Трейси Шевалье - At the Edge of the Orchard

He looked up at Martha sittin above us in her tree, her foot swingin back and forth.

Leave her, I said. Shell jest hold you up.

Marthas foot stopped swingin.

You got to save yourself, I said. Go on out there now. Go.

So he went. And so did I.

Days’ Farm

Black Swamp

Near Perrysburg

Ohio

June 25, 1844

Gilbert Hotel

Racine

Wisconsin Territory

Dear Robert,

Today Mrs. Day brought me a letter you wrote from Wisconsin. It is 6 months old. She got it when she was at the general store in Perrysburg and Mr. Fuller had it sitting there waiting for a Goodenough to come along. It has been there months because Caleb doesn’t use the store much, and no one thought of me, until Mrs. Day happened to see the letter.

I was so happy to hear from you that I cried. It has been almost 6 years since you left home, and I am very glad to know that you are alive.

You will want to know what has become of your brothers and sisters after what happened. Caleb and Nathan ran the farm as best they could, but could not manage it the way Pa had. We were all right that first winter, because we had what you and Mr. Day and Pa had brought in from the summer, and you and I had put up the garden, and all of the apples. The boys hunted, and we got through the winter, though the house was always cold and not as clean as it should be. The Days looked in on us and brought us sacks of flour and some wild turkeys. Other neighbors helped us out too. Mr. Chapman came by with the barrels of cider, and when he heard what had happened he left and has not been back to the Black Swamp since.

The next summer the oats were poor, and they stored the hay damp so it rotted. Sal and I kept the garden but it was hard to remember everything we had to do and how to keep the rabbits and deer out. I did remember to prune the apple trees, and they were all right. Our clothes were too small and we had no money for anything, and barely enough to eat. Then Nathan took the fever and died, and then Sal ran off. She lives in Toledo now. I am ashamed to say what she is doing, so I will not write it.

After that Mrs. Day asked me did I want to live with her and her husband. She and Mr. Day never did have any children and she needed the help. I was glad to leave, for I did not like being alone with Caleb as he has taken to drink. I became a kind of daughter to the Days, except they worked me harder, more like a servant, except unpaid. It was Mrs. Day who taught me my letters well enough that I can write this to you. Do you recall her straw hat? She still wears it to town and it makes me smile to see it.

So that is how we all are. Caleb is still on the farm, though he does not grow crops except a bit of corn for the horse and the cow. He sold the team of oxen. Mostly he hunts and trades furs. I do not go by the farm much, but once in October when I was with the Days I did, and I am sorry to tell you the apple crop was poor, very small what there was and Caleb had not bothered to pick them so there were many windfalls. Mrs. Day said it was a waste of God’s bounty.

Now I can be happy, for I know where you are and that you are remembering your family. When are you coming back? Please write to me at the Days, for I do not think Caleb will give me a letter from you. Or send for me and I will come, as though the Days are kind enough they are not Family.

I am your sister

Martha

Days’ Farm

Black Swamp

Near Perrysburg

Ohio

January 1, 1845

Gilbert Hotel

Racine

Wisconsin Territory

Dear Robert,

I have been waiting for a letter from you. I know it takes time for letters to get to their destination. I do not know how far Wisconsin is from here but Mr. Day told me it is a long way west. So I thought my letter might take 2-3 months to reach you, maybe until September. And then when you wrote back it would take 3 months again to reach me. So I did not expect to hear from you until December, though of course I could not help myself: even just after I sent you a letter I would get excited when Mrs. Day went to Perrysburg because there might be a letter waiting for me.

But there has been no letter all these months and so I am writing again-on New Year’s Day, the way you did. It is night, for I could not take the time during the day-Mrs. Day kept me ironing during much of it, to dry the clothes we washed yesterday and that were frozen. It is hard as my hands are little and the iron heavy, and I burn my arms. But at least it is warming work, and that is something in this cold. We were snowed in before Christmas for a week. But you said in your letter that it was even colder in Wisconsin than the Black Swamp. I hope you are keeping warm with all the horses.

I remember all the lines of your letter, from reading it over and over-though I no longer have the letter itself. Mrs. Day felt Caleb ought to see it since it was addressed to all of the Goodenoughs. When we gave it to him, he said he would read it later as he was busy-though all he was doing at the time was sitting in the doorway and whittling-this when there was plenty to do. Also I do not think Caleb can read, and I would have read it to him but he did not want that. A few days later I went back to get the letter but he said it had dropped in the fire and burned up. I cried a little then-not in front of Caleb, but when I was alone.

I may not have the letter but I remember your words and the hotel name. Every day I wait to hear from you and hope that you will write with money so that I may take a stagecoach-or many stages-to reach Racine.

Sal came by for a visit this summer-the first she has made since she run off, though Toledo is not very far away. She has a child now, a boy she calls Paul. So you are Uncle Robert and I am Aunt Martha. She did not say who the father is. Paul was naughty. He pulled the dog’s tail and threw cinders from the fire onto the floor. Then Sal beat him though he is only little. I told Sal about your letter. Though she did not say anything, I am sure she would want me to say hello from her.

You will be pleased to hear that I found the Golden Pippin tree you planted on the Injun Trail. It is doing all right even with no one to prune it. I was able to pick some apples from it to carry back to the Days. We ate them and they tasted so sharp and sweet, do you remember?

I am going to go out to the road to Perrysburg tomorrow with this letter and hope to find someone to take it for me. I hope you are keeping well and that you will write to me soonest.

I am your sister

Martha

Days’ Farm

Black Swamp

Near Perrysburg

Ohio

August 15, 1845

Gilbert Hotel

Racine

Wisconsin Territory

Dear Robert,

It has taken me a while to write because I did not have any paper and did not want to ask Mrs. Day for some as I do not want her to know that I am writing to you. I have stopped asking her about letters from you when she comes back from the general store because she began to act funny about it. I suspect she worries one day I will leave to join you and she will not have anyone to work for her. Still I am hoping for that letter. I am wondering if you are still in Racine or if you have gone somewhere else. People move around so much now. Every day we see people passing through on their way west. The road is better now than when we were young. Remember the mud and how we got stuck. Since it was macadamized it is not too bad.