Hope's Journey

by Jean Rae Baxter

  Adam nodded. “So if you want to find your father, it’s up to you to start looking.”

  “I don’t know how.”

  “It shouldn’t be difficult. Even you could do it. All the Loyalist regiments have been disbanded. My father is sure to know where Colonel Butler settled his Rangers. Do you want me to ask?”

  She narrowed her eyes at the slight. Even I could do it! She felt like telling him not to bother. But since she really did want to know, Hope gritted her teeth and said, “Yes. Please ask.”

  “Glad to. When you bring back the cow, I’ll tell you what I’ve found out.”

  The empty dishpan in her hands, Hope watched Adam until he disappeared around a turn in the half-made road. She didn’t know whether she liked him or not, finally deciding that she did, but not as much as he liked himself.

  Bossy stood placidly chewing her cud. A shout from Mrs. Block broke the silence. “Hope, what are you doing out there? You haven’t brushed my hair.”

  “Coming!” Hope hurried into the cabin.

  All that day she kept thinking about her father. Ma had described him countless times. Although Hope had never seen a picture of him, she carried a clear image in her mind. He had brown eyes, dark hair and bushy black eyebrows. He was tall and thin. There was about him a strong odour of pipe tobacco.

  He had always seemed like a storybook figure, vivid but not quite real. For all her dreaming about him, she had no more expected him to enter her life than she expected Jack the Giant Killer to come knocking at the door. Now, as finding her father began to seem possible, she felt suspended somewhere between reality and a dream. Only one thing was certain: if she did find him, she would never feel alone again.

  That night she dreamed about him. He was standing beside a doorway looking down at her. It was the doorway of a house she knew of but had never seen. He seemed on the point of holding out his arms to embrace her, but he did not move. His eyes were brown, his eyebrows black and bushy. His expression was tender and loving. She caught a whiff of pipe tobacco. He did not speak. Hope had the feeling that if she waited a little longer, he might.

  Two days later, Hope urged the cow as fast as she could along the way to the Andersons’ place. Bossy’s clanking cowbell announced their arrival. Adam and his father, who were digging post holes, put down their spades.

  If she hadn’t known who Mr. Anderson was, she could have guessed in an instant. Adam’s father was an older, taller, heavier version of Adam. Father and son had the same green eyes and big nose. Mr. Anderson’s nose was not peeling; he had the sense to wear a hat with a wide brim.

  After introductions, Mr. Anderson said, “Adam tells me you’re trying to find your father.”

  “And my brother Silas. They both served in Butler’s Rangers.”

  “This is what I can tell you. When Butler’s Rangers were disbanded, Colonel Butler secured land to settle his men on the west bank of the Niagara River. That was six years ago. Butler is now commanding officer of the Nassau Militia. If you want to ask about your father and brother, try writing to Colonel John Butler. Nassau Militia, Butlersburg, West Niagara.”

  “Thank you, sir. I’ll … I’ll … do that.” Write a letter! It would be just as easy to flap her arms and fly like a crow to Niagara.

  “Now,” said Mr. Anderson, “Adam has something to show you.”

  “Your puppy,” Adam explained with a grin.

  She followed him into a lean-to shed built onto the back of his family’s cabin. There on a bed of straw lay Woeful, with her lone puppy attached to a teat. Woeful opened her one eye, raised her ragged ear and gave a thump of her tail. The puppy looked perfect. He had tiny bent legs and already the beginnings of a black and white coat like his dam’s.

  “Woeful looks so happy,” said Hope. “I wish you hadn’t given her that dreadful name.”

  “It suits her. Why, just look at her! I’ve never known a more woeful dog. One eye. Half an ear. Full of fleas.”

  “A name should be more inspiring. My name is Hope.”

  “I know that.”

  “But you don’t know that I was born two months earlier than I should have been. My mother gave birth to me in the woods, after rebels burned our house. It was November, and very cold. Everybody thought I was going to die, but they didn’t name me Hopeless.”

  “You’re not a dog. Woeful doesn’t know what it means.” He bent over and scratched behind her half-ear. “What are you going to call your puppy?”

