Redfield Farm Read online

  The night was quiet, and I drifted in and out of a light sleep. I heard the wagon pull out of the barn after midnight. I heard it return before dawn. At first light, I got up and dressed, quietly so as not to wake the family. I noted Jesse’s empty bed and crept down the stairs. Papa snored loudly in his bed in the back corner of the kitchen. I lifted the latch and stepped out into the morning dew.

  Hurrying toward the barn, I vowed to find out what Jesse was up to—how deeply he was involved. This was too dangerous. Let others take the risks. Not my brother.

  As I arrived at the barn, the door opened and Jesse stepped out, smiling.

  “Good morning, Sister,” he said.

  “Good morning, Brother.”

  “Let’s have some breakfast.”

  Chapter 3

  1854

  So Jesse was in it. He worked hard on the farm—made sure he put in his fair share—but his mind was someplace else. Thinking how he could fight the abomination. I worried for him, but he kept his own counsel. Didn’t want any of the rest of us involved. That chafed me. I wanted to know and do and help. Still, life went on as usual at Redfield Farm—to outward appearances, at least.

  Amos was not a man given to change. He moved slowly, thought much and acted with deliberation. So it came as a surprise when, one evening in 1854, he announced at dinner that he intended to “build on.”

  “Build on to what?” Jesse asked, with a wink at us girls. “The barn?”

  “The house,” Amos replied, ignoring Jesse’s teasing.

  We three daughters looked at one another in disbelief. Rachel was first to respond. “Oh, Papa! How fine!”

  Amos smiled at her. Rachel’s opinion always seemed important to him.

  Jesse was still puzzled. “Why? Why now?”

  “We might be needing a bigger house. One of you might wish to marry and stay here. Take over the farm.”

  “Oh.” Jesse understood that meant him. “I see.” It was no secret that Jesse thought about going west, as so many from the Quaker settlement had done. He longed to see what was out there, beyond the Alleghenies.

  I smiled to myself, knowing full well Jesse’s need to move on. That was what had so far prevented him from settling down and taking a wife, even at twenty-eight. If Jesse followed his dreams west, maybe, just maybe, Elias Finley and I could marry and live in a fine new house. Heaven knew, Rachel and Betsy would marry any day. Will McKitrick fairly fell over himself to be at Betsy’s side after Meeting, so an announcement would likely come soon. There were suitors aplenty for Rachel, too. She could take her pick if she ever settled down enough to decide. That was Rachel. Too busy being Rachel.

  Nathaniel sat looking at his plate. At twenty, he had no plans about life. So far he had been well taken care of, first by Mama, then by his sisters. Like Amos, he was not one to initiate change and slow to accept it.

  “What kind of building on?” he asked, skeptical.

  “Two story—big parlor for family gatherings, two upstairs bedrooms. This old cabin will be the kitchen. The loft rooms could still be used. I might like one of them myself.” Amos had slept in the main room of the cabin all his life. On a rope bed in the corner. “The rest of you can decide who gets what.”

  So it was that simple. Prosperity had caught up with the Redfields. Building had to be done in summer, so at the next Meeting it was announced that Amos Redfield was building on, and help was needed when the haying was done.

  On July ninth, twenty or so men and boys from the Quaker settlement turned up at Redfield Farm. Amos, Jesse and Nathaniel joined them, and in two days a two story log house was neatly joined to the east end of the old cabin. A week later, a smaller crew came to cover the roof frame with white oak splits.

  My sisters and I wore ourselves out cooking and feeding the workers, including, of course, Elias Finley and Will McKitrick. It was a joyous time, full of fun and promise. As I was laying out food on a plank table in the yard, Elias, up on the roof, stopped nailing shingles to call to me.

  “Got any more of that peach cobbler, like last time?”

  I shaded my eyes to look up at him, smiled and nodded. “Probably not enough for you, Elias Finley.”

  “I’ve got a powerful hunger for peach cobbler,” he grinned.

  Down on the ground, hefting a bundle of shingles to his shoulder, Jesse called, “You’ve got a powerful hunger for all Ann’s cooking, Elias.”

