Bend in The River

By Judy Lennington

Jack Gideon’s life changed after his mother died.  He and his father now live with his grandparents in a small house built from the wood of a raft his great-grandparents floated down the Ohio River on and settled where the river bends.  There are several homes in this community known as Wellsville, Ohio.  Jack is the

• Language: English
• Publisher: TOPLINK PUBLISHING, LLC
• Release date: Aug 8, 2017
• ISBN: 9781947620483

Judy Lennington

Deb’s Alienation is the 19th novel written by Judy Lennington, a retired factory worker of thirty-eight years. Growing up in a family of storytellers, she continues the family tradition. Only now, she hopes to tell her stories to the world.

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BEND IN THE RIVER

By:

Judy Lennington

Copyright © 2017 by Judy Lennington.

HARDBACK: 978-1-947620-47-6

PAPERBACK: 978-1-947620-46-9

EBOOK: 978-1-947620-48-3

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

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Thank you, Dave Lennington, for the best years of my life. I love you very much.

I dedicate this book to the girls that meet for lunch regularly.

Essie Barnard

Edith Anderson

Vivian Sell Culler

Nancy Bowers

Patricia Guy

Lois Esenwein

Susie Steeves

JoAnn Ludt

Christina Bowers Flickinger

Sandra Sell

Bonnie Bennett

Gwenn Schmidt

Cindy Butler Lortz

Teresa Robison

Shirley Martin

I would like to thank Debby Rogers Mora, Jim Plunkett, and the Wellsville Historical Society for their help and assistance. God has blessed me with good friends, and I thank God that you are some of the best.

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It was a warm spring day in Wellsville, Ohio. Lester Gideon shuffled his feet as he made his way down the dirt street toward the wooden boardwalk that bordered the store fronts of the main street. He watched his grandson, Jack, as he skipped ahead, kicking the dust into the air as he went. Lester walked with the aid of a cane he carried in his right hand. His knees ached and at times he found himself massaging his muscles in his back as he struggled to keep up with Jack.

Jack would pause from time to time to look back at his grandfather. He climbed the steps of the wooden sidewalk that went down the street in front of the businesses that lined both sides of the main street. Jack sat down to wait for his grandfather. Lester panted as he began to climb the steps. He rustled Jack’s brown hair as he reached the top.

Why do you need a cane, Grandfather? Jack asked.

Because, I’m old and my legs are weak, Jack, Lester explained. They had reached the door to the mercantile. Lester opened the door and held it for Jack to pass through.

Just imagine if you didn’t have any legs, Jack began, or maybe if you had a wooden leg.

Lester sighed and replied, I knew a man with a wooden leg once when I was about your age.

Good afternoon, Lester, Rosalie Dodge said with a smile.

Good afternoon, Rosalie. How is the mister these days? Lester asked.

Tell me about the man with the wooden leg, grandfather, Jack said.

Lester looked down at Jack and smiled, Not now, Son. It will keep for another time. I’m having a conversation with Mrs. Dodge. You look around and mind that you don’t touch anything.

Jack sighed and hung his head as he turned to walk away. Lester smiled over at Rosalie Dodge as she stood behind the counter watching the young boy. I apologize, Rosalie. He forgets his manners sometimes.

Rosalie nodded her head and said, I remember when my son was his age. Don’t give it a second thought, Lester. Boys will be boys.

Lester smiled, I remember when I was that age.

Rosalie nodded her head and wiped the dust from the counter. What can I do for you this morning, Lester? she asked.

I need to mail this here letter, he placed a letter on the counter. And I need a bag of salt for Delores, he said, with a nod of his head. He leaned his weight upon the cane.

How is Delores this morning? Rosalie asked.

She’s fine. She is baking a batch of bread now. I brought Jack with me to keep him out of her hair, Lester said.

Ah, it’s quite different with the grandchildren, isn’t it? Rosalie asked.

It is at that, Lester said. Of course, it isn’t the same as raising your own. Sheldon comes home tired after working over at the Stevenson Company.

It’s a sad thing, the boy’s mother dying of pneumonia at such an early age. Poor Sheldon is a very lucky man that you and Delores were able to take them in the way you did, Rosalie said, speaking softly and shaking her head. Yes Sir, mighty lucky indeed. Of course, you two being up in years and all; it can’t be easy for you looking after a boy his age.

