Beyond the Quiet Hills (18 page)

Sarah came back, picked up her hoe, and said, “Jacob, if Andy does that to me again, I want you to whip him!”

“You do, do you?”

“Yes. He's so mean to me, but he won't do it in front of Pa. So you'll have to whip him for me.” A small silence ensued, for Andrew had come back in time to hear this. He stared across the row of sweet potatoes at Jacob, and for a moment the two boys were solemn. Each was measuring the other, and Jacob, though over a year older and two inches taller than Andrew, did not have the strength of the younger boy. Andrew had been subjected to the rough frontier life for longer than he, and there was a promise of growing strength in his shoulders and chest.

“I'm not going to whip anybody because of a thing like that,” he said mildly and was relieved to see Andrew's face relax. “What about if we go fishing after we get the garden tended?”

“Yes! Let's do!” Sarah said at once. She loved to fish better than any other activity, and while the boys were often gone hunting in the nearby woods, she would sit for hours by the small beaver pond a mile and a half from the cabin. “This is close enough. Let's go now.”

Andrew shook his head cautiously. “We'll have to ask Ma.”

“She won't care. I'll go ask her. You two dig some worms and get the poles.”

Flying toward the cabin, Sarah tossed her hoe toward the house, where it fell with a clatter. It was typical of her, instead of placing it on the peg that Andrew had driven into the side of the cabin to hold the gardening instrument. He himself always hung his hoe up carefully and neatly, but there was none of this precision in Sarah, who was quick and rather slapdash in most things.

Bursting into the cabin, she found Elizabeth mixing dough for baking and cried, “Ma, can we go fishing? We got the garden finished. Please, can we?”

“Are you sure you're through?”

“Well,
almost
—and we can finish when we come back. It's the best time of the day to fish, Ma.”

Looking down at her daughter, Elizabeth was very much aware that very soon Sarah would pass out of childhood into early adolescence and then into womanhood. This daughter of hers had a tempestuous quality in her that Elizabeth had never been able to trace. She reached out and smoothed Sarah's hair, thinking of Patrick, as she often did, with a faint feeling of regret, and yet with pleasure that some of him remained in the two children he had left behind.

“I suppose so, but you'll have to finish the garden when you come back.”

“We will, Ma.”

“And don't be too long.”

“We'll come back as soon as we get plenty of fish for supper.” Sarah whirled and left the cabin at a run. She saw the boys digging worms, and she stopped long enough to pick up a rusty tin pail that they used for fish bait, then hurried down to where the boys were turning over rich, loose soil at the corner of the small barn.

“I wish we had night crawlers. They're better than these red worms,” Andrew complained.

Sarah bent down, and when Andrew turned over a spoonful of dirt, she immediately grabbed a long, wiggling worm and dropped it into the bucket. “These'll do good! I'll bet I catch more fish than either one of you!”

“Bet you don't!” Andrew grinned. “What do you think, Jacob?”

“I don't know. She's a pretty good fisherman.”

Gratefully Sarah looked up at Jacob. Since he had come to live with them, she had been aware that he was uncertain and had done her best to make friends with him. He was, to her mind, a strange young man, not at all like her brother, Andrew. There were long periods of time when he would say practically nothing to anyone, and she had asked her mother why this was. Her mother had simply replied that he was different from other young men, more sensitive, and perhaps pondered things a little more deeply.

Jacob was well aware that Sarah was watching him carefully. He liked the bubbling girl a great deal. All throughout his life he had missed having brothers and sisters, and something about the girl's rather fiery behavior appealed to him. Indeed, he often wished he could be as outgoing as she was, but he knew that would not do. A man had to be more thoughtful. He envied the sense of security she exuded, and when he questioned her once about her father, she had said, “I miss him every day, but we've got a new pa now. I'll never forget my real pa, but one day I'll see him in heaven.” Her calm confidence had impressed Jacob, and he now teased her mildly as they filled the pail with worms.

Finally they had enough bait, or so Jacob thought. “This will be enough, I guess.”

“I was thinkin' . . .” Andrew said and then halted.

“What were you thinkin', Andy?” Sarah demanded.

“I was thinkin' we could go by and see if Abigail might like to go.”

