by Indiana Wake
“How could you possibly get up any earlier? You’re up with the larks as it is.”
“If it’s good enough for the larks, it’s good enough for Arlon Hurst.” He finally got to his feet and swooped down to pick up the very box he had been sitting on.
He would throw himself into his work again. He would ache and he would sweat, and he would enjoy it. He was finally being paid a decent wage and the physical exertion would take his mind off his sadness for a while, at least. This might only be the Willamette River, but that was just for now. There was a whole wide world out there to be explored and this, as far as he was concerned, was just the beginning.
Smiling to himself, Arlon knew that his beloved mother would most certainly approve.
Chapter Three
It was shaping up to be such a beautifully clear night, but Jenny hadn’t been able to concentrate hard enough on her stargazing to enjoy it. Thoughts of what she could do next had held onto her tightly and not let her go, ensuring a good night’s sleep would elude her.
Nonetheless, she had risen with the first peep of daylight, just as she always did. Jenny was determined to enjoy the peace found at the very beginnings of dawn—that wonderfully private time before the world woke up and joined her.
But peace was hard to come by as she continued to wonder what sort of job she could get in her own right. Her father didn’t need her on the farm; he was a successful farmer who had all the help he needed in the form of permanent employees. Her own contribution was neither here nor there, and she realized now that she should have struck out into the world of work much sooner than this.
Jenny was a bright woman who had done well in the schoolroom but had done nothing of note with that education after school had come to an end.
She wished now she’d learned how to keep accounting books or something of that nature—something that would bring in a little more than serving coffee or washing sheets would do. Perhaps now, serving coffee and washing sheets would be as much as she could find. She would be paid so little for her efforts, but at least it would all be hers—money that she could spend as she wished without the need to get anyone’s permission beforehand.
Jenny came out through the flap of her tiny canvas tent and rose to her full height. She stretched, feeling the wonderful benefit after a night sleeping on the ground and set off in search of some more firewood. She only needed enough to boil a full pan of water for the endless tea she liked to drink on waking. It would be some time before she was hungry; she had always been that way.
Tea was just the thing. Tea and the chuckling of the river rushing along to accompany the birds in their morning song.
Jenny had her small fire going in no time and was just tipping water from her leather bottle into the pan when she heard an unusual sound. It wasn’t one of the ordinary sounds of the riverbank in the morning. It was someone in the woods. She was sure of it. Jenny had camped on the very edge of the woodland, her tent like a gateway to the open ground of the riverbank beyond.
Trying not to give into the sudden and unexpected fear, Jenny carried on. She set her wire tripod up and hung the pan from the hook. Only when she had done so did she look around her for any sign of the person whom she knew was not so far away.
“Good morning,” came a man’s voice.
It gave her some direction and she turned to the source of the voice.
“Good morning,” she replied, surprised to find there was no hint of her fear given away in her voice.
And why should she be afraid? Well, she knew why. It was everything her mother had ever wanted. A daughter so afraid of the world that she didn’t stray far from the garden gate. Something about that thought gave her courage. She would not give into her mother’s way of doing things.
“I hope I didn’t startle you, ma’am,” the man said and raised an imaginary hat in a way that almost made her laugh.
The man was young, probably about her own age, and so blonde and tanned that he looked like her dead opposite.
Jenny was dark haired like her father, with those same bright blue eyes, but her skin was on the pale side for a woman who spent so much of her time outside. She always wondered if she would just wake up one day all brown and leathery, her skin finally relenting to the elements at last.
“No, I’m just not used to seeing folk out for a walk here so early in the morning. I usually have the place to myself.” She shrugged; there was something pleasant about the man.
He certainly wasn’t the sort of ogre her mother dreaded her finding out here, all sharp, blood-soaked fangs and evil intent. He looked a little shy and just a little too open to be harboring some rotten plan so early in the morning.
“I’ve disturbed your peace,” he said and shrugged apologetically. “I’ll be on my way.” Once again, he lifted an imaginary hat.
“No, don’t go!” she said and surprised herself. The vehemence of her objection embarrassed her, and she blushed. “I mean, you don’t have to go,” she said, trying to correct herself.
“Thank you,” he said and looked as if he was stifling laughter. “I’m Arlon, by the way.” He walked right up to her now and stuck out his hand. “Arlon Hurst.”
“Well, it sure is nice to meet you, Mr. Hurst. I’m Jenny Swain.” She shook his hand firmly.
“Do you live out here?” he asked in a manner which suggested he didn’t much like the idea of prying, but was equal parts curious and concerned.
“No, no,” Jenny said and laughed, already beginning to relax. “I just camped out last night is all. I guess I like to camp out.”
“You live nearby?”
“Not a mile that way,” she said and pointed back through the woods. “Just on the other side of the woodland.
“Then, you’re a stargazer!” he said and smiled wide. There was some familiarity in it, as if he had just stumbled upon a like-minded soul. “I like to do that, only I’m usually laying on the deck of the barge.”
“I do like to stare up at a clear sky, Mr. Hurst, but I don’t really know much about the stars. I don’t know their names and what-have-you. I just like to look at them.”