  “I know a good thing when I see one,” came the reply. ”And I see one,” he continued, smiling down at me.

  I blushed and turned back toward the kitchen. Honestly! Elias could be so bold at times, yet he was awfully slow to make a commitment. We were both twenty-six and not getting any younger. What was he waiting for? Everyone in the Quaker settlement paired us off in their minds, but still Elias dallied. I was sure a proposal would come, but when? If asked, Elias said he didn’t have much to offer a wife. But he and Ben were building a fine horse breeding business. He had a bright future. I consoled myself with thinking it would be worth the wait.

  The morning after the shingles were put on, I looked out the back door to see Pru Hartley standing by the springhouse, one hand on her hip, looking over the new house. That girl moved like an apparition. I never knew where she’d turn up.

  “Mornin’ Pru. You need something?”

  “Not that I kin git here,” she replied, her head cocked to the side. “You Redfields’ll be gittin’ uppity now, I guess.”

  “Uppity? Why?”

  “Fancy new house’n all.” She sneered when she said it, like it tasted bad.

  I didn’t feel like standing around listening to Pru Hartley’s assessment of my family, so I turned and went inside. The men were doing morning chores in the barn, and my sisters were still upstairs. Pru stayed in the yard, walked all the way around the house with her head cocked in that put-on haughty way she had. I went back to my work but looked out the window now and then to see where she was, hoping she’d be gone.

  Then she came up on the porch and shouted. “You think yer better’n some folk, but yer not! With your big, new house’n all. S’pose you think Elias Finley’s gonna marry you? Would’ve by now if he was gonna. That’s my guess!”

  Why did she love to plague me so? Why was it her mission to bring me misery? I was tempted to answer her. To ask why she was older than I by a year, had two babies and no husband in sight. But it would just bring more wrath on me, so I closed the door to keep her noise outside. Rachel wandered downstairs, holding her ears.

  “Sounds like Pru is full of the ‘Old Harry’ this morning,” she observed.

  “I don’t know what gets into her. She seems bent on making my life miserable.”

  “She’s miserable herself. Has little to do with you, Sister. You’re just a convenient target.”

  I sighed. “Well, I wish she’d take her misery and be gone. I could do without her.”

  Now Betsy made her entrance. “What’s Pru nattering about now?” she yawned.

  Outside, Pru still stood on the porch, bare feet wide apart, elbows akimbo, looking defiant. Amos, Jesse and Nathaniel started in from the barn, talking among themselves. When she saw them, Pru turned and stepped off the porch, hiked up her skirts and all but ran down the hill.

  The addition stood tall and large, dwarfing the old cabin. Jesse and Nathaniel chinked the logs to match the old part, and once that was done the whole place looked like it had always been so. The next step was plaster—both the old and new parts.

  Plastering was an art, done by hire. For country houses, there was usually an itinerant plasterer looking for work and a place to stay until the job was done.

  Amos let it be known he was looking for a plasterer, and within a day one came to the door. His name was Jacob Schilling, of German stock, from Dauphin County.

  “What brings you west?” Amos asked.

  “I follow the work,” was the reply. “If the next job is north, I’ll go north. They tell me there’s work at Altoona. Brand new city s
prung up to service the railroad. Lots of new houses being built. That’s where I’m figuring on going from here.”

  Amos nodded. He showed Jacob Schilling the new addition and explained what he wanted done. They settled on a price, then Amos showed him to quarters in the tack room of the barn.

  We three girls watched from the doorway as Jacob Schilling tended to his horse. We all found the handsome young stranger interesting, but none more than Rachel.

  “Did you see the muscles in his arms?” she asked. “They fairly ripple!”

  “Rachel! Quaker girls do not notice or comment on men’s muscles!”

  “Some do,” Rachel replied saucily. “Oh, Ann. I’m just having fun. You noticed, too. I know you did.”

  I admitted, reluctantly—to myself—that I had, indeed, noticed, but not in the silly, breathless way Rachel had.

