Joshua ran his finger along the edge of the ax blade, keenly aware of the sound of Lydia’s footsteps coming up behind him, then of the soft fragrance of her perfume. Still he didn’t turn.
“Why, Mr. Steed.”
He set the ax back in its place and turned slowly, unable to suppress the smile of pleasure at seeing her. “Hello, Miss Lydia.”
She was considerably shorter than Joshua, and this difference was heightened now because her head was cocked slightly to one side, the dark brown eyes sparkling up at him mischievously. She was dressed in a white and blue pinafore dress with puffy sleeves and a shiny black belt which drew the eye to her waist—-a waist Joshua could easily surround with his hands and touch fingertip to fingertip. Her ebony hair was pulled back away from her face and fell softly across her shoulders. Her skin glowed like translucent porcelain in the filtered sunlight coming through the store window. People said Lydia McBride was the prettiest girl in the whole of the Finger Lakes region of New York. Joshua had met few single women in the months they had been here, but he had no reason to doubt that judgment.
“How may I help you, Mr. Steed?” It was said with gravity, even as her eyes teased him.
He always felt like a tongue-tied schoolboy in her presence, and now was no different. He fumbled quickly in his pants pocket and drew out the torn piece of foolscap. “Ma has some things she’s listed.” He thrust it at her. She stood motionless for a moment, leaving him standing there with his hand held out awkwardly toward her. Then finally she took the paper with a soft, husky laugh, letting her fingers brush briefly against his. “Of course,” she murmured. “It’s always a pleasure to help”—she paused, and looked up again, her eyes demure—“your mother.”
Joshua flushed, knowing she was toying with him, but sensing she found pleasure in him or she wouldn’t be doing it. Somehow the knowledge emboldened him. “You look right pretty today,” he blurted, darting a look to where her father stood behind the counter. He lowered his voice quickly. “Right pretty,” he said again.
To his surprise it caught her off guard. She dropped her chin, her cheeks suddenly touched with pink. “Why, thank you, Joshua.” She too shot a quick glance at her father, who was now looking at them sharply. Louder now and all businesslike, she went on quickly, “If you could get a basket and follow me, Mr. Steed, I’ll get these things together for you.”
Ten minutes later Joshua came out of the store, a sack of wheat over one shoulder and a jug of maple syrup tucked under his arm. Lydia followed him, carrying a box with the lighter things. He put the stuff in the wagon, then took Lydia’s load and put it in as well. “You shouldn’t carry that. I would have come back in for it.”
She tossed her head impatiently. “I do this all the time.” Then she smiled at him. “But thank you anyway.”
Joshua took his cap from his back pocket and jammed it on his head, feeling fumble-tongued and awkward again. Suddenly he remembered his primary purpose for coming to town. He swung around to look across the street. Sure enough, a few doors down in front of the Eagle Hotel stood two men. They had turned to watch him and Lydia.
“Do you know those two men over there?” Joshua asked.
Lydia turned to look. There was a soft intake of breath, a quick downturn of her mouth. “Why do you ask?”
“Would it be Hyrum and Joseph Smith?”
“Yes. What do you want with them?”
Joshua gave her a sharp look. The last word was spat out with coldness and contempt. It was the same instant reaction he had gotten from her father. A little puzzled, he answered, “Pa has hired them to help us clear the land. I’m supposed to take them out to our place.”
“Oh.” She dropped her eyes.
He peered at her, but she wouldn’t look up at him. Finally, baffled, he turned and raised an arm, calling, “Ho! Hyrum, Joseph. I’m Joshua Steed.”
There was a nod, and the two strode quickly across the street toward them. Joshua stepped off the boardwalk and met them halfway. Both were tall men, dressed in working clothes with wide-brim hats. It took no effort to see the two were brothers. One was obviously older—though they were both in their twenties—and a little taller than the other, but both had the same general features, the same light brown hair.
The older one reached Joshua first and stuck out his hand. “Hyrum Smith, Joshua. This is my brother Joseph.”
His grip was firm, his smile quick. Joseph stepped forward and also shook his hand. He was more muscular, broader through the shoulders, and two inches shorter than Hyrum. He had the most piercing blue eyes Joshua had ever seen.
