Spirit Pouch

by Vaterlaus, Stanford

  The first man looks at me. “Aren’t you working over at the brickyard?” he asks.

  “Yes, sir,” I say. “And I certainly haven’t seen any gold there.”

  They laugh. Bob says, “Can you believe that Roworth thinks those bricks can actually stop a place from burning down if there is a fire?”

  Just then we pass William standing on the side of the road. I jump up. “Thanks for the ride, Mr. Taylor,” I yell, and jump carefully off of the wagon, coming to a complete stop in four or five steps.

  I smile as William catches up to me. “I told you I would be fast. Luckily Mr. Taylor came along so I could hitch a ride.”

  “I’m glad you got here because I really did not want to explain to Mother how you blatantly broke the rules.” William looks at me and smiles so I will know that he isn’t entirely serious and then his eyes get a mischievous gleam. “Race you to the house,” he yells already running.

  “Hey, no fair,” I cry, and dart after him. He beats me there but not by much. We enter the cabin laughing while William claims victory.

  “I’m glad you boys are here,” Elizabeth says, meeting them just inside the front door. “Get your chores done quickly, because dinner is almost ready.”

  “Okay,” William says less than enthusiastically as he turns toward the door.

  “Jared,” Elizabeth says as I turn to follow William out to the coral to milk Spot. I can smell dinner cooking, and even though I can not match a particular food to the delicious aroma that fills the house, I am eager to complete our chores so we can eat.

  “Yes?” I reply, stopping in mid stride.

  “Joseph just left to bring back a bucket of water. Would you please follow him down to the stream and bring back two more buckets?” She points to the buckets aligned along the wall by the door.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I say, grabbing the water buckets. “Of course.”

  I catch up with Joseph down by the stream. He already has his bucket filled and is peering down into a pool of clear water. I reach into my pocket and withdraw the small glass vial. I twist out the cork as I drop to my knees next to Joseph. I let the cool clear water run over the rim of the vial, filling it to the top. “What are you looking at?” I query, twisting the cork back into the vial and squishing out the excess water.

  “I saw a frog jump into the water right here,” he exclaims. His brow wrinkles as a frown flitters across his face. “I was going to catch him, but he swam away.”

  And we are going to drink this water? I think. It almost makes me sick just thinking about it. “Your mother has dinner almost ready,” I answer, mostly in an effort to draw my own thoughts away from the other creatures that certainly inhabit these waters. “As soon as I fill my buckets with water I am going to race you up to the cabin,” I add. Mom always says that work can be fun if you make it into a game.

  “You’re not going to win,” Joseph declares. He grabs his full bucket and starts up the incline toward the house, water sloshing over the rim.

  “Hey, I’m not ready,” I yell sounding perturbed. I dip my bucket in the stream and then reach for the second bucket. “You can’t spill water or you lose.” I bellow the new rule authoritatively.

  “I’m not spilling … much,” Joseph chants, “so I’m going to win.”

  I fill my bucket, and with one in each hand, start up the hill only trailing Joseph by about ten seconds.

  “I’m coming,” I yell, close behind Joseph. But my shoulder and arm muscles say, ‘No you’re not. You’re dying’. My muscles are right. My arms are so tired that I can no longer grip the bucket and I have to set them down. Just for a second, though.

  Joseph looks back as he shifts the bucket to his other hand. “Hah! I’m stronger and faster,” he sings.

  I grab my buckets and spring forward, determined to pass Joseph. He is just too cocky. Sometimes, when your muscles feel like lead bricks of exhaustion, and your lungs burn as they expand to capacity, but fail to supply sufficient oxygen, who wins the race is determined by desire. If you want it bad enough, you push through the pain. This is where training for cross-country races prepares a guy, the thought flashes across my mind. You know what you have to do … not give up.

  [71]

  I can see the cabin now, just ahead, and with renewed determination I struggle against the lead weights in my arms and the numbness in my fingers.

  Just five paces from the cabin porch Joseph brakes stride to shift his bucket to his other hand. I know his agony because my hands are aching with fatigue, also, but at least my load is balanced with two buckets, not just one. His broken stride is all I need to close the gap. We both lunge onto the porch the at the same instant, sliding our buckets to a gentle stop.

