Father unto Many Sons

by Rod Miller

  As anticipated, the men had little difficulty finding work. Lee signed on to help the brickmakers at the brickyard. After the molded bricks Daniel and others arranged and rearranged and stacked in the drying yard sat for a couple of weeks, they were ready to be fire-hardened. Experienced brickmakers directed Lee and other laborers to stack green bricks in beehive-style arches with an opening to build a fire inside, so the bricks created their own kilns for firing.

  Small wood and coal fires inside the arch cooked the water out of the bricks for a couple of days until they stopped steaming, then Lee and the other helpers plastered the outside of the arch with mud and built up the fires as the temperature inside the kilns rose to nearly 2,000 degrees, sweating the bricks dry. The fires were kept stoked for a week or so until the experts determined the time was right to seal up the fireholes and allow the kiln to cool down.

  A goodly number of the bricks Lee helped fire eventually found their way to Melvin, who hired on as a hod carrier, or “hoddie.” His strength allowed him to handle the work without much effort, toting a dozen bricks at a time in his hod to the two bricklayers he was to supply, and sometimes feeding a third. Melvin also used his hod, a three-sided box with a four-foot pole attached, to carry mortar.

  Unaccustomed as he was to hard physical labor, and with a mind trained in different pursuits, Peter sought and found a position as a clerk in a warehouse owned by a merchant and trader supplying the quartermaster at Fort Smith, along with other commercial pursuits.

  Abel hired on for the same employer, working as a warehouseman. Unloading crates and barrels from riverboats, storing them in warehouses, repacking items for local distribution, and accompanying deliverymen offered enough variety to keep the work from growing monotonous.

  Richard went a different way, taking a job as a night watchman at the brickyard. The nature of the work allowed free evenings to congregate with newfound friends in the grog shops, and as long as he arrived at work on time and in a reasonable state of sobriety, his employer didn’t worry much. If the night got too long, he might even sneak a nap between making his rounds. And although Richard worked alone, he was seldom without the company of his flask.

  Over the weeks, the friendship between Lee Pate and Daniel Lewis flourished. Lee learned the Lewis family emigrated from Manchester in England when they converted to the Mormon church. Daniel’s wife, the girls’ mother, died of dysentery during the crossing. The Lewises joined their fellow Saints in Missouri and unexpectedly found themselves in the midst of conflicts with the old settlers bordering on all-out war. Although the family still held to the faith to some degree, Daniel chose not to join the exodus out of Missouri to re-settle with the Mormons in Illinois, opting instead to head south and try his luck in the Republic of Texas.

  For his part, Daniel learned of Lee’s distaste for the practice of slavery; an aversion that grew to revulsion. When Daniel broached the idea of the Pate family going with him to Texas in the spring, Lee refused to even consider the idea.

  “The Texians embrace slavery just as our Southern states do. It is no less an evil in their republic than it is in ours,” Lee said. “Besides, word is that Texas will join the Union soon. In any case, I’ll not reside among slavers again.”

  Daniel said, “I am no supporter of slavery. The Prophet Joseph opposes it and has denounced it in his preaching. He does not count himself an abolitionist, but his views contribute to the persecution of our people.”

  “His views. But what about your views, Daniel?”

  “To be honest, I have not given the subject much thought. I must say it seems an established practice here. Be a good bloke, Lee, and admit that your banging on about it is but flogging a dead horse.”

  Lee laughed. “Sometimes it seems so, and I almost believe it myself. But I cannot in good conscience come to terms with such evil. There is no choice for me but to remove myself and my family from it.”

  “And what do they think?”

  Again, Lee laughed. “They think me—what’s that word I’ve heard you use? Barmy?”

  This time Daniel laughed. “Barmy may well describe it. So, where do you propose to go to remove yourself?”

  “Mexico.”

  “Mexico! Lee! I believe you are off your nut! ’Tis a Papist nation, and I do not believe you count yourself among the Roman Catholics.”

  “No. But in the northern reaches of their territory I am told they pay little attention to religion and a man is allowed to follow his own convictions—if not by law, by practice.”