  “I worry about you, Rachel. You’re too quick to speak and too bold with strangers. I hope it comes to naught, but I worry.”

  Rachel laughed and tossed her head. “Life is too short to worry,” she replied. Little did she know.

  Turned out I wasn’t wrong to worry. Rachel found Mr. Schilling interesting to the point of irresistibility, and she made up any excuse to be where he was. Rachel, who flitted about from one suitor to another, was fixed on Jacob Schilling. She watched him work; she took him snacks and drinks; she sat across from him at table and listened to his talk as though she’d never heard English before. They took to walking out after supper, long walks in the summer twilight. After the second walk, they came back holding hands, and one evening I saw dried grass clinging to the back of her dress.

  I understood her infatuation. Mr. Schilling was worldly compared to the men we knew. He’d grown up north of Harrisburg but wanted none of farm life. He’d even been married before. His wife of two years had died in childbirth. The baby was being raised by Jacob’s parents. His wife’s death put the wanderlust in Jacob, and he took his trade out to see the world.

  Oh, he was attractive, all right. Bright, personable, talkative. I could see it, but still I feared for my sister. If this led to marriage, well,. No! Quaker women knew that to marry a non-Quaker was to be disowned by the Society. Rachel wouldn’t want that. Besides, what would Papa say? Surely these goings on hadn’t escaped his notice.

  The plastering took two weeks, during which Rachel was never there for chores, during which Rachel couldn’t see or hear anything that was not Jacob Schilling, during which I felt more than a little jealous and more than a little overworked. I worried over and—just a little—resented my sister.

  When the work was done, Amos paid Jacob Schilling, and he rode away north, toward Altoona. Rachel was strangely serene at his departure. Relieved at the removal of temptation, I tried to reassert my position as female head of the household.

  “There’s spinning to be done,” I told Rachel the next morning. “Betsy and I are going to wash clothes.”

  Rachel didn’t respond, nor did she spin. She sat around dreamily all day, avoiding my eyes and making a show of writing a letter that I could only presume was to Jacob.

  That evening, sitting on the back porch, I shared my frustration with Jesse. “What is she thinking, Jesse? How can she be so silly? Jacob Schilling goes from job to job, loving girls along the way.”

  “She’s twenty-four years old and a woman, Ann. You can’t make her over, no matter how hard you try. If she wants Jacob and Jacob wants her, you’ll have to accept it. You can’t run around protecting her from herself.”

  I looked down over the hill to Dunning’s Creek, misty in the twilight. “I know you’re right, but it’s hard to stop myself. She’s always been a little dithery. You know, so light hearted and happy, one wonders if she really understands what life is about. I worry what a bad match might do to her.”

  “You can’t know it’ll be a bad match. It will be what it will be. Besides, he’s gone. If you’re right about him, she may never hear from him again.”

  The following Saturday, Jacob Schilling drove up to Redfield Farm in a livery wagon. Showing no surprise, Rachel raced out to meet him, and, as he stepped down from the wagon, fell into his embrace.

  “I’ve come for you,” he told her, loud enough for all to hear.

  Amos stepped out to confront them. “What’s this?” he asked.

  “I’ve come to take Rachel with me, Amos. To make her my wife.”

  “That’s not the way we do things here. Thee have never even asked my permission to court. It takes months to complete a Quaker marriage. Thee hardly know each other.”

  “We know enough. We’ll have no Quaker marriage. We’ll go today and be married by a preacher on the way to Altoona.”

  Amos looked from Schilling to Rachel. “Thee must go inside now. This is men’s business.” He spoke calmly.

  Rachel went to him, reached up and touched his rough, weathered cheek. “I’m sorry, Papa, but I’m going with Jacob.”

  “Thee will be read out of meeting!” Amos shouted, coming to the end of his patience. “Now go, girl, before I thrash thee!”

  I winced. Papa had never raised a hand to any of us. We obeyed out of respect for him, not fear.

  Jacob stepped forward, taking Rachel by the wrist. “She is grown, sir. Her own woman. The world is changing, and you must change with it.”