“Me too. But I know a name or two, at least I think I do. There’s nothing to say I’m not looking at one constellation and calling it by another’s name.” He laughed and Jenny thought it a nice sound; a great addition to the birdsong and rushing river. “And please, just call me Arlon.”
“Then, just call me Jenny,” she said and felt herself blush a little again.
The man was handsome, right enough, especially when he smiled. His eyes were bright blue, almost the same shade as her own.
“That’s a pretty name,” he said simply.
It wasn’t the same as some of the men she’d met at the barn dance, who would have made such a compliment sound like the precursor to a night of unwanted passion. It was just a simple compliment.
“Thank you,” she said, hoping she wasn’t blushing again. “Would you like some tea, Arlon? The water will be boiling any moment.”
“That sure is kind of you, I’d like that,” he said, and she saw his broad shoulders relax a tad further.
“As long as you don’t mind sharing a cup?” she said, remembering that she only ever packed for one. “I only have the one.”
“I don’t mind at all,” he said and finally settled himself down on the grass near the fire.
“So, you’re a bargeman?” she prompted curiously, wanting to know a little more about him.
“I’m kind of new to it. I’ve worked on the Willamette here for a couple of months now.”
“And you like it?”
“I sure do. It’s a big change for me and I like the newness of it. I’m not from Oregon, so I guess it’s nice to see all the sights here, even if much of what I see is only from the deck of the barge as I sail by.”
“That sounds like Heaven to me. If I could lift my own weight in cargo, I would love to have a job like yours.”
“Really?” he said and his smile held a lit
tle pleasant surprise in it. “Most folks think it’s a terrible job to have, never being properly settled anywhere and living most of the time on a barge.”
“That would be the larger part of the attraction, I guess. I’m not one for lifting boxes if I’m honest. But if I could, I reckon that’s just exactly what I’d want to do.”
And in that moment, Jenny wished she were a man, or at least as strong as one. That would certainly solve all her problems in one swoop. She could get a job, her own money, and see somewhere beyond the edge of the woodland and the riverbank. She wouldn’t mind lifting boxes whenever she got to where they were going—just to be there, to be moving, would be everything she had ever wanted for herself.
As she set about making the tea, Jenny realized she had never been so glad to have resisted her mother’s attempts to keep her in the gentle prison; if she hadn’t been so determined, she would never have met the interesting and handsome Mr. Arlon Hurst.
Chapter Four
Joanne Stanton’s eyes were wide as Jenny told her of the handsome stranger she’d met down by the riverbank just as the sun was coming up. Jenny had been bursting with excitement to talk about him, having kept every detail of the encounter a secret from her mother.
It wasn’t that Polly Swain didn’t want to see her daughter happily married one day, it was just that she would make much of Jenny meeting him in such a way. The truth was that she would likely add yet more pressure to Gavin Swain to curtail his daughter’s camping altogether, and then where would she be?
“So, what did he look like?” Joanne, great-niece of the legendary Jeannie Stanton who was still going strong, looked as excited as Jenny felt.
“He looked nice.”
“Come on, I want every detail. What color hair? Eyes? Tall? Short?”
“All right, all right!” Jenny relented and reached for her cup of coffee, drinking it painfully slow while smirking around the cup, as her best friend turned herself inside out with impatience.
“Jenny!” Joanne tried to reach for the cup, but Jenny leaned back just enough to hold onto it.
“He has blonde hair that looks real nice against his tanned skin and blue eyes.”
“Ooh.” Joanne said dreamily. She had always been the more romantic of the two friends.
“And he is tall and lean, but broad. He looks like he’s always worked hard. And he looks real healthy, too.”
“He sounds very fine.”
“He was nice. Nice to talk to.”
“You like him?” Joanne teased, but Jenny ignored the jab.
The two young women had been friends since they were kids, even though they had always been so different. Joanne Stanton had never spent a night sleeping under the stars, nor was she ever likely to. Her father owned a hardware store, where Joanne worked, and the family lived well enough. Joanne liked her comforts, and sleeping on the ground did not feature for a moment.
“Yes, I really liked him. He has a great job on the barges.”
“What’s so great about that?” Joanne shook her head and grinned, her blonde curls swinging this way and that.
It was nice to sit around the Stanton family kitchen table and be teased by Joanne. Her friend was just about the only person in the world she talked to openly, being herself at all times. Jenny wondered what life would have been like for her if she hadn’t had such a friend and it didn’t bear thinking about.
“He is always moving, and he’s seen more of Oregon in a couple of months than I’ve seen my whole life.”
“But I thought you wanted to see anywhere on earth but Oregon.” Joanne was enjoying herself.
“I do, but I wish I could at least go further than the town barn and the woods out the back of my father’s house! Arlon gets to do that every day. He’s not even from Oregon and he knows more of it than me.”
“And me, probably, but I don’t mind the way you do.” Joanne was still amused. “So, where is he from?”
“Somewhere in California.”
“And he left that to come here?” Joanne looked amazed.
“He said the part he comes from was all coal mining and dust. He’s real glad to have new horizons now while he sails up and down the river.”