  “A tie!” I yell before Joseph can proclaim any victory.

  “Yeah, but I was ahead of you the whole way,” he brags. “That means that I’m faster.”

  “That means that you are pretty fast,” I agree, laughing.

  We both flex our hands for a minute to restore the circulation, then Joseph picks up his water bucket and pushes the door open. He enters and I follow with my two buckets.

  “We had a race, and I was ahead the whole way cuz I’m the fastest,” Joseph announces.

  Annie rolls her eyes. “I heard Jared say it was a tie,” she scoffs.

  Joseph’s eyes seem to shoot poisonous Nadessioux darts directly at Annie. “It was, at the end, but I was ahead the whole way,” he counters.

  Elizabeth places her hand on Joseph’s shoulder to capture his attention and looks him in the eyes. “Will you and Jared pull the table out, please?”

  “Yes, Mother,” Joseph replies in a subdued tone.

  Joseph and I get the table pulled out and Annie immediately places a stack of plates onto it. I grab the plates and begin to put one at each place. “Go get more stuff,” I whisper to Annie. She darts off to the kitchen.

  “Joseph,” I say urgently. “Come on. Let’s see if we can get the table set before Annie comes back.” I hand him a couple of plates. By the time Annie appears with a handful of forks, the plates are all in position and we are just standing there smiling.

  Annie looks at us with that ‘I know you are up to something’ look that you usually get from your mom when you have been up to something, but we just smile smugly. She sets the forks down and with a little wave of my hand she turns back to the kitchen. She shoots a glance back at us just before entering the kitchen, but Joseph and I have not moved even an inch. We just smile, but I know the race is on. As she goes around the corner we grab the forks and have them placed perfectly in just seconds and again we are just standing there smiling when Annie scurries in carrying an armful of cups. Her eyes dart to the table, then to us, and then they set in determination. She carefully sets the cups onto the table, then runs into the kitchen.

  Joseph and I snicker as we jump at those cups and have them all placed in just about four seconds, then jump back to our spots, grinning ear to ear.

  “Hurry up, Mother,” we hear Annie hiss in the kitchen. She appears suddenly with a pitcher of milk. She sets it on the edge of the table and scurries back into the kitchen.

  “You’re returning to the kitchen awfully fast,” I hear Elizabeth say almost scolding. “Are you just stacking those dishes on the table, or are you setting them properly around at each place?”

  “I’m setting them,” Annie says. “Actually I’m not.”

  “You’re not?” Elizabeth queries. I can imagine the look that Elizabeth shoots at Annie. Slight lift of one eyebrow. Barely perceptible turn of her head. Eyes focused on Annie. For most mothers, that look is innate. They are born with the ability to say with their eyes, “What have I been teaching you all these years?”

  “The boys are doing it really fast,” Annie whispers, but Joseph and I can hear her and we smile.

  “Take this out,” Elizabeth demands. “I’ll get the other one.” Annie and Elizabeth appear from the kitchen carrying two covered bowls. Elizabeth pauses and check
s over the table before setting her bowl in the center. “Annie, you did a beautiful job setting the table! Thank you so much. Jared will you go tell William and Tom that dinner is ready? Joseph, please go tell the others.”

  I have barely grasped the cool rough metal of the front door latch when Joseph yells at the top of his lungs toward the bedrooms, “Hey everybody, dinner’s ready. Mother says come, or I’m going to eat it all.”

  I know what is coming next, and it does not matter what time period or even what state you live in. As I open the front door and step outside I hear Elizabeth say, “Joseph, I could have done that. Now you go tell them properly, in a civilized tone.” I smile and close the door behind me.

  Dinner is delicious. We finally get everyone seated and we enjoy potatoes, and fresh green beans and milk. I think the potatoes and beans are a trade for milk. At least I did not see a garden outside.

  After dinner Annie and Elizabeth settle into their usual task of cleaning up the dinner dishes. William walks to the front door and quietly slips outside. I follow him, shutting the door gently behind me.

