Dear Austin: Letters From the Underground Railroad

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  May 6, 1853

  Dear Austin,

  Today seemed like Christmas on account of your letter arriving! Miss Amelia and I sat down together as she read it aloud. I especially liked the part about Reuben finding the rattlesnake in his boot and your sighting a grizzly bear. I closed my eyes when she read the part about your fishing on the lake. I could just picture the two of you netting the “biggest catch of your lives”! You sure were lucky to find Reuben on your way. Miss Amelia says he sounds like the kind of man a boy could learn a lot from. She hopes you learn some of his recipes. I told her you've got more on your mind than how to make an apple pie, what with a claim to settle and grizzly bears to look out for.

  Sometimes I get so discouraged thinking about how the only way I ever get to see you is by closing my eyes. And I can't help wondering how different things would be if I had been able to come out to Oregon to join you like we planned. And to think that it's been two whole years since then! Why, I'll be eleven years old next month, near as old as you were when you left Pennsylvania with the wagon train. But you had better luck than me, Austin, and didn't come down with the consumption.

  Miss Amelia still won't budge on the subject of me traveling now. She's always quoting old Doc Stanton, who says that consumption is nothing to fool with and that I should wait until next spring afore I tax my strength.

  I keep telling Miss Amelia that I'm as strong as any boy I know and should be out with you and Reuben in Oregon on Pa's claim, but she shakes her head and her face gets all wrinkly with worry, and x then she says what she always says:

  “Levi Ives, are you trying to give a body heart palpitations? How would I stand it, sitting here in Pennsylvania worrying about you and your lungs and your daredevil ways out in that wilderness? When your ma died birthing you, I was at her side. And I promised her then that I'd look out for you. No, by goodness, you're going to stay right here with me until next spring, -when your lungs are stronger, and maybe by then you'll have grown out of some of them wild ways.”

  I just roll my eyes when she carries on like that. I don't mind growing out of my britches or my shirt, but I don't intend on growing into some kind of sissy. Miss Amelia doesn't seem to understand that a boy's got to have some wildness in him if he's heading clear across the territories.

  I think about all the walking you did with the wagon train, and I've decided to get my legs in shape for my turn. Yesterday I dared Willie Erlich and his cousins that Jupiter, Possum, and I could outrun them and Old Man Grissard's bull. So Jupiter and Possum are coming over and we're going to do some practice running out in the pasture afore we take on the bull Saturday morning.

  Just how fast do you suppose a bull can run? I guess I'll find out soon enough. If he really gets going, we might light out of here and keep on running clear on out to Oregon! So if you see a cloud of dust, you'll know it's your brother and his two friends trying to steer clear of that old bull.

  Of course, Miss Amelia don't know about the bull (I wouldn't want to get hei4 heart all palpitated), so it's a secret run. Most everything Jupiter, Possum, and I do winds up secret, so we've started a club and we have a creed. It's a daredevil's creed, and I can't really say more than that on account of its being secret.

  Thanks for sending that moon-faced button. Tell Reuben that Miss Amelia had to sew it onto a new coat for me, as I've outgrown my old one. But be sure to tell him that as big as I grow, I won't ever outgrow his button!

  Your brother, Levi

  P.S. You might remember how Possum is always catching frogs and toads down by his crick. Well, he has two new ones. One is a little toad he calls Hap, and the other is a big frog called Plug Ugly. Seems Possum's sister Maudee took one look at him and declared him to be “plug ugly,” and the name just stuck. It's sort of like what happened to Possum. I finally learned how he got that nickname. When he was born, his older brother, Tom, said he looked like a little possum, and that's what everyone called him after that, excepting his ma, who insists on calling him Jonathan. Possum says that in the frog world “ugly” is beautiful and so Plug Ugly is real pleased with his new name.

  May 13, 1853

  Dear Austin,

  I am happy to write that I have survived the attack of Old Man Grissard's bull! I didn't reckon on his temper turning so nasty all of a sudden (the bull, that is, not Old Man Grissard).

  Austin, I got to admit I was afeared as the others were when I first laid eyes on that powerful beast! But as I am the leader of our club, I could not show it. The bull was standing in the pasture as calm as a turtle on a rock when Jupiter, Possum, and I sneaked up behind him.

  “Be still, oh, mah heart!” Possum whispered as he stood gaping at the bull. This is Possum's favorite expression, ever since he heard it last year from a song-and-dance man who was traveling out West and had stopped in Sudbury to shoe his horse.

  “Be still, oh, mah heart,” Possum whispered again.

  “You mean be still, oh, mah bull!” I said.

  “He looks awfully big,” Possum croaked. “I don't remember him looking so big or-so mean.”

  “How can you tell he's mean,” I whispered back, “when all's we can see is his rump?”

  “It's a mean-looking rump, is how,” Possum declared.

  Jupiter nodded his head to agree. Jupiter never talks, you remember that, but Possum and I understand him just fine without words.

  “I say we clear on out of here and forget the whole thing,” Possum whispered, taking a step backward.

