Ira’s Journey

By Timothy Brown

Ira’s Journey is about a young man’s journey from being a boy to becoming a man. He is in the central part of West Virginia at the end of the 1800s. He struggles with rejection and disappointment but is extremely fortunate in his choice of friends who encourage and guide him on the road to success.

Fresh out of a Home for Wayward Boys, he is given a .22-caliber rifle and an ugly old mule, and he sets out to make his way in a world of opportunity. This is a work of fiction, but the towns and creeks will be recognized by anyone familiar with the area.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 17, 2019
• ISBN: 9781984569981

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

It was drizzling rain as I walked down the long walk from the Home for Wayward Boys, located on the western edge of Charleston West Virginia. I had spent the last three years of my young life in that hateful place, and was glad to be leaving. I had been given five dollars, the clothes on my back, a hat, and an old coat that was worn out, but someone had donated it to the home, anyway.

I stopped at the gate in the fence that surrounded the house and looked back. I could see old Mr. Geeter standing on the small porch, watching to make sure I was truly gone. Mr. Geeter was as glad to be rid of me as I was to be rid of him. It had not been a pleasant three years that I had spent in that place, but I reckon I had brought it on myself.

I had fooled around and got caught stealing some eggs from a farm on the edge of town. The farmer that caught me had been hit pretty hard a couple of nights before by a gang of thieves operating in the area, and was laying for them when I happened along. I slipped into the chicken house, he shut and barred the door and sent his boy for the sheriff. The next thing I knew, I was being blamed for all the stealing that had been done for the last month or so.

They should have known better, since I didn’t have but thirty-five cents in my pocket and I looked terrible. My clothes were dirty and ragged, and I was about starved to death. I heard later, after they put me in the home, that they had caught three or four fellers robbing a store in town. One of the men admitted to all the stealing, but they didn’t offer to let me out. To be honest, I didn’t much care since I was getting fed three times a day, even if the food wasn’t very good. That was why I was stealing the eggs. I was hungry, and most people, who are hungry, will steal food if they get a chance.

Anyway, as I was saying, when I saw old man Geeter on the porch, I gave him a little wave but he didn’t do anything, just gave me that old cold dead-eyed stare that I had seen a thousand times over the last three years. I just shrugged my shoulders and stepped through the gate and into a big wide world that didn’t give a kitty whether I lived or died.

I didn’t really have any plans. I figured I’d just follow the course of least resistance. Then I got to thinking. I had been taking the easiest way ever since Dad and Momma died when I was twelve. The doctor said they both had the bloody flux, whatever that is, and I had been on my own ever since. That was six years ago. I was eighteen years old now and I figured it was time to start pulling my share.

Kanawha River ran past Charleston and the easiest way to go would be down stream, so I decided to go up, and started walking up river. It was eight o’clock in the morning on the third day of May, 1896. I was sure glad it wasn’t cold weather. Now, if it would just quit that cock-eyed May drizzle and clear off, I figured it would be a fine day for a walk.

It took me over two hours to get out of Charleston, going almost due east. The sun had come out once, but it clouded back up and was raining again. I was seeing small farms along the river and about noon, I picked me out one that looked kind of prosperous and I started up the lane that led to the house.

I hadn’t eaten since breakfast at the home. They had given me a piece of hard bread and some mushy stuff that they called oatmeal. It wasn’t much good but I’d learned a long time ago that you’d better eat while the eating is good because there might not be any more for a while. I was getting pretty hungry with all the walking, so I thought I’d see if they could spare some food.

As I came near the house, I could hear a grinding noise over by the barn, so I walked over that way and looked inside. A man of about forty or fifty was sitting at a grindstone. He had his knees flying up and down as he pumped the pedals to make the wheel go around. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone pump a grindstone that fast, before, nor since.

When he saw me, he stopped the grindstone, got off the seat and said What’re you doin’ here, boy? He had been sharpening a double bitted ax and was holding it crosswise in his hands.

Uh, nothin’, I was just wonderin’ if I could get a bite to eat. I’ve been walking since early this morning and I’m gettin’ hungry, I told him.

Ain’t you got no dinner with you? he asked, kind of hateful like.

I started to pert him a little ‘cause if I’d have had my dinner, I wouldn’t have been asking for something to eat.