“It’s good to meet you.” Joshua turned and they walked back to his wagon together. Lydia was rearranging the supplies in the back of the wagon. She looked up as Joshua stepped up. “Joseph, Hyrum, this is Miss Lydia McBride. She works here at the store. Lydia, this is Joseph and—”
“We’ve met,” she said, her voice cool. If Joseph noticed her reaction, he gave no sign. He touched his hat and smiled broadly. “Mornin’, Miss McBride.”
Hyrum nodded, touching the brim of his hat as well. “Miss Lydia. Good to see you again.”
Seeming to sense Joshua’s probing look, Lydia softened a little, forcing a brief smile. Then she turned back to him. “Well, I must be getting back inside. Good day, Mr. Steed.” Finally there was the ghost of a real smile again. “Hope to see you again.” She curtsied slightly, then swept back inside the store.
He turned to the Smith brothers. “Well, let’s get started. We got trees and brush waiting for us.”
“Becca, you’re to be helping your sister with the dishes.”
Nathan Steed watched his youngest sister with a half smile. At nine, it was easy to be smitten, and Rebecca—Becca to the family—was smitten with the two Smith brothers who had come to work with the Steeds earlier that day. She hung on every word Joseph Smith was saying. The command from her father brought an instant look of dismay and then pleading.
He shook his head firmly. “You too, Matthew. Get the table cleared.”
Matthew was sitting next to Joseph, his hand lying comfortably on his new friend’s arm. Nathan’s mother laughed softly at the sudden pain that appeared on her youngest’s face. “Come on, you two. Joseph and Hyrum will be staying the night. There’ll be plenty of time to visit.”
Joseph gave Matthew a nudge. “You hurry and help your sisters, then maybe we’ll go do a stick pull.”
Matthew’s eyes widened. “Really?”
Joseph nodded soberly. “You look pretty strong to me, but I think maybe, just maybe, I might be able to pull you up.” In moments, Matthew was clearing off the dishes with considerable alacrity.
When Benjamin Steed had contracted with the Smiths for day labor, it was for twenty-five cents a day plus the midday and evening meals. Had they lived further away, it would also have included overnight board, for that was the way on the frontier. But the Smith farm was only about a mile south of Palmyra Village, or about two miles from the Steed homestead, so they had opted to go home each night. But with the morning lost in meeting them and getting them to the farm, they had gotten in only half a day’s work. Benjamin suggested they stay over and get an early start tomorrow; then he’d pay them a full day’s wages for both days. So for this night, at least, they would sleep in the barn.
Nathan smiled to himself as he looked around the room. Visitors were always a welcome diversion in rural areas, and in just one afternoon the Smiths had become a comfortable addition to the family. Part of it lay in Joseph’s quick smile and wry sense of humor, and in his warmth with the children. Hyrum was equally likeable, but more quiet, content to let Joseph lead out.
But it was more than just their personalities that won them ready acceptance around the family’s hearth. Nathan’s father had been pleased with his new help. There was no loafing on the part of these two. Hyrum and Joshua had worked the big two-man saw, felling one tree after another, while Joseph, Nathan, and Benjamin had worked with the axes, trimming the bra
nches off the fallen trees and dragging them into piles for eventual burning. Even though there had been a light, misty rain, they had finished another full acre.
Most surprising was the change in his mother’s attitude. When her husband had told her of his decision to hire day labor, she had balked at first. Mary Ann Morgan’s father had had eight children—all sons, except for seven daughters! For a man who built turnpikes for a living, it was a bitter disappointment, but he had made the best of it, and quickly his daughters had learned to do men’s work. Nathan’s mother had grown up with hard work. She had also had more than a little experience with day laborers, not much of it positive. For the most part they were riffraff, foul of mouth and personal habit, and quick to steal. But she had found the two Smith brothers pleasant and intelligent, clean of habit and language. When she learned that both had married in the last few months, any reservations concerning them completely vanished.
“I’m done, Joseph.” Matthew had halved the time it normally took him to clear the rough-hewn table. “Can we pull sticks now?”
Mary Ann was at the wooden chest which held the quilt blocks she had been cutting during the afternoon. She turned. “Matthew, you let Joseph and Hyrum be. They’ve worked hard today.”