  “And let Willie Erlich and his cousins think we're yeller on account of some old bull's rump scared us off?” I cried, grabbing him by the shirt sleeve.

  “All right, all right.” Possum sighed. “But couldn't we come back on Saturday when Willie and the others are here?”

  I shook my head. “We know how fast Willie and his cousins can run, and we know we can beat ‘em. But what we don't know is how fast he can run,” I whispered, nodding toward the bull, whose rump hadn't budged since we first set eyes on it.

  “Besides, it's all part of our training for the territories,” I told them.

  “They've got bulls out in the territories?” Possum whispered.

  “Buffalo bulls,” I reminded him. “All we've got to do today is get the bull to run and time him to see how fast he can go,” I added, pulling a timepiece from my pocket. (I know it -was wrong of me, Austin, but I had borrowed Miss Amelia's gold timepiece from her chest. You know the one—It used to be her pa's. I had every intention of
returning it and only meant to borrow it to clock the bull.)

  We decided that Possum and Jupiter would sneak around to the other side of the pasture and wave the piece of red cloth that I had also borrowed from Miss Amelia's chest.

  “All you two have to do is wave the red flag,” I explained. “And wait for the bull to start charging. Once he does, you hightail it back to the fence and climb over.” Jupiter took the cloth that I had bunched up and tucked inside my shirt. As he opened it up, we all stared in astonishment.

  Jupiter's eyes grew big and his mouth dropped open.

  “Drawers!” Possum cried, as Jupiter held them up. “Ladies’ drawers!”

  I couldn't believe what I was seeing, for I had just grabbed this folded red material from Miss Amelia's trunk, thinking to use it as a flag. How was I to guess that Miss Amelia should have such things in her possession? And they were red, mind you!

  Jupiter handed the dreaded object to Possum.

  “I ain't waving no ladies’ drawers,” Possum declared, handing them back to me.

  “All right,” I said. “Forget the red flag. With your hair being so red, maybe that would be enough to attract him. All you have to do is make a ruckus in front of the bull to get his attention, and I'll wait here and keep the time.”

  They started for the other side of the pasture. Suddenly Possum turned and came running back, pulling something green out of his shirt.

  “What's Plug Ugly doing here?” I groaned on seeing the frog in his hands.

  “He hates for me to leave him behind,” Possum admitted. “But he also hates -when I run too fast. Gets him all shook up and ruins his digestion. Couldn't you hold him for me, Levi?”

  I took Plug Ugly and dropped him into my shirt pocket.

  I was waiting for the fellas to get to the other side of the pasture, and checking on the timepiece, when what does that durned frog do but jump out of my pocket! Not only that, but he jumps clear into the air and lands on the back of old Grissard's bull!

  I don't think the bull felt Plug Ugly on him as much as he heard him. It was a real loud croak full of sass, as if to say he weren't afraid of nothing nor nobody. Now, that bull didn't take kindly to Plug Ugly's sassy croaks, I can tell you that. He spun around and began snorting some mean, angry bull snorts. Between all the snorting and croaking I was hoping that I could slip away unnoticed, but it was just my luck that that old bull caught sight of the red drawers in my hand! He figured it was me giving him all that sass and begging him to come at me!

  “Hey, now, bull,” I said, trying to calm him down. “It weren't me that was croaking…” But before I could explain, I got on one of those hiccupping jags that I always get when I'm real nervous. Anyway, the bull heard all that hiccupping, let out one more loud, angry snort, and began to charge!

  I can't tell you how fast I was running, nor him neither, on account of I had dropped the timepiece by then. But I can tell you that I never moved faster! Luckily the bull was probably as old as Old Man Grissard himself and seemed to have trouble running, though what he lacked in. speed he made up for in determination.

  “Open the gate! Open the gate!” I yelled to Possum and Jupiter, -who had come around to watch.

  And to my great relief they did open the gate, but didn't have the sense to close it afore that bull came tearing through! He chased me all the way to the Springers’ orchard, where I was able to get a leg up an apple tree and climb to safety.

  So as you may have guessed, I am at this writing in a heap of trouble, for that bull tore up the Springers’ vegetable patch. It took Old Man Grissard and two other men most of the afternoon to rope the bull and direct him back to the pasture.

  Jupiter, Possum, and I are to spend an entire day doing chores for Mrs. Springer to make up for her ruined beans. And next week we're to report to Old Man Grissard to muck out his stalls. Luckily Jupiter found Miss Amelia's timepiece, but it had a nasty dent in it from where the bull must have stepped on it.

  I think Miss Amelia minded the “flag” more than the timepiece, for her cheeks were turning just as red as the drawers when I handed them back, and she looked as if she might be having those heart palpitations she's always going on about.

  All this commotion landed me the punishment of Miss Amelia volunteering me to pluck chickens for the church picnic. She said all that plucking will give me time to “ruminate on changing my wild ways.”