  William is leaning against the corner of the porch.

  “Hi, Jared,” he says. He is staring out toward the west and a cool breeze tosses his hair. “Sometimes I just like to watch the sunset. It seems so peaceful.”

  “I know what you mean,” I say staring off into the west myself. “It is really peaceful.” I sit down on the step of the porch and close my eyes. In my mind I remember some Arizona sunsets where the clouds and even the very sky seem to be ablaze with orange and pinks and purples. An Arizona sunset is hard to beat for its spectacular beauty and dazzling colors, I think. But, it is peaceful here. I hear a dog bark in the distance and a bird chirp a lonely song.

  “Want to see the wagon?” William asks, quietly interrupting the sunset silence.

  I open my eyes. “Sure!” I reply.

  “It’s over here.”

  I follow William around to the side of the house near the wood pile. Sure enough, there sits a full sized wagon with a canvas top stretched over round supports. It looks just like the pictures I have seen in Primary of covered wagons in the pioneer wagon trains. “Cool!” I exclaim. “This looks like the real thing.”

  “It is the real thing,” William says, looking at me a little perplexed.

  “Yeah, I guess so. I just mean that it looks really big.”

  “Yes it is. It has to hold a lot of supplies. Father has two more oxen and a horse and a smaller wagon coming tomorrow.”

  “Wow! I wish I were going with you guys. It’s going to be quite an adventure.”

  “It will be an adventure, all right,” William chuckles. “And a lot of sore feet. I figure we will travel fifteen to twenty miles a day.”

  “That’s a pretty good hike,” I say. I’ve run ten miles in one cross-country workout before, I think. But I haven’t actually walked twenty miles in one day.

  “Yeah. Twenty is okay for you and me. But for Grandmother and Grandfather and Joseph it gets to be quite hard. Besides, then you have to set up camp, cook your food, and go hunting before you sleep.”

  “You get to go hunting?” I exclaim with jealousy.

  “If you want to eat meat,” William replies. “Meat is hard to store for very long.”

  “Yeah, well, you might as well admit it, William. You guys are going to have fun and adventure.” I climb up into the driver’s seat and imagine holding the reins and yelling “haw” to a couple of oxen.

  William smiles. “Come on. We better go in for family prayer.” He turns toward the house. “You know you could come with us.” He keeps walking and does not look back.

  “If I didn’t have to get back to Arizona, it would be an honor and a pleasure to travel with you.” I jump down from the wagon and run to catch up. “You’d have to let me hunt a little, though.”

  William chuckles at the thought as he pushes open the front door. I know that he is laughing at how bad that city boy would be at hunting. I smile a little at that thought, too.

  “Come in for family prayer,” Henry invites as we enter the cabin. Grandmother and Grandfather Brettle are already seated in the small front room near the fireplace. While the others are gathering I slip my hand into my pocket and retrieve seventy-five cents. I quietly push the coins into William’s hand. At first he is surprised, but then gives a little nod of his head acknowledging the final payment for my boots, and my efforts to pay him back without making public our confidential transaction.

  Henry opens his Book of Mormon and reads a few passages about Lehi taking his family into the wilderness.

  [72] “When Lehi’s family left Jerusalem,” Henry says, “they took with them the supplies that they needed. Lehi also knew that they needed the record of his people. He needed the scriptures. So, tomorrow we will be preparing to leave this place, and like Lehi’s family, we also will be traveling through the wilderness. So, you know what I will be taking with me?”

  “Your scriptures!” Joseph blurts out.

  “That’s right, Joseph,” Henry says. “Our scriptures are as important to us as our food is. They are like spiritual food. Remember, Jesus said, ‘I am the bread of life.”

  [73] So, when packing tomorrow, remember what is important. Jared, you are welcome to come with us.”

  “Thank you, sir,” I say. “I would like that, but my mother would not.”

  With a nod from Henry, Grandfather Brettle offers the family prayer, and then everyone starts preparations for bed. I find my stack of blankets and set them onto the floor.

  “I found this for you today, Jared,” Annie says. In her hand is a single, slender, slate-gray feather. She holds it out to me.