No sir, I said.

How come? he wanted to know,

Now, I thought about telling him a big lie, but that kind of living was what got me in the shape I was in, so I said I just got out of the Home for Wayward Boys this morning, and all they gave me was the clothes on my back. I didn’t tell him about the five dollars I had in my back pocket. I didn’t figure it was any of his business.

You need to get on up the road and quit botherin’ honest folks, he said as he gestured with the ax towards the road.

Yes sir, I said as I backed away. Sorry to bother you.

I turned and walked back to the road and continued my walking. The river was on my right as I walked up stream. The road, so far, had been pretty good. It was just a dirt road big enough for a wagon and team. Two wagons could meet in places if they were careful. There had been no traffic going my way all morning. I had met a couple of fellers hauling a load of hay, but that didn’t help since they weren’t going my way.

I walked another hour or so and it sure was pretty country. It was mid spring, warm and balmy, with birds singing and flitting here and there. Flowers were blooming all along the road and river bank. I didn’t know the names of most of them and figured that was something I would try to learn if I got the chance. I could see swirls in the river where fish were feeding, but I had no way to catch them.

That man back there with the ax made me think about myself. He had hurt my feelings a little with his distrustful attitude towards me, but I couldn’t really blame him much. I probably wouldn’t have trusted me either. Maybe I’d find somebody that wasn’t so judgmental.

As I rounded a turn in the road, I could see a place over to my left. There was a small house with a barn back behind it. A cow and a couple of goats were in a small pasture and several chickens were running loose around the yard. The last place had looked prosperous, but this one looked pretty ramshackled. I figured I’d give it a shot, anyway.

When I got close to the house, I could hear a racket coming from behind the house, so I walked around back. An older man and woman were digging up the ground, getting ready to plant potatoes. They stopped when they saw me.

Hey Sonny, how are you this fine day? the old man asked as he stretched the kinks out of his back.

I’m fine, sir, how are ya’ll? I asked back.

I’m wore to a frazzle and gettin’ hungry. Have you had your dinner yet? he asked.

No sir, that’s why I stopped in here, to see if I could get something to eat, I replied.

I’ve got a pot of beans and a pan of cornbread in the oven if that’ll do you, the old woman offered.

That would do me real good ma’am, and I could help you plant them taters if you want me to, I said.

The old man chuckled. Let’s worry about them taters after we get our bellies full. Mable, you go get the table set and me and this feller will be in after we wash up a bit.

What brings you by here? the old man asked as we walked over to a small branch that ran by his house. He knelt down and took a long drink from the running water and then began washing his hands and face.

I waited until he was done, then I moved a couple of feet above him and got me a drink also. The water was cold and sweet. I started washing my hands and answered, I just got out of the Home for Wayward Boys and I’m just travelin’. I don’t know what I want to do yet.

I kind of expected him to be a little put off like the other feller, but he never turned a hair.

Well, he said, shaking his hands to dry them, You’ve got plenty of time. It’s a big world out there. There’s plenty of work out there with the railroads, coal mines factories, and such. Just don’t jump too quick. A man just lives once, but his mistakes sometimes foller him the rest of his life.

Yes sir, I said, I’m finding that out.

I bet you are, the old man said, laughing. I just bet you are! Well, let’s go eat. My belly is wonderin’ if Mable has gone on strike.

When we walked in the kitchen, the smell made my mouth water something awful. The beans had little pieces of ham swimming around in the soup. And that cornbread was amazing! It was a big pan of rich, red crusted cornbread and there was even fresh cow butter on the table.

Lordy, but it was good! Now, back at the Home, they fed us, but there was never enough, and most of the food wasn’t fit for a dog to eat. But the beans and cornbread with fresh butter, and a big cup of cold water, that was the best and most enjoyable meal I’d ever had, maybe in my whole life. I ate until I was I was plumb ashamed of myself. Mable and Albert, that’s what he said his name was, they both kept encouraging me to eat, so I did my best to please them.

When I finally had my fill, I pushed back from the table with a sigh and said, Folks, that absolutely hit my spot.

Albert and Mable both laughed and slapped their knees. I haven’t seen anyone eat like that since Albert came home from the war, Mable said, still laughing.

Did you fight in the Civil War? I asked, looking at Albert.

