“The boy would never have bothered you if I’d been with you,” Regina put in. “Or your mama.”
Sometimes Grace wished Regina didn’t work for them. She could help Mama with some of the work, if only Mama would let her.
“How was it you were able to get the cloth back?” Mother asked in a kind voice. It was good to know she wasn’t angry at Grace.
“Mr. Gedney, the watchman, heard me yelling and came running.”
“Why didn’t this bad boy named Raggy just run off with the cloth? Why did he throw it down?”
Mama’s question surprised Grace. She shook her head. “Because if he kept it, Mr. Gedney would have run after him and he would have been a thief.”
“But you say he stole turnips?” Mama took the items from the basket and began putting them away.
Grace didn’t understand what Mama was getting at, nor did she want to know. Raggy Langler was a mean, horrible boy, and that’s all there was to it. “He stole the cloth, then threw it in the dirt,” she said trying to make the story worse. “He pushed me so hard that, if I’d fallen, your cabbages and turnips would have been full of dirt and the eggs all broken.”
“I believe at prayers tonight, we shall pray for Raggy Langler,” Mama said. “Now go to your room and freshen up. We’ll have cabbage wedges with our salt pork for lunch.”
Not only did Mama pray for Raggy that night, she also instructed Grace to pray for him at church the next morning. Now that was going to take some doing!
On Sundays they walked to church with Carter, Deanna, and little Matthew and Adah. Grace’s bonnet was new. The ruffles and ribbons fascinated two-year-old Adah.
“Pitty ribbon,” she said, wanting to touch the bonnet. Grace adored cute little Adah with her mop of copper-colored curls.
Four-year-old Matthew held tightly to Drew’s hand, and Grace noted how the little boy dogged the steps of his young uncle. Carter, as usual, had little to say. Grace couldn’t imagine being as quiet as Carter Ramsey. What a chore that would be! Mama and Deanna, on the other hand, always chatted nonstop.
As they entered the sanctuary, Widow Robbins was seated at the piano, playing a grand hymn. Before the piano had arrived, Grace had hated her family’s second-row pew, but now she was thankful. Grace watched every move Widow Robbins made as her fingers scooted over the glossy keys, amazed at the combination of sounds that came out. Someday she would know how to create lovely music on her very own piano.
The Reverend Danforth’s message lasted for several hours. Sometimes there would be a break, during which they sang hymns from the hymnbooks. If Grace had her way, they’d sing for hours and take a break to listen to a short sermon!
Although Grace only listened halfheartedly, at one point she heard the reverend say that it was God’s will that all should come to repentance—that God willed no one to perish or be lost. Grace wondered, Does that include people like Raggy and the riffraff that live in Sausage Row? Then the Reverend Danforth added, “By our love and our example, we draw others into the kingdom.”
After church, Grace thought about what those words meant. No matter how she twisted and turned them around in her head, she just couldn’t see any way she could love Raggy Langler or set an example for him. She wanted to strike him and make him leave Drew alone forever.
The day of the school-commencement exercises broke sunny and bright. Grace wanted more than anything to enjoy every moment of the day, but the conversation she’d overheard the night before between Papa and Luke kept echoing in her mind. There still hadn’t been a drop of rain, and the low river level meant no barges, no keelboats, and no steamboats. Grace had never seen the beautiful Ohio River so low. That in itself was scary enough.
But sitting quietly on the stair landing, she’d heard Papa and Luke talking about yet another problem—the Cincinnati banks.
“They’ve extended too much credit,” Papa said.
“But all banks out West have operated on credit,” Luke protested. “There’s no other way to make it go.”
“Yes,” Papa answered in a low voice, “but all cities aren’t suffering from lack of river traffic. It would be a double blow for us if the banks folded.”
For the first time ever, Grace stopped listening and crept back into bed. What did it mean to have the banks fold? Did that mean the banknote Papa wrote for the piano would not be any good?
