Published out of order. Please go back and make sure you’ve read part 8

Barton led them to their lodgings, a corner of the barn.  “Master Wharton says you’ll sleep here.  After our day’s over, I’ll help you get set up.  We’ll be felling trees if you want logs to fashion a room.  You can chink the cracks with mud and hay to make it tighter.  Fresh hay makes a fine bed.  My woman will bring you some ticking for bedding.  When it gets bitter this winter, you can layer hay over yourselves and sleep warm.  When Aggie and me move on, you’ll move in the house.  You won’t be bothered.  Jackie here won’t allow anyone on the place.  He skins under the door here to sleep in the barn.”  He scratched the ears of a large mongrel.   Andrew wasn’t altogether comfortable sharing space with the intimidating canine and hoped he wouldn’t object to company.  He turned to Molly.  “Go in to Aggie.  She’ll see to you.”

Molly found Aggie at the hearth scooping beans into a crockery bowl.  “Get the potatoes out of the ashes,”  she barked.  Molly didn’t see anything but several fist-sized rocks in the ashes.  Anxious not to get not to incur her wrath, Molly took a poker and rolled the dark lumps out of the ashes.

“Don’t stand there like a dunce!   Crack’em and get the taties on the table.  Here, I’ll not show you but once.”  With that, she whacked a lump with the poker, freeing a steaming yam from its clay coat.  Molly scurried to crack the other shells, releasing the fragrant yams.   She put the crock full on the table alongside the pots of honey and butter.  Aggie banged a stack of plates on the table and passed her a pot of stewed squash and pone of cornbread. Molly couldn’t keep her eyes off the pot of beans with  bacon floating on top.  She’d never seen this much food at one time in her life.  “You’ll eat well here.  Master knows the value of feeding his bondsmen.  He  eats with us when there’s no company, but don’t like gabbing at the table.  Keep quiet if he don’t speak.”

Barton and Andrew trooped in behind Master Wharton, only taking their places after he was seated at the head of the table. He dropped his head.  “Father, bless this food to our strength and give us grace to do thy bidding.”  With this, he raised his head and fell to, breaking off a piece of the cornbread, buttering and covering it in honey. Aggie heaped his plate with beans, squash, and yams before passing dishes to her husband. She was waiting to fill his mug with beer when his first mug was finished.  She and Molly hurried to replenish as his plates and mugs as the men ate.  Finishing  off his meal with a final serving of buttered and honeyed cornpone, he pushed back in his chair, patted his full belly, and burped his thanks.  ” Father, we thank thee for thy bounty.”

Abruptly, he rose from the table.  “Take your ease for a bit.”  He seated himself in a rocker in the front room and was soon snoring.  Bartles disappeared into his room as well. Andrew remained at the table with his wife and Aggie as they ate. It was so satisfying to have all they wanted.

While Wharton had other matters to attend, Andrew and Bartles worked for hours that afternoon sawing trees with a cross-cut saw, chopping off branches with an ax, then piling the brush for later burning.  Andrew’s back ached and the muscles of his arms screamed.  At the end of the day, they were rewarded with a half-dozen stumps, a huge pile of brush, and a stack of logs.  The timber would be transported to a nearby sawmill for processing into lumber.  Wharton told Andrew he could take what he needed to fashion a room in the barn.  The remainder would be used on the place or sold in the colonies or shipped back to England.  Timber was one of the most important crops shipped back to England since her forests had been stripped.  Ship-building, an important trade, was always hungry for lumber. During a brief break, Bartles told him they usually worked the crops in the early morning, then split the afternoon between lumbering and blacksmithing as the need and weather permitted.  Blacksmithing was illegal in the colonies, but since their product was not great enough to impact the demand from England, they’d not had a problem yet.

