Spirit Pouch

by Vaterlaus, Stanford

  Before long Henry calls us over for dinner. After the family prayer and blessing on the food we eat savory stew with lots of meat, and biscuits. I am hungry and it tastes great.

  "Good, huh?" I say to Ty.

  "I guess," Ty replies quietly. "It tastes … different … than I expected.

  "Yeah," I agree. "A little different because of the venison. I don't mind it so much."

  "I guess that's it," Ty says. "The biscuits are great, though."

  "Tell Elizabeth you like them," I say. "Remember? Girls like to be complemented." I get up and manage to acquire a small helping of seconds on stew. After dinner Ty, William and I check on the horse and oxen. They are close by and doing well. We shake out our blankets so our bed is ready. I am tired. My muscles are tired. I slide my shoes off and slip under the blankets. I can hear Annie whining about kitchen duty, and I feel guilty lying here with my eyes shut. I can feel my body and thoughts sinking into total relaxation. I can barely hear Ty speaking with Elizabeth.

  "Thank you," Elizabeth says cheerfully. "No. The kitchen is where young girls learn skills to be a mother and wife. Boys and men do not belong in the kitchen. They will just break my dishes."

  The next thing I know Ty and William are crawling into bed. George and Joseph are there already. They must have been more quiet than Ty.

  "So, are we going hunting again tomorrow?" Ty asks, slipping in between the blankets.

  "No," William whispers. I can hear a little exasperation in his voice and I know what he will say next. "It's Sunday tomorrow," he finishes. If they talk more, I don't hear any of it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ty’s Unbelievable Story

  "Joseph," I hear someone call out quietly. It is Henry.

  "What?" Joseph grumbles still half asleep.

  I open one eye. The sun is not up yet but the sky is a gradient of blue from the horizon upward. I hear a couple of birds chirping a cheerful duet nearby and the stream gurgles quietly in the distance as it dances across and in between the rocks.

  "Come help me start the fire," Henry encourages in a whisper.

  Joseph rubs his eyes. "Okay," he says throwing off his blanket and grabbing his boots.

  I settle back down in my blanket, enjoying the quiet sounds of morning. Aah … Sunday morning … the way it ought to be, I think. I hear William roll over and feel a tug on my blanket.

  "Jared? Ty?" William says just above a whisper.

  "Yeah," I reply without opening my eyes.

  "The rule is that you get up before Father tells you to, and then Father is much happier."

  "That sounds like a good rule," I say. Especially since we are guests and do not want to wear out our welcome, I think. "Does that mean now?" I ask.

  "Yes, it does."

  "Come on Ty," I say, rolling out from under the blanket onto my knees. "Hey! Ty's not here!" I say, somewhat astonished.

  "Nope," William replies. "I guess he's up already."

  "I guess," I say, shaking my head. "Personally, I think he is a little bit crazy. Who would get up early when they could sleep in a little?"

  William laces up his boot. "I would," he says. "Have you noticed how smart Ty is?" he adds. "I was listening while we hiked yesterday. He was teaching you about some kind of mathematics. I think he called it geometry. It sounded like he had been to one of those fancy schools back East. Anyway, morning time is the best part of the day and Ty knows it."

  "He is smart," I agree. I slip my tennis shoes on and tie the laces. "I just haven't learned to enjoy mornings, I guess."

  "You will," William says stomping his feet to settle them in his boots. "Come on. Let's go check the oxen and horse."

  We head toward the stream where we hobbled the horse. The tall strands of yellow and green grass glisten with wet sparkles of sunlight, drenching our shoes in dew as we walk. She has wandered a short distance upstream and is lazily grazing in a lush meadow.

  "There you are," William says gently as he slowly approaches. He runs his hand across her mane and gives her a hard pat on the back.

  "She looks okay to me," I say quietly. "Plenty of grass to eat. What more could a horse want?"

  "Yeah, she's looking well rested, and …"

  I look at William, but William is staring at the bushes about fifty yards off. The horse's ears are up and she snorts.

  "Something is coming this way!" William whispers and points toward the bushes that are swaying.

