CHAPTER FOUR

St. Joe

Heart pounding harder than his feet, Adam ran down the wooden planking of the dock.   With a strangled cry he watched the ferry pull away.  “How long ‘til the next boat?” he frantically asked a man stacking recently off-loaded crates.

The man scratched his grizzled chin whiskers and spat tobacco juice contemptuously into the murky water of the Missouri River.  “Runs ever’ fifteen minutes . . . if it keeps runnin’.”

“What do you mean ‘if’?” Adam demanded.  “It has to run!  I have to get across!”

Another man snarled between his copper mustache and chest-length beard.  “Why, boy?  You aimin’ to join up with them bloody bushwhackers?”

Adam planted his palms on his hips and glared at the man.  “Do I sound like I’m from the South?”

The first man again spit another dark stream toward the water.  The spittle missed, staining the edge of the dock a hickory brown.  “Not ‘specially, but I can’t ‘xactly place your accent, young fellow.”

“Nevada!” Adam snapped hotly, eyes darting from one face to the other.  “I’m from Nevada, way out west, all right?  I have friends in St. Joe—and, yes, they’re of the Union persuasion, if you must know.  You have a quarrel with that?”  It was not the safe, nonpartisan answer his father probably would have preferred, but anxiety rode roughshod over caution in Adam’s young heart.  As it turned out, his answer was the safest he could have given, at least on this side of the river.  Kansas was firmly in the Union camp and determined to stay that way.

The red-headed man laughed.  “If your friends be Union, sonny, you’d best look for ‘em here in Elwood.  Cowardly poltroons in St. Joe all took tail and run for cover.”

“Can’t blame ‘em for that,” snorted the other man.  “Ain’t nothin’ cowardly ‘bout jumpin’ out of a nest of rattlers.”

Adam frowned in thought.  Was that possible?  Josiah Edwards was no coward, but might he and Jamie have come across the river, for safety’s sake?  Adam shook his head.  No, if anything, they would have headed east, to get Jamie to New Haven.  It was what his own father would have done, and he remembered Mr. Edwards being cut from the same cloth.  “No, sir,” he said.  “They aren’t the kind to turn tail; I’d best cross and look over there.”

“Confounded ferry needs to be shut down,” a third man hollered in a loud voice.  “Rebs havin’ their way in St. Joe, and we can’t risk leavin’ ‘em a way to get here.”

“He’s right, boy,” the redhead said with a kindly clap on Adam’s shoulder.  “No Federal protection there now, and if the ferry does shut down, like it ought, you’ll have no way back.”

Since Adam had no intention of coming back, that argument held no weight.  He paced the dock frantically, trying to shut out the talk humming around him of forcing the ferry to tie up permanently on the west side of the river.  “Just once more,” he pleaded of Heaven.  “Let it run once more; that’s all I ask.”

Those fifteen minutes seemed to Adam the longest of his life, but at last his searching eyes were rewarded with the sight of the incoming boat.  He helped a lady to debark and then leaped aboard.  “Heading straight back?” he asked the ferryman.

“Long as there’s payin’ customers,” the boatman said with a grin.

Adam dug into his pocket and handed over the fee with alacrity.  Within a few minutes, over the loud protests of many on the dock, the ferry pulled away from shore, carrying him and a couple of others east.  As he clung to the rail with white knuckles, Adam sent unuttered questions flying across the water.  Would he find the Edwards at home or had they fled?  If they had, it would be a difficulty, a disappointment, but nothing to compare with the direr possibility that his friends had gotten caught up in the struggle between North and South and come to harm.  Oh, God, let them be safe, whether I find them or not.  Just let them be safe.

* * * * *

            St. Joseph lay ravaged, in ruins.  From the riverfront, empty but for the steamboat Omaha tied up at the dock, Adam passed block after block of businesses with broken windows, boarded over.  Not that that stopped determined looters.  He saw three men pulling boards from a local mercantile, in hopes of finding something left by previous pilferers, something the original owner hadn’t had time to ferry over to Elwood.  It grated on Adam’s honest soul to walk past such displays of lawlessness, but as he’d been told on the west side of the Missouri, there was no law in St. Joseph.  He could scarcely supply it single-handed.  What was needed was the Federal Army, but it had deserted the place.