“It’s all right, Mrs. Steed,” Joseph said, standing. He ruffled Matthew’s hair. “The ground’s kind of wet outside. Where we gonna do this?”
Nathan had been waiting for this opportunity. At the earlier mention of stick pulling, he’d sized up the broadness of Joseph’s shoulders and the size of his arms. Joseph had him by a good two inches in height and probably outweighed him by twenty or thirty pounds. But that had been sucker’s bait before. He smiled innocently. “The barn floor is dry.”
Joshua picked up on it instantly. “We could spread a little straw out,” he suggested. “There’s plenty of room in there.” Nathan gave him a quick look, then smiled. Though Joshua could take his younger brother in many things, he had never bested him in stick pulling, and Nathan saw he was only helping him set up Joseph for a contest.
Mary Ann shook her head ruefully. “Joseph, I think someone besides Matthew might be thinking of having a go with you.”
Joseph grinned, sizing him up with mock solemnity. “Nathan? Why, I’ve been pulling brush with him. After an hour he was so tuckered out that I ended up doing most of the work.” As Nathan hooted, Joseph became suddenly grave, and looked at Nathan. “You could have a shot at Matthew when I’m done if you’d like.”
Nathan snorted. “Ah, so the man’s head is swollen, is it? What say, Matthew? Shall we teach these Smiths a little humility?”
Hyrum’s hands shot up. “Not me,” he laughed. “I know better than to get in on this. Joseph’s the champion stick puller of Manchester Township.”
“And Nathan bested all comers in the annual harvest fair back in Vermont,” Benjamin said, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s go to the barn.”
“I’m first,” Matthew cried, realizing he was about to be supplanted.
“That’s right,” Joseph said. “Let’s get the tough ones out of the way first; then we’ll be ready for Nathan.”
“Wait for us,” Becca cried. She and Melissa were at the narrow table next to the window, which held a large pan filled with dishes. Melissa was pouring steaming water from the fireplace kettle over the dishes.
“Leave the dishes,” Benjamin said firmly, taking down his hat from a peg near the door. “Let them soak for a time.”
Even Mary Ann’s mouth dropped a little. Nothing was allowed to interfere with chores. She set the quilt blocks down and motioned to her daughters. “You heard your father. Let’s go see which of these two big talkers can really deliver.”
The rain had stopped and the clouds had cleared, leaving the air crisp and clear. The first of the evening stars winked down at them as they trooped across the yard to the barn, leaving clouds of steam in the air. Benjamin hung the lantern on a nail as Joshua quickly spread a forkful of straw across the floor.
Joshua selected a stout piece of ax handle and handed it to Joseph. “All right, let’s start with Matthew.”
In a stick pull, the two opponents sit flat on the floor facing each other. The stick is held directly between the two where both can get a good hold on it. The knees are pulled up enough so the soles of both feet can be placed flat against those of the opponent. On a given signal, both contestants begin to pull, the objective being to pull one’s opponent to his feet, to pull him out of his original position, or to make him break contact with either hands or feet. With Joseph and Matthew, it was almost comical to watch them line up. Matthew was deadly serious as he stretched his little legs out to their full length. Joseph had to pull his knees up tight under his chin in order to even let Matthew reach the stick. He held on with only one hand.
Joshua stepped forward, trying not to smile. “Ready?”
Matthew was already gritting his teeth in preparation, and merely nodded.
“Ready,” Joseph said gravely.
“Pull!” Joshua shouted.
Matthew grunted, and instantly blood rushed to his face as he strained to pull back.
“Oh!” Joseph cried, rocking forward a little. Then he pulled back slightly, lifting Matthew about an inch off his seat. Nathan could see the thin legs start to tremble. But once again Joseph let himself be pulled forward. He moaned and rolled his eyes, as though in pain, but Matthew’s eyes had now squeezed shut with the intensity of his effort.
“You’re not really trying!” Becca called. Joseph laughed, and then with one steady pull, he leaned back. Matthew came straight up, halfway to a standing position before his grip gave way and he crashed back down. Joseph rolled backwards, ending up on his back as well.
Instantly he swung around to face Matthew as the others applauded. “Whew! You nearly took me there, young man.”
