Hoggee (9 page)

That night Howard lay awake in Molly's stall for a long time. Jack had started his climb. Howard had known it would happen, but he hadn't expected it quite so soon. From bowman, Jack would probably move up to being a helmsman and then a captain. Howard remembered old Cyrus's words: “Your brother is a likely lad.” Everyone noticed. Jack was apt to be a captain before he was twenty. He would undoubtedly be the youngest captain on the Erie Canal and be written about in newspapers and history books.

Howard went to sleep thinking of Jack in his handsome captain's uniform, blue with gold braids. He imagined the boat pulling away with Jack on the deck,
waving good-bye to people at the canal's edge. He saw himself, too, on the towpath as usual. He would be driving Molly as always, and he would be watching for flowers to fasten in her harness.

Howard dreaded telling Laura that their lessons were about to end. He said nothing during the morning lesson, but he did push her more than usual. “Let's do two lessons this morning,” he said.

After the noon meal, though, he knew he should tell her the truth. “This is our last day,” he said when the table was cleared. “I go back to work tomorrow on
The Blue Bird.”

The girl's eyes grew wide. “But I don't know very much,” she protested. “I want to learn more.”

Howard felt guilty, then irritated. He wasn't responsible for this girl's education. “I guess that's how it goes,” he said, and he frowned. “I never wanted to leave school, either, but here I am. I guess what we want doesn't have a lot to do with what happens.” He took the reader from his haversack and slammed it down on the table.

“I'm sorry,” said Laura. “I had not meant to sound ungrateful.”

Howard softened. “It's all right,” said Howard. “I understand how you feel.” An idea came to him. “How would you like to keep this book? You could work your way through it, I think. You are getting good at sounding out words.”

“Keep your book?” Laura reached out to touch the cover and then put her hand over Howard's. “You would let me keep your book?”

Laura's touch sent a new but pleasant sensation through his hand. For a second he did not remember what they were discussing. Then he came to himself.
“Yes,” said Howard, and he gave his head a decided nod. “You can keep the book. The paper and quill, too. I bought it all to use with you.”

“You've been a good friend to me, Howard Gardner.” Tears came to her eyes, and she moved her hand to wipe them away. “Mayhap I'll never find a better friend.”

Howard felt his face grow warm. “I wish I could do more,” he said. It was then that he saw Sarah, as always, in the doorway, and he said what filled his mind. “I'd like to help Sarah, too.” He nodded his head in her direction. “It must be very lonely in her world.”

“Oh, yes,” said Laura, and her voice almost broke. “It must be very lonely indeed, but what could you ever do to help Sarah?”

“I don't know.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe nothing, but I'd like to very much. I wonder what will become of her.”

Laura lowered her voice as if Sarah could hear. “Mother says someday both Gracie and I will marry and move out of this house.” She shook her head. “I won't, though.” She pressed her lips together. “I could never go away and leave Sarah. With me and Gracie gone, she would be too alone and silent.”

On the way back to the barn, Howard thought about the sisters. Gracie was young and frolicked through her days, but Laura worried about the future. Laura felt bound by her silent sister, just as he felt bound by Jack. Laura would live her life trying to make up for Sarah's limitation, and Howard would live his life trying to compete with Jack. Neither of them would ever succeed or break free.

So deep in thought was he as he followed the trail to the barn that he failed to notice old Cyrus. The man stood in the woodlot near the path. He had loaded pieces of firewood onto a mule-drawn cart, and he waited for Howard to approach him. “Boy,” he called as Howard walked by. “I've something to tell you,” he said, and he moved closer to Howard. “I've been thinking about your brother,” he said, “and I told my daughter to set an extra place at the table tonight.” He paused for a second and then went on. “It being your last night with us and all, I thought why not have your brother, too. I figure he's running low on rations by now.”

Howard was amazed. This was not at all like Cyrus. Then a thought came to him. “Did you hear about Jack's good fortune?”

“Aye, I did.” Cyrus leaned against his cart. “Captain Travis told me, he did. Bowman at such a young age! I knew he was a likely lad! Didn't I say as much to you just the other morn?”

Howard nodded. “You did.”