“She doesn't care anything about fishing! She's afraid she might get dirty.” Sarah pouted, for she wanted the two boys all to herself. In truth, she liked Abigail Stevens very much, but she was well aware that if Abigail were there, she would not get her share of the attention.

Jacob said quickly, “I think that's a good idea.”

Instantly Andrew glanced at Jacob, seeing nothing but agreement in his face. “All right,” he said, “we'll go. Let's go wash these worms off our hands.”

Twenty minutes later they were on their way, Andrew swinging a small box tied by a string containing a lunch he had wheedled out of his mother. He was whistling tunelessly, and there was a pleased expression on his face as they made their way down the path that wound to the Stevens' place. When they arrived, they called out, “Hello the house!” as was customary, and he was pleased to see Abigail come out at once. She was wearing a pale blue dress with small white flowers, and her hair was tied back with a yellow ribbon.

“Well, hello,” she said when the three stepped into the yard. “Going fishing?”

“Yes,” Andrew said quickly. “Come with us.”

“I'll have to ask my folks.”

“We've got a picnic lunch here,” Andrew said to entice her more strongly, “and I expect your folks could use some fresh fish.”

“Come with me, Andrew, while I ask them.”

Andrew stepped inside the cabin, where he found George and Deborah Stevens sitting in front of the window cracking walnuts and preserving the nutmeats in a glass jar. “Mama—Papa. Can I go fishing with Andrew and Sarah and Jacob?”

“I suppose so,” Deborah replied, “but you'll have to come back early.”

“Oh, I will.”

“And we'll bring you some fresh fish, too, and I'll clean them for you, Mrs. Stevens.”

“Why, that would be nice, Andrew. Don't wear that dress, Abigail. You might fall in the creek.” George Stevens smiled.

“I'll change it.”

Abigail at once climbed the ladder to the loft, which was her room, and soon came down again wearing a worn brown dress. It was too small for her, being an older dress, and her father remarked mildly, “You won't be wearing that dress much longer. It's too little for you, or maybe you're too big for it.”

Abigail pouted, which Andrew thought was very attractive. She went over, kissed her parents, then said, “Come on, Andrew.”

The two went out the door, and Abigail asked, “Where are we going?”

“Down to the beaver dam,” Andrew said.

As they started off, Jacob said suddenly, “You know, the Taylors' place is right on the way. Why don't we ask Amanda to go?”

“All right,” Andrew said. “The more the merrier.”

Fifteen minutes later they stopped by the Taylor cabin and found Iris outside weeding her small, scraggly garden patch. She appeared haggard and worried, and Andrew said, “We're going fishing, Mrs. Taylor. We thought Amanda might like to go.”

For a second Iris hesitated, then she nodded and said, “Why, I expect she might.” Lifting her voice, she called, “Amanda, come out here!”

Almost at once Amanda stepped outside of the cabin door. Her head was down, and she appeared discouraged. But Andrew said cheerfully, “Come on, Amanda. We're all going fishing over at the beaver pond.”

“Sure, come with us,” Jacob encouraged. He felt sorry for the girl, for he knew she had had a rough life.

“Is it all right, Mama?”

“Why, I reckon it is.”

“We'll bring you back a load of fish, Mrs. Taylor,” Andrew said confidently.

Jacob grinned, saying, “You're giving away these fish pretty generously, Andy. We better catch 'em before we give 'em away.”

But Andrew would not be denied his boasting. “You don't know who you're talking to, Jacob!” he said. “When I catch fish, I catch fish!”

As they left the yard, Sarah said, “Where's your pa, Amanda?”

“He ain't home.”

Sarah turned to look at her friend quickly, but when Amanda offered no more information, Sarah was bright enough to understand. Wherever Zeke Taylor was, Amanda was glad he was not at home.

Half an hour later, after following the stream that wound through first-growth timber until it emerged on a meadow sprinkled with yellow and white wild flowers, they reached the beaver pond.

The dam itself was a hodgepodge of logs, sticks, and saplings that blocked a narrow outlet. The water from the stream was captured in a shallow pond, and in the center, a domed structure rose up, which they knew to be the beaver house.

“I hope we see some beavers today,” Sarah said. “I think they're cute.”

