Dear Austin (2 page)

May 21, 1853

Dear Austin,

The big news in Sudbury is that Miller's store was broke into and robbed! The thieves took forty dollars from the safe, a box of hardtack, three hammers, a harness, and a case of Doctor Ditz's cough elixir, which also works for curing warts. Everyone in town is real jumpy, and we're all on the lookout for anyone with a strange look in his eye, a cough, or a wart. What I can't figure is how anyone could rob Miller's store without even touching the candy jars!

Last night I stunk so bad after mucking stalls all morning and plucking chickens for the church supper all afternoon, Miss Amelia wouldn't even let me into the kitchen to take my Friday-night bath. Jupiter -was with me, on account of Fridays are his day to work for Miss Amelia. Do you remember his sister, Darcy? Well, she's two years younger and comes with him to do the churning and the wash for Widow Needly next door. You can always tell -when Darcy is in the neighborhood because of her singing.

When she isn't singing, she's humming. Everyone calls her Darcy Nightingale on account of she sings like a nightingale, I guess.

Jupiter is eleven years old now and has a two-year-old hound dog by the name of Whistle. Even though Jupiter can't talk, he can whistle just fine, which is handy for calling his dog. Jupiter and Darcy work the rest of the week over at the Hepple farm. You may remember that their pa, Winston, is a farmhand there.

On Friday afternoon Miss Amelia sent Jupiter, Whistle, and me with the wagon to collect the chickens, and then we sat down and commenced plucking. I can't think of a chore I despise more than plucking chickens. Jupiter and I try to make a game out of it by racing each other to see who can pluck a bird the fastest. When we begin each race, Jupiter tucks a feather behind his ear. When I asked him why he did that, he pulled a rabbit's foot out of his pocket.

“Oh, for luck,” I said. “Well, in that case, let's see if I get lucky enough to miss out on plucking for the next church supper.” I stuck a handful of feathers
behind both my ears, and Jupiter started to laugh. Jupe is the only person I know who can laugh without making a sound. I wish I had that talent, especially in church, where laughing is almost a sin.

By the time we were through we had plucked twenty birds, leaving us with a mess of feathers in our laps and the stink of dead chickens all over us. Jupiter helped me drag the tin tub out to the back porch, where we filled it from the well. After such a hot and sweaty job, the cool water felt so refreshing that we both jumped in, Jupe at one end and me at the other. Whistle took a good long drink from the tub afore lying down beside it.

The crickets had begun to chirp in the grass, an owl hooted from the willow tree, and the bullfrogs were having a croaking contest down by the pond. We had all the entertainment a body could want. It was a good night for stargazing, and Jupiter and I took turns pointing out our favorite stars.

Jupiter's quiet is full of meaning, once you understand him. His eyes tell me more than most folks can with words. I know all of his expressions,
and it's as if I can hear what he's saying in his silence.

Miss Amelia said that Jupiter saw some terrible things happen to his mama in the slave quarters down in Maryland, afore he could learn to talk, and it frightened the words right out of him. Darcy must have missed seeing those things, for she talks more than anybody I know. And -when she isn't talking, she's singing.

But Jupiter and I don't need talking or singing to have a good time. I would have been content to sit there soaking and stargazing for an hour or more, but I suddenly spotted a suspicious light behind Preacher Tully's smokehouse—not starlight but lantern light.

“Hey, Jupe,” I whispered. “Do you see that light back of Tully's smokehouse?”

But Jupiter just shrugged as if it weren't nothing to bother about. I wasn't so sure.

So of course after my bath, my prayers, and my promises to Miss Amelia to “curb my wild ways and try to act more responsible,” I tied a rope to my bedpost and dropped it out my window.

That's all I have time to write you now, on account of my time is taken up with a new punishment Miss Amelia dreamed up after she learned I had slipped out of the house last night. For now I will just say that I have been given the most torturous punishment a boy could imagine, and if I live through it I will write you further about the night which cost me so dearly.

Your about-tb-be'tortured brother, Levi

May 26, 1853

Dear Austin,

I have survived my latest punishment, but only barely. I'll relate the grim details for you, but first let me explain how it all came about.

It began with my spying that light back of Preacher Tully's smokehouse on Friday night and deciding to lower myself out my bedroom window.