  "Indians?" I ask, thinking of the worst possibility.

  "No. Indians are quiet," he explains hurriedly. "Be ready to run! It could be a moose or a bear. They're not afraid of anything, even humans."

  Run? I can do that, I think as I watch the bushes sway. "What about the horse?"

  "I will un-hobble her," he breaths. "Then I'll run. Tell Father to get the rifle."

  Finally the bushes part and Ty steps out into the clearing.

  "What are you doing?" we both scream. "We thought you were a bear," I yell at him.

  "Or a moose," William adds.

  "I was just out for a walk," Ty confesses, shrugging his shoulders as if to say, "What's the big deal?"

  "Well, we thought a bear was coming. We could see the bushes twisting for a block away!"

  "Nope. I'm not a bear. Good name, though. Hunts-Like-Bear. I could get used to that." Ty pulls something small out of his pocket as he walks over to the horse and holds it out on the palm of his hand.

  "Crab apple," he announces as the horse sniffs it, then picks it up from off his hand. " They don't taste too great, but horses like them. There is a tree just over that ridge." The horse nudges Ty's hand with his nose and snorts. Ty pulls another apple from his pocket and the horse gladly accepts it.

  "So where did you go on your walk?" I ask. "You were gone when I woke up."

  "I heard Henry getting up," Ty says. "The best part of the day is the morning. Especially if you are going to hike. So I just headed over that ridge. I had fun seeing all the critters that are up early. Squirrels, mice, birds. I even saw a raccoon. Then I came across the crab apple tree. After I picked a couple of apples for the horse, I noticed a fairly good sized raspberry patch on the side of the hill."

  "Raspberries?" I say. "I love raspberries."

  "I tasted a few, of course," Ty taunts. "But I didn't have anything to carry them in so I didn't try to bring any back."

  "Let's go!" I chant. "Show me where they are."

  "Okay," Ty replies. "We can …"

  "Hold on," William interrupts. "I think we should wait until tomorrow."

  We both look at William like he is crazy. What could we possibly gain by waiting until tomorrow. Raspberries for breakfast would be perfect, I think.

  "Today is Sunday," William explains.

  There it is, I think. I am beginning to catch on. There is no perfect Sunday. No sleeping in. Have to do chores. I am really okay with Sundays being the Lord's day. It should be a day of worship. A day of rest, I think. It just took me by surprise … again.

  "And, so …" Ty shrugs in a way that means, 'tell me more'.

  "So, on Sunday Henry likes us to hold church, and then put off work, as much as possible, to another day," William explains. "Gathering food is an activity that doesn't have to be done today."

  Ty raises a defiant eyebrow.

  "So," I say quickly, "we are guests here with your family, so we will do our best to keep the Sabbath Day holy." I catch Ty's eye and nod.

  "Yes," he agrees. "I did not realize that this is family policy. We can certainly wait until tomorrow."

  "Okay," William says. "We still need to check on the oxen."

  "I saw them this morning," Ty says. He points with his arm. "They are right over there in the grass where we left them. They actually surprised me on my walk. I didn't expect to see such large animals," Ty laughs, "but then I realized that they were our oxen."

  We find them. Grazing. Content. Doing well. So, with that chore complete, we set our course back to our wagons.

  "
So," Ty asks, "if you can't pick raspberries on Sunday, what can you do?" There is a slight pause. "I mean, it sounds like the Mosaic Law. I … I mean …"Ty stammers.

  I smile. You think William's family is Jewish! I think. I can see the confusion in his eyes. It makes me chuckle inside.

  "You're not Jewish, are you?" Ty finally sputters.

  "No." William laughs. "We are very Christian, actually. In fact, my father is Mormon. How much more Christian can you get?"

  "Mormon?" Ty almost chokes.

  "Yes. Father will tell you himself if you give him half a chance."

  This time I can actually see the confusion in Ty's eyes clear as all the pieces to the puzzle begin to come together. Not even I see the whole picture as Ty sees it.

  "So, you are Mormon, too?" Ty quizzes.

  "No," William sighs. "I want to be baptized as soon as we get to Utah."