Lester glanced over at Jack, who was inspecting a jar of licorice sticks. He smiled and said, It isn’t so bad. He comes in pretty handy at times.

Rosalie smiled and nodded her head as she placed both hands on the wooden countertop. Can I get anything else for you this morning, Lester? she asked.

Lester nodded his head in Jack’s direction and said, You can give Jack one of those licorice sticks. I think he deserves a treat this morning.

Rosalie walked around the counter and approached Jack. Would you like a licorice stick, young man? she asked him.

Jack’s eyes widened and he smiled as he nodded his head. He looked over at his grandfather, seeking permission. Lester nodded his head and Rosalie removed the cover from the jar, lowering it to where Jack could reach inside. After selecting the candy of his choice, Jack went to stand next to his grandfather. He remained there, holding the candy in his hand until Lester paid Rosalie for the candy. Lester rustled Jack’s hair and they walked out of the store together.

May I eat my candy now? Jack asked as they descended the wooden steps and proceeded to walk the dirt street toward home.

You may, Lester replied.

Jack moved along slowly as he walked at his grandfather’s side. Lester thought it strange as the lad usually skipped ahead. Lester continued to move along, relying upon his cane as they moved through the dusty streets toward the rows of smaller houses that lined a back street. You said you knew a man with a wooden leg, Grandfather. Who was he? Jack asked.

Oh, he wasn’t anybody special, and again, he was a very special individual, Lester said smiling down at Jack. I suppose that doesn’t make much sense, does it Jack?

Jack shook his head. No, it doesn’t, Grandfather.

Well, he wasn’t a famous pirate, as you might imagine him to be. I remember the first time I saw him, I thought he was a pirate. I was about your age, and the only people I had ever heard of having wooden legs were pirates, Lester laughed. He was not anyone famous. However, he was more special than most people thought.

Special how, Grandfather? Jack asked.

They were climbing the steps to their front porch. Maybe some other time, Jack. You run along and play now. I need to speak with your grandmother, Lester said with a nod of the head.

Jack’s shoulders slumped with disappointment. He turned and began to walk away, leaving the aroma of licorice lingering in the air. Lester smiled and opened the door that led into their kitchen. His wife, Delores, turned around briefly to look at him. What’s happening downtown? she asked, as she went back to kneading her bread dough.

Not much of anything is going on downtown this morning, Lester said. I suppose that is a good thing. Jack is eating a licorice stick, so I suppose he won’t be hungry for a spell.

Delores sighed, but said nothing. She began to pat the large dough ball and placed it in large, white, porcelain, wash pan that she had carefully scrubbed just for this purpose. She covered it with a cloth and began to wipe her hands on her apron. I suspected as much, she said, pushing a loose strand of hair up under her white cap. You spoil that boy, Lester.

Awe, Delores, he’s just a boy. He doesn’t ask for much and he isn’t any real trouble. A treat now and again doesn’t hurt anything. It isn’t like he eats candy every day, Lester said. He slowly lowered himself to sit upon a wooden chair near the window where he could watch Jack standing under a large tree inspecting the buds that were forming from the warm spring sunshine. He doesn’t ask about his mother. Do you find that strange? he asked.

Sheldon tells me he asks about her at times before he goes down for the night, Delores said. I suppose he feels more comfortable talking about it with his father.

How long has it been since Sara passed? Lester asked.

Delores stopped what she was doing and closed her eyes as she thought before responding. I reckon it’s been almost a year now. I recall the trees were in blossom because she remarked upon how beautiful they were from her bed near the window. I believe the hardest thing a parent must go through is leaving a young child behind when their time comes. Sarah was too young. Her poor lungs just couldn’t handle the strain anymore. Once that pneumonia took hold of her, she went quickly, and I thank God, every day for that. Watching her struggle to breath surely broke my heart, Delores said, shaking her head.

Well, she’s in a better place now, Lester said turning his head to watch Jack who had finished his licorice stick and was pondering the thought of climbing the tree he stood under.

Lester put weight upon his cane and rose to his feet. He went to the open door and called out, Jack, come wash your sticky hands.

