Authors: Nancy Radke
Luke straightened up from where he was leaning on the rail. “Do
you want to leave, Ruth?”
“Yes.”
I got me a Boaz to find.
“I want to see what’s out there.”
“Well, I never thought you’d be the wanderer. Mark and I are
planning on taking off soon. Matthew came home and helped Pa and Ma last year.
We figured we should help a little before we leave in a few months. We could
see you down the river. But what would you do?”
Gage said Mally had done it. With just her rifle and her wits. I
had me a rifle. And I could take numbers and make them dance. There must be
some sort of work a woman could do who could do that.
“I can calculate numbers, Luke. In my head. I’m sure someone
would need a woman who can calculate.”
“That’s a man’s job.”
“Says who?”
He shrugged. “People. It wouldn’t be proper. No one would hire
you.”
I sighed. “So if’n I can’t get a husband, I can’t see any of
this here land Gage was talking about?”
“That’s about right.”
“Hum. What does John plan to do?” Luke’s brother had come back
from the war with one arm gone, cut off short by a cannonball.
“John’s been talking to Simon Higgins. He’s been giving John
tips on how to handle things. Simon lost his hand when he was five and does
quite well at farming, actually. First thing he done, he sent John to the
shoemaker to have some protection made for his stump. John’s been doing a lot
better since. He talks like he wants to settle with the folks, at least for
awhile. There’s not much farm left. Soil is thin. I told him when we’d gotten
us a place, we’d send for him and the folks.”
I went on home, thinkin’ hard, walking behind Jonas as we
travelled back to our farm that clung to the steep hillside like an insect
stuck in resin on an old pine tree.
I looked around at it. Just a two room cabin. When more children
arrived, Pa built a shed where him and the boys slept at night while us girls
slept inside. It took care of all of us without the house having to grow any.
Now we were back to just two. I could see me, growing old,
taking care of Jonas’ children or Mary’s. I wanted my own. I wanted my Boaz.
The house was lifeless and dull without Mary. She had always
been singing and dancing around, with boundless energy and an unconquerable
spirit. The men had lined up at the door, interested only in her. With her
gone, the life was gone. The mountain seemed empty.
I took some grain and threw it to the goose Abigail and Jacob
had left behind. Gage’s parents had brought us the goose just before they left
the mountains.
The goose ran up and commenced to eat. I stood watching her, but
thinking about those there tall trees Jacob had talked about. I could stay here
and take care of the goose, or I could leave the goose and head for California,
same as them. I looked at her, concerned with nothing except the next grain of
oats she could find.
I could grow old, taking care of geese, and never get off this
mountain. Or I could do as the preacher said, and leave. Go find my Boaz. What
should I take? What should I leave? I’d seen travelers before. If you were
walking, you took only what you needed.
A gun, bullets, some money, and extra socks. A coat big and
heavy enough to wrap up and sleep in. A rain hat. Gloves. Walking boots. A
small flask for water. Some dried food. A knife.
I started making a pile, adding to it, then taking away. I got
out needle and thread and sewed my few coins into my underskirt at various
places, where they would not be noticed or in my way.
After three weeks of watching Jonas settle himself back into
Pa’s old rocker every evening, cut himself some terbaccy and spit past the
corner post, just like Pa had done, I packed a few clothes into a bag, picked
up my rifle, put a hat on my head and headed out. I could wait until Jonas took
a wife, but right now it was spring time and the best time to travel. Mark
wouldn’t be ready to leave for at least two months. I was itchin to go, so I up
and went.
It took all the gumption I had, but Jonas starting to chew
helped me decide. As soon as my monthly time was past, I left Jonas a note on
the kitchen table and some beans in a pot on the back of the stove. I picked a
beautiful morning when Jonas left early and would be gone all day. Mary was
eighteen and already wed. I was nineteen years old, chasing down twenty, and
had no prospects.
I waved to the goose and walked off that mountain, down the
mountain trail and through the holler, down to the store where I thought Gage
might be. I’d get him to walk with me out to the open lands. I got there just
before nightfall.
But Gage wasn’t there. He’d left two days after Mary’s wedding.
The storekeeper motioned toward his house. “Come eat with us,
Ruth. You can commence on down the trail or head back home tomorrow.”
I looked Mr. Johnson over. He was fatter than a tick on a coon
hound. He’d never leave the holler, he and his family were planted there. But
he’d always been kind to me, giving me a sweet when Pa warn’t payin no mind.
I pointed up the mountain, at the scraggly pines holdin onto the
rocks as if fearful of blowing away. “I can die up there, or I can go see me
some of this here country first, and maybe die with a passel of youngins round
me. My own youngins. So I’ll just spend the night, if’n you all don’t mind, and
head on down the road in the morning.”
Mrs. Johnson cleaned the table by flapping her apron at the
chickens gatherin crumbs, and we all grabbed some plates and set down to a
feast of hog legs and mustard greens. I hadn’t had hog legs for awhile, and
they were mighty tasty the way Mrs. Johnson boiled them up. My cooking was
never any good. I burnt things so often, the boys called it an offering.
