Shatto (Perry County, Pennsylvania Frontier Series)

by Roy F. Chandler

  Amy encouraged her husband, allowing him time and silence in which to read. Occasionally, she joined him with her own book. More often, she sat near with sewing while Rob sank deep into his story.

  To Rob, efforts to improve his speech seemed sadly ineffectual. He tried to avoid words like "ain't" and to use the letter "g," saying, "hunting" rather than "huntin'," but old habits died slowly. As his awareness of the right words grew, he often found himself inwardly mortified by unintentional lapses into the careless frontier language.

  Rob occasionally wondered that when speaking in Delaware his words were rich and poetic with feeling. Yet, in English, his native tongue, he spoke like a true bumpkin. He decided the Indian, who placed great importance on speaking voice and word usage, avoided sloppy speech habits. Rob wished he could do as well with his English.

  There was progress, however. He recognized that he now had to speak at two levels. He retained his old ways for use when trading horses or chatting with most people he encountered. With educated friends, he switched to another plane and chose his words carefully.

  There came a time when he found it necessary to change from his usual pattern when he wished to be one of the crowd leaning and spitting around a stable. Practice and care were changing him. His small improvements had taken many months, but he was gaining, and he had years to work at it.

  The Perry Forrester was a help. Rob read the county paper in its entirety. Abel Troop loaned his books on military campaigns, and Rob found them interesting and challenging. He learned of Greeks, Romans, and Carthaginians, Goths, Gauls, Huns, and Normans became familiar figures.

  Rob Shatto grew aware of worlds even beyond his Shining Mountains, and the more he learned the greater became his interest. A book was carried in Rob's saddlebag. When the horses rested or in an evening camp, he hauled it out and traveled into other lands and times.

  When Maddoc Ruby shot off his foot, Rob gave silent thanks for his reading habit. Unable to move about, the hours grew long. His thoughts turned sour with pain, but he could often escape into his books. When he tended to brood over the limitations of a life with only one foot, he could flee to strange journeys and distant adventures.

  He read more during his months of recovery than he would normally have attempted in years. He became enthralled with Jonas Ickes' medical books and the Widow Oakes, now in residence, offered her own volumes of lighter prose and poetry. Rob read everything in sight and hungered for more.

  Rob's visitors were constant. The Troops were over most evenings and Jonas and Mary Ickes were regular. The good doctor mixed his business with pleasure, and Amy and the two Marys sat with Widow Oakes discussing their own interests.

  Cad Jones came with his brood, and the Troop and Jones children raced about the Shatto place exploring and conducting mysterious games of forts and pirates.

  Amid such company, Rob's English improved in bounds. His interests broadened, and his knowledge of many things blossomed. The more he learned of the world and its past, the more he valued his own place in it. Reading and learning enriched his life and increased his contentment. He made mental comparisons between his valleys and the places about which he read. He rated his ways of living against others and believed he had the better of it.

  +++++

  When he found old Bart dead and the Ruby clan effectively thinned out, Rob had chosen to take a turn into the southern mountains and make a visit with his family.

  Amy would be waiting and fearing for his safety, so he planned only a short call. He turned west from the Ruby place and rode into the low mountain country. The further he traveled, the steeper the pine ridges became, but the trails were plain and his directions clear.

  The Shattos had spread out through a number of valleys. Rob guessed they had divided their possessions and the land money; probably a lot of squabbling had been included. He was eternally grateful to have missed it.

  His father failed to recognize him, although his mother did. Their welcome was cordial, but they obviously feared that he had come to stay. His ways had never been theirs and the long separation had moved them further apart. He towered above his people, just as old Rob had. In him, they saw the wild times of Indian raids and troubles. They "tutted" over his peg-foot and remarked about old Rob's pistol, but their feelings showed, and both sides knew it.