“Well,” said Cyrus with a smile, “you bring your brother around for supper. My daughter and her girls will be happy to have him for company. We'll have a bit of celebration for his good fortune.”

“I'll bring him,” he said, and he walked on. So Jack would meet Cyrus's granddaughters, after all. Howard kicked at a stone. Nothing could ever be just his, not with Jack around. He frowned. Obviously Laura wasn't the only one thinking about her future. Her grandfather, Howard felt certain, was thinking it might not be too soon to introduce her to a “likely” young man. The
idea made him feel sick to his stomach. It would, of course, be a while before Laura was of an age to marry. By that time Jack would be a helmsman for sure, and on his way to being a captain.

Jack was inside the barn playing marbles with Bert, one of the other hoggees. They had just drawn the lag line and were shooting their taws in that direction to see who played first. “Want to play with us?” Jack asked, but Howard shook his head.

Howard watched Bert first rub his big marble between his hands. “I warm her up this way,” he said, but his shot missed the line.

Jack took his taw up, got up on one knee to shoot, and sent his marble to rest almost on the line.

“That does it,” said Bert. “You shoot first.”

“Oh good,” said Jack. He looked up and smiled as if he were surprised to have done so well. Howard felt an urge to yell out, of course Jack shoots first! There was never any bloody doubt! Jack always shoots first. Jack always runs faster. Jack always twirls a sling best. Jack always flies his kite highest. Jack is always liked best by girls' grandfathers.

But he did not yell out. He said nothing. He walked back to Molly's stall even though she was in the exercise yard. Usually he could not turn away from Jack's contest, even when he did not participate, but this time he forced himself. He took out his book, settled himself in the straw, and tried to read. Sounds of the game, though, came to him from across the barn, and finally he gave in to the urge to go and see. Two other boys, Roger and Andy, sat on the straw watching.

Howard counted the marbles in each boy's pile. Bert had two more marbles than Jack. Bert's ahead, thought
Howard, but Jack will come from behind. Jack loved coming from behind to win a game.

“My turn,” said Jack. He got up to choose a shooting spot on the other side of the ring. Howard felt confused, not knowing what to hope for. Wouldn't it be good to see someone beat Jack? His brother, Howard knew, would be a good loser, congratulating the winner warmly, but Howard also knew Jack would hate losing. Did he want to watch his brother meet defeat just once? Yes, just once it would be fun.

Jack smiled as he aimed, but Howard noticed the smile was tight, not lips open as usual. Kneeling on one knee, Jack touched his hand to the ground in the required knuckling down position and shot his taw toward the other marbles. “Go,” he whispered as the marble left his hand, and it did, striking a pretty yellow marble and knocking it out of the ring. His taw, though, was still inside the ring by quite a distance. He would get another shot, and his taw was in such a position as to hit another marble. It would take a strong shot.

“Again,” Jack shouted. No one said a word as Jack leaned into the ring and took his aim. Jack's taw struck the marble, and rolled it out of the ring with the taw. He missed the next turn.

They're even now, thought Howard. Only two marbles were left in the ring, a green one and a yellow one. He leaned a little closer to the ring. If Bert hits with his first shot, he'll get another. Come on, hit it, he thought.

Bert took aim, and his black taw struck the green marble, sending it from the ring. Bert let go with a shout of joy. Howard looked quickly at Jack, who smiled, but Howard could see a look of fear in his brother's eyes. Jack hated so to lose. The other boys did not know how badly
Jack wanted to win this game, and Jack would never show it. Only Howard knew, and suddenly he could not hope for Bert's victory.

Bert stood and walked around the ring. He laughed, but it was a nervous laugh. Bert too wanted to win this game. “Let's have a little wager, Jack, me boy,” he said.

“Don't know what we'd chance,” said Jack, but his voice showed his interest.

“Have any food left in your haversack?” Bert asked.

“Just enough for supper tonight, some bread and bits of cheese and apples.”

“I've some salt pork,” said Bert. “Want to wager?”

“It's a deal,” said Jack, and he smiled.

Bert knelt and took his aim. Howard knew that Jack held his breath. The taw left Bert's fingers, collided with the green marble, and knocked it from the ring.