  Old Man Grissard is so mad he's spitting nails, Mrs. Springer is still fuming over her bunch of beat-up beans, and Jupiter pulls a face every time he looks at me, on account of he's blaming me for all the chores we've got to do. Possum has gone into deep mourning over losing Plug Ugly, -who we never did find.

  I hope life is easier for you out in the territories. I suspect rattlesnakes and grizzly bears would prove relaxing after the troubles that I've braved right here in Sudbury!

  Your brother, Levi

  May 21, 1853

  Dear Austin,

  The big news in Sudbury is that Miller's store was broke into and robbed! The thieves took forty dollars from the safe, a box of hardtack, three hammers, a harness, and a case of Doctor Ditz's cough elixir, which also works for curing warts. Everyone in town is real jumpy, and we're all on the lookout for anyone with a strange look in his eye, a cough, or a wart. What I can't figure is how anyone could rob Miller's store without even touching the candy jars!

  Last night I stunk so bad after mucking stalls all morning and plucking chickens for the church supper all afternoon, Miss Amelia wouldn't even let me into the kitchen to take my Friday-night bath. Jupiter -was with me, on account of Fridays are his day to work for Miss Amelia. Do you remember his sister, Darcy? Well, she's two years younger and comes with him to do the churning and the wash for Widow Needly next door. You can always tell -when Darcy is in the neighborhood because of her singing.

  When she isn't singing, she's humming. Everyone calls her Darcy Nightingale on account of she sings like a nightingale, I guess.

  Jupiter is eleven years old now and has a two-year-old hound dog by the name of Whistle. Even though Jupiter can't talk, he can whistle just fine, which is handy for calling his dog. Jupiter and Darcy work the rest of the week over at the Hepple farm. You may remember that their pa, Winston, is a farmhand there.

  On Friday afternoon Miss Amelia sent Jupiter, Whistle, and me with the wagon to collect the chickens, and then we sat down and commenced plucking. I can't think of a chore I despise more than plucking chickens. Jupiter and I try to make a game out of it by racing each other to see who can pluck a bird the fastest. When we begin each race, Jupiter tucks a feather behind his ear. When I asked him why he did that, he pulled a rabbit's foot out of his pocket.

  “Oh, for luck,” I said. “Well, in that case, let's see if I get lucky enough to miss out on plucking for the next church supper.” I stuck a handful of feathers behind both my ears, and Jupiter started to laugh. Jupe is the only person I know who can laugh without making a sound. I wish I had that talent, especially in church, where laughing is almost a sin.

  By the time we were through we had plucked twenty birds, leaving us with a mess of feathers in our laps and the stink of dead chickens all over us. Jupiter helped me drag the tin tub out to the back porch, where we filled it from the well. After such a hot and sweaty job, the cool water felt so refreshing that we both jumped in, Jupe at one end and me at the other. Whistle took a good long drink from the tub afore lying down beside it.

  The crickets had begun to chirp in the grass, an owl hooted from the willow tree, and the bullfrogs were having a croaking contest down by the pond. We had all the entertainment a body could want. It was a good night for stargazing, and Jupiter and I took turns pointing out our favorite stars.

  Jupiter's quiet is full of meaning, once you understand him. His eyes tell me more than most folks can with words. I know all of his expressions, and it's as if I can hear what he's saying in his silence.

  Miss Amelia said that Jupiter saw some terrible things happen
to his mama in the slave quarters down in Maryland, afore he could learn to talk, and it frightened the words right out of him. Darcy must have missed seeing those things, for she talks more than anybody I know. And -when she isn't talking, she's singing.

  But Jupiter and I don't need talking or singing to have a good time. I would have been content to sit there soaking and stargazing for an hour or more, but I suddenly spotted a suspicious light behind Preacher Tully's smokehouse—not starlight but lantern light.

  “Hey, Jupe,” I whispered. “Do you see that light back of Tully's smokehouse?”

  But Jupiter just shrugged as if it weren't nothing to bother about. I wasn't so sure.

  So of course after my bath, my prayers, and my promises to Miss Amelia to “curb my wild ways and try to act more responsible,” I tied a rope to my bedpost and dropped it out my window.

  That's all I have time to write you now, on account of my time is taken up with a new punishment Miss Amelia dreamed up after she learned I had slipped out of the house last night. For now I will just say that I have been given the most torturous punishment a boy could imagine, and if I live through it I will write you further about the night which cost me so dearly.

  Your about-tb-be'tortured brother, Levi

  May 26, 1853

  Dear Austin,

  I have survived my latest punishment, but only barely. I'll relate the grim details for you, but first let me explain how it all came about.

  It began with my spying that light back of Preacher Tully's smokehouse on Friday night and deciding to lower myself out my bedroom window.

  Now, I know what you might be thinking, Austin, but I can honestly say that my sneaking out of the house had nothing to do with wildness and everything to do with responsibility. For it's part of our club s creed that if something suspicious is going on, it's up to the club to investigate it. What with the robbery at Miller's store and a thief full of warts on the loose, I just had to do the responsible thing and lead the investigation.