  “Is it a Dove’s feather?” I ask with a huge appreciative smile.

  “It sure is. I know, too, because sometimes we catch doves and eat them.”

  I look at Annie for a second to see if she is joking and decide that she is serious. “Thank you,” I say, taking the delicate feather carefully with two fingers. “This will be perfect.” I give Annie a quick hug. “I will miss you,” I say.

  “I know you will,” she says quickly, and I can see her green eyes glisten in the lamp light. She turns and darts like a rabbit off to her room.

  I sit down on my stack of blankets. “William,” I call out quickly as he turns to head off to his own bed. “Thanks.” He looks perplexed, so I add, “For being a good friend these last few days.”

  “You’re welcome, Jared. I wish you were coming with us,” he smiles.

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  William nods and turns toward his bed.

  I roll off my stack of blankets to my knees and flip the edges of the blankets outward, then fold a little extra material into the center to provide more padding. If I can get a bit more cushion from this hard floor, I muse, then I will sleep better. After all, I’m heading for Arizona at first light.

  I set the feather down onto the floor nearby, slip my boots off, then roll onto my padded temporary bed to test it out. Not too shabby, I think, except for this lump. Reaching down by my hip I search for the offending lump intending to straighten it out. Hey! It’s in my pocket! I reach into my pocket with my left hand and pull out my newly acquired white stone, the old marble pouch from Annie, the bumblebee from Joseph and the pinto bean.

  The vial! I think, with a slight panic, that I have lost it or broken it. I reach into my right pocket, and with unanticipated relief, slide the small glass container out onto the blanket next to the stone.

  Pulling gently against the draw strings, I open the tattered leather pouch. Faith. I think of Alma as I place the tiny brown pinto bean into the pouch. Repentance. I read a scripture once that said that your sins, though they be crimson, can be purified and become white.

  [74] I drop the white stone into the pouch, next to the seed, to represent purity. Baptism, I think, gently slipping the glass vial of water into the leather bag. Jesus was baptized. I slide the Dove feather in next, remembering that when Jesus
was baptized, the Holy Ghost descended upon Him in the form of a Dove. Something personal, I think as I reach for the bumblebee that Joseph had given me. I roll it in my fingers, feeling the chipped edge. A thought creeps into my mind and I slowly tuck the marble into my pocket. I then slip the one small color photograph of Lyn that I own out of my wallet. Mechanically I push my wallet back into my hip pocket and wistfully smile as I gaze at the two dimensional image of my sweet heart in the dim light of the oil lamp.

  I hope I see you soon, I think, and then place the photo into the leather pouch. I roll onto the blankets with the pouch held tightly between my fingers and stare at the rough wooden rafters above me. I feel a knot in my stomach and a lump in my throat as a sensation of loneliness engulfs me. In my heart I am homesick, and with tears seeping out of my closed eyes, I whisper, “I wish I were home, in my own bed in my own time!”

  Chapter Ten

  Pack Your Trunk

  Wednesday

  My thoughts of home are silently interrupted by a barely perceptible change in the ambient light which filters through my closed and tear-filled eyelids. Did Elizabeth hear me whispering? Did she turn up the light to check on me? It would so not be cool to be caught crying! To be homesick! I suddenly feel hot. Well, maybe not hot, but at least the cabin feels warmer. Right then I hear a distinct click and the whir of a … of a … fan? Air conditioning? My eyes fly open.

  Into my vision first comes the ceiling and the single light fixture in the center of the textured and painted plaster. Whew hoo! I almost yell out loud. I roll over to set the pouch down onto the floor. In my excitement I have not noticed that the pouch is no longer in between my fingers. Not only that, but my blankets are no longer beneath me. In their place is my very own bed, and on the bed is the spirit pouch.

  I throw my feet over the edge of the bed and my stocking feet kick against my tennis shoes. “I sure missed you guys the last few days,” I whisper to my shoes as I slide them to one side. Joyfully I stand up and pad to the kitchen in my stocking feet. The dirty dishes are right where I remember them being, on the table, waiting for me to wash them.