The town had grown in the years he’d been away, at least judging by the number of buildings.  Jamie had written him last year that the population was 10,000, but Adam doubted that half that many were here now.  Even that was a generous estimate, for the streets were virtually empty.  Of course, with the sun nearly down, peace-loving citizens were probably huddled snug in their homes.  The streets of St. Joe were no place to be after dark, and the waning light made Adam eager to reach his destination.  Wisely, he kept to the side streets, to avoid trouble.

Making his way east from the ferry, he finally reached Tenth Street and stopped, uncertain which way to turn.  Jamie had written that the house he and his father had moved to after the Cartwrights left was on Edmond, just past Tenth Street, but was Edmond to the right or the left?  Adam strained his brain to remember the layout of St. Joseph, but the effort was useless.  Too many years had passed, too many houses been built, and he hadn’t dared to ask directions of the type of people he’d seen on the streets earlier.  Had Edmond even existed in 1850?  It didn’t sound familiar, but street names had long since left his memory, except those he’d frequented daily.  With a shrug he turned to the right, hoping for the best, and grinned widely when after three blocks he struck Edmond and spotted the schoolhouse.  It was the first positive thing that had happened all day, for according to the directions he’d been given, the Edwards lived two houses past that.  Now, if only Jamie and his father were still there.

Adam set his carpetbag on the wooden porch of the small frame house and knocked with some trepidation.  As far as he could tell, no lamps were lighted inside, but it would have been hard to tell with all the windows shuttered.  Time seemed to stand still, but eventually the door creaked open a crack and the barrel of a revolver slipped through.  Shocked to silence, Adam stepped back.  Slowly, the door opened wider, and then he smiled in relief as he recognized the auburn goatee of his old teacher.  “Mr. Edwards!” he cried.  “You are still here!”

The door flew open then.  Josiah Edwards seized the dirty-faced stranger in an eager bear hug.  “Adam?  You’re Adam, aren’t you?”  His hearty clap on the back raised alkali dust from the young man’s blue shirt.  “I scarcely knew you, lad; you were only so high the last time I saw you.”  He held his hand at about the height of a seven-year-old boy and beamed proudly.  I should have recognized him straight off, the teacher chided himself.  He’s taller, but still has those same strong features.  And that look of determination in those dark eyes . . . who else but Adam?  “Come in, my boy, come in where it’s safe,” he urged.

Grateful that he had, at least, found shelter for the night, Adam picked up his bag and followed Mr. Edwards inside.

Mr. Edwards apologized for the gun as he laid it on a table beside the door.  “I was expecting you, of course, though your telegram didn’t specify when, and—well, these days one never knows what a knock on the door might mean.”

Normally, Adam’s manners were impeccable, in tribute to his father’s teaching, but now, he felt, was no time for small talk.  There was an urgent question to be answered.  “Sir, forgive me, but I’ve heard reports . . . the bridge . . . is it really out?”

Edwards’ expression grew grave.  “It is, son—a terrible tragedy . . . all those innocent lives lost.”  He shook his head sadly.

Adam collapsed in the nearest chair.  “Then it’s over,” he groaned, burying his weary face in his hands.  “There’s no way I can make it to New Haven, and I’ve ruined Jamie’s chances, too.”

“No, no, not at all,” Edwards assured him.  He gave the young man’s shoulder a consoling pat.  “Jamie is already gone; I sent him almost a week ago, before the bridge catastrophe, and we’re going to get you there, too, Adam.  Never fear.”

Adam looked up, scarcely daring to hope.  “But how?”

Edwards patted his shoulder again.  “Later, my boy, later.  It won’t be easy, but I have it all worked out.”  He smiled at the dusty face below him.  “But first a bath, I think, and then a bite of supper.  I’ll explain everything while we eat.”

Adam stood, still feeling somewhat shaky, though some of that might be blamed on his state of near exhaustion.  “It’s really all right?”

“Difficult, but doable,” his former teacher reiterated.  “Now, come along and I’ll draw you a nice hot bath.”

Adam heaved a huge sigh of relief as he followed Mr. Edwards down the narrow hallway.  Just knowing he still had a chance to reach New Haven in time went a long way toward relaxing his taut muscles, but he couldn’t deny that the hot bath sounded like exactly what he needed.

* * * * *

            Adam wrapped a towel around his lean and now thoroughly clean body and stepped into the hall.  “Mr. Edwards?” he called, not sure which way to turn.