Grace and Amy were currently standing in front of the schoolhouse. They were in their proper position, along with hundreds of other students, waiting for the parade to begin. All of Fourth Street was decked out in bunting and banners. Grace reckoned most of the city had turned out for the occasion. It felt nice, and a little strange, to feel the warm sun on her head and face. But none of the girls wore their bonnets, and the boys had left their caps off. All the children were to be bareheaded, wear light-colored clothing, and wave streamers as they proceeded down the broad street, singing as they went.
With a pounding of the bass drum and clash of cymbals, the band struck up a lively tune and the parade was underway. Grace marched and sang and waved her streamer with all the others. At the corner of Fourth and Broadway, she saw Papa and Mama standing at the curbing with Luke and Camille. She smiled to them and waved her streamer with more enthusiasm. It was good to see Papa smiling. There had been worry lines on his brow for many weeks.
The parade led to the town square, where the children were seated on the grass. On the bandstand stood Hugh Sutton, superintendent of the city schools, who called the crowd to attention. Acting as master of ceremonies, Mr. Sutton announced the special presentations from each classroom.
When it was Grace’s turn, she stood and walked proudly to the platform. The leader of the band put his pitch pipe to his lips to give her the correct key. Looking out over the thousands of faces, she searched for Mama and Papa. When at last she spied them standing beneath a sprawling oak tree, she sang to Papa the clear sweet melody of “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God.” A hush fell over the crowd as the words of comfort touched fearful hearts. Coming to the second verse, she sang:
Did we in our own strength confide,
Our striving would be losing
Were not the right Man on our side,
The Man of God’s own choosing.
Dost ask who that may be?
Christ Jesus, it is He;
Lord Sabaoth, His name,
From age to age the same,
And He must win the battle.
Even as she sang, Grace wondered if Jesus would help them win their battle against the awful problems of a dry river and banking systems that were falling apart. Could she be as certain as the hymn stated?
After the presentations, speeches, and prayers were completed, there were games and picnics beneath the cool shade of the trees in the square. Mama had brought Grace’s school bonnet along, but no one else was wearing one, so she convinced Mama to let her run bareheaded throughout the afternoon.
She introduced Amy and Jason to her family. Jason politely invited Drew to join in the races and games with him and his friend. Grace was surprised and pleased when Drew agreed.
Amy’s little sister, Leah, was a toddler near Adah’s age. Amy and Grace had great fun walking among the crowds with Leah in tow. Thankfully, Raggy had not appeared that day. Nor had she seen Wesley or Karl.
As they sat in the grass near the bandstand, listening to the rousing band music, Grace mentioned the boys’ absence to Amy.
Pulling Leah into her lap, Amy said, “But they’re the indigent students, remember?”
“What do you mean?”
“Grace, think about it. Can you imagine their dirty clothes in the parade along with all the pretty linen dresses and the other boys’ white shirts and nice bow ties? Why, they don’t even have shoes!”
Grace felt silly that she’d not thought of that before. It was true. When snow was on the ground, Raggy wore a pair of boots that looked as though they’d been cast off by someone much larger than he. As soon as the frost was of
f, he was barefoot again. What shoes would he have worn in the parade?
Suddenly, Grace felt a little ache deep in the pit of her stomach. An ache she couldn’t explain, and one that didn’t want to go away.
CHAPTER 7
Drew’s Challenge
Whippoorwills echoed their lonely calls in the trees above Drew’s head. The dense grove of buckeye, sycamore, and honey-locust trees blocked out the dimming June sky. Only through a few patches in the leafy boughs could he see the stars beginning to come out. Beside Drew, Grace sat quietly as she stared down the bluff at the wide muddy bog that was once a rushing river. The ferries that used to carry folks back and forth from the Kentucky side to the Ohio side were landlocked and useless.
It wasn’t like Grace to be still or even to sit still. Drew knew she was worried about her family. And he was worried, as well. The saddest thing to Drew was that Grace never mentioned her piano anymore. Had she lost hope?