Matthew was puffing like a blown horse, but he was also grinning broadly. Joseph punched him softly on the shoulder. “Remind me not to be around when you’re about ten years older.”
“I’m next,” Becca cried, stepping in front of Matthew.
The results were the same, except she started to giggle even as Joshua said ready, and Joseph pulled her right up and over to collapse on top of him. The giggles gave way to squeals for mercy as Joseph grabbed her and began to tickle her under the arms.
Joseph rolled over and sat up, letting her finally escape to her mother. He looked up. “How about you, Melissa?”
At sixteen, Melissa was beyond children’s games. She just shook her head, blushing faintly.
Joseph sighed, then shrugged. “I guess that finishes it, then.”
He started to rise, but Joshua merely grunted, pushing him back down again. “Not quite,” he said. “Let’s see how you and Nathan do.” He stuck out his other hand. Two pieces of straw were held between the fingers. In stick pulling, the man with his hands on the outside of the stick was thought to have the advantage, so it was customary to draw for hand position.
Joseph shook his head, a mischievous grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Why don’t we just let Nathan take the outside position. I wouldn’t want him left with any excuse when he loses.”
“Do it, Nathan,” Matthew warned solemnly. “He’s really strong.”
“Draw your straw, Mister,” Nathan said easily. He always loved the confident ones. It was so sweet to make them eat crow.
Joseph reached over and pulled the outside straw. Joshua swung around and Nathan drew the second one. Nathan’s was half an inch shorter. He laughed, a short bark of derision. “I’ll take the inside position,” he said, sitting down to face Smith. “I wouldn’t want to leave you with an excuse, should you lose.”
Joseph just chuckled and held out the stick, keeping his hands wide. Nathan put his hands just inside of Joseph’s.
Now the bantering stopped. Both men were concentrating on their grip, fingers curling and uncurling. Joshua stepped forward. “Best of three. Ready?”
The
ir fingers stopped moving, knuckles suddenly tightening down, whitening the flesh. Matthew and Becca inched closer, eyes wide. First Joseph nodded, then Nathan.
“Pull!”
Nathan gasped. For a moment he thought his arms had been yanked out of their sockets, and only when it registered they had not did he also realize his feet had flown free and he had been yanked around to where he sat at a right angle to Joseph.
Joseph laughed softly. “That’s one.”
The family was hushed. Joshua’s mouth had dropped open. Matthew looked shocked. Becca was torn between sorrow for Nathan and joy that Joseph had performed as expected. Melissa and Mary Ann were shaking their heads. It had happened so fast. Benjamin leaned forward. “Come on, Nathan. Watch your grip.”
Nathan crawled back around in position, still a little dazed. He spat on his hands, wiped them on his pants, then sat down again. Much more carefully now, he placed his feet against Joseph’s, then took the stick. By the unwritten rules of the game, the hand position changed each round, so he took the wide position now.
More subdued now, Joshua again stepped forward. “Ready?”
This time Nathan was ready, but the power of Joseph’s initial pull still shocked him, and he felt himself lifted off the ground slightly. He locked his knees, using the tremendous thrust of Joseph’s boots against his feet as leverage for his upper torso. The muscles along his jaw stood out like cords, and his biceps pushed at the sleeves of his shirt. It gave him a quick burst of satisfaction to hear Joseph grunt in surprise and rise an inch or two off the ground himself.
“Pull, Nathan! Pull!” Through the pounding of the blood in his head, Nathan wasn’t sure who was shouting at him. Matthew certainly. Perhaps his father. Maybe even his mother. His legs started to quiver with the strain, and his arms felt like they were about to snap. He opened his eyes for a moment. Joseph’s face was a brilliant scarlet, his teeth were clenched, the muscles along his neck like those of a draft horse.
Nathan grunted, inwardly screaming at his body to give him one more thrust of effort. Then suddenly he felt the stick give a little, coming toward him a fraction of an inch. Joseph’s grip was slipping! With an inward cry of triumph he took a quick breath, thirsting for the kill. And in that split second of lost concentration, Joseph yanked back hard. Nathan literally flew upward, almost crashing down on Joseph’s legs. His hands ripped free from the stick as Joseph jerked it upward, clear and free.
The Work and the Glory Page 5