Aggie sent Molly out with a pewter pitcher of beer and the men paused for a short break.  Battles spoke to the two of them.  When she turned to leave them, Bartles bade her stay. ” I came here as a bondsman almost four years ago.  I’d done blacksmithing on an estate in England.  Like you, my master died and I had to move on.  We’d have starved if we hadn’t bonded. It was a devilish passage we made, more than twelve weeks.  That’s when we met Master Wharton, but he warn’t no master then.  He was a sailor what broke his leg two days out and couldn’t work.  We took care of him or he’d have never lived.  When we got here, ship’s captain bound him over for lost work owed.  We was all bound to Mistress Ipswich when we landed, the woman that owned this farm. She was a hard, God-fearing woman, the meanest Christian I ever knew.  She took a fancy to Master Wharton not long after.  Once she was set on marrying him, he had no choice.  She meant to have him, one way or another.  He give up and married her after awhile, even though he didn’t have no fondness for her.  It was a hard bargain with never a minutes’ peace.  After a year or so, she fell out with a fit and died three days later.  He was Master after that.  When he found out I could smith, he got me a forge and helped me get a start.  I get to keep half I make.  He don’t have to let me keep nothing.  My time will be up in a few months and I’d be proud to teach you.  I’m telling you this so you’ll know you’ve got a chance.  Didn’t me nor Wharton have nothing when he got here.  Now he’s got a fine farm and soon, me and Aggie will be worked our time out an able to make a living.  Do right by Wharton and he’ll do right by you.  He don’t need to know we talked.  Lots of bondsman die before they finish their time, but you got a good place.”

Molly and Andrew were greatly heartened by Bartle’s story.  “I thank you for telling us, Bartles.”  Andrew told him.  “We are grateful.”  Molly flashed him a smile as she turned back to the house with the pitcher.

“I’d best get back in the house before Aggie skins me.”

“That she will,” chuckled Bartles.  “She don’t tolerate no slacking in herself nor nobody else, but she’s a good woman.”

Art by Kathleen Holdaway Swain

I knew Champ, our horse, loved me since he trotted up to the fence every time he saw me. I carefully held my hand flat and let him snuffle up goodies with his velvety muzzle. My big sister said it he’d love anyone who slipped him apples, sugar and carrots, but she was just being mean. I didn’t tell my friends and cousins the trick, so they were scared he’d bite them. Before long, I found he could help himself to treats out of my pocket or off my shoulder.

My grandmother had written that she was coming for Easter and bringing Easter outfits with hats and shoes. I didn’t hear much except the part about outfits with hats and shoes. I was thrilled! I had been dying for a cowboy outfit with red boots, red hat, and shiny pistols in a holster but Mother said I needed other things worse. Good old Grandma knew what really mattered! I was up before daylight waiting for her. Breakfast and lunch dragged by…..…..nothing. I was getting more and more upset. Maybe Grandma wasn’t coming. Maybe she got lost. Just before dark an old black car crept up. We all flew out to the car, trying to get to her first. “What did you bring me? What did you bring me?” Mother tried to shush us, but nobody listened. Grandma was slow getting out of the car and slower getting in the house. No wonder it took her so long to get here. We got busy and helped with her bags and a big brown box from the back seat. There was plenty of room in there for a cowboy suit and lots of other good stuff.

Even though we were dying, Mother made us wait till Grandma went to the bathroom, got a cup of coffee, and caught her breath. She was slow at that, too. Finally, Grandma got the scissors and started cutting the strings on the box. She was so old her fingers shook. It took forever. I could have ripped into that box in a second, but would Mother let me? Noooooo!

Just before I died of old age, Grandma started pulling things out of the box. I knew she always saved the best for last. I got a gumball machine full of gumballs. That was great!! Next she pulled out a baby doll and handed it to me. Grandma couldn’t seem to remember I hated dolls, but I tried to be nice about it. All baby dolls were good for was burying when we played funeral. I tried to be patient till she got to the cowboy outfit. Finally, she hit bottom. She made me and my sister close our eyes and hold out our hands for our outfits.

I peeked just a little and was furious!! This was a horrible joke! We were both holding fancy Easter dresses, big ridiculous straw hats with flowers, and shiny white shoes. I hated them! Where were my cowboy boots and guns? My mother gave me a dirty look before I could tell Grandma what I really thought. I hated dresses, but Mother made us put on our Easter getups and pose next to the fence for a picture. It was hot. The clothes were scratchy. We looked stupid. My prissy big sister kept dancing around like a ballerina while the mean kids from next door laughed at us across the fence. I’d be dealing with them later. Boy was I disgusted.

Mother was as slow as Grandma. While I stood there like a dope waiting for her to take that darn picture, Champ came up behind me expecting a treat. We both got a big surprise. I felt a big scrunchy chomp on my head. The strap on my hat stretched tight, snapped, and that horrible hat with the flowers was gone. I flipped around, and Champ was eating my Easter hat. He still had straw and flowers sticking out of his mouth, but I could see he didn’t think too much of it either. He was the best horse ever. I never had to wear that hat again. He did love me!