If Drew hadn’t liked Cincinnati when he first arrived, he liked it even less now. The entire city seemed to be falling apart. Land prices had caved in and factories were closing their doors. He understood some of what was happening, but most he did not.
“It’s not just the lack of river traffic, is it?” he said to Grace, breaking the silence.
Grace turned to him. Her bonnet hung down her back by its ribbons. “You mean why the businesses are failing? No, Drew, it’s not just the river.”
Drew brushed leaves off his homespun trousers. After school let out, Deanna had found some old clothes of Carter’s and cut them down for Drew. The feel of linsey-woolsey took some getting used to, but at least he would no longer be called a dandy. “I’ve asked Carter about things, but he won’t talk.”
“Same with Papa,” Grace agreed. “He says I’m too young to understand. But I’ve heard plenty of talk between him and Luke and with Mama, too.” She pulled at the tuft on a purple thistle weed. It broke apart in her hands. “I heard Papa call it a depression. He says now that Americans are trading with the British rather than fighting with them, British products are cheaper than our products. That puts American factories out of business.”
Drew thought about that for a minute. “But the banks …”
“I don’t understand, either. All I know is that the banknotes that used to be worth something aren’t worth anything now.”
“Carter said he was glad he didn’t have any money in a worthless old bank.”
“This is one time your brother may be right.”
Drew looked away for fear he might see Grace cry. When she spoke again, Grace said, “Papa and Luke both trusted the bank, and now they have nothing. And the money they expected to receive from the sale of the boats won’t be coming. The buyers can’t come downriver to fetch them.” Pulling her hankie from her apron pocket, Grace blew her nose. “Papa doesn’t even know if the owners still have the money to buy the boats.”
After a moment, Drew tried to change the subject. “Carter wants me to go hunting with him.”
Grace brightened a bit, tucking her hankie back in her pocket. “That’s good, Drew. At least you’ll be helping. I wish I could do more to help.”
“I’m sort of afraid of the musket.”
Grace nodded. “You can get over being afraid.”
“Do you think so?” Drew sometimes envied Grace’s fearlessness.
“Carter may not talk much, but I imagine he’ll be a good teacher.”
Drew thought about that. “He’s not very patient. I mean, he’s not very patient with me. He’s pretty patient with Matt and Adah.”
“That’s because they’re his own. That’s different. He probably expects more of you because you’re older.”
“When he’s gone from the house, I’ve been practicing splitting kindling.”
“Have you?” Grace’s look of surprise pleased Drew. “I’m proud of you. How’re you doing?”
“Not too well, but I’m not giving up. Deanna’s been helping me keep the secret.”
“I’ve been lending a hand around the house more, too, since Mama had to let Regina go.” She gave a little laugh. “I used to wish Regina didn’t work for us. Now I’m sorry I had those thoughts. Regina needed the work, and Mama needed her help.”
“You couldn’t have known how things were going to change.”
“I know, but I’m still going to be more careful about my thoughts.” Methodically, she pulled the ribbons of her bonnet through her fingers. “I wish we could do more, Drew. I wish we could help somehow.”
Drew knew what she meant. Now that circumstances in the city had seen a downturn, Drew felt even more guilty for eating at Carter’s table. Many nights he ate only half of his portion and made sure Matthew and Adah took the rest. Then he went to bed dreaming of the heavy-laden table at his old home back in Boston. There were delicacies there, such as rhubarb pies, which he doubted he’d ever taste again. After his parents had died, it was discovered that the embargo and the war had destroyed their business. There was no money left, and strangers now lived in his Boston home.
“Come on,” he said, jumping to his feet. “We’re certainly not doing much good up here.”
“You’re right,” Grace agreed as she stood and brushed dirt and leaves from her skirt, “but it’s good to get away for a few moments. Even if the view does look down on a dried-up river.”