Jack turned to look back at his grandfather. He flexed his fingers and determined that they were, indeed, sticky. He ran toward the front porch. As he passed his grandfather in the doorway, Lester said, I seem to recall the branches of those trees calling to me when I was your age. It’s a perfectly normal thing for a boy your age to want to climb a tree, but I would prefer you fight the urge to climb that tree. The branches are too small and if you don’t break your neck, you will break a limb.

What is so special about that tree, Grandfather? Jack asked.

Well, Lester began, that particular tree is a plum tree. We rely upon those plums for food. If you break a limb off, that is a jar or two of jam we won’t have to get us through next winter. Lester laughed and winked over at Delores who stood drying her hands on a towel.

Jack seemed satisfied with the response, as he washed his hands. Delores handed him the towel and he dried his hands as he walked to stand in the door. What trees can I climb? he asked.

Lester sighed and shuffled to stand near his grandson. Well, let’s see now, I suppose that is a safe tree to climb. He pointed to a large Maple tree with his cane. I wouldn’t want you going up too high. A smart man knows his limitations. Never go so high that you might break something if you fall.

I might break my neck and die, Jack said, looking up at his grandfather.

That is true, Lester said, smiling down at Jack.

Then I would go to heaven and be with mother, Jack said.

Lester frowned. Well now, he began, think about how sad you feel about your mother being gone, Son. That’s how your father, grandmother, and I would feel if you went to heaven. What would we do without you?

Jack shrugged his shoulders. I don’t know. He grew quiet and gazed out across the yard toward the river. I reckon I wouldn’t want to leave Daddy all by himself. He narrowed his eyes and seemed to drift off in thought.

Lester rustled his hair and laughed, Let’s go for a walk and see what old Hermon Griffin is up to this morning. Jack nodded his head and smiled as he skipped out the front door. Lester looked over his shoulder at Delores who waved them on. Jack stood in the yard waiting for Lester to make his way off the front porch by leaning upon his cane in one hand, and holding onto the porch railing with the other. I’m coming Jack. I’m slow, but I’ll get there.

It is okay, Grandfather, Jack said. We aren’t in any big hurry. Jack slowed his pace to walk beside Lester as they moved westward.

They passed the widow, Mavis Cartwright’s house. Mrs. Cartwright was a school teacher. Jack was one of her students. In fact, he was one of only three third graders she taught in her school. Vivian Gardner and Lewis Tully were the other two. Jack was the only boy his age in Wellsville. Although Lewis Tully was in the third grade, he was older than Jack by a year. Jack hated that fact and two second grade girls teased him about it daily. Lynette Raines and Milly Thompson were mean to Jack in particular. He was glad that this was Saturday. He had made up his mind that he would get the most out of the day. Tomorrow they would go to church, which wasn’t much different than going to school, for both Milly and Lynette would be there, waiting to taunt him. After church, they would have a nice meal together as a family. It was the only day of the week that his father did not work. Perhaps his father would take him fishing down by the river’s bank after dinner. Jack loved fishing down by the river’s bank. The time seemed to stand still and he could talk to his father about his mother all afternoon and there wouldn’t be anyone to disturb them. That was Jack’s favorite thing to do. Jack’s father said that when he was Jack’s age, Lester would bring him and his brother, Dallas, down to the river to go fishing on Sundays. It was sort of a family tradition. Now Dallas was married and had four children of his own. They lived in the big city somewhere in Pennsylvania. Jack had never been there, nor had he met his cousins. He only knew what he heard his father and grandparents say about them. He often tried to picture what they may look like, but each time his vision was different. He had many cousins he had never met before. Lester and Delores had four children and Jack’s father was the only one that stayed in this area.

Jack’s Aunt Ruth Ann married Leonard Gable and had two children, Rachel and Wilbur. Aunt Nancy married Daniel Reeves and had eight children, Michael, Amelia, Mary, Helen, Thomas, Edith, Paul, and Raymond. They were all much older than Jack. Uncle Dallas married Aunt Paulette and they had four children, Charles, Dallas II, George and Harriot. Jack’s father, Sheldon, was the youngest and Jack was his only child. Jack often wondered if his mother had not become so ill, perhaps he would have had a sister or better yet, a brother. It didn’t matter if they were much younger than Jack. It would be someone he could play with. Better yet, someone who could share in his adventures. Jack spent a lot of his time dwelling on the possibilities. What would it be like to have his cousins living close by? He wouldn’t mind a Sunday, now and again, when they would all go down to the river fishing. Climbing trees would be more fun if he had someone to share in the exploring. Jack was lonesome. He was anxious for school to be dismissed for the summer. His grandparents would let him go off to explore the neighborhood on his own a couple of hours a day. He had only one restriction and that was the river. Jack was never to play along the river’s bank. Although there were places where one could walk across the river, it often had currents that could sweep a boy Jack’s size off his feet. He was a good lad and always obeyed. He knew the consequences all too well, if he didn’t.