  He told them of his marriage and his intentions to raise horses near the old place. He sensed their relief, and the rest of the visit went well. Other Shattos were called over to see their wild relative that had gone to the far mountains and returned. Rob regaled the younger ones with his wooliest tales of free trapping and mountain living. Their parents were forced to drag them from their wonderful relative with the fascinating wooden leg, or they would have stayed the night through.

  Morning light saw him saddled and ready to ride. They exchanged wishes and invitations to visit. It occurred to Rob that he might never see his people again. He felt a little sad over the idea, but it was plain that his stick had floated in another current. He turned his horses north, thinking ahead and anxious to be home. There was land to clear, horses to raise and his loving, laughing Amy was growing large with their first child.

  He lifted his animals into a quicker pace. He'd keep moving, stopping only to look at likely horses, and he would be home before he knew it.

  The Shatto cabins were lost in the valleys behind, and his thoughts left them as well.

  +++++

  Chapter 19: 1833 & 1836

  Rob wondered if babies ever managed convenient arrivals.

  Word came from Philadelphia that Blue Moccasin was failing and if Amy wished to see her grandfather, she must come immediately.

  Amy was about to deliver. According to Doctor Ickes, she was slightly overdue. The Widow Oakes maintained that she could expect another week. Rob asked each how they knew. Both answers sounded logical, but Rob figured they were still guessing.

  Amy wanted Rob to go to Philadelphia. He flatly refused. Amy reminded him of her love for her grandfather. She asked him what he hoped to accomplish by waiting here. His lip stuck out so she kissed it and promised to try to wait until he got back.

  Rob rode his best horse and trailed another. By switching horses when one tired, he reached Philadelphia in record time.

  He was still too late. James Cummens had breathed his last, hours before.

  James, Junior delayed interminably and complicated his father's burial. The ceremony was pompous and wearying. Blue Moccasin would have despised it.

  Rob lasted, impatient to be gone. He said his own goodbyes to Blue's spirit, wishing it good hunting among old friends.

  James Cummens, finally minus the Junior, then wished to hear about his daughter's impending delivery. Rob made quick work of it and rode through the night getting back home. He was sure he would be too late and hoped desperately that all was well with Amy.

  He galloped jaded horses the last distance and virtually dove into the house. Many were gathered at table enjoying an evening snack. Amy, still immensely round, held her arms for his sweaty and bristle-chinned embrace. As she had told them, there was a week to wait, Widow Oakes failed to appreciate all the excitement. Doctor Jonas glared darkly in her direction.

  Rob scrubbed and shaved, then fell exhausted into a spare bed. He heard movements off and on, but he held them away while his body regained vigor and strength.

  He half-woke to a baby crying and thought it early for the Troops to be over. He snapped wide-awake then, and fumbled around trying to get his peg-leg tied on.

  He had a son, born easily and complete in every way. Amy appeared worn but specially content, and he lost his feeling of guilt at sleeping through it all.

  They had talked about names for both boys and girls. Rob liked Jonathan for a boy. He said so now, feeling his son's tiny, wrinkled hand.

  Amy said, "His name is Rob, Rob!"

  Rob said, "Amy, it's fine that you'd name him after old Rob, but everybody will start calling us Big Rob and Little Rob, or
Old Rob and Young Rob. It will get annoying."

  Amy said, "His name is Rob, and he is named after you. We'll call him Robbie so there will be no mix-up."

  Rob was thrilled and pleased, so he folded his objections and agreed.

  Both tried calling him Robbie, but when he howled lustily, Abel Troop claimed he was a chip off the old block because he had already developed a war whoop. "Chip" became his nickname, and soon no one called him anything else.

  +++++

  Chip's brother was slow in coming, and his birth was difficult. Ted Shatto was born in winter cold that beat anything anyone could remember. Rob blocked his water pipe at the spring so that it wouldn't burst. He put his animals in the barns and kept lanterns burning to warm the bitter air.

  Trees exploded, as record cold froze their juices and the crack of bursting maples seemed continuous. For weeks, no water flowed anywhere. It was too cold to snow, but ferocious winds still tore through valleys clogging all roads with insurmountable drifts, and people and animals were found frozen solid.