They walked quietly down from the bluff together, crossing the small bridge over Deer Creek. Drew walked Grace back to her house before returning to Carter’s small cabin at the edge of the woods. He filled the water bucket at the well and, heaving with all his might, carried the sloshing bucket into the kitchen for Deanna. Soon his muscles would be as strong as Carter’s.
Deanna smiled and thanked him, and little Matthew came running to greet him.
“Uncle Drew,” he said, “look.” He held up a whistle that Drew had carved for him, which was now in two pieces. “Adah broke it,” he declared. “She’s a bad girl.”
Adah clung to her mother’s skirts, sucking two fingers of her free hand. When she heard her brother’s accusations, she ducked her head.
Drew took the pieces of the whistle. “She didn’t mean to break it,” he said. “And I can easily make another.”
Matthew began to bounce around. “Would you, Uncle Drew? Please, would you?”
“We’ll look for a just-right willow branch tomorrow.”
Just then, Carter appeared at the door. “Tomorrow you may be busy, little brother,” he said. “Come out to the well. I want to teach you to dress out the game. Bring that sharp knife of yours.”
Drew gave a little shudder as he thought of the blood and innards he was about to see. But he straightened himself, pulled his knife from his trouser pocket, and followed Carter out into the dooryard. A flickering lantern sat on the edge of the well, spreading light on the ground where Carter had placed two dead rabbits.
“Just do as I do,” Carter said, lifting one of the rabbits by its hind legs. Taking his knife, he carefully made a clean slit down the midsection of the rabbit.
Drew took a quick breath and held it. Giving himself no time to think, he did the same. Within minutes, two rabbits were skinned and gutted. Drew was pretty proud of himself, and once it was over and the entrails were lying on the ground, it didn’t seem half bad. Like Grace said, he could get over being afraid.
Without the fur, the rabbits looked pretty skinny. As though reading Drew’s thoughts, Carter said, “They’ve about run all their winter fat off.” Taking water from the dipper hanging on the well post, he rinsed both carcasses. “But wild game may be all that will grace our table until things change.”
Drew wanted to ask questions, but he held his tongue.
Heading toward the house, Carter volunteered one more comment, “And the game is staying further and further away from all this so-called civilization.”
That night’s supper was salt pork and Indian corn pone, but Deanna seemed delighted that she now had two rabbits to stew.
Drew had never been in such dense wilderness, but he rather liked the solitude. Silently, Carter pointed out tracks and signs of game.
Before the day was out, Carter placed his prized musket in Drew’s hands and showed him how to pour in the correct amount of powder and tamp it in. Then he demonstrated wrapping the lead ball with the cloth and tamping it down.
“This is the safety cock,” Carter said, placing the percussion cap in place. “When you’re ready to fire, you pull it back to full cock, then let her fly.”
Drew nodded, wondering if he would falter when it came time to fire.
“Someday,” Carter said softly, “I’m gonna have me a good rifle.”
A few moments later, Carter pointed out a fat grouse sitting crouched beneath a bramble bush. As Drew aimed at the bird, his hands began to quiver and shake. He forced them to be still. Slowly he let the hammer fly, and the explosion slammed his shoulder. The grouse flew away unharmed.
He waited for Carter to berate him, but his brother only remarked, “Being hungry can help make you a crack shot.”
It was true. When they stopped at a stream for a drink and to eat their lunch, all Drew could think of was rabbit stew! After that, he pictured food on the table every time he aimed. Late in the afternoon, he had a bead on a squirrel sitting high in a beech tree. Slowly, slowly he let the hammer fly, and the squirrel fell to the ground with a thud.
Drew wanted to laugh and shout, but instead he handed the musket to Carter and ran to pick up his kill. When he came back, Carter patted his shoulder and said, “Good shot. You must be real hungry!” As they laughed together, Drew wondered why he and his brother couldn’t have more moments like this.
American Challenge Page 36
