Episode Fifteen
THE REMNANT
The very next day, I was down at the stable, contemplating the cosmos and mining for nasal nuggets, not bothering a single, solitary soul, and here comes Mariah! “Hi Obie.” she says, in that sweet as sugar voice. “I didn’t know you were down here.” Yeah right, I thought to myself, and I didn’t know to expect you.
“Lidge said he talked to you about helping him out with his idea, and you didn’t seem very receptive.” She rolled her eyes real innocent and lambasted me again with that sweet as honey smile. “Now Mariah,” I said, “Do you know what my Ma would do to me, if I was to as much as even consider a fool notion like this silly scheme your wild-eyed brother has concocted? Why! She’d knock me end over loop clear into last Tuesday, and there I’d be!” “Now Obadiah,” she says, flitting around like a precious little butterfly, “I think you’re overreacting and being unreasonable. We’re not talking about a lifelong commitment here. We’re just talking about one little boat ride.”
“Now Mariah,” I said, “I,” Mariah took a good, firm grip on my hand and says, “Let me speak my piece Obadiah, and then I’ll hear yours.” At this point it wasn’t looking good for the home team. “I realize that you’re happy right here, right now.” she says, “My brother isn’t. I realize you’d be happy as a clam just staying here and tending your precious mules.” she says, “Lidge won’t. I realize you’ve got everything you need to achieve your dream of life, liberty, and happiness, right here. Lidge will never know happiness until he follows his heart and pursues his dream of freedom. I have something for you.” she said, reaching into her frock and pulling out a little remnant of light blue muslin. “I want you to have this. I made it myself.” I carefully unfolded my gift, admired the delicately embroidered lines, and read aloud:
FREEDOM IS A WILD RIVER RUSHING TO THE SEA.
FREEDOM IS A MONARCH BUTTERFLY.
FREEDOM IS AN EAGLE AT HIS PURCH HIGH IN A TREE,
AND HIS NEVER-ENDING CIRCLES IN THE SKY.
“Did you write this, Mariah?” I asked. “I wrote it just for you, Obadiah. I want you to keep it with you always, on your trip.” Well, I was pretty nearly out of squirming room. “It’s a mighty pretty poem, Mariah, and I appreciate all the effort and meticulous work that I’m certain you put into it.” “I did it just for you.” she says. “I did it out of love.”
Strike three! “This is a mighty risky undertaking, Mariah.” I says. “And there are no guarantees.” Mariah’s eyes peered right into my soul. “Lidge deserves this opportunity to follow his heart.” she says, “right or wrong, wherever it may lead. I need you to go with him. Freedom doesn’t guarantee success.” she says. “Freedom means you get your chance to try.”
Well, what would you have done? I’ve given lots of thought to what Mariah said. Mariah was right. Freedom is about choices. Freedom means that a body should have the choice to be satisfied with what they’ve got, or risk it all to take a chance and follow their dream. I looked into Mariah’s innocent, hopeful face, and I thought about my choices, and my future, and our future. “What about us?” I asked. “What about our freedom? What about yours?” “When you come back,” Mariah responded, “I’ll see our freedom shining in your eyes. You know,” she says, “Lidge is going to do this either way, come hell or high water!” “Well,” I responded, “I figure that before we get back from this little quest, Lidge and I will be real well acquainted with both.”
OBIE
Episode Sixteen
THE BLESSING
Well, GREAT HOARY BEARS! Is it just me, or do things just seem to go from bad to worse! Alright, so the ships going to sail next week, and I’ve got until then to find some way of convincing myself and my folks, that the most lamebrained, ill-conceived, unlikely scheme that I’ve ever been hitched to in all my born days, is something that I’m willing and able to risk life and limb for.
If I tell my folks about this, what will they say? Well, I can’t tell you word for word, but suffice it to say, IT WON’T BE PRETTY! If I don’t tell my folks and go anyway, that will break both their hearts and mine. If I just say forget it, and don’t go, I can never face Lidge or Mariah again. I don’t see any happy compromise here.