  On another occasion, Lee invited Daniel to come along with him to Mexico.

  “I confess I know little—nothing, really—of the geography of which you speak. Where do you propose to go in Mexico? And how does one get there?”

  “Aim for the sunset and you’ll get there. There’s a trail of sorts—not much of one. Go on up the Arkansas a ways till you strike the Canadian River. They say following that’ll get you most of the way to Santa Fe—a city that’s been a source of Mexican trade with the States for years.”

  “But what of the Indians?”

  “It’s Choctaw and Chickasaw country much of the way, all right. But I am told if we hold to the river and keep moving we should not be molested.”

  Daniel furrowed his forehead and pursed his lips. “Your proposal bears pondering, friend Lee. I shall take it under consideration.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Richard claimed another advantage owing to his contrary work schedule as a night watchman—the ability to spend hours in the company of the Lewis girls. Wet to the elbows, the girls scrubbed and wrung and rinsed and hung laundry through his visits. Always polite, but reluctant to engage, there were invariably tubs to refill, soap to shave, clotheslines to clear, shirts to sort, and a host of other tasks demanding attention.

  One day, in yet another attempt to start a conversation, Richard said, “What do you-all think of Mexico?”

  “Mexico?” Martha said. “Have not thought about it at all. Should I?”

  Richard smiled. “Might be good to give it some thought. Could be you’ll be living there soon.”

  Jane said, “Nah. We’re a-goin’ to Texas.”

  The smile held. “Then I guess you-all don’t know that my Pa is worryin’ your daddy like a dog with a bone, trying to talk him into followin’ him to Mexico.”

  Fires snapped and popped, hung clothes flapped in the breeze, water still boiled and bubbled, but scrubbing and rinsing and wringing fell silent as four sets of eyes fixed on the visitor.

  Mary found her voice first. “Why on earth would Father do that? He has been set on Texas for quite some time. He has said nothing to us of a change of heart.”

  “Could be he ain’t interested. But Pa thinks he’s got him hooked like a catfish on a trotline.”

  “I do not understand,” Martha said. “What is the attraction of Mexico? The Texians only recently fought a war to be shed of Mexico.”

  Richard shifted on the stump he sat on, removed his hat and raked his fingers through his hair. “Mexicans don’t allow no slavery. Pa thinks slavery is so awful it will destroy the United States. Been sayin’ so for years. Says he can’t tolerate livin’ among such sinful ways no more.” He reset his hat and gave the brim a tug. “What do you think, Emma?”

  Emma’s eyes widened. “Well. . . . I do not know. We have heard much talk for and against slavery since coming here from England. And there is always talk of war, but most folks do not put much stock in it.”

  Martha said, “But Emma, you know the prophet Joseph Smith has predicted a war over slavery.”

  Richard laughed. “Some prophet! The man must be as crazy as my Pa.”

  “We will thank you not to speak ill of Joseph,” Martha said.

  “Sorry, ladies. I meant no offense.” Again, the smile. “Emma, one of these days you’ll have to tell me all about this Joseph Smith and the Mormons.”

  Mary answered for her sister. “Not today. There is work to do, girls, and we ha
d best get back to it. Good day to you, Mister Pate.” She hefted a basket of soiled laundry and tipped it into a steaming tub to soak. Emma immersed her arms up to the elbow in the tub before her and set to scrubbing an army tunic against the washboard.

  That evening, when Daniel returned from work, his daughters bearded him with questions about Mexico.

  “Father, what is this we hear about Mexico?”

  “Have you given up on Texas?”

  “Are we really going to Mexico?”

  “Have you changed your mind, Father? Your heart?”

  “Tell us, what are your plans?”

  When the deluge subsided, Daniel answered Martha’s question, “Did you intend to consult us about this, Father?”

  “Girls! Please! Allow me to catch my breath and have a bite of supper. I have been working all day and am knackered. We will talk later. I will share my thoughts and you shall all have your say.”