Jack walked alongside his grandfather. He resisted the urge to skip ahead. He was hoping his grandfather would feel like talking, and perhaps tell Jack more about the man he knew with a wooden leg, as Jack was very interested in learning more about this man. Grandfather said he wasn’t a pirate. Jack thought only pirates had wooden legs. He looked up at his grandfather as they moved along the dusty street toward Herman Griffin’s house. Herman and Lester had been friends for many years. Herman used to visit Lester daily until his wife became ill. She had something they called dementia. Jack wasn’t sure what that was, but knew that Herman could not leave her alone.

They had reached Herman and Hilda Griffin’s house. Jack stood by patiently waiting for Lester to climb the three wooden steps that led onto the front porch. Lester knocked on the door with his cane. Herman opened the door and smiled. Hello there, Lester. I see you brought Jack with you. How are you doing this fine Saturday morning, young Jack? Herman asked.

I’m fine, Sir, Jack replied politely.

Come in and sit a spell, Herman said, opening the door wide for them to enter. Jack waited for his grandfather to pass through the door first, and then he followed.

Hilda Griffin sat at the square wooden table in the center of the kitchen. Her hands were folded to rest on the table top in front of her. Her gray hair had been braided in two braids and wrapped around her head, secured tightly on the top. She wore a white lace head covering; much like the one Jack’s grandmother wore every day while indoors. When she ventured outdoors, she wore a bonnet to cover her head. Hilda’s shawl had fallen behind her back. As Herman moved toward his chair, he paused to pull the shawl up around her shoulders. Jack noticed that he squeezed Hilda’s shoulder before moving to sit on a chair.

Jack and I went down to mail a letter a little while ago and thought it was such a nice morning for a walk, Lester said. How are you doing this morning Mrs. Griffin? he asked, smiling over at Hilda.

Hilda smiled back at Lester and looked over at Jack. She winked and pointed her finger in his direction. You’ve been climbing trees again, I see, she said.

Jack looked from his grandfather toward Herman. How did she know this? Had she been watching down the street?

Yes Ma ’am, Jack replied.

This isn’t Wayne, Mother, Herman said, patting her arm. This is Jack Gideon, you remember, Sheldon Gideon’s boy? He lives with Lester and Delores. You remember Lester and Delores Gideon, don’t you Mother?

Hilda frowned. She appeared to be confused. She glanced over at Jack again and smiled, but Jack could tell by her eyes that she didn’t understand. Apparently, she thought Jack was her son, Wayne, at a much younger age. Wayne was a fully-grown man now with a wife and four grown daughters of his own. One of his daughters still lived at home, but the others had married and moved away. Wayne and his wife, Louise, lived in a big brick house over on Water Street. Jack passed their house every Sunday when he went fishing with his father, down along the river’s bank. He had often wondered what it would be like to live in one of the grand brick homes that lined the right side of Water Street. The left side was open to look down upon the Ohio River.

Hermon patted her arm once again and she looked away from Jack to stare off into space. She gets confused sometimes, Herman explained. She doesn’t seem to understand how much time has passed since the children were young. You must excuse her, son; she is having a difficult day.

Jack nodded his head. He glanced over at his grandfather and swallowed hard. He felt his face growing warm. Yes Sir, I understand, he said, politely.

So, tell me about your trip to the store, Jack, Herman said, smiling. Did you get one of those delicious licorice sticks Mrs. Dodge keeps in a jar? Jack nodded his head and smiled. I recall getting a licorice stick for myself when I was your age, Herman said, laughing. How about you, Lester, don’t you mind how delicious those licorice sticks were when you were his age?