I’ve been stumped before, but this mess beats everything I’ve ever seen. I finally decided the best thing that I could do for now, was to find some time to pray and think this through. After dinner on Friday, I collected some leftovers in my knapsack, told the folks I’d be back in the morning, and hiked down to the boathouse to collect my thoughts. It was coming up on evening by the time I arrived. I started a small campfire on the banks of the river, stowed my gear in the boathouse, got out a biscuit to chew on, and collapsed in an old rope hammock to sort my thoughts. I sat there all alone in the solitude for a long time. The last shades of pink disappeared behind the mountaintops to the west, velvet black swallowed up the last of the silhouetted pines, and one by one the stars came out and blinked sleepily in the brilliant spring sky.
I sprawled in that weathered hammock, as I’d done at least a thousand times on outings with my folks, and I listened to the pleasant crackling of the fire, breathed in the fir scented night air, and prayed. All at once something attracted my peripheral vision and I craned my neck and gazed up at the moon. It’s been five long years since that moon welcomed me to these shores and ushered me into a new land and a wondrous new life. I stared up into its ever-benevolent countenance, recalled my many blessings, and mused about the complexities of life. The tribulations of a long, trying day faded, the tension in my neck and shoulders eased, and I fell into a deep, restful sleep.
It was well after dawn when I awoke the following morning. The sun shone down in cascades through the firs, and I grabbed my gear and began the long trek home. I was feeling better now. The meditation and the good night’s sleep had helped, and my head began to clear. I looked at my situation in a little different light now, and I asked myself, if he were I, what would Dad do? Well, that was easy! Why hadn’t I stopped and thought that through before. I know exactly what Dad would do. If he’s told me once, he’s told me a thousand times, “Save yourself some trouble son, and tell the truth first! What the truth lacks in creativity, it more than makes up for in tenacity.” It seemed so simple now. I’d just go home, lay the whole thing out, and let reason shed its light.
As I approached Camp House, my dad had been to the smoke house in his long johns and moccasins and he was headed back across the yard like a man on a mission. His arms were full of bacon, and he met me with a big smile and a chuckle. “Good morning son,” he hollered, “You look like you were rode hard and put up wet!” “Good morning, Dad,” I responded. “Here, let me help.” Mom was waiting with the door open as we reached the kitchen, “Good morning, Obie,” she greeted warmly, “How was your night?”
“Well,” I said, “I had a great night’s sleep, a long invigorating walk home, and I’m hungry as a pig in a pie safe!” “You’ve come to the right place.” Mom said smiling, “I’m just about to start a great big pot of mother Kinney’s son-of-a-gun stew.” Mom went to work on supper, Dad and I found a seat by the fire, and they both listened spellbound as I laid the whole thing out. It took a good twenty minutes to say my piece, and as far as I could tell, neither one of them even breathed the entire time. They’ve already heard the rumors of gold. There’s probably not a soul in town that hasn’t. They’ve loved Lidge like a son for years, and they’ve expected for most of that time that Mariah and I have plans when the time is right. They were skeptical of this scheme to say the least, and they understood the risks probably better than I, but they listened to my reasoning, and though they hated the whole idea, they agreed that my decision made good sense.
The two of them discussed the proposition for the rest of the afternoon, and that evening they were ready to talk some more. The three of us sat down at the parlor table, and the two of them began to speak their piece. Dad started off. “You’re only fourteen years old son, but you’re as capable as any grownup that we know, and we trust your judgment more than that of most adults. We don’t like the sound of the trip at all, we’d be lying if we said we did, but if this is what you believe is right, then you have our blessings, and you know we love you more than life itself.”
Mom spoke next. “We have one request we’d like to make of you son. Talk to Lidge and Mariah again, and if the three of you and Lidge’s mom agree that this is best, then you have our blessing and we’ll help you all we can.”
