© 2010 by Wanda E. Brunstetter
Print ISBN 978-1-59789-434-0
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the publisher.
All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.
For more information about Wanda E. Brunstetter, please access the author’s Web site at the following Internet address: www.wandabrunstetter.com
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Cover photo: Pixelworks Studios, www.shootpw.com
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DEDICATION/ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To my husband, Richard. Thanks for all the interesting things you’ve shared with me about playing on the towpath and swimming in the Lehigh Canal when you were a boy.
The LORD seeth not as man seeth;
for man looketh on the outward appearance,
but the LORD looketh on the heart.
I SAMUEL 16:7
Chapter 1
Walnutport, Pennsylvania—Summer 1898
Wo–o–o–o! Wo–o–o–o! The low moan of a conch shell drifted through the open window in Sarah Turner’s kitchen.
Leaving a pan of bacon cooking on the coal-burning stove, she peered out the window. Although she saw no sign of the canal boat, the sound of its conch shell could be heard for a mile and signaled the boat would be approaching the lock soon.
“A boat’s coming. Would you mind finishing the bacon while I go out to open the lockgate?” Sarah asked her mother-in-law, who stood at the counter, cracking eggs into a ceramic bowl.
“Sure, I can do that,” Maria said with a weary-looking nod. A chunk of her nearly gray hair had fallen loose from the back of her bun, and her dark eyes looked dull and puffy.
Sarah’s heart went out to Maria, who looked more tired than usual. Sarah feared that caring for the children was too much for her mother-in-law—especially since she’d begun having trouble with her vision.
Wo–o–o–o! Wo–o–o–o! Wo–o–o–o! The sound of the conch shell drew closer.
Sarah hurried across the room. She was almost to the door when her eight-year-old son, Sam Jr., raced up to her, bright-eyed and smiling from ear to ear.
“Can I help raise the lock, Mama?” he asked.
Sarah shook her head. “Sorry, Sammy, but you’re not strong enough for that.”
“Am so strong enough! I ain’t no weaklin’, Mama.” When the boy pulled his shoulders straight back and puffed out his chest, a lock of sandy blond hair fell across his forehead.
“Of course you’re not a weakling, but raising and lowering the lock is hard work, even for me.”
His blue eyes darkened as he tipped his head and looked up at her with furrowed brows. “How come ya always treat me like a baby?”
Sarah blew out an exasperated breath. “I don’t treat you like a baby. I just know that you’re not strong enough to raise and lower the lock. Now if you really want to help, run back to the parlor and keep an eye on your little sister and brother for me.”
“Okay.” Sammy thrust his hands in his pockets, turned, and shuffled out of the room.
With a shake of her head and a silent prayer for guidance, Sarah hurried outside.
As the flat-roofed wooden boat approached, she cranked open the upper wicket gates to fill the lock. Once it was filled with water, she lowered the upper head gate, and the boat was drawn into the stone walls of the lock. Then the upper head gates were raised and the upper wicket gates were closed, so that no more water could enter the lock. Next, the lower wicket gates were opened and the water rushed out of the lock. Following that, the lower gates were opened, and the boat was drawn out and into the lower level of the canal. Finally, Sarah opened the main gate to let the boat out and on its way.
As the boat moved on down the canal, Sarah headed back to the house, arms aching and forehead beaded with perspiration. This was hard work—too hard for a twenty-seven-year-old woman like her—and definitely too hard for a young boy. But she had no other choice. When her husband, Sam, died nearly a year ago, she’d taken over his job of tending the lock in order to provide for her three children.
She shuddered, thinking of the accident that had taken Sam. A boat had broken loose from where it was tied and floated to the lock, where it had jammed. Sam and several others had been trying to free the boat. While Sam was standing on top of the lock, his foot slipped, and he’d tumbled into the water. The boat shifted, and Sam’s body had been crushed between the boat and the lock.