Lester laughed and nodded his head. I do recall. Old Mr. McCall used to hide one inside the wrapping paper of my father’s purchases. He would wink at me to let me know what he did. Of course, I think my father knew all along what was going on, Lester replied.

Yes, he did the same thing with all of the kids in the area. He was a fine old man that Mr. McCall, Herman said.

Who was Mr. McCall? Jack asked.

Mr. McCall owned the mercantile when we were lads. Mrs. Dodge was his daughter, Lester began to explain. Rosalie grew up and stayed local. When her father got too old to look after the store, she took over. Then she married Howard Dodge and he stepped in to run the place while Rosalie raised a family. That store has been in her family since Wellsville came into existence, I reckon. Lester teased.

I can’t say as I ever knew when or who started the place, Herman said.

Nor I, Lester replied.

They kept their licorice in a jar when you were boys? Jack asked.

They certainly did, Mr. Griffin said. They kept the jar in the same place too.

Jack frowned as he pondered the conversation.

I see the buds are starting to form on the fruit trees. It won’t be long now, and the weather will be warm enough to sit out on the front porch in the mornings. That’s what I look forward to these days, Lester said.

Yes, Lester, I know what you mean. It seems every winter is longer than the last, the older I get, Mr. Griffon said.

Do you suppose it’s the same licorice sticks? Jack interrupted.

What’s that, Jack? Lester asked, looking over at his grandson.

The licorice sticks in the jar at the mercantile. Do you suppose they are the same ones in there as when you were a boy? he asked.

Mr. Griffin broke out in such laughter that he caused Mrs. Griffin to jump. He reached over and patted her arm.

Oh no, Son, those licorice sticks are long gone by now. I think Mrs. Dodge makes them herself, Lester said, holding back his laughter.

Oh, that is comforting to know, Jack said.

It certainly is, Mr. Griffin said, snickering.

Mrs. Griffin tapped the table and pointed toward Jack again. You stay out of those trees, boy. You might break a leg or worse yet, your neck.

Jack looked over at Mr. Griffin who was stroking Mrs. Griffin’s arm gently. He’ll be fine, Mother. He’s just a boy and boys climbing trees is a fact of nature, he said, winking over at Jack.

He should be in school with the other boys his age, Mrs. Griffin said.

There isn’t any school today, Mrs. Griffin. It is Saturday, Jack explained. That seemed to appease her, as she smiled and nodded her head. She interlocked her fingers again and went back to staring at her hands.

She’ll be alright, Jack. You never mind her, she gets mighty confused at times, Hermon Griffin said.

Yes, Sir, Jack replied.

Lester placed his hand upon Jack’s shoulder. Jack is a pretty good boy. He is doing very well in school they tell me.

So, you like school do you, Jack? Hermon Griffin asked.

I wouldn’t say that, Jack began, there aren’t any boys my age in school. In fact, there isn’t another boy my age in all of Wellsville. I only have two other classmates. There are these two girls at school, Lilly Thompson and Lynnette Raines are their names. They stick together, and have a way of making my life miserable.

Again, Hermon Griffin burst into laughter. Now I can see how that might be a problem for a lad your age, he said.

Yes Sir, it is a problem alright, Jack replied. I’d certainly like to whoop on them girls sometimes, but Father and Grandfather both tells me it isn’t something a boy should do, so I stand there and takes it. I don’t like it much, though.

I understand, but the fact that you do take it, shows me what a fine man you are going to grow up to be. A man, who raises his hand to hit a woman, or girl, isn’t much of a man at all. It’s a coward’s way, Mr. Griffin said.

Yes Sir, that is what I hear, Jack replied.

It’s a little hard at times, isn’t it Jack? Lester asked.

Yes, it is, Sir. Very hard, indeed, I might say. Sometimes, it makes me sick to my stomach because I want to let them have it so bad, Jack said, clenching his teeth.

Well, I am mighty proud of you, Lester said. You are going to be a fine man.

Hey Lester, mind what old Limpy had to say about a mouthy woman once? Hermon asked.

Lester nodded his head, Yes I do. He said, If she can’t mind her place, she ought to stay in the kitchen. He snickered. Old Limpy had something to say about everything."

Who is old Limpy? Jack asked.