A new dog came in, his back as high as the table, one I hadn’t
seen before. I slipped him a bite and he took it gentle-like out of my fingers.
“That there’s Travers,” Mr Johnson said. “He came in one night
with a wanderin man. A peddler. The gent had been bit by a rabid skunk and
didn’t last long. So Travers has been hangin out here. You might see if’n he’ll
go with you. Be a comfort on the trail. He does his own hunting.”
I looked at Travers and he looked at me. He was pure mongrel,
greyish with a touch of tan. He might even have some wolf in him, for he had
the shoulders and jaws of a wolf. He was a huge dog.
“You want to come with me?” I asked. “I don’t know what to do
with you if I get into a town, but we can work that out when we get there.”
I spent the night on the counter of the general store, then
started out walking the next day. I was a’leavin and twarn’t nobody goin to say
me, “Nay.”
I stopped at the edge of the clearing. “Travers. You comin?”
He’d been a’standin there in the doorway, and as soon as I gave him the invite
he shot out to me like an otter down a wet bank. He took his position in front,
checkin’ out the trail as we went, and he was a’comfort. Nothin snuck up on
him. At noon, I opened the packet of food Mrs. Johnson had sent with me. A hunk
of fresh bread and a big slice of her homemade cheese. I ate half and wrapped
the rest up again for supper.
That night Travers brought us in a quail. Little thing didn’t
have much meat, but I cooked it and we shared it, along with some of that bread
and cheese. Next day he brought in a rabbit, and I feasted. He didn’t want any
and I decided he’d caught something else, ate it first, then got the rabbit.
“Don’t you go bringin down someone’s pet lamb,” I told him. “I
ain’t got money to pay for that.”
But I could sleep at night, off the trail with him setting
guard, and when I came across other travelers, they sized Travers up and
stepped aside.
It took three days to clear those mountain trails and come to a
wide road, full of wagons and travelers and such. I could tell I looked strange
to those folks, with them all dressed up and me in my travelin’ gear. I had
dropped down into the valley, and was following the Tennessee River as it
twisted and turned along the hills. Farms were closer together along
hereabouts, and the dogs barked as I passed. I tried to find shelter before
evening came.
One thing I hadn’t planned on was the lack of game once I
cleared the mountains. There were still rabbits and fish, but I had to stop and
cook them. I found out if I shot a couple of rabbits as I walked along, then
watched for a family home with children playing about, that they were glad to
share the rabbits with me. They would cook them and add their food to the pot,
so I ate pretty well as I went along. Travers did his own huntin and always
seemed well fed and ready to go the next morning.
The fact I was female actually helped, as they were less likely
to shoot first when I approached the house.
They shook their heads over what I was doing, but as I went
along, more and more suggested I seek work at the Wells Fargo Stage Company.
“They’d welcome a woman who could take tickets and handle money
and figure poundage rates,” they said.
“Stay off’n the riverboats. Too many gamblers,” another said.
“Go to Memphis and talk to the head man of the Wells Fargo company.
I know the head of the company lives up north, but you should be able to send
word.”
Then came the day I looked down on a town that had growed on the
Mississippi River. It were the biggest town I’d ever seen. People all running
about from here to there, taking care of business.
I found me a handy woodshed and stripped down just enough to
pull out one of my coins I had sewed into my skirt lining. As I was getting
refreshed and ready to go again, I heard voices.
“She went in thar.”
“Let’s go see what’s she’s up to.”
Then Travers gave a deep-throated growl to make himself known
and the two ran away, so that when I exited the building they were nowhere to
be seen. That dog was a real blessing to me. It didn’t pay to corner something
meaner than you. He kept me from having to shoot folks.
I needed to find a place to stay while I looked for a job. There
were places offering rooms at different costs. Room and board at many. They
grew more and more costly as I went into town. Then, as I got near the river and
the dock area, they got cheaper. Really cheap.
I looked at the creatures who worked there and decided I would
pay a little more, maybe find a room on the outer parts of town. I walked on
through and found a small boarding house on the other side, which offered rooms
for a day, a week, or a month at a time.
“I don’t know about your dog,” the old lady said, looking at
Travers.
“Ma’am, as long as this dog is here, no one will bother you or
your household. He has no fleas. He’s a quiet dog. He’ll stay in my room.”
“Guard dog, is he?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
So she showed me a room, just big enough for a cot and a chair,
several wall hooks and a chamber pot. Someone had braided a rug out of old
clothes and sewed it together. A small thing, but it cheered that room considerable.
I took it. That evening I took Travers out for a short run, then joined seven
others who lived there. Two were girls who worked at a mill, weaving cloth, the
others where men with different labor jobs.
I told them what I was looking for, a job using numbers.
“They might use you at the mill,” the older girl said. “You want
to stay away from the docks. The men there are mean.”
“Not all of them. I work there,” a big man said. “But it’s no
place for a woman.”
“You can add numbers?” the landlady asked. “Coins and such?”
“Yes’m.”