  He led Rachel to the wagon; she sat up proud, even as a tear found its way down her cheek. Jacob turned to address Jesse, standing behind Amos. “Help me with her trunk?”

  “No.”

  Jacob looked then at Nathaniel. He shook his head.

  “All right. I’ll get it myself.” He stalked across the yard and into the house. Rachel jumped down and raced after him. A few minutes later they came out, lugging the heavy trunk between them. Hefting it up into the wagon almost proved too much for Jacob, but still my father and brothers stood rooted in the dooryard. Jacob climbed up beside Rachel, put an arm around her shoulders and snapped the reins over the horses’ rumps.

  I watched the wagon disappear down the road. ‘And now we are five,’ I thought. ‘And soon, fewer yet.’ I flipped my apron up over my head to hide my tears and went into the house. Betsy followed me, and the men went to the barn.

  From that day on, Amos Redfield never liked the new house. He didn’t move to one of the loft rooms of the old cabin. He kept his rope bed in the kitchen. One month later, Rachel Redfield was read out of meeting “for marriage by a priest.”

  Betsy and I each took one of the new bedrooms above the parlor, using the new stairs to come and go. The old cabin, with its uneven floors and curved stairway was left to the men, Nathaniel and Jesse each with a loft room and Papa in the kitchen. Except for cooking and eating, we women spent much of our time in the new part.

  As the summer waned, Jesse seemed restless. He didn’t sit still for long. Sometimes he slept in the barn or went off alone without so much as a by-your-leave. I suspected he was moving fugitives again, but I kept my peace and Jesse his. Then, one day, he brought in wood and carpenter’s tools from the barn.

  ”I’m going to fix up the little loft room,” he announced. He fitted the space under the eaves on both sides with low walls and doors for storage, ending up with a small but airy rectangular room, reaching to the roofline, with a little window on each side of the chimney. He whitewashed the walls, and I found him a braided oval rug for the floor. He bought a bedstead, table and rocking chair at a sale.

  It was a cheerful room, but I was puzzled by this domestic turn in a man who cared little for comforts and not at all for beauty. Maybe he was planning to marry after all. Maybe his dreams of going west had died.

  Jesse’s intentions in partitioning off his room would make sense to me in mid-September when he stumbled home just before dawn one morning after a three day absence, fevered and wild-eyed. Awakened by his arrival, I took a lantern to meet him in the dooryard.

  “Jesse! Where have you been?” I held the light aloft and looked into his pale, flushed face. “What’s
wrong with you?”

  “Don’t ask,” he replied flatly. “Help me to bed. I’m sick.”

  Leaning heavily on me, he climbed the stairs to the loft, his breath hot on my neck.

  “Nathaniel!” he said hoarsely, standing over our sleeping brother.

  Nate stirred in his sleep, turned over and slowly woke to the lantern light casting huge shadows on the wall. “Huh? What’s goin’ on?” He squinted.

  “There’s a delivery in the wagon outside. Take care of it and the horses,” Jesse whispered, his eyes dazed.

  Nathaniel rose immediately, pulled on his trousers and boots, and descended sleepily into the kitchen. I heard the door close as I helped Jesse to the bed. He fell heavily, his breathing raspy. I pulled off his clothes, perspiring from the effort even though the room was cold.

  “Don’t cover me,” Jesse protested. “I’m burning up.”

  As I hurried downstairs to brew a tea for his fever, I was met in the kitchen by Papa and Nathaniel.

  “Ann,” said Amos. “Thee must help. There is another sick.”

  I looked from Papa to Nate, then out the window to the barn. No further explanation was needed. I knew.

  Chapter 4

  1854 – Fall

  Jesse’s fever raged for days. He wavered in and out of consciousness while I worried over him, tried to make him comfortable, tried to figure out what ailed him. Out in the barn, the black man lay just as ill. Tending them both was a huge task, but it was clear that no one else should be exposed, both for the risk of disease and the risk of discovery. The sole responsibility fell to me, and my experience with illness was limited. The Redfields were a healthy lot, isolation doing its part to protect us from most things that went around.