  Widow Oakes had a difficult time with Ted, and Amy suffered too long and too severely. There were fear-filled days when she lay exhausted and too weak to work at living. Fortunately, the bitter weather failed to chill Rob's tanbark insulated walls and they were able to keep Amy's room warm and draft free.

  Though Ted grew like a weed, Amy was long in recovering. It was weeks before she was moving freely with color coming into her cheeks and it was early summer before she galloped her horse tight beside Rob, with her usual abandon and high spirits.

  Widow Oakes was the boys' nanny and protector. She spoiled them mightily to Rob's ill-concealed delight. He muttered about raising a pair of sissies that everybody in the county would pick on, but he wasn't too much better at keeping them in line.

  Amy applied the discipline and kept Rob from being too easy, but no one could doubt that Rob Shatto thought his sons about the greatest discovery since sunshine.

  +++++

  Chapter 20: 1835

  Land had been cleared since the first settlers had reached the Little Buffalo, but Rob needed more fields and fewer woods. He hired men to down trees and clear the underbrush, but the mighty tree stumps proved taxing. Two men might labor a full day to dig and chop free a single stump. Looking across clearings stubbled by hundreds of stumps made plain why old Rob had highly valued the natural clearings on his old place.

  In the eastern counties, Rob had seen great machines designed for stump extraction. He and Amy rode down to look them over.

  Stump pulling, they discovered, was a serious and rewarding business. Two good men, an ox team, and a strong machine might pull thirty stumps a day. At twenty cents a stump, the workers made a day's wages during the first two hours. Rob examined the stump-pulling machines with great care. No two seemed alike and none were for sale or hire. There were more than enough stumps in the rich flatland valleys without packing into the mountains where cash money was notoriously short. Rob found it discouraging until they had an evening to talk about it.

  They had chosen to camp out on their trip. Rob always preferred it, and Amy harbored reservations about the often bug-infested way houses. With their fire high, they toasted themselves and lounged comfortably, listening to night sounds and remembering their first nights together.

  After a long silence, Amy said, "Rob, why don't you build your own?"

  "Huh?"

  "Make your own stump puller, Rob. Somebody had to invent those strange things we saw today. I'll bet you could make one that would work better than any of them."

  "Well. I have been sort of poking an idea around, Amy. It seems to me a man might put by pretty steady money with one of those things. There's sure as shooting enough stumps in Perry County."

  "Couldn't you make a stump pulling machine, Rob?'

  "Well, I don't think I could make it myself, but I think I could figure out how a good one should be made. The problem would be to find people that can construct what I've got in mind."

  "Would it be iron? Those looked best to me."

  "Yep, iron is the better. Those wooden machines can't last too long and most of them sort of lever the stump out. That's rough going and puts a strain on everything.

  "My thought is to build a machine that will fit over a stump sort of like a three-legged stool, so that it will stand solid on uneven ground. Then, there would be a screw affair fastened to the stool seat. We would put a huge long pole onto the screw and hook an ox to it. The screw would be chained tight to the stump and the ox would just turn the stump out slow and steady. Just wind it straight up instead of levering it sideways. A stump ought to come out real easy."

  Rob scraped a spot clear of twigs and sketched on the ground. "The legs would need big pads on the bottoms. We could put planks under the pads so they wouldn't sink into softer earth. The whole thing would have to stand fifteen or so feet high and break down so that two wagons could haul it around."

  "Rob, I didn't see a machine like that today!"

  "No, but I think it would work and not pull itself apart. The screw will be the problem. I doubt any of our local furnaces could make just what we'll need. Amy, how would you like to visit your family for a day or two?"

  "Oh Rob, I'd love it. We are so close. I was going to suggest it anyway. Someone in Philadelphia will surely have a screw like you need."

  "Well, I'm not so sure there will be any laying loose, but a good foundry can make one. I'll think on it while we're riding so I can tell just what size to make it."