  “I shall name him Captain, because that will encourage him to be brave.” She knelt in the straw and with a fingertip stroked the puppy’s back. He was so tiny that he could have fitted into the palm of her hand.

  Woeful sighed and closed her eye.

  Hope rose. “I need to hurry back. I don’t know what I’ll do about that letter to Colonel Butler. To write such a letter is beyond my skill. Ma taught me my ABC’s, but little more. I’ll need help.” She looked at him. “Do you think maybe you could …?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You’ve been to school.”

  “Two years at Mrs. Canahan’s Sylvan Seminary for the Young Ideal. I wanted to go to the Schyler School in Milltown, but my father thought Mr. Schyler had dangerous ideas about democracy. Mrs. Canahan had no ideas at all, so she was safe. After a couple of years, Pa took me out of school because he needed me here. I wasn’t learning much anyway.” Adam hesitated. “You need an educated person to help you with your letter, not somebody like me.”

  “Whom would you ask if you had an important letter to write?”

  Adam scratched his head. “That’s a good question. I might go to Milltown and ask Mr. Schyler. People say he’s amiable.”

  “Is he the same Mr. Schyler that Charlotte Hooper married? His first name was Nick.”

  “Mr. Schyler’s first name is Nicholas; I suppose he’s the same person. I don’t know anything about his wife.”

  “It must be Charlotte Hooper! I heard that her husband became a schoolmaster.” In an instant, Hope’s plan took shape in her mind. Of course Charlotte would help her. Hope’s mother had given Charlotte and her parents a safe place to hide during their flight from the Mohawk Valley. Charlotte had known Hope since the day she was born. Their families had shared danger and hardship. And now Charlotte was married to a schoolmaster.

  Hope turned to Adam. “How far away is Milltown?”

  “An hour’s walk through the woods. Half that by canoe.”

  “So close! I know what I’m going to do. I’ll ask Mrs. Block to give me half-a-day off. I can walk to Milltown and tell Charlotte about the letter. She will ask Nick to help me, and of course he will.” Hope was almost bouncing with excitement. “Thank you, Adam. You’ve been a great help.”

  It was all so simple! She felt like singing as she walked back to the Blocks’ cabin, thinking that to someone with a name like Hope, anything was possible.

  CHAPTER 5

  Hatching a Plan

  A month passed and nothing came of Hope’s plan to seek Charlotte’s help with the letter. Hope waited for the right moment to ask for half-a-day off, but the right moment never came. She cooked and cleaned and took care of Mrs. Block. Although Hope did her best, the old woman was never satisfied.

  Trees came into leaf. Black flies bit. The warming air was filled with birdsong and mosquito hum. Bossy plodded back and forth, providing milk for each household in turn. Every time Hope took the cow to the Andersons’ place or Adam brought her back, he wanted to know what she had done about the letter.

  Her answer was always the same. “I have to wait for Mrs. Block to have a good day. If she’s having a bad day, there’s no point asking permission to go to Milltown. She’d just bite my head off.”

  Finally he lost patience with her. “You’re Hopeless!” he said, making a wry face.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean, that should be your name.”

  Hope winced. “You don’t know what Mrs. Block is like.”

/>   “She isn’t a fire-breathing dragon.”

  “That’s what you think.”

  Adam scratched a mosquito bite on his neck. “Do you want to find your father, or not? Because if you do, you have to show some spunk.”

  All that day she thought about what he had said. It was cruel of him to call her Hopeless. But was he right? A person could spend a lifetime waiting for just the right moment, and it might never come. It was time for her to take a chance.

  That evening after supper Hope was darning a stocking by candlelight. Ephraim was sprawled on the bunk, tired after scything hay all day.

  Mrs. Block’s loud voice broke the silence. “Ephraim, we must buy some chickens.”

  Hope raised her head, startled.

  “Chickens?” Ephraim sounded surprised.

  “You heard me. Hope doesn’t have enough work to keep her busy. She can take care of them.”

  Is she serious? Hope waited to learn more.

  “Where would we keep chickens?” Ephraim asked.