Well, the Lord heaps us up with blessings as we go along life’s way. Some we appreciate; some we never see, but there’s one thing that’s for certain, and I thank God every day, when he chose my folks, the good Lord sure blessed me.
OBIE
Episode Seventeen
A SNOWBALL’S CHANCE
Sunday morning broke cool and sunny, with all the vitality you’d expect from the middle of March. It was a tad windy for my taste, but that just comes with the territory. Following church services, Christoph singled out the dappled gray from the team, and the rest of the family headed home. We grazed the mule on a little patch of early clover behind the church, and as soon as we figured the Kinney’s had had sufficient time to finish their meal, we went calling on the girls.
Christoph had a terrible crush on Mariah’s sister Laura, and even though Laura was playing hard to get, she seemed more and more receptive to Christoph’s roguish charm. Mrs. Kinney met us at the door with a big smile. She greeted us like family and ushered us into the kitchen by the wood range. “Aren’t you boys froze near to death?” she asked. “That wind is raw as it can be!”
Laura was at the dry sink washing pots and pans, and Mariah was in a rocker by the fire. She was stitching britches, and the cat lay purring contentedly in her lap. Laura offered us each a chair, and we hadn’t any more than taken a seat when here came Lidge. He’d evidently just pulled his overalls up over his red union suit, and one of the shoulder straps was eluding his frantic search. He made two or three quick circles, much like a puppy chasing its tail. Mother Kinney watched the performance with growing exasperation, and eventually just broke down and fastened it herself.
My first priority was to satisfy my promise to my folks. This was as good a time as any for the three of us to talk. We excused ourselves and retired to the front porch. Mariah shooed the chickens from the railing and the three of us found a seat in the sunshine. I explained that, following an in-depth discussion with my mom and dad, they’d given tentative approval to our undertaking, under two conditions. Number one, that the three of us had considered all the risks and remained determined, and number two, that we have the unqualified approval of their mom.
Well, of course the two of them had only grown more excited as the time grew close, and they wouldn’t have changed their minds no matter what! On hearing my news, they both broke into a chorus of hurrahs and halleluiahs and danced a jig till they most fell off the porch! After a moment, Lidge says, “I hadn’t actually figured on breaking the news to Ma, till we were safely out of reach in San Francisco.”
“Well,” I said, “that’ll never do for me! I gave my word that we’ll not leave, until we’ve got your mom’s approval, and I’m not leaving until she gives the word.” Mariah scrutinized Lidge for some response. Finally, Lidge just shrugs his shoulders and says, “Alright, let’s go ask!” I had absolutely no clue what Mrs. Kinney might say. She’s sharp as a knife but moody as an old wet hen.
The three of us marched back in the house like folks on a mission, and cornered the unsuspecting old woman digging through the pantry and trying to roust out some tea. We closed in on her pretty tight and quick, and darn near scared the poor old thing from her skin! She came up out of that little closet like she’d been thunder struck! “Land o’ Goshen,” she shrieked, “you kids nearly done me in! You kids and your shenanigans will be the death of me yet!” After a few desperate seconds trying to tone down our grins, Lidge began to relate the details of our little pleasure cruise. He filled that defenseless old woman with such a line of blarney; even for an Irishman he laid it on mighty thick!
Once Mariah had used her girlish charm to finish the whole tale off, that poor old woman was ready to go herself! By the time Mariah had sung the praises of a South Atlantic cruise, how it wouldn’t cost a dime up front, and we’d more than likely wind up filthy rich, why, that poor old spirit never had a snowball’s chance! Just the talk of all that gold had addled her just a bit. She was counting the booty and wondering what to buy. Before we left, she’d already planned a new chicken coup, and was dreaming of a brand new, cast iron, Benjamin Franklin fireplace, with dampers and andirons and pokers and solid brass balls. I mean finials!