Why, your grandfather hasn’t told you about old Limpy? Lester, here, and old Limpy were nearly inseparable at one point. I’m surprised he hasn’t mentioned him to you, Hermon said, laughing.

Lester nodded his head and looked over at Jack. Limpy’s real name was Charles Woodward. He was from Bedford, Massachusetts, he explained.

Where is Bedford, Massachusetts? Jack asked.

That’s up north. It’s almost to Canada. Do you know where Canada is, Jack? Lester asked.

Jack frowned. I recall Mrs. Cartwright showing us a map of the United States, and Canada was at the top. It borders the United States. Mrs. Cartwright said it is a whole other country, Jack replied, while obviously deep in thought.

That’s right, Jack, Lester said, smiling. Well, Massachusetts is a state up north, out near the ocean. It’s a big fishing port, I’m told. They fish for everything up there, even whales.

Whales? I saw a picture of a whale once in school. It had a picture of an elephant and a man standing beside it. It was huge! What kind of line holds something that big? Jack asked.

Well, apparently, they have a line to hold a fish that big because old Limpy was a fisherman of whales. They called themselves Whalers, Lester explained.

Whales are technically mammals, Grandfather. They aren’t fish, Jack corrected.

Well, you would know more about that than I would, Son, Lester explained.

Hilda Griffon pointed at Jack again and narrowed her eyes as she said, You stay away from old Limpy, Lester. My Mamma said he is a no account, and we are to stay away from him.

Hermon placed his hand over her pointed finger and said, That’s not Lester, Hilda. That is his grandson, Jack. Lester is all grown up now and Limpy has died years ago. Don’t you mind when old Limpy died, Hilda? He was buried at sea.

Limpy was buried at sea? Jack asked.

Yes, he was, Lester said, nodding his head. It was his wish. Hermon’s father took me and old Limpy’s body out on the river and had a ceremony before lowering him into the water.

But the Ohio River isn’t the same as the sea, Jack said, looking up at his Grandfather.

It is the closest thing to the sea here in Wellsville, Lester said. We took him out to the deepest part of the river and said a prayer over him. Then Mr. Griffon and I lowered him into the water. We had big rocks tied around the body so it would sink to the bottom.

I wasn’t there, Hermon said. As I recall, I was down with the chicken pox at the time.

I never heard this story before, Jack said.

Oh, you would have liked old Limpy, Jack. We were good friends, despite the difference in our ages, Lester said. He rubbed the top of Jack’s head. You say your goodbyes to Mr. and Mrs. Griffon now. We shouldn’t overstay our welcome. Lester pushed himself to his feet and stood waiting for Jack to shake hands with Hermon Griffon. He nodded his head politely toward Mrs. Griffon and went to stand near the door while Lester shook hands with his friend, Hermon. Mrs. Griffon smiled over at Jack and watched him until they were outside.

As Lester and Jack made their way back toward their house, Jack asked, Why did Mrs. Griffon think I was you, Grandfather?

Lester took a deep breath. Sometimes, as we age, we get confused. That’s what has happened to Mrs. Griffon. Sometimes she may think you are Jack Gideon, and other times she may think you are someone else, altogether.

Kind of like, whatever she is thinking of at the time, Jack mumbled.

Kind of like that, I suppose, Lester replied.

Do I look like you when you were my age? Jack asked.

Not so much. You look more like your mother. Something about you reminded her of me when I was your age, I suppose, Lester said. He was breathing heavily, as they neared the porch. I’m going to sit out here a spell and catch my breath. You run along and play. Mind what I said about climbing those trees, Jack.

Yes, Grandfather. I don’t think I will climb any trees before dinner. I’m going to explore the hillside if you don’t mind, Jack said, standing in a patch of green grass, looking up at his Grandfather as he lowered himself to sit on the porch steps.

Okay, but mind the snakes. It’s that time of year when the copperheads are crawling out to catch the warm sun, Lester said.

Jack waved to his grandfather as he turned to run toward the steep hill behind the rows of houses. He followed the dirt roads that the horse and wagons traveled as they made their way from the riverboat docks toward the Great Lakes, heavy with wares and goods to be delivered to destinations that only Jack could dream of.