  I know Ty wants to ask 'why?', because I see the word actually form in his mouth, but instead he asks, "So what can we do on Sunday?"

  "Father wants us to come to our church meeting," William answers.

  "After that," I add, "you could play a game, or whittle something with your knife."

  "Father will let you read his Book of Mormon," William volunteers. "I like to do that for a while, myself."

  "I read his book when they lived in Dogtown," I say. "How often do you get to read a hundred and fifty year old book?" I catch Ty's glance and I can tell he knows what I mean.

  "It is actually about twenty five hundred years old," William corrects. "It begins six hundred years before Christ."

  "You know what else you could do?" I say, changing the subject before Ty can begin to object to the whole idea of religion. "You could write a letter."

  "To whom?" Ty looks puzzled.

  Ty looks at me like I am crazy. It is a little crazy, I think. We are miles from any town, and over one hundred and fifty years away from anyone we know. But I say it anyway. "You could write to your father, or to Sarah. Tell her what you are doing. You could mail it when we get to Utah and have it delivered on her next birthday. How's that for a thought?"

  "Cool!" Ty responds. "Do you think it would work?"

  "Mail is kind of slow," William replies. "It sometimes takes six months to get a letter."

  "What about the Pony Express?"

  [85] I ask. "Aren't they much faster than that?"

  "Yes, but they no longer exist now that we have the telegraph."

  [86]

  "Well, I think it would be fun to try and send a letter," I say. "Maybe I will send one myself."

  "Who is Sarah?" William asks as we get to the wagons.

  Ty says nothing for several steps.

  "She is a friend from Arizona that Ty would like to know better," I finally reply.

  "Good morning boys," Elizabeth smiles.

  "Good morning," Ty replies, eager to change the subject.

  "It is a good morning," I say. "The livestock are all doing well. Ty found some crab apples and fed a couple to the horse."

  "Oh, really?" Elizabeth says in surprise.

  "But that's not all," I brag. "He also found a patch of raspberries." And just so Elizabeth knows that I am onboard with the whole Sunday thing and picking raspberries might be better for a non-Sabbath activity, I say, "Maybe tomorrow we can pick some for breakfast."

  "What a good idea, Jared," Elizabeth says. "Now you boys go wash up for breakfast. It will be ready soon."

  William already has some water from a bucket and is washing his face and hands. I look at Ty and he just shakes his head.

  "How very sycophantic you are," Ty mumbles as he joins me at the wash bowl.

  "How what?" I say, squinting a little. I am not sure what he said but I am pretty sure I have never heard that word before. Furthermore, I am sure it is not a complement.

  "Sycophantic," he repeats. "It means using flattery to gain favor of someone."

  "Oh, that," I smile. "It works. You should try it." I turn to walk away, but hesitate. "Just be truthful about what you say. Otherwise, all it will be is psycho-fan … what ever you said."

  Breakfast is great. We have grits and biscuits. I really miss the lumpy milk, though. Surprisingly, Ty likes the grits. Henry makes his announcement about church and about twenty minutes later we gather together. Even Ty comes. William is right. Henry does start church the same way. Henry says how he looks forward to the day when he can hold the Priesthood. I can tell that his testimony touches Ty's heart. I know it touches mine.

  Everyone who wants to do so testifies of Jesus Christ, and then, with my help we sing the closing song: 'I Am a Child of God'.

  After the benediction Ty pulls me aside. "Aren't you the least bit worried about disrupting the time continuum?" he puzzles angrily.

  "The time continuum?" I ask incredulously. "Come on, Ty. This isn't some episode of Star Trek. This is reality." I shake my head in disbelief. How could someone so smart be immersed so deeply in science fiction? I turn to walk away.

  "Jared, I am serious," Ty says, catching my arm in his hand.

  I shrug it off. "What is serious about Star Trek?" I ask. "Are you a Trekkie or something?"

  "No," Ty replies with a tinge of disgust. "But you taught them a song that technically has not even been written yet."

  "So they can't sue me for copyright infringement then, can they?"

  "That's not the point," Ty huffs.