OBIE
Episode Eighteen
GRANDPA’S FAVORITE KNIFE
So, the week whizzed by, the seventeenth rolled ‘round, and the big event at last was ushered in. I can’t begin to tell you how the approach of this day has wreaked havoc on me. I was frantic as a mouse in a bucket! I hadn’t eaten in about three days, and folks were sniffling and tearing up, till my throat had a lump the size of a grapefruit. My mouth was so dry I couldn’t spit ner swaller!
Most everyone in town would see us off at the wharf. My folks couldn’t bear it. They’d see me off at home. I said goodbye to Mother first. Neither one of us was able to say much. We hugged and cried, and kissed and hugged, and hugged and cried some more. She promised to write, and I promised to read, and I promised a whole lot more. “You know son,” she sobbed, “you’ve been the brightest spot in each of my days since before you were ever born. I can’t even imagine a day without you here.” “It’s all those years of love,” I said, “That give me the strength to go. Till I’m home again, that love will keep us strong.” My poor heart was pounding fit to bust! I kissed Mamma goodbye and hurried for the kitchen door.
Dad was waiting as I stepped out on the porch. I knew Dad had been crying. He blew his nose on that same old bandana that he’s carried in his pocket for years, and then he forced a smile and reached into his vest pocket. “This old tin of fishing lures has always brought me luck.” He says, “Take it with you son, and always remember, I love you with all my heart!” Then he handed me his brass-cased compass, and his dad’s old Barlow pocketknife. “This was your grandpa’s favorite knife, son. He carried it most of his life. He gave it to me when we left the old home place, and he’d want you to have now. Keep it dry son; keep a good edge, and bring it back home real soon.”
Well, I broke down and bawled like a day-old calf, then we hugged and I staggered down the stairs. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, I turned and took one last look. Dad waved real big, wiped his nose, and hollered, “Use your own head son, write to your Ma, and catch a big fish for me.”
Saying goodbye to my mom and dad, without the slightest doubt, was the most gut-wrenching experience I’ve ever suffered through. After an experience like that, why, rounding Cape Horn won’t be no more than a lark! This shindig ought to be a piece of cake from here on out.
Christoph was waiting in the wagon to haul me into town. I was traveling light. Uncle Gus had given me an old leather rucksack, from back during the war for independence. It was soft as glove leather and broken in just right. I took the clothes I was wearing and one of Klouse’s old pea coats. Everything else I was bringing along I toted in that ol’ ruck.
When we arrived at the wharf it was standing room only. The lure of gold had the whole darn world in frenzy. Ships were coming and going, and most of the town turned out. There were two tall ships prepared to depart. They were loaded and canvassed, and fixing to double the horn. There were flags flying, bands playing, crowds waving, and I’d never seen anything to match it in my life.
Christoph followed and I fought my way through the crowd. All at once we spotted the cousins and the rest of the family. I hugged each one in turn till I came to Uncle Gus. Before you know it he’d hoisted me clean off my feet. Uncle Gus gave me a bear like squeeze that relieved me of most of my wind, and as he sat me down, I stood face to face with Mariah. It hadn’t occurred to me till right at that moment how much I’d miss Mariah. My red eyes blurred, my throat went tight, and my stomach went all to knots. I grabbed her in my arms, and we hugged like we’d never let go. After a moment I gazed into her eyes, and it took all the gumption I had just to try and speak. “You will wait for me, won’t ya?” was all I could say. Mariah just kissed me and grinned real big with those huge brown eyes. “I’ll be here Obadiah, if it takes a thousand years.”
Well, they were fixin’ to haul up the gangplank as I ran for the ship. Everyone was hollering and carrying on something fierce! Lidge was already onboard, and he grabbed my hand as I jumped down on the deck. His eyes were wide with excitement. “We did it, Obadiah!” he hollered over the roar of the crowd. “Look out San Francisco, here we come!”
To be continued
Shannon Thomas Casebeer
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