Lock tending could be dangerous work, and Sarah had to remind herself every day to be very careful in all that she did during the process of letting the boats in and out.
Sarah was grateful that Sam’s mother lived with them and had helped to care for the children ever since Sam died. But with Maria’s health failing, Sarah couldn’t help but worry.
She thought about her own mother, who’d died of pneumonia a few months ago. Papa had given up canaling and sold his boat soon after that. He’d moved to Easton and taken a job at one of the factories where he’d previously worked during the winter. Sarah missed seeing both of her parents, but she understood Papa’s need for a change.
Sarah leaned wearily against the side of the lock tender’s shed and sighed. “Oh, Sam, I miss you so much. How I wish you were still here.” Tears slipped from her eyes. How many more things would change in her life? How much longer would Maria be able to help out? Could she and the children make it on their own if Maria moved back to Easton where she used to live with Sam’s brother, Roger? Sarah knew that’s where Maria belonged, but could she convince her of that?
“I hereby bequest to my grandson, Elias Brooks, my canal boat, with all the supplies and mules that go with it.”
Twenty-eight-year-old Elias looked over at his parents to gauge their reaction to the reading of his grandfather’s will. Mother, with her light brown hair pinned tightly in a bun, sat with a stoic expression on her face.
Father frowned, making his smooth, nearly bald head stand out in contrast to the deep wrinkles in his forehead. “It won’t be easy to sell that stupid boat,” he said, glancing at Elias and then quickly looking away. “With the canal era winding down, I doubt the old man’s boat will be worth much at all.”
“How can you talk about your own father like that?” Elias’s twenty-five-year-old sister, Carolyn, spoke up. “Grandpa was much more than an old man. He was your father, and a wonderful grandfather to me and Elias.”
A muscle on the side of Father’s neck quivered. “That man was never much of a father to me. Always thought about that ridiculous boat and how much money he could make haulin’ coal up the canal from Mauch Chunk to Easton.”
“It was Grandpa’s money that allowed you to get the schooling you needed to run your newspaper,” Elias dared to say.
Father slammed his fist on the table where they sat in Clifford Moore’s law office. “How dare you speak to me like that!”
“Sorry,” Elias mumbled, “but I think it’s disrespectful to talk about Grandpa in such a way. He
did his best by you, and—”
“His best?” Father’s face flamed. “If he’d done his best, he would never have bought that boat. He’d have stayed here in Easton and helped me run the newspaper, which is where he belonged.”
Mr. Moore cleared his throat a couple of times. “Can we get back to the reading of Andrew’s will?”
“You mean there’s more?” The question came from Mother, who’d begun twiddling her thumbs, a gesture Elias knew indicated she was becoming quite agitated.
Mr. Moore looked at Elias. “Your grandfather also left a note saying he wanted you to have his Bible. I believe it’s somewhere on the boat.”
Elias nodded. He looked forward to reading Grandpa’s Bible and searching for all the places he’d underlined in it. During the times Elias had spent with Grandpa when he was a boy, he’d enjoyed hearing Grandpa’s deep voice as he read passages of scripture each evening before bed. It was largely due to Grandpa’s godly influence that, at the age of sixteen, Elias had come to know the Lord personally. He’d been trying to live a Christian life ever since, which was why he couldn’t let any of the things Father said today rile him.
Elias stared out the window as he thought about the summers during his teen years that he’d spent aboard his grandfather’s boat. Father hadn’t wanted Elias to go, but Mother had convinced him, saying she thought it’d be a good experience for the boy. Elias had enjoyed those days on the water, helping with various chores as Grandpa hauled load after load of coal on the Lehigh Navigation System. Grandpa hadn’t expected anything from Elias except a good day’s work, and he’d always offered his acceptance and praise. Not like Father, full of unreasonable demands, and critical of everything Elias said or did.
