Part 9 (2/2)

He was a realist, and experience had taught him that nothing worth having came easily. Though he knew nothing about the west, he did know what wagon travel involved. At the best, it was not easy. Though he never doubted Emma's moral fiber, though he knew that once having decided to go she would spare herself nothing to make the trip possible and successful, was her physical strength equal to the hards.h.i.+ps that they would almost certainly endure before they reached the land they wanted? Suppose baby Emma became desperately ill along the way and had only a wagon for shelter? Alfred, Carlyle and Joe were very young. Was Barbara equal to such a trip? Joe half turned the mule around, then turned her back and went on. He had taken upon himself the duty of digging out all possible information in advance. He had promised Emma to take care of her--and that meant he must prepare for every situation in which they were likely to find themselves. The sources of reliable information were few, but Seeley was one, and he meant to get to Seeley as early in the day as he humanly could.

The morning was lighter. But it was still too early for most people to be up and, save for Lard Head, who lay sleeping in front of the store, there was n.o.body around Tenney's Crossing. From the last house a little white dog ran out, yapped ineffectively at the mule, and scuttled back into the shadows when she lunged at him.

The mule broke into a fast canter and Joe let her run. Then, of her own accord, she slowed to an easy trot and walked on the upgrades. This was a wagon road, and sometimes wagons made the trip between Tenney's Crossing and Hammerstown when they were heavily loaded and in wet weather. The ruts on either side of the road were deep and uneven, and here and there they had been filled in with rocks. The bleached bones of an ox that had died on this road and been dragged aside were scattered about a gra.s.sy little dell.

The sky brightened, and Joe forgot his doubts. He felt light-hearted, almost gay, as he rode through forest broken by an occasional clearing.

Little Emma, he a.s.sured himself, would be all right because she was always all right when her mother took care of her. And about the lost crops there need be no worry. If a man couldn't do one thing he could always do another, and the only really unfortunate men were those who wept, but did nothing else, when trouble came.

The mule had stopped cantering and trotting and was walking now. But she had a very fast walk, she covered ground much more swiftly than a walking man, and she was not fighting him any more. But Joe continued to watch her closely and to feel with his knees for any change in her.

Mules were expert pretenders. They struck when it was least expected.

However, if a man knew mules, they always gave some warning.

A mighty hunger mounted within Joe as he thought of the breakfast Barbara would prepare for her mother and brothers and sisters. But if he'd stopped for breakfast he would have risked awakening Emma and the youngster. And he'd had to leave early because time was important. He must find out about the west, then take back to Emma everything he discovered.

They came to a long, gently slanting downgrade, and the mule trotted again. A white-tailed deer with twin fawns at her heels floated like a shadow across the road in front of him and stood on the forested hillside. A singing pleasure rose in Joe, and he slowed the mule as he pa.s.sed because he wanted to look more closely at the doe and her dappled babies. He wished that Emma might be along, for she always enjoyed such sights, too.

Not until they were well past did Joe think that venison was good eating, some of the best, and he was very hungry now. Well, no doubt he would get something to eat at the Seeleys'. Joe had never met them, but any stranger who came to your door should be offered food because that was only common politeness. It was unthinkable to send even an enemy away hungry.

A little more than two hours after he left his farm, Joe rode into Hammerstown.

Save that the store was smaller and much more run down than Tenney's, Hammerstown might have been Tenney's Crossing. There were half a dozen houses, a church, and a log building that served as a school and for any other public business that might have to be transacted. The timber had been cleared away to make fields, and beyond Hammerstown there were more farms. Two men were just coming out of the store, and as soon as he was abreast of them, Joe swung his mule around and stopped her.

”Can you tell me where John Seeley lives?” he called.

They regarded him with candid interest. ”Straight down the road. John's place is on top of the first hill. Somethin' we can do for you?”

”You can tell me if the Seeleys will be home.”

”They'll be home. Think you can find the place?”

”I reckon. Thank you.”

”You're welcome, stranger.”

Joe swung the mule back down the road and out of Hammerstown. A man with a yoke of oxen looked curiously at him as he pa.s.sed and two children stopped to stare. Joe resented no part of it. People who lived in such places, and who seldom saw anyone except their near neighbors, were always frankly curious about anyone whom they did not know. The mule walked up the first hill and Joe guided her into the farmyard on top of it. It was more substantial than most farms, with a good, solid log house covered by a s.h.i.+ngled roof. Obviously John Seeley enjoyed more than average prosperity, for there were gla.s.s windows on all sides of the house. Behind the house were a barn and sheds, and fields and forest beyond them.

A man with two teams of oxen was skidding a heavy drag of logs across a field toward the barn, and a boy about fifteen years old accompanied him. A bevy of small children crowded into the house's open door, and a s.h.a.ggy dog that barked desultorily as it came, wagged toward Joe. The mule backed warily, and Joe kept a sharp eye on her. He had come to seek something from the people who lived here, and letting his mule kick their dog around was not the way to cement friendly relations.

A woman who, Joe thought, looked somewhat like Emma, came to stand in the doorway behind the children and at once Joe felt a little easier.

Though he was usually ill at ease with strange women, he felt that he could talk to this one. He slid from the mule, holding the reins, and Joe said politely,

”I'm looking for John Seeley's place, ma'am. My name's Joe Tower. I come from over Tenney's Crossing way.”

She smiled a warm welcome. ”This is the Seeley place, Mr. Tower. My man's in the wood lot right now.”

”There's a man and boy coming in. They have a drag of logs.”

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