  “In the shed, where Bossy stays when she’s here. That’s just two nights a week. It’s a waste to let the shed stand empty the rest of the time. You can put up some nesting boxes. There’ll still be enough room for the cow.”

  “Hmm.” Ephraim said drowsily. “Fresh eggs. Chicken stew.”

  Hope turned her attention to the stocking. As she ran the yarn around the hole, she imagined a flock of happy hens clucking and scratching and bobbing about. She liked the idea even if it meant more work.

  Ephraim sat up. “Mother, if you’re serious, there’s a poultry dealer who’s brought in breeding stock from across the border. He’d sell us a few pullets and a young rooster. Now that I have the haying done, I can see him tomorrow. He lives in Milltown.”

  “Milltown!” Hope gave such a jump that she stabbed her thumb with the darning needle. “Ephraim, may I come, too?” The words tumbled out of her mouth.

  His eyebrows rose. “There’s not much to see in Milltown. It’s not like Kingston.”

  “The very idea!” exclaimed Mrs. Block. “Your place is here.”

  Hope seized her chance. “Mrs. Block, do you remember what you said to me the day I came here?”

  “I expect I said a number of things.”

  “There was one thing in particular. You said, ‘What is it that you want most?’ And I said, ‘I want to find my father and my brothers.’”

  “What does this have to do with Milltown? Surely you don’t expect to find them there!”

  Hope expelled a deep breath. “Adam’s father says that Colonel Butler settled his Rangers near Niagara. My brother Silas and my father served in that regiment. If I write a letter to Colonel Butler, he can tell me where I’ll find them.”

  “So you want to write a letter. I still don’t see what this has to do with Milltown.”

  “I’ll need help to compose it,” said Hope. “Mr. Schyler the schoolmaster is married to someone who’s known me since the day I was born. If I ask her to ask him, maybe he’ll help me write to Colonel Butler.”

  “So you want to leave me here alone while you traipse off to Milltown.”

  “It won’t take long.”

  “Young woman, you don’t seem to understand your position in this household. You are an indentured servant.” Mrs. Block’s voice grew louder and louder. “You are our property. The whole of you. Every minute of you. Don’t you dare forget it.”

  Her needle poised over her work, Hope could scarcely believe what she was hearing. As the words sank in, she felt rage boiling up inside. She jumped to her feet, darning egg, yarn and stocking tumbling onto the floor. She doubled her fists. “I am not your property. Even if you’re the Devil’s grandmother, you don’t own my soul!”

  Mrs. Block’s face turned purple. “How dare you speak to me like that! Impudent, useless, stupid girl.”

  “Mother,” Ephraim said gently, “don’t let yourself become upset. Dr. Sills warned you.”

  “That quack!”

  Hope picked up the darning egg and stocking and sat down. She didn’t care what happened now. Whatever the outcome, she did not regret one word of what she had said. She began to weave the yarn back and forth across the hole.

  Ephraim rose from the bunk, crossed the room to where the water bucket stood on the floor, lifted the dipper from its peg on the wall and scooped up a dipperful. After taking a long, deliberate drink, he said, “Mother, I’ll need help with those chickens. Can’t you spare Hope for a couple of hours? She can speak to the schoolmaster’s wife while I’m doing business with the poultry dealer.”

  “Are you taking that girl’s side against me?”

  “No, no! Just stating a fact.”

  “Of course I can manage on my own for a few hours. But I don’t want this to set a precedent, as Mr. McIsaac would call it. I’ve had servants before. Remember Barbara? Give them an inch and they’ll take an ell.”

  “Hope understands her position in this household.” He gave Hope what she thought was a sympathetic glance, and then he added, “Just as I understand mine.”

  Hope lowered her face to hide her smile. The stocking she was mending belonged to Ephraim. The hole was in the heel. She wove the yarn back and forth carefully so that the mend would be smooth and flat, without a lump to vex his foot.

  CHAPTER 6

  Milltown

  In the morning Hope was on her best behaviour. She was cheerful and patient as she dressed Mrs. Block, brushed her hair and spooned porridge into her mouth. Ephraim, too, seemed to be trying hard to please. After Hope had settled Mrs. Block in her chair, he made sure the pillow at his mother’s back was in exactly the right spot, and he tucked a blanket around her legs. Mrs. Block appeared determined not to appreciate the extra effort being made.