Yep, he nodded. I spent four miserable years fighting that bloody war, he said as he reached for his pipe and tobacco. He filled his pipe, struck a Lucifer match on the stove and got his pipe going.

I leaned back, expecting to hear some war stories, but he said, Now, let’s talk about you.

I was a little surprised at his abrupt change of the subject, but I said, There ain’t much to talk about me. I ain’t done nothing yet.

Albert grinned. I ain’t talking about your past, I’m talking about your future.

I didn’t hardly know what to say. No one had ever been that interested in me before. I was also getting a little leery of why he was so interested in me. I didn’t have any money, but he didn’t necessarily know that. Finally I said, What are you, a fortune teller or something?

I heard Mable kind of snicker and she gave Albert a look, like See what your meddling has done? But ole Albert was like a hound on a scent and he wasn’t about to give it up.

No I ain’t no frazzlin’ fortune teller, he said. But there’s a thousand wrong choices you can make when you leave here. Me and Mable would like to help you out a little if you’ll let us.

I couldn’t help but wonder how he knew what Mable wanted, since he hadn’t had a chance to talk to her since I’d been there. Any way, I simmered down a little and asked, What do you want to know?

Well, let’s start with your name. I’m Albert and this is Mable Duncan. What’s your name?

I’m Ira Stockman, I said, reaching out my hand. We shook hands all around.

How old are you, son? Mable asked gently.

Now, I don’t like giving out too much information about my personal business, but I couldn’t refuse to answer the old couple because they were genuinely interested in my welfare.

I’m eighteen, ma’am. I turned eighteen in March, I said.

Do you have any plans for getting supplies for your travels? Albert asked.

Not really, I said. I figured I’d get a job somewhere to get started.

The trouble with that is, Albert said, you get a job and a place to stay, and the next thing you know, you’re stuck doing something you don’t want to do, but you can’t quit because you need the money. No, you need to see a little bit of country first. You have no obligations, so you’re free to ramble for a while.

Well, I said, that sounds good, but I’ve got to eat. I’ve only got five dollars and that won’t go very far.

Let’s go plant them taters while I study on this thing, Albert said as he pushed back from the table.

We went out to the garden and Mable began cutting up the potatoes into little chunks. They had a big pile back under a big Sugar Maple, so she was in the shade. The drizzling rain we’d been having wasn’t enough to make the ground too wet to work, since the garden was well drained and the soil was sandy and loamy.

Albert and Mable had chopped up a big chunk of ground with grubbing hoes to make a garden spot. It seemed like a rough way to till the ground to me, but I reckon you have to make do with what you’ve got.

Albert had little sticks and a bunch of twine to lay out the rows. We stretched the strings in rows about three feet apart and took the hoes and dug the furrows close beside the strings. It was kind of hard digging, but, my lands, that ground was rich! The soil was deep, black, and loamy, and you could smell the fertility in it. There were fishworms and grubs everywhere you looked.

Man, I wish I’d have had some of these worms this morning, I said, I’d have caught me some fish…., that is, if I’d have had some fishing line… and a hook, I added, grinning sheepishly at Albert.

Yeah, Albert said if we had some bacon, we’d have bacon and eggs, if we had some eggs.

We both laughed over that one.

We had ten rows laid out when Albert decided it was enough. We went over to the shade tree and filled two sacks with the chunks of potatoes that Mable had cut.

Thank you for helping with the rows, Ira, Mable said. I hate that part.

You’re welcome ma’am, I told her. I’m just glad I could be a help.

You go on in the house and rest a while, Mable, Albert said. Me and Ira will finish.

Mable didn’t argue none, but went in the house while me and Albert commenced planting the potatoes.

Some people plant taters in hills about every three feet, Albert said, but I plant’em about every six or eight inches. That way, when I dig’em, I’m gettin’ taters every time I turn over a clod of dirt.

I watched what he did and I did the same, planting each chunk deep in the furrow with the eyes turned up. It was back breaking work, but we soon had all the potatoes planted. Albert was a pretty good guesser because we lacked about two feet on the last row, when we ran out of potatoes.

By the time we had covered all ten rows about four inches deep with the black soil, it was getting late in the afternoon.

Well, Albert, I said, thanks for the good meal and all the good advice, but I’d better be going.