“Then look at these girls’ money they’re gettin paid. They say
something don’t seem right for them.”
After the supper dishes were removed, I sat with the girls and
several of the men and looked over their day’s wages.
“You get eighteen cents a day?”
“Yes.”
“And this is today’s wages?”
“Yes.”
“Y’all haven’t spent any of it?”
“No. It’s just like they count it out to us. One, two, three,
four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen,
sixteen, eighteen. When we try to buy something, they always say we don’t have
enough. But we count it just like they do.”
Sure enough, their count made their money come out right.
“Do y’all see what’s happening?” I asked the group around the
table. They shook their heads. “They’re being cheated.”
I tapped the table in front of the girls. “Put your hands on the
table, spread your fingers.”
When they did so, I asked each one how many fingers they had out
there. One girl knew, “Ten,” and told the other.
“Put a coin under each finger. That’s right. Now make a stack of
those coins. That’s ten cents. To have eighteen, you should have eight more
cents. That means a coin under every finger except two.”
They pulled the coins under their fingers and looked at the four
fingers that didn’t have any coins under them.
“Y’all are missing two coins each. Don’t let them count out to
you. If y’all can’t put your fingers on the money, you don’t have it. They’ll
try to confuse you. Make your stack of ten, then eight more.”
“Ruth, can you teach us to count?” one of the men said. “We’d be
beholden to you.”
“Of course. I don’t know how long I’ll be here, but if some of
you know how, y’all can help the others after I’ve gone. Let me hear what y’all
know.”
They all knew one through ten, then the problems began. So I had
them count to twenty-two, over and over, aloud, together, on their fingers.
It were the first time I’d ever tried to teach anyone what I
knew. It felt good as they began to learn it.
The next morning I gave Travers a quick run, then walked to the
mill with the girls. I gave myself a talking to and braved myself up, then
interviewed with the owner while the girls worked their shift.
He shook his head when I asked for a job using numbers. “I have
a man to handle buying and selling. He has to go down on the docks. And another
one does the weighing and counting. He’s moving heavy containers. I don’t need
anyone else. You could work in the mill with the rest of the women.”
“I do figures in my head. Ask me some.”
So he did and I gave him some answers, but they were easy. He
nodded his head.
“You’re quick, all right, but I got people who handle the
numbers already.” He got up and motioned me to leave.
I started for the door, then stopped, took a breath,
straightened my backbone, then turned back to him. “Is your payroll man
cheating you?” I asked. The owner was a big, burly man and I couldn’t see
anyone getting away with cheating him.
“No. At least he better not be.”
“Have you watched him pay the workers?”
“Yes.”
“If he’s not stealing from you, he’s a’stealing from them. Only
from the ones who can’t count.”
“What do you mean?”
I explained the method of counting the payroll man was using.
“If they don’t know their numbers, he takes some of their pay.”
“I know some who can’t. The first shift is over and should be
getting their pay right now. Come along.”
We waited outside the door, and the owner asked several to show
him their pay. At first it looked like I was wrong, then three in a row were
two cents short, then another one.
The owner gave them the right amount and took their names.
“I’ve three shifts of workers. If he does this to just a few
workers each shift, every day, he is getting away with at least an extra day’s
wages. And giving me a poor reputation. Would you like his job?”
“No. If you had a counter of some kind, a wooden holder where
the workers could see that they were getting the right amount, you could hire
anyone for that job.” I told him how the girls were to use their fingers.
“Let’s see if they do it. Stay around until their shift is
over.”
He took me to lunch with him at his club. It was all fancy, with
tablecloths on the tables and China so thin I was afraid to touch it with my
fork. I looked so out of place in my travelin’ gear, I wanted to hide. But the
mill owner said he didn’t care, so neither should I. I watched what he used to
eat with, of the extra silver, and copied him.
We had us a fancy meal, of shrimp brought up from the gulf. I’d
never had that before, but it was right tasty and I told him so.
Then he called three other men over to our table.
“Ruth, this is Mr. Henry Debras, Mr. Will Franklin, and Monseiur
La Breu. They are owners in companies who might be able to use your talents.
Gentlemen, this is Ruth Trahern. She is the fastest, and most accurate, person
I’ve ever come across when it comes to moving figures around.”
They said “Hello,” and looked at me like I had two heads.
“Well,” Mr. Franklin said, “if Henry here had three thousand
pounds of cotton, fifty drums of cottonseed oil, six hundred and twenty pounds
of linseed, and wanted to ship it one hundred twenty miles at two cents a
pound, what would it cost him?”
“How many pounds in a drum?” I asked.
“Fifty.”
I rolled them around in my mind a minute. “A hundred twenty two
dollars and forty cents.” I said.
He nodded. “That’s right. I just paid that.”
“Try mine,” Mr. Debras said. He was short and balder than a
peeled egg. He pulled out a piece of paper already filled with figures and read
it off to me.
“That would be sixty two dollars and twelve cents.”
“Sixty one,” he said.
I rechecked my mind. “No. Sixty two. You’re short a dollar.”