Jack climbed the steep hillside a while and turned to look back upon the town below. The river was wide, and the water seemed to flow slowly. In places, green grass grew in the shallow spots. For the most part, it was deep enough for the heavy boats, laden with supplies, to dock and pull away. Men would wait in their horse pulled wagons, near the dock, for their turn to unload the boat’s contents into their wagons and pull away. Jack watched a while and then resumed his climb of the hill. He was going to explore the hillside. It was a warm Saturday and it was spring. Soon school would be out for the summer. Jack looked forward to spring for that reason. He didn’t like school much and often thought he would prefer to quit school and take up an occupation of some sort to earn money. There was no real reason for him to continue with his schooling. He certainly did not look forward to going to school every day and be tortured by Milly Thompson and Lynette Raines. He hated girls. They were mean, wimpy creatures that always managed some sort of devious act which always resulted in them crying and Jack getting in trouble for it. He dusted his dirty hands upon his pant legs. Some day he was going to have a job and money of his own. He would wear fine clothes and maybe take a trip on one of those fancy paddle boats that went up the river. He would never look back.

Then Jack thought about his father being left behind, all alone. Jack was all Sheldon had now that Jack’s mother had died. Well, of course, there was Grandfather and Grandmother. They were getting up there in years and Sheldon helped a lot around the house when he wasn’t working. It seemed the only real time Jack had to spend with his father was on Sunday mornings after church when they went down to the river’s bank to do some fishing.

Jack squat low and rested his elbows upon his knees as he looked down upon Wellsville stretched out below him. He thought he caught a glimpse of two little girls twirling in the grassy yard along Water Street. He felt his face warming as he thought of Milly and Lynette. He rose to his feet and turned to climb higher. He glanced over his shoulder a couple of times as he made his way up the rocky incline. He was nearly to the top now. He turned once again and looked down. He could see the rows of horse drawn wagons pulling away from the docks and following the Wellsville turnpike toward Lisbon with their wagons full of wares on their way to Niles. More wagons came from the eastern route as they were arriving from as far as Bedford Massachusetts. Jack watched a while. He wondered if old Limpy arrived from Massachusetts by way of this route.

A squirrel caught his attention as it chattered, annoyed at his presence. Jack shook the stick he carried at the squirrel. He put the stick to his shoulder, making believe it was a gun. Bang! Jack said out loud. The squirrel climbed the tree higher and stopped to look down at Jack. He pretended to shoot at it again, leaving the squirrel to canter off down a limb and jumping to another tree to get away from Jack.

Now Jack turned and surveyed his surroundings. The leaves had matted upon the ground after being covered with a heavy blanket of snow all winter. A hint of green seemed to surround him as nearly all the trees had new leaves sprouting forth. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Soon the smell of lilac and honeysuckle would fill the air. Here and there the ground would be covered with wild Mountain Laurel vines, Lily of the Valley, and Morning Glories. It would also mean he would have to be on the lookout for Poison Ivy and Poison Oak. Jack remembers a couple of times he had a bad reaction to the green foliage that blanketed the hillsides and forest floors, as well as vining up the trees that he liked to climb.

Here on the hillside, he didn’t climb trees. The bank was too steep and required his full attention just to keep his footing. Once he began to slide it took a full-on collision with a tree to stop him. He never ran into anyone else on the hillside. Up here he could be totally alone with his thoughts. There were paths that ran along the side of the hill, but not up this far. Up here there was nothing but nature and Jack. He paused to think back to a time he might have seen someone other than himself up here, and could not think of a soul. From up here he could see nearly all of Wellsville and most of the surrounding area. He could see the building where his father worked. They built brick-making machinery there. Jack’s father worked hard six days a week, often coming home after dark to find dinner sitting on the table covered with a cloth to keep it warm. Even after working all day and coming home late, Sheldon Gideon found a moment to stop by Jack’s bed to say goodnight before retiring at the end of a long day.

Jack was lucky to have a father like Sheldon. Milly Thompson taunted Jack once about almost being an orphan. She said that orphans lived in big brick buildings that were filled with children of all ages and the heat was turned down low because they couldn’t afford to buy wood to keep the woodstove’s burning day and night. She told him how all the children had to care for each other and they had to work every day, all day long, for their keep. They were underfed, under clothed, and unloved. Jack recalled a time when she got up into his face and said, You better hope nothing happens to your Daddy, or you would be a full-blooded orphan.