“Good show!” shouted Roger. Bert jumped up, slapped Jack on the back, and began to do a bit of a jig. Howard wished he had not watched the game.

“All right, all right,” said Jack, and he managed a smile. “You'll get my supper, but I get to keep five more marbles than I started the game with.”

They were, of course, playing for keeps. Howard knew that his brother always played for keeps. He could not let it go at that, though. “You'll have supper, brother,” he said. “You've been invited to eat with me at old Cyrus's place.”

Bert laughed. “Leave it to Jack to win one way or another.”

Howard wanted to get away from them all. Even though at one point he had wanted Jack to lose, he could hardly bear it when he did. He went back toward
Molly's empty stall. Jack followed him and leaned on the gate after Howard went in. “Is it true, then? Am I really invited to old Cyrus's?”

“Yes.” Howard dug under the straw to find his blanket. “Think I'll wash this,” he announced. “The sun's bright. It will dry before night.”

“I thought Cyrus didn't want anyone around his granddaughters. Wonder why he changed his mind.”

Howard shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows?” He moved out of the stall. “I'm going to draw a bucket of water to use for the blanket,” he said.

Again Jack followed. “By gum!” he shouted. “I've got a splendid idea. We'll have our sling competition after supper, and the girls can watch. There will be time before dark.”

Howard whirled around to face his brother. “That's a crazy idea,” he said. “Why would the girls want to see us throwing rocks from a leather strap? Even if they did, Cyrus would never hear of it. They have chores after supper, and there's Laura's lesson.”

This time it was Jack who shrugged. “Who knows? Anyway, it won't hurt to ask. You might be surprised.”

Howard had a bit of soap, and he rubbed it on his blanket. Pushing the blanket into the sudsy water, he fretted. What would it be like taking Jack into one of Cyrus's suppers? Old Cyrus grumbled about everything, and his daughter, Mistress Donaldson, passed the bowls of food with few words between. Only Laura and Grade could be expected to talk, or would Jack charm the whole family of them? Jack might even perform a miracle and cause silent Sarah to break into chatter.

He emptied the soapy water and drew fresh from the
well. He pushed the blanket up and down again to rinse it. Jack was determined to have the stupid sling contest. Howard wondered if there was a way he could hit himself in the head with the rock from his own sling. If there was, he was sure to do it.

Gracie came to the barn to call them to supper. She was clearly excited. “I can stand on my head,” she said as soon as she saw Jack.

“Well,” said Jack. “I can, too. Let's both stand on our heads together,” and there they were, upside down in the straw, both with their legs straight in the air, Gracie unconcerned with her pantalets.

“Come on you two. I'm hungry,” said Howard, and he went through the door. Jack and Gracie caught up with him.

“It's best we be whist and mum about standing on our heads in front of Grandpa and Ma. They mostly think people should stand on their feet, especially ladies, which is what they want me to be.”

“I'll never tell,” said Jack, and Gracie reached out to slip her hand into his.

Howard remembered Gracie's saying she did not want to meet Jack. He noticed a sour taste in his mouth. One of Mistress Donaldson's biscuits would fix that. If there's one left, he thought. Jack may pile them all on his own plate.

At the house, Howard was first to reach the porch step, but Jack moved around him with Gracie to go in first. “Hello, Mistress Donaldson,” he was saying as Howard came in. “I'm Jackson Gardner,” he added with a bow, “but most folks call me Jack.”

“Welcome to our cottage,” Mistress Donaldson said,
“and to our humble supper.” She turned to Laura, who carried a bowl of steaming beans to the table. “This be Laura.” Laura nodded her head.

It was the next introduction that shocked Howard. Mistress Donaldon moved her hand to indicate Sarah, who stood slightly away from the table. “This is Sarah, who ain't able to hear what you say or to speak a greeting.”

Howard felt amazed. Hadn't they kept Sarah's malady a secret from him for as long as possible? Now here was her mother talking about it openly to a total stranger. It was what happened next that astonished him even more. Jack turned and bowed to the girl, and Sarah—silent, unresponsive Sarah—smiled at him, a quick, full smile that lit her face like a lantern lights a dark room.