a bully and a thief.” She laughed. “My husband, well…” She shook her head and reached out to push Howard’s hand back toward him. “You keep the purse, and its contents, boy.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  “I am. Now set yourself down over there. I’ve just enough stew left to give you a nice bowl.”

  The stew warmed him, and he felt stronger and more confident. Just as he was going out the door Mac appeared. Mac pushed his way through the door and made a sort of sound like the growling of the hungry dogs. Howard wanted to run, but instead he looked Mac in the eye and continued through the door.

  He had given some consideration as to how he would buy food and had decided to ask old Cyrus about paying to eat with the family. It was growing dark by the time he walked from town. Might as well go in now, he told himself. Cyrus would be in the house after having finished his evening chores.

  Light from the lamp came out the window. This time it did not make him lonely. He knocked, and Gracie opened the door. “It’s Howard,” she called. “Mayhap he’s sick again.”

  “You sound hopeful,” he said to her. “Do you wish me sick again?”

  Gracie grinned. “It was a frolic,” she said, “having you in the pantry.” She stepped aside for him to enter.

  “Well, I’m sorry, then, to tell you I’m a little weak still, but fit enough to walk to town.” He followed her inside.

  Old Cyrus sat at the table smoking his pipe, and the girls cleared the table. Mistress Donaldson dipped hot water from a large kettle into a dishpan that sat on a small cook table beside the stove. “We’ve just finished,” she said, “but there’s a bit of beans left in the bowl, I believe.”

  “Thank you, but I’m not hungry,” he said. “It’s food I’ve come to talk to you about though.”

  “Set yourself down then, boy,” said Cyrus.

  Both Laura and Gracie stopped what they were doing to listen to the conversation. Howard looked around for Sarah and saw her standing in the doorway to the bedroom, where the shadows almost hid her from sight.

  “I found some money outside O’Grady’s Inn,” he said. “I tried to give it to Mistress O’Grady, but she said I should keep it. It’s enough to pay you for taking care of me and, if you’re willing, for eating with you until I go back on the boat.”

  Cyrus smoked his pipe, and Howard waited for him to think about the offer. Laura came and put her hand on her grandfather’s shoulder. She said nothing, but Howard knew she had something she wanted to say. “As to your sickness, I’ve no wish to take your money for doing what any Christian ought,” he said. “But there is a bit of work you might do in exchange for stopping at our table now.” He patted Laura’s hand. “My granddaughter here says how you’re powerful good at making out words. She has a hankering to do the same, and she’s persuaded me to let her try. Laura’s of the mind that you could teach her.” He blew out his smoke and looked at Howard. “Well, are ye able?”

  Howard smiled. “I don’t know, sir, but I’d like to try.”

  Cyrus stood up. “Well then it’s a deal, a lesson after each meal.”

  Howard spent the last days of winter concerned with two things, teaching Laura and walking to the canal. He knew it was too early for water to be let back into it, but it would not be long. Seeing the canal on the first day became important to him. He wanted to plunge in his hand, hold it under as long as the cold would allow, then pull it out to know the water would go on to the sea.

  The wind was not so cold now. He wandered about the village and found a shop that had a few books. “Do you have a reading book?” he asked the woman behind the counter. “One that a beginner would use?”

  She shook her head. “I’m afraid you can’t teach yourself to read from a book, lad.”

  “No,” he told her. “I want to teach someone else.”

  “Oh.” She nodded and turned to the shelf behind her. “This would do.” She handed him a book. The Eclectic First Reader for Young Children was the title, and it was written by a man named McGuffey.

  “Yes,” he said. “This will do nicely.” He bought the book, a writing tablet, a quill pen, and some ink. A calendar hung on the wall, and the shopkeeper told him that the day was the last day of February.

  Howard loved holding the book, loved walking back to Cyrus’s house with it tucked under his arm. Laura loved it, too. He laid the paper, pen, ink, and quill on the bench beside him while he ate, but he had hidden the book under his shirt before going in.

  After the meal Howard waited while the girls cleared the table. When Laura sat down beside him at the table, he pulled out the book and put it on the table in front of her. “It’s for teaching you,” he said. “You’re going to learn from the same book they use at school.”

  Laura sucked in her breath with surprise and joy. “Oh,” she said, tracing the letters on the cover. “I never hoped to see a real schoolbook.”

  He opened the book and read the lesson to her. Laura was quick to learn even that first night. Back at the barn, Howard carved his sixth message and felt better than ever he had in his life—except for the time the master said he was a better scholar than Jack.