“Well, they're worth money, that's for sure,” Andrew nodded. “I'm going beaver trapping next year up in the mountains. Pa said he'd take me.”

At this remark Jacob's face changed slightly, but he said nothing. Hawk had said nothing to him about going trapping, and he felt a moment's resentment but managed to shove it away, saying, “Let's go fishing.”

Jacob set the lunch up in the crook of a tree, and when he got back, he found Abigail unwinding her line.

“Let me put the worm on that hook for you, Abigail.”

Abigail turned and smiled at him. “Would you, Jacob?”

“Sure.”

“Good, I hate that part of fishing.”

Andrew was baiting his own hook at this time and looked up with surprise. He had been fishing with Abigail before, and she had never seemed to mind baiting her own hook. His eyes narrowed as he watched Abigail smiling at Jacob in an open fashion. However, he baited his hook, threw it out in the water, and then turned to Amanda, saying, “Can you bait your own hook, Amanda?”

“Yes, I can, Andrew.”

Sarah, on the other side of Amanda, was holding firmly to a wiggling worm. She skewered it on the hook, then said, “I wonder if it hurts. When you put the hook in them, I mean.”

“Why, of course it does!” Amanda said with surprise.

“How do you know?” Sarah demanded.

“It just stands to reason. They're alive, and when you stick anything that's alive with something sharp, it hurts. Didn't you ever stick a hook in your finger?”

“Yes, but I'm not a worm! I don't think it hurts them a bit!”

“Don't bother trying to educate Sarah, Amanda,” Andrew grinned. “When she gets an idea in her head, she doesn't want to be confused by facts.”

Sarah argued cheerfully, but almost at once her line straightened out, and she yelped, “I got one!” Her eyes glowed with excitement, and she hauled back on the pole. The fish shot out of the water over her head, and with a squeal she pounced upon it. “Look, I got the first fish!”

“Not big enough, Sarah,” Andrew protested.

“It is, too! I'll eat it myself!” Sarah hated to throw any fish back, and in truth this one was a borderline case. She stepped on the fish, extracted the hook, and then put it on the stringer that Jacob had made out of a strip of rawhide. “Let's have a contest,” she said, “to see who catches the most fish.”

“I'll win,” Andrew laughed. “You wait and see!”

The sun was hot on the young people, but they were accustomed to the heat. The fish were biting well, and the stringer rapidly grew heavier and heavier. Finally, after two hours, Jacob said, “I'm hungry. Let's eat.”

“Yes, I'm starved,” Amanda said.

“You'd better wash all that worm and fish off your hands, Abigail,” Jacob said. “I wish I'd brought you some soap.”

“Oh, I'll be all right,” Abigail said. She knelt down to wash her hands, and Jacob knelt beside her, talking cheerfully. He made a slight joke, teasing her about something.

Andrew, who was ten yards farther down the stream beside the other two girls, turned his head in their direction and called out, “How many fish did you catch, Jacob? I caught twelve.”

Jacob flushed, for he had had bad luck. “Just three,” he muttered.

“Well, I guess that makes me the champion fisherman.”

“I caught more than you did!” Sarah protested.

“But I caught the biggest ones.”

The argument went on until finally they spread the meal that Elizabeth had provided and Jacob sat down beside Abigail. As they ate the food, he described a play he had seen in Williamsburg. His eyes sparkled and he was witty enough, so that soon the three girls were laughing at him. Andrew smiled slightly, but there was a troubled light in his eyes. He had not resented Jacob for being smarter than he was, but somehow he felt left out. Jacob was charming when he chose to be, and he was obviously showing off for Abigail. Andrew grew quieter and quieter, and finally lapsed into total silence.

Amanda Taylor said little herself. She rarely had anything to say. Now she took in the situation before her, and when she got up to get a piece of the cake that Elizabeth had packed, she sat down beside Andrew, trying to make it seem almost accidental.

“Tell me about the beavers, Andrew,” she said.

“The beavers?” Andrew took his eyes off of Jacob and Abigail, and seemingly grateful for an excuse, he began to tell the slender girl beside him what Hawk and Sequatchie had taught him. He had actually trapped a few with Sequatchie once, and when he described how it was done, he noted that Amanda was listening intently. “Are you really interested in beavers?”