  “We’ll be back at midday with the chickens,” Ephraim said as he and Hope were about to leave. “Don’t worry. Hope will have plenty of time to do her work when we return.”

  Mrs. Block turned her face away and refused to look at either of them. She ignored her son’s conciliatory goodbye.

  While they were launching the canoe, neither Hope nor Ephraim made any reference to the tense situation. Hope climbed in at the bow and picked up her paddle.

  “Beautiful day,” she said, by way of conversation.

  “Indeed, it is. June is my favourite month.”

  She plunged her paddle into the rippling water. As the sunshine warmed her back, her fear of an upset vanished like the mist over the calm water.

  They reached Milltown in mid-morning. It was a small town built on a creek that emptied into Lake Ontario twelve miles west of Kingston. A short way upstream, a mill’s gigantic wheel turned slowly in the millrace. The shoreline consisted of broad limestone ledges, like a flight of steps that marched down into the water. When Ephraim had steered the canoe to shore, Hope climbed out onto a ledge, holding up the skirt of her gown so that no drop of water would touch it.

  After Ephraim had pulled the canoe onto the shore, he turned to her. “The school is on the main street, so you’ll have no problem finding it. The schoolmaster’s house is next door.”

  “Where will you go to buy the chickens?”

  “The poultry dealer lives on the outskirts. It’s not far. I’ll meet you here. If I’m back before you, I’ll wait.”

  “Don’t you need my help to carry the chickens to the canoe?”

  He shrugged. “I can manage.”

  “You told your mother that you needed me to …” She did not finish the sentence, for suddenly she realized that his words to his mother had been merely an excuse. His reason for bringing her to Milltown was to help her, not the other way around. She hesitated. “Well, then … thank you …”

  “Good luck,” he said, but he did not move.

  She waited, wondering what else he had to say.

  “I don’t know whether I ought to speak of this,” he said, “but it’s been on my mind ever since I realized who you are. My mother told me about your father and yo
ur brothers.”

  “If you have something to tell me, please do.”

  Ephraim took a deep breath and let it out. “It’s about Elijah”

  “What about him?”

  “I knew him slightly. We both served in the King’s Royal Regiment of New York, the Royal Greens. I remember when he joined. He was just a boy of thirteen, and as keen as they come. When he developed into a first-rate marksman, he was chosen for a Loyalist unit that Major Patrick Ferguson was training to fight against General Washington’s forces in the South. After joining Ferguson’s unit, Elijah was sent to the Carolinas and I never saw him again.” Ephraim paused. “But I heard about him.”

  “You mean that you know he deserted.”

  “Yes.” Ephraim hesitated. “I’ve been waiting for a chance to tell you how sorry I am. When a man loses a limb, you know how he’s been hurt. But there are wounds to the mind that the eye cannot see. Somebody in Elijah’s position—he’s a casualty, not a coward.” Ephraim cleared his throat. “That’s all I wanted to say. You and I both have business to do. No time to waste talking. I’ll see you here when you’re done.” He took a coin from his pocket. “Here’s a shilling to have your letter stamped.”

  “Oh! Thank you! I hadn’t thought about that.”

  After Ephraim had left her, she stood for a few moments thinking about what he had said. He seemed to be preparing her for disappointment in case she succeeded in finding Elijah. But it wasn’t Elijah she was looking for right now. Her sights were set on finding her father and Silas. She had only two hours to carry out this part of her plan. Hope tucked the shilling in her pocket, smoothed the skirt of her gown, made sure that her hair was tucked neatly under her mobcap and started down the street.

  She passed a blacksmith shop. The door was wide open, allowing her to see the smith at his forge hammering a piece of red-hot iron. The next place she came to had a sign over the entrance: COFFINS AND FURNITURE. Then Hope walked by a general store: HOOPER’S PROVISIONS. Through its window she saw metal pails, steel traps, iron pots, axes and bolts of cloth in many colours. An old man wearing a canvas apron was leaning on a crutch while he talked to a customer.