“If he’s anything like you, he’ll get fed up with this stretch of river and move on.”
“Don’t say that, I’ve only just met him,” Jenny said and then blushed when Joanne’s eyes opened wide.
“You really do like him!”
“I like what I know of him and that’s little enough. We only talked for a while because he had to get back to the barge and help to load the next cargo. The barge is heading south now.”
“So, he’s gone already?” Joanne looked disappointed. “You’ve just met the only man I ever heard you even talk about and he’s left town already?”
“He was only here for a couple of days.”
“There’s a part of me that wishes you’d stowed away.”
“What? Why?”
“I’d miss you real bad, but at least I could think of you finally finding a man you actually liked. I’d put up with the loss.”
“That’s sweet of you, honey, but I don’t think folk stow away on cargo barges.” Jenny laughed. “I’d be caught just getting on the boat, wouldn’t I?”
“Probably.”
“Anyway, he stops here at this part of the river regularly. Every two weeks or so.”
“For a couple of days?”
“That’s right. Long enough to unload one cargo and pick up the next. I gather it’s the same everywhere for him.”
“So, you’ll see him again?” Joanne’s disappointment had gone again.
“I hope so. We didn’t make any plans.” Jenny shrugged.
How could she have made plans with a man she’d only just met? They had only talked for an hour or so while they drank the tea she had made. Oh, but it had been wonderful listening to his tales of travelling up and down the river and imagining herself having that kind of freedom. By the end of it all, when he’d had to head back down to the barge, Jenny had felt bereft. She had known there and then that she would set up camp in just the same place two weeks from now, even though he hadn’t asked to see her again.
The truth was, she didn’t know much about him at all. He might have a wife or a girl for all she knew. He hadn’t said and she hadn’t asked. But she’d had the greatest impression that he was a free man in every sense, so she decided to hold onto the idea until she found out otherwise.
“You’ll have to go back,” Joanne said as if reading her thoughts. “You’ll have to camp right there in the same spot. If he comes walking that way again, you’ll know he likes you.” Her tone had become conspiratorial.
“Or I’ll know he likes to walk in the woodland in the early morning.”
“That’s the wrong attitude, Jenny. Have a little romance in your soul, please.”
“I do, it’s just not as much as you. And anyway, I’ll have to get past my mama again and I only just made it out this time around. She’s getting worse, not better. I’ll be lucky to make it back there at all.”
“Just don’t go camping or for one of your long walks until then. If you stick to home, she might not have any reason to keep you back. Not a sensible one, anyway.”
“There never is a sensible reason. In fact, there’s never really a reason at all beyond me bending to her will and trampling on my own life so that hers is just fine and dandy.” Jenny sounded a little bitter and she knew it. “She just cares, I know. But she cares so much she’s squashing me.”
“Maybe it’s time you were married,” Joanne said mischievously. “Mrs. Arlon Hurst. Mmm. Has a nice ring to it.”
“Honey, I don’t even know if he likes me enough to come back, never mind you getting all silly about marriage and whatnot.” Jenny shook her head and narrowed her eyes. “You really are a clot, however much I love you.”
“I know, but one of us has to be ready for anything, and that’s me. If he proposes, you just say yes!”
Joanne roared with laughter so loudly that her elderly aunt came wandering into the kitchen.
“Now then, what’s all this fuss?” Jeannie Stanton asked and eyed them with warm curiosity.
“Nothing, Aunt Jeannie,” Joanne said by reflex.
“Uh-huh?” Jeannie settled herself heavily down at the table. “Is that so? The two of you sitting right here howling and laughing over nothing at all.”
“That’s right, Aunt Jeannie.”
“Then you must be talking about a man,” Jeannie Stanton said with a chuckle. “It’s the only explanation.”
“There’s more things in this life to get excited about than a man, Mrs. Stanton.” Jenny grinned at the wonderful old woman.
“Yes, that’s true enough. But usually only when you get to my age.”
Joanne and Jenny laughed heartily. Jeannie Stanton could see through them without any effort. And that was just fine, as long as Polly Swain never got to hear about the handsome bargeman who had sat outside Jenny’s tent drinking tea with her and talking about travelling around as the sun was just rising. Nothing would have Polly Swain battening down the hatches quicker than some out-of-town man meeting her daughter on the other side of the woods.
No, Polly must never find out. Jenny needed something in this world that was just hers and she sure hoped that Arlon Hurst would be that something.
Chapter Five
Just as before, Polly Swain had tried every gentle trick in the book to dissuade her daughter from setting off to camp on the other side of the woodland. Fortunately for Jenny, her father had been in the house at the time and had adequately distracted his wife long enough for her to make her escape. Of the two of them, Gavin Swain was a little easier to cope with.
Jenny had hardly slept that night and, while she was enjoying the stars in such a dark and cloudless sky, her mind was full of worry. What if the barge had been early and had already moved on, heading south down the Willamette? Or what if it hadn’t arrived yet? Would she have to return home without having seen him at all? But the worst worry of all: what if Arlon Hurst had no interest in seeing her again?