Now, I know what you might be thinking, Austin, but I can honestly say that my sneaking out of the house had nothing to do with wildness and everything to do with responsibility. For it's part of our club s creed that if something suspicious is going on, it's up to the club to investigate it. What with the robbery at Miller's store and a thief full of warts on the loose, I just had to do the responsible thing and lead the investigation.

I headed as fast as I could for Possum's house. (Jupiter's pa had come for him in the wagon to take him home.) Luckily there is a big oak tree standing under Possum's bedroom window. I tossed up a pebble
to wake him, and he was quick to climb down the tree to join me.

We headed for the woods that would take us to Tully's smokehouse. The moon was big and bright enough to light our way, and the pine needles on the ground felt soft as a carpet under our bare feet. There's something special about walking through the woods, when it's all shadows and moonlight.

We stopped by the crick to check Possum's frog houses. He's made them all along the bank. They're holes he's dug into the mud and covered with twigs and leaves. We were hoping that Plug Ugly might find his way back to his house, which was the biggest, but there was no sign of him.

Then we hung around the crick making leaf boats and having races. The moonlight was so bright we could see clear downstream to the bridge. When we smelled a skunk, we decided to get out of there fast and headed home.

We were having such a fine time that we never did see to the light behind Tully's smokehouse. But I intend to get to the bottom of this before the summer
is over. All in all it was a good night, until I climbed back up to, my room to find Miss Amelia there “waiting for me! It was just my luck that she had woken up in the middle of the night with a misery in her neck and noticed that I wasn't in my bed. For this small offense, Miss Amelia has burdened me with a punishment so cruel and horrible, I “wonder if I shall live through it.

I am to take dancing lessons!

Austin, I fear Miss Amelia is developing a real cruel streak in her, and with you gone, I am left to suffer alone under it! Dancing lessons at prissy Mrs. Simpson's! Why, going up against Old Man Grissard's bull was a piece of cake by comparison.

Your aggrieved brother, Levi

June 2, 1853

Dear Austin,

Today started off bad, took a turn for the worse, and ended up pretty near perfect. I woke up to find Essie in a bad mood. You know our Essie is the best-natured cow there ever was, but I could tell right away that something was wrong this morning, for when I put my bucket down beside her, she kicked it hard. I shouldn't have ignored that kick, but I did, and when I went to pull on her teat to let down her milk, she near kicked the bucket across the barn!

Miss Amelia said Essie most likely was suffering one of her spells, and I had to pick her some comfrey leaves to make up a poultice. As the day wore on, I was wishing that Essies kick had knocked me instead of the bucket across the barn, so's I wouldn't have to go to the dreaded dancing lessons that afternoon. The whole rest of the morning was ruined, on account of I -was counting the hours and minutes until Miss Amelia called me to come and “wash.”

That -was the first torture. She scrubbed my fingernails
with pine-tar soap and dug out the dirt with a nasty little pick for what seemed like hours. When I complained that they didn't even look like my fingers anymore, Miss Amelia just smiled and kept on scrubbing. Next I had to get into a collared shirt that had been starched so stiff you could have sailed me down the crick on it.

Of course I had to put on my Sunday shoes, and Miss Amelia showed no sympathy for my squashed toes. As if this weren't enough for a boy to suffer through, my head was attacked next.

Miss Amelia moaned how she forgot to buy the hair pomade down at Miller's store, but she supposed a little lard would do. Finally she stood me in front of her looking glass and smiled with satisfaction.

“There now.” She sighed. “How do you feel?”

I stood there staring into the glass, all scrubbed, picked over, collared, squashed, and slicked down with lard.

“Miserable,” I muttered through clenched teeth. “Jest plain miserable.”

But that didn't waver Miss Amelia from her mission.
She told me how she hoped that I would be a big success at Mrs. Simpson's. And looking at me now, she didn't see any reason why I shouldn't be. “This will be your moment,” she declared. “Your moment to shine.”

“If I have to go through all this pain to have one shining moment,” I told her, “I'd as soon keep my moments on the dull side.”

“Promise me,” she insisted. “Promise me you'll act like a gentleman.” So of course I had to promise, ‘cause even though Miss Amelia ain't really our ma, she fusses over me the same as any ma would. And I guess I can't complain. It's not every person who'll take in a boy with wild ways.

When we finally did arrive at Mrs. Simpson's, we found five girls and only three boys in the dancing group. There were the three sorry-looking Podorsky sisters, all sour-faced and poury, little Addie Rudder, who's only seven years old, and Tessa Buckman, who is probably the most beautiful girl in all of Sudbury, maybe in all of Pennsylvania! I felt a powerful round of hiccups coming on just looking at her.