Albert just snorted out a grin, No, boy, he said, I ain’t done advising you yet. It ain’t often I get to impart my vast store of wisdom on some poor unsuspecting young victim.

He looked at me with a straight face, but his eyebrows were kind of wiggly and seemed like they wanted to crawl up and down his forehead. He finally started laughing and slapping his knee. I laughed a little too, but I wasn’t really tickled, I was just trying to be polite.

No, seriously boy, Albert said, there’s some things I want to give you that you’re going to need. I just ain’t decided what all that is yet. You stay the night with us and, in the morning, we’ll get you fixed up.

I couldn’t hardly argue with his generosity, so I agreed to stay the night. It wasn’t like anyone was expecting me, after all.

Now, Albert said let’s dig up a little more garden ‘till supper. It’ll be time to plant corn and beans before you know it. Frost danger is almost gone.

I was about tuckered out, but I figured if that old man could stand it, I could too.

We chopped with the grubbing hoes ‘till about sundown, and Mable finally came out and yelled, Supper’s ready!

We didn’t work more than six or eight months on that patch of ground; at least it seemed that long to me. We went over to the small creek and repeated the washing up process, and then went in to supper.

Mable had warmed up the beans, fried some of the potatoes, and got out some sauerkraut and pickled corn. She also had made another pan of that Heavenly cornbread.

If I had made a fool of myself at dinner, I made a plumb blitherin’ idiot of myself at supper. And then, when we were done, she pulled a dried apple pie out of the oven. I almost busted a gut, but I managed to eat two pieces of that pie!

When we were finally done, and I could hardly wiggle, Albert said, "Now Ira, you just sit there and let that food digest, and me and Mable will be back, directly. I leaned back in the chair and was starting to nod off when they came back in. They were carrying a bunch of stuff and laid it on the table.

The first thing I noticed was a nice bedroll with a canvass back, and, wrapped up in it was a beautiful little lever action rifle. I looked at Albert and just shook my head, Now Albert…, I started to say, but he interrupted me.

Don’t ‘Now’, me Ira, Albert said. These things belonged to our boy, Daniel. He died about ten years ago of typhoid fever and we don’t have any kin left anywhere, so we’ve talked it over, and we want you to have these things.

Mable was nodding her head and grinning at me, so I knew she was in agreement.

But Albert, I said, you don’t know me from Adam, and, besides that, I can’t carry all of that stuff.

Don’t you never mind about that. We’ll burn that bridge when we come to it, he said, laughing real loud. That must have been one of his favorite sayings, about burning bridges instead of crossing them.

I finally just shut up and watched while he showed me the bedroll, the 1873 Henry lever action in 22 caliber with several boxes of ammunition, some fishing line and hooks, a skillet and spoon, a six inch hunting knife in a nice leather sheath, a box of Lucifer matches, a whole new change of clothes, including a pair of almost new boots that looked about my size.

I was plumb overwhelmed and couldn’t think of what to say. Albert, Mable, I said, looking from one to the other, are you sure you want to do this?

They both had tears in their eyes as they grinned and nodded at me. I might have had a gnat or two in my eyes too.

Finally, Albert said, Here’s something else. He pulled out a chunk of flint and a broken piece of a file. You can start a fire with this when you run out of matches or they get wet. You just need something fine and dry. I use cattail dander, but about anything will work. Now, let’s go out to the barn and I’ll show you something else.

CHAPTER TWO

I had noticed the barn sitting over against the hill, but I hadn’t paid it much attention. We walked over there and Albert lit a lantern, since it was getting dark. Inside the barn, in a stall, stood one of the ugliest mules you ever saw. It was a dirty brown with black patches thrown in here and there. One ear was drooped down like it had been broke or something.

Now, Albert said, ole Pet ain’t much to look at, but she can cover more ground in a day than any horse I’ve ever seen. If she likes you, you’ll never have to tie her at night, She’ll always be around close when you need her, and she’ll go a week on a couple of ears of corn and a drink of water.

What if she doesn’t like you?" I asked.

Well, there was a feller slipped in here one night, going to steal her, and she liked to have eat him alive. If she don’t like you, you’re in for trouble. Albert replied.

Albert, I asked, are you suggesting I take your mule?

I don’t have any use for her, he said, "She’s just a dead expense to