  And so they did.

  Daniel passed along the gist of his many conversations with Lee. Their neighbor’s desires, he said, were not so much in favor of Mexico as they were disfavor of the United States. “The man makes a convincing argument against the institution of slavery and its inherent evils. I find it impossible to disagree. He assigns the same sin to the Republic of Texas, as slavery is permitted in their Constitution. And he, like many, contends that Texas will soon be annexed into the United States and such an eventuality will heighten sectional differences.”

  Mary thought a moment. “But Father—we have been living among slaveholders since coming to America. Surely we can continue to do so, whether here or in Texas.”

  “Perhaps, Mary. Perhaps. Many are of the opinion—Lee among them—that the abolitionists will continue to agitate, slaveholders will continue to resist, and war will result.”

  “Such rumors were rampant in Missouri, and we still hear them here,” Martha said. “Many say they are but rumors, and that nothing will come of it.”

  Daniel agreed. “But many others believe war is inevitable. And remember, girls, to number the Prophet Joseph among those who hold such beliefs. Like Mister Pate, he contends that when war comes it will be destructive beyond contemplation and the very nation shall fall.”

  “Do you believe that, Father?”

  “I do not know, Emma. Were it only Mister Pate and such ordinary folk who say so I would not be swayed. But when the Prophet says as much, well. . . .”

  Martha said, “But father, Joseph calls the Saints to gather to Zion for protection against such storms—not run off to Mexico. Or Texas, for that matter!”

  “This is so, but we know from sad experience that gathering with the Saints presents difficulties of its own. It offered no refuge in Missouri.”

  The girls, thoughtful, said no more until Jane spoke. “Are we a-goin’ to Mexico, then, Father?”

  “I do not know. I do believe it is an idea that merits consideration. But it need not be decided this evening. Will you think it over, please, girls, and we will speak of it again. But for now—to bed.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  As fall turned to winter and the months wore on, so did the discussions. There were debates about Mexico. Talk aboutTexas. Conversations about Fort Smith. Within and between the families and among their members, advantages and disadvantages were weighed and measured, pros and cons considered, and a variety of conclusions reached and decisions made and minds changed.

  Lee never once wavered in his desire to remove himself and his family from the trouble the sin of slavery would bring— eventually, inevitably—to the United States and its people, and could not be convinced otherwise.

  Sarah stayed steadfast in her desire to return to Shelby County and a life that no longer existed. Every day carried a reminder of her depressed circumstances, and bitterness with her situation festered. And, despite her complaints and pleadings, Lee seemed oblivious to her pain.

  Richard remained determined to cast off his father’s influence and make his own way. He had no idea what that way would be or where it might take him. But his lack of respect for his father owing to his dreams and delusions, combined with the favoritism toward Abel, led him to rebel more and more in matters large and small.

  Melvin did not form opinions and did not concern himself much with the future. He, like Richard, was taken aback by Abel’s attempts to assert authority—although he was not certain why it should bother him. He leaned on Richard for direction and was easily swayed by his older brother’s opinions and actions.

  Abel, alone in the family, revered his father. He was not troubled by his quirks and foibles, nor did he doubt the rightness of his father’s desires for the family. If anything troubled the youngest of the Pates, it was the intransigence of his brothers and the insolence of his mother concerning his father and her husband. For Abel, it was simple: if Pa told him to do something, he did it, no ifs, ands, or buts.

  Peter had come to like Fort Smith and his prospects in the growing city and hoped to remain. His life with Ben Pate was behind him and of no concern; the death of his former employer a fading memory. And while his being held hostage continued, it was more a matter of habit than fact. Peter had no intention of going to the authorities to report Abel’s crimes and the Pates knew it. But while his presence among the family had become comfortable, Abel and Lee encouraged him—in no uncertain terms—to stay close, at least until they quit the country, just in case.

  Daniel waffled. One day, he defended his decision to decamp to Texas. On the morrow, he promoted Mexico.

  Mary seldom voiced an opinion, save that she could not wait to set out for any place—any place—that would get her hands out of a washtub.