  +++++

  Amy's father knew just the man. Rob would have been surprised if he hadn't.

  James Cummens had pulled his lip thoughtfully as Rob described his stump jack. By the time he had finished, he expected the chosen foundry would soon manufacture more than a second great screw, and James Cummens would also be in the stump pulling business.

  +++++

  They were gone a week, and the hill country looked sweet and welcome after the crush of Philadelphian humanity.

  The screw was promised and taken in stride by the iron master, who seemed undismayed by the formidable task. He checked Rob's crude drawings, asked the purpose of such a screw, and recommended a pitch that would give many turns for a small rise. That would increase the power and put less strain on the turning nut.

  Rob was given short treatment at Juniata Furnace. Young Postley was busy turning out stoves and hollow ware. He had neither time nor desire to pour Rob Shatto's peculiar iron tripod. Rob was not particularly surprised. The Postley firm had arrived from Philadelphia and was gearing itself toward a high production market. Special requests were out of their line.

  Undismayed, he took his plans to John Hays and his Oak Grove furnace. A smaller operator, Hays could take time to cast Rob's iron legs.

  Amy came to see the first pouring. Hays had carefully shaped a sand mold that looked like an oddly formed trough. At the proper moment, the furnace was opened and a glowing, sparking iron stream flowed quickly into the form. Hays diverted the flow at the full point and proceeded to cast large "pigs" until the molten iron ceased flowing.

  The Shattos picnicked, returning late in the day to view the new casting. Hays brushed the last of the sand from the still hot iron leg and turned it with a long bar. The leg appeared sound.

  Triangular in section, the leg had a flat base to which iron "shoes" would be fitted to prevent sinking in. The top of the leg was channeled to support the "seat" through which the screw would run. It looked right and Hays could use the first leg to form his molds for casting the next two.

  Rob slid a short bar beneath the heavy end of the leg. He gripped it with both hands and his muscles bunched. He raised the end but it wasn't too easy. When he let it down, his peg had sunk a good three inches into the dirt. He had to use his hands to help pull it out, but accustomed to the annoyance, his mind was already devising a wagon winch to help load the iron jack.

  +++++

  Sam Ruby had often asked for work with Rob's horses
, but the man had no special skill with the animals. Rob supposed that in addition to needing work, Ruby wished to demonstrate his disassociation from Maddoc Ruby and old Bart Harris. Sam Ruby was willing enough and he was a powerful man. Rob thought he might do fine on the stump jack.

  He let Ruby hire his own helper and pick a good ox team, Ruby brought the heavy screw from the dock in Newport and waggoned the assorted tripod pieces from the Oak Grove furnace. The pieces fell together well with a minimum of filing and hammering. Only a few holes remained to be bored and some heavy pins fitted.

  They made an occasion of pulling the first stump. An oak had stood on low ground across from Rob's house. The stump, two feet in diameter, had been chopped at a few times but seemed a perfect test for the new tool.

  The Troops, Doctor Joe Speck and the Cadwallader Joneses had joined the Shattos on the broad porch to observe the operation. Doctor Ickes arrived, doubting it would work, and looking at the mass of the stump with roots as thick as a man's thigh, Rob's own certainty wavered.

  The iron feet rested on four-inch-thick oak planks and Ruby had dug enough to slide chains beneath the bigger stump roots. The man bustled about checking to see that all was ready. He looked at Rob for approval and moved the ox into a slow walk.

  The chains tightened and grease oozed around the screw threads. The ox completed a dozen circles with little visible result. Occasionally a plank beneath a tripod leg creaked or a root fiber parted.

  Ruby halted the ox to examine his chains. They were bar tight and he looked worried. Almost reluctantly, he goaded the ox forward and more revolutions were made with chain links biting deep into the wood, but the stump appeared as solidly fixed as ever.

  Rob became aware of their intense silence and of his own tight muscles, as though he were helping the iron screw lift. He allowed himself to exhale and relax as Ruby continued his slow rounds.