“I’ll see that an ad is run in tomorrow’s newspaper,” Father said, bringing Elias’s thoughts to a halt. “If we’re lucky, someone who’s still determined to haul that dirty coal up the canal might see the ad and buy the old man’s boat.”
Elias gripped the arm of his chair and grimaced. Grandpa deserved more respect, especially from his only son. But then, Father had never had any respect for Grandpa; at least not as far as Elias could tell.
Carolyn, her blue eyes flashing, spoke up again. “Please stop referring to Grandpa as an ‘old man.’ ”
“I agree with Carolyn, and there’s no reason for you to advertise Grandpa’s boat in your newspaper either,” Elias said, summoning up his courage.
Father folded his arms and glared at Elias. “Oh, and why’s that?”
“Because the boat’s mine, and it…well, it’s not for sale.”
Father’s dark eyebrows shot up. “What?”
“Grandpa wanted me to have the boat, or he wouldn’t have willed it to me.” Elias loosened his collar, which suddenly felt much too tight. He wasn’t used to standing up to his father like this. “If Grandpa wanted me to have his boat, then he must have wanted me to continue hauling coal with it.”
The wrinkles in Father’s forehead deepened. “Wh–what are you saying?” he sputtered.
“I’m saying that I’m going to quit my job at the newspaper and captain Grandpa’s boat.”
Mother gasped. “Elias, you can’t mean that!”
He nodded. “I certainly do.”
Father’s thin lips compressed so tightly that the ends of his handlebar mustache twitched up and down. “That would be a very foolish thing to do.”
“I don’t think it’s foolish,” Carolyn put in. “In fact, I think—”
Father’s gaze swung to Carolyn, and he glared at her. “Nobody cares what you think, so keep your opinion to yourself!”
She blinked a couple of times, pushed a wayward strand of honey-blond hair into the tight bun she wore, and sat back in her chair with a sigh.
“Perhaps your grandfather didn’t mean for you to actually captain his boat,” Mother spoke up. “Maybe he left it to you so you could sell the boat and use the money for something else.”
Elias’s face heated, and he became keenly aware that his left cheek, partially covered by the red mark he’d been born with, felt like it was on fire. “I think Grandpa did mean for me to captain his boat. Maybe to you and Father it would be foolish for me to do so, but I feel a strong need to fulfill Grandpa’s wishes.”
Father’s piercing blue eyes darkened like a storm cloud. “You take that boat out, and there will be no job waiting for you at my newspaper when the canal closes! Is that understood?”
Mother gasped again. “Aaron, you can’t mean that!”
“Yes, Myrtle, I most certainly do.” Father turned to look at Elias. “Well, what’s it going to be? Are you working for me or not?”
A sense of determination welled in Elias’s soul as he made his final decision. Rising from his chair, he looked his father in the eye and said, “I’m going to captain Grandpa’s boat, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
Chapter 2
I’m not moving back to Easton,” Maria said with a shake of her head. “You need me to care for the kids and help with things here.”
Sarah dropped to a seat on the high-backed sofa beside her mother-in-law and reached for her hand. “I’m concerned because you haven’t been feeling well for some time, and now that your eyesight’s failing, you need to be where you can get the best medical care.”
Maria’s forehead puckered. “Are you sayin’ that Dr. McGrath isn’t giving me good care?”
“I’m not saying that at all, but there’s a hospital in Easton, and doctors who specialize in—”
“I’m not leaving you to raise three kids alone, so this discussion’s over.” Maria rose from the sofa and shuffled across the room. When she bumped the rocking chair, she swayed unsteadily, nearly hitting her head on the fireplace mantle.
“Are you all right?” Sarah rushed to take Maria’s arm.
Maria brushed Sarah’s hand aside. “I’m fine. Just lost my balance for a minute, that’s all.” She shuffled on and disappeared into the kitchen.
Sarah groaned. “Oh, Sam, I wish you were still the lock tender and I could just be here taking care of your mother and our kids.”