  "Then what is your point?" I say.

  "Look," Ty replies a little more civilly. "I've been trying to tell you something since Old Mrs. Harris' English Literature class back last … last when ever it was. Then it was seminary, then after school when Franky took us hostage."

  "Ty," I say calmly. "I'm all ears. You can tell me now."

  "Okay. You remember when Mr. F … I mean Brother Franklin gave us the assignment to bring a four generation fan chart to seminary?"

  "Sure," I say. What could be so exciting about a seminary homework assignment? I think. Except that you are actually doing it.

  "Well, I couldn't figure out my fan chart."

  "It's not that hard," I say. Ha. I'm actually smarter than Ty in one thing, I think. But of course I don't say that out loud. I do say, "You just enter in the names of your ancestors and press the print button."

  "I know that," Ty says in exasperation, but trying to keep his voice down. "I had my father's pedigree chart and I was entering the names into Family Search just like Brother Franklin said to do on the handout."

  "So, …"

  "So, I barely get started and suddenly the fan chart fills up with hundreds of names of ancestors that go back for ten generations or more."

  "So, you got your fan chart," I say. "That's really great! Are you related to a king or something? Wait … let me guess. A serial killer?"

  "Very funny, Jared," Ty says with a quick roll of his eyes. "Listen to me. This is important!"

  "Okay, but this is a long story. Can we sit down?"

  "No. Just listen."

  I nod.

  "So, the computer still is not listing me. I want me at the beginning of the fan chart, right?"

  "Right," I say, then I shut up to speed up the story. Otherwise, I think, I would die of boredom. Family History is one of those things that is fascinating if it is your own family, but if you have to hear about your neighbor's genealogy, it is like reading the first part of Ether, chapter one. It could put you right to sleep.

  "So I look at my grandfather's descendants."

  "Yeah."

  "Well, my mother is listed there, and it shows that she is married to my father, but my father's last name is not Smith."

  "It's not?" Okay, this shifted from really boring to intriguing pretty fast, I think.

  "No," Ty says definitely. "But then bits and pieces of my memory started making sense."

  "Not to me," I say.

  Ty ignores me and continues, "I was told by my father to never tell anyone what I am about to tell you," he says seriously.

 
"Will you have to kill me after you tell me this," I ask, chuckling a little.

  "Maybe … Yes, I think I will if you don't be quiet and listen."

  "Okay, go on," I say with all the seriousness I can muster which is barely passable as serious.

  "When I was about seven years old my father left my mother and took me with him," he begins.

  "That's not so strange, Ty. My mother is a single parent, too. That doesn't stop me from doing a fan chart."

  "Just listen."

  "Sorry," I say, zipping my lips.

  "My father was working on a top secret, highly classified project for the government that involved decoding and digitizing brain waves. Apparently the National Security Administration intercepted some communication detailing plans to abduct my father in order to obtain this technology."

  "Why are you telling me all this?" I ask.

  "Because the NSA put us both into the witness protection program to hide us, and changed our names to Smith. We moved to a different part of the country and started our lives over again. I was only seven, so it was sort of an adventure. But looking back it was hard on my father. Apparently they wiped out any record that we ever existed. Dad told me once that they actually faked our deaths with a funeral and everything."

  That must have been hard, I think, I don't speak.

  "My dad still works for the government on highly classified projects," Ty explains.

  "But …"

  "Okay, so I look at his name," he pauses and looks at me. "His name used to be David S. Taggart."

  "You're kidding me!" I yell. Most of William's family looks over at us and I lower my voice.

  "No, and apparently my name used to be Joseph Spencer Taggart." He pauses for a moment and I think I see his eyes glistening. "I'm your brother," he finally says.

  "My twin brother," I say. How could that be? I ask myself. Squinting I say, "Maybe you just logged onto my ancestral line somehow by mistake," I suggest.

  "No. I put my grandfather's name in right off my father's pedigree chart. "Look." He pulls his fan chart out of his pocket and opens it up.

  I study the chart for a full minute, reading each name carefully … twice. "We both have the same grandparents," I say finally.