  Martha had but one opinion: the belief that ambition equals success and success equals happiness and geography did not enter into the equation.

  Emma sometimes paused at her work, wash water settling around still arms as she stared at nothing and smiled for no apparent reason.

  Jane was all for adventure and experience, and could not wait to load the wagons and get up the oxen. She did not care much about the trail they took.

  But not all conversation centered around emigrating from Fort Smith. The Lewis women were young and feeling their oats; the Pate men—and Peter—were young and ready to sow some. The proximity of the families provided ample opportunity for pursuit. And so Richard pursued Emma doggedly, and until enlightened by Mary, was unaware his attentions were all but unnoticed.

  “I know you have your eye on Emma,” she said one evening. “But she has her heart set on Abel.”

  Richard sputtered and stuttered. “Abel ain’t said anything about Emma—why, far as I know, he don’t care a thing about her.”

  “I cannot speak for Abel. But I do know Emma’s taken a liking to him. With his being a man and all, he will catch on sooner or later.”

  “Damn!” Richard said, uncorking his flask and tossing back a mouthful of whiskey. “That boy ain’t nothin’ but a bother to me. Pa thinks the sun rises and sets on him. And now you say he’s takin’ Emma away from me and he don’t even know it.”

  Mary poked at Richard’s flask. “I am not saying that is the reason for her lack of interest in you, but I am certain it will not further your cause so far as Emma is concerned. Our faith frowns on partaking of strong drink to excess and Emma takes the advice seriously, for herself and others.”

  Richard took another sip. “She’s young. She might grow out of such notions.”

  Mary sat in silence for a few minutes as Richard sipped his whiskey. Finally, she said, “Do you find it difficult being the oldest child?”

  After laughter with no hint of humor in it, Richard said, “Not so’s you’d notice. Pa ain’t never give me much responsibility or respect, even though it’s owed. Abel’s his pet and he gets all Pa’s favor. I try not to let it get to me—leastways, I used to try. But having it throwed in my face day after day is more than I can bear.” He took another sip from the flask.

  “It is different
with me. Mother died aboard ship during our passage from England, and Father has expected me to fill her shoes since, although I am barely older than Martha. I do not believe I am well suited to it. And I believe I understand your frustration concerning Abel.”

  “How’s that?”

  Mary spent a moment composing her thoughts. “I am the ‘odd man out’ in our family, so to speak. Martha is much smarter than I, Emma much prettier, and Jane—well, she is coddled as the baby of the family—besides, she is still a child for the most part.” Mary sighed. “It seems all I am good for is taking on the responsibility for most of the work.”

  The whiskey left in the flask was barely enough to swish around the bottom. Richard watched it swirl, poured it down his throat, pressed the cork into the bottle with the palm of his hand, and slipped the flask into his pocket.

  “I had best be goin’,” he said. “I’ve got a stop to make in town ’fore I go to work.”

  Richard did not make it to work that night. While making his so-called stop—refilling his flask at a saloon—he tipped back several glasses in an attempt to wash away any reminder of his conversation with Mary. And so he drank some more. The New England accent of a bricklayer at the bar grated on his nerves until he attempted to stop the sound with his fist. It did not work. The bricklayer let loose aYankee bellow then he and Richard battered each other and broke up a good bit of the saloon while they were at it. Since witnesses all agreed Richard instigated the fight, he spent his night shift locked up in the Fort Smith city jail.

  A shaft of morning sunlight cut through the high, barred window in the cell and Richard squinted closed eyes tighter and turned away. Rolling over hurt. He lay still, flexing and tightening parts of his body in turn. He could not decide where or what hurt worst.

  And then Abel showed up, saying he had been sent by Pa to fetch him home.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Lee managed to smooth things over for Richard at the brickyard. He could not bring himself to lie for his eldest son; only said that Richard was “indisposed” and unable to work. It seemed to him a reasonable explanation of his son’s condition, and, owing to Lee’s good reputation with their employer, it saved Richard’s job.