Don Gutteridge - Dubious Allegiance

Without forethought or premeditation their feet found the meandering path westward across the ice to the frozen spit of the island, the waters between it and the shore sculpted and flumed by an arctic wind that cared only for the law and beauty of its own instigation. They let the circle of the island and its echoing emptiness take them up, and paired in their circumambulation they spoke of many things that lay between them-matters past and matters future-and were content to have silence subsume the things that could not yet be uttered. They found themselves thus at the far edge of the island at the far edge of the land at the far edge of everything. For the time being, the only allegiance they owed was to the love they bore for each other.

April, 1838

Iowa Territory

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Edwards:

This is not my writing, but these are my words. Winn is copying them down as they come out. We got your letter, and we are glad you got married and bought a cottage in the city. Things out here are swell. Thomas and me are starting a big farm of our own. There’s hardly any trees to chop down (so don’t worry, Beth). The ground is black and easy to turn, I could do it with a spoon! Mr. Hatch is using the money you sent to start up a little mill. He’s gonna let me work the floodgate! Winn and Mary are having more babies this summer. The first boy baby will be named Aaron. Our Susie’s got herself a beau. Some Indians come down from the hills a while back and sold us ponies. Mine is called Silky. That’s all for now. I hope you’re feeling as happy and free as we are.

Your loving brother,

Aaron