Lester Minter, Henry Fenton, and I made up the boys. Henry had been clever enough to take music lessons, which got him out of dancing, as he was needed to play the riddle. That left Lester and me to be tortured. Lester, being the kind of boy who was brought up on prunes and proverbs, is known for two specialties. His spelling ability (he wins every spelling bee) and his scab picking. Lester is never without a scab he can pick. In the summer he's got them mostly on his knees, but when cool weather comes and his legs are covered, he starts in on his arms. He takes his time and goes at it real slow. But he wasn't picking any scabs on his legs today, for his ma was bragging to Miss Amelia and Mrs. Simpson how she had gotten Lester a pair of fancy store-bought britches “special for the occasion.”

“Why, he's turned out like a perfect little gentleman,” Mrs. Simpson cooed. All the girls were giggling and smiling (even Tessa Buckman) as if Lester the Scab Picker had somehow been turned into Lester the Prince! Lester was swelling like a bullfrog, and his mother was beside herself with pride.

I felt bad for Miss Amelia, who kept shooting me withering looks as she sat waiting for my shining moment to happen. I wouldn't want anything like fancy store-bought britches for myself, of course, but for Miss Amelia's sake, and maybe even Tessa Buckman's, I almost wished I had me a pair!

Later Mrs. Simpson was pairing us up, and didn't she pick the most beautiful girl in the room for the bullfrog's partner. You should, have seen Lester gloat as he took Tessa Buckman's hand.

Naturally, as things were going from bad to worse, I was paired with Margaret Podorsky. Skinny old Margaret Podorsky never smiles and is in the habit of chewing on the ends of her braids, leaving her hair ribbons all slimy with spit. If that ain't attractive enough, she's got the stink of camphor on her, as her ma still rubs her thumbs with some evil-smelling concoction so she won't suck them, even though she's nearly ten years old.

I gritted my teeth, hiccupped, and took Margaret's stinky hand. While Mrs. Simpson was xplaining about “twirling your partners,” a big bottle
fly flew in from the window and buzzed our heads. My hair was so thick with lard, didn't that fly dive down and land right on the top of my head! To make things worse, it got stuck in the lard and couldn't take off.

Of course Lester, being the “perfect little gentleman,” couldn't let this go unnoticed and called to Tessa Buckman to “take a look at Levi the Fly Catcher.” Even Henry was giggling as he played.

I shot Lester a dirty look, and as I twirled Margaret in a turnabout, I reached with my free hand and grabbed for the fly, pulling it off my head. Of course I knew better than to wipe it and the glob of lard from my fingers on my clean britches, so I reached over and used the back of Margaret's dress as she spun around. This caused a loud shriek from Mrs. Simpson. How'd I know that she'd be looking just then? Somehow I don't think this was the shining moment that Miss Amelia was dreaming about.

The rest of the lesson was just plain tiresome, what with all the bowing and the two steps forward and two steps back.

That night, Possum came to sleep over, and guess who came with him? Plug Ugly! Didn't he find his way back to his frog house by the crick!

I perked up considerable on hearing this news and seeing Plug Ugly's ugly face. Possum has a good little cage made of twigs for him. We three slept out in the hayloft. We stayed up late looking at the stars and talking about frogs and flies and Plug Ugly's bumpy back. (He's got more bumps on it than any frog Possum's ever caught.)

We talked a lot about our club and how we had to work harder at being alert, on account of it could be downright dangerous if we weren't. I wish you were here and could be in our club, Austin, ‘cause you know all about being a real daredevil. If you were here, I don't think there would be anybody who'd object to making you president of the club, what with all the danger you faced on the wagon train. But with you so far off, I guess I'll have to keep the job. Possum says that I make a pretty good president, ‘cepting for my hiccups. It was such a good night, I almost forgot about my punishing day.

I was trying to recall what kind of punishments you had when you lived at home, Austin, and try as I might, I couldn't remember any. I don't know how you managed to ward them off so well. I seem to have a natural talent for attracting them. I suppose it has something to do with my being so responsible.

I know you are busy working the claim, but if you find the time, I'd sure like to hear from you. There may be an entire country separating us, Austin, but I know I can always tell my troubles to you. And sometimes that makes you seem mighty close.

Your brother, Levi