Elias drew in a deep breath to help settle his nerves. He and Ned Guthrie, the fifty-year-old man who’d been Grandpa’s helper for the last several years, were heading up the Lehigh Navigation System in Grandpa’s old boat. Ever since they’d left Easton, Elias had been a ball of nerves. He’d found a twelve-year-old boy, Bobby Harrison from Easton, to drive the mules, but Bobby didn’t have a lot of experience around mules. Between that concern, and the fact that Elias hadn’t ridden on Grandpa’s canal boat for nearly ten years, he wondered if he’d be able to comply with Grandpa’s wishes and actually run the boat himself. Well, he couldn’t quit now and return to Easton, where Father would only say “I told you so.”
Elias glanced at Ned, who stood at the bow of the boat, hollering at Bobby to keep the lines steady. The rusty canaler with a scruffy-looking brown beard might be a bit rough around the edges, but he’d been working the canal a good many years and had plenty of experience in all aspects of it.
It’s a good thing, too, Elias thought, because I can’t remember much of what Grandpa taught me.
As Elias’s boat drew closer to the lock at Walnutport, Ned lifted the conch shell to his lips and blew so that the lock tender would know they were coming. When they approached the lock a short time later, he blew on it again. Wo–o–o–o! Wo–o–o–o!
Elias was surprised when a young woman with dark hair pulled into a loose bun at the back of her head, came out of the large stone house next to the canal and cranked open the lockgate. The last time he’d come through here with Grandpa, it had been an older man who’d opened the Walnutport lock. This petite woman didn’t look strong enough to be doing such hard work. But maybe she was stronger than she appeared. Maybe her husband was sick or had business in town, and she was taking over for him today. Elias figured it wasn’t his business to worry about whoever was tending the lock. As long it opened and h
is boat made it through, that’s all that mattered.
Elias directed his gaze to Bobby, waiting off to one side with the mules. The boy had been working hard and trying his best, despite Ned’s constant nagging.
Once the lock tender had opened the gates and Elias’s boat had made it through, Ned called to Bobby, “Get the team movin’!”
The mules’ ears twitched as they moved slowly forward.
Ned turned to Elias and smiled. “Can ya believe how easily that little lady handled the gates for us?”
Elias shook his head. “I was surprised to see a woman doing the job of a man.”
“That was Sarah Turner,” Ned said. “Her husband, Sam, died nearly a year ago, when he fell and got himself smashed between the lock and one of the boats. Sarah’s been actin’ as lock tender ever since, and with her havin’ three kids to look after, I’m sure it ain’t no easy task.”
“No, I suppose not.”
When another conch shell blew behind them, Elias glanced over his shoulder and saw Sarah Turner run out of her house to open the gate again. “She must be exhausted by the end of each day,” he remarked.
Ned tugged on his beard, sprinkled with a bit of gray. “Only day off she gets is Sundays, when the canal closes down.”
Elias knew the reason for that, and it made good sense to him. Besides the fact that Sunday was the Lord’s Day, the rugged, hardworking canalers needed a day of rest, and he was sure that the lady lock tender needed one, too.
As they continued on their way, Elias found himself beginning to relax. He felt more at peace than he had in a very long time.
“I think I’m going to enjoy running this boat up and down the canal,” he said to Ned, who’d pulled a piece of chewing tobacco from his shirt pocket.
“Are ya sure ya won’t miss workin’ in the office at your daddy’s newspaper business?”
“I don’t think so,” Elias said with a shake of his head. “Running a newspaper is nothing like this—especially one in a busy town like Easton.” The truth was, having his father scrutinize everything he did had made Elias feel insecure and inferior, like he could never measure up. He’d tried for a good many years to make Father proud, but all Father ever did was find fault. Well, maybe after Elias proved he could run this canal boat, Father would finally take notice and say a few kind words about Elias’s accomplishment. Then again, by taking over Grandpa’s boat, Elias may have ruined all chances of him and Father ever making peace.
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