Josiah Edwards’ head popped out a doorway.  “Here, Adam.”

Adam smiled and padded down the worn hall runner on bare feet.  He entered, taking note of a shelf of volumes he well recognized.  “This is Jamie’s room?” he inquired.

“Yes.”  Mr. Edwards looked up and saw where Adam’s eyes were directed.  He smiled.  “He’s kept every journal you sent him, Adam; they’re his treasures.”

“As are his to me,” Adam returned.  “Mr. Edwards . . .”

“Josiah,” the older man said.  “You’re not one of my grammar-school pupils any longer, Adam.  We’re simply friends now, and I’d be pleased if you called me by my first name.”

Adam frowned slightly.  “It doesn’t seem respectful, sir, you being so much my elder.”

“It’s respectful if I offer,” Josiah insisted, adding with a chuckle, “though I don’t mind your throwing in an occasional ‘sir.’  Even Jamie does that, as the situation warrants.”

Adam laughed, too, then.  “I’m truly glad he went on without me, but I do wish I could see him—now, this very minute.”

“Perhaps I can oblige, after a fashion.”  Josiah left the room and returned shortly.  He held out a framed portrait to Adam.  “That’s your friend, as he looked at Christmas, when he had this made as a gift for me.”

Adam eagerly reached for the frame and gazed at the daguerreotype of a slender young man with pale hair.  The features he remembered had changed somewhat with maturity, but it was still obviously Jamie, the boy with whom he’d first shared the adventure of learning.

“Changed much?” Josiah asked softly.

Adam nodded.  “Quite a bit, but I recognize the eyes . . . those gentle, kind eyes.”

“Yes.”  Josiah’s voice dropped even lower.  “Gentle, kind . . . and still somewhat frail, I fear.”

Adam looked up sharply.  “He hasn’t been ill again?”

“No, he’s fine.  I’m just being a fretful father,” Josiah said, brightening again, “but he’s not as sturdy a boy as you, Adam.  That’s the chief reason I sent him on, though he argued vigorously that he should wait for you.  I didn’t feel he could handle the strenuous trip that’s been forced on you and still have sufficient energy to do well on his exams.”

“You were very wise, sir,” Adam said firmly.  “I wouldn’t wish to jeopardize his chances for anything.”

“I wish you could have a few days’ rest before your exams, too, but I think having Jamie go ahead will benefit you, as well.”  Josiah sat on the bed, and Adam followed his example.  “He’ll make arrangements for the two of you to lodge together, so you’ll have a place to go immediately on arrival, and you can get as much rest as possible before facing the big challenge.  And you see that you do, my boy.  No sitting up all night talking with your old chum or packing in one last bit of knowledge.”

“No, sir, we’ll resist the temptation,” Adam said with a grin.  It faded perceptibly.  “I—I hope it’s not all for nothing.  I mean . . .”

Josiah put an arm around the young man’s bare shoulder and drew him close.  “I know what you mean, and I’m sure you have nothing to fear.  You’re well prepared.  You wouldn’t be Adam if you weren’t.”

Adam gave his head a slight, dubious shake.  “I don’t know.  My schooling’s been the best the West could offer—Pa saw to that—but it’s not like a preparatory school back East.”

Josiah squeezed him firmly.  “Nor has Jamie been to one of those fancy eastern preparatory schools, but I have confidence in both my boys—I think of you almost as a second son, Adam—and I’m sure you’ll both succeed.”  He released Adam and stood up.  “Now, as your second father, I shall issue a firm order.”  He slapped Adam’s still-damp back.  “Get some clothes on, young man, and get yourself down the hall to supper.”  With his chin he indicated the clothes draped over a chair, which he’d taken from the washroom after Adam removed them.  “I brushed your traveling clothes while you were in the tub.  Sorry there isn’t time to clean them properly, but you can take care of that once you’re in New Haven.  Jamie can advise you where to take your laundry—another advantage to having him there early.  As for tonight, I’ve laid out one of my nightshirts, so you can keep yours fresh, and I’ve no objection to your wearing it to the supper table.  I’d best check on that soup now, before it boils over!”

He disappeared so quickly that Adam had no time to either argue or say thanks.  He just grinned and did exactly as he was told.  The nightshirt was a little large—not long enough to trip over, but he did turn back the cuffs, so the long sleeves wouldn’t interfere with eating.

“Have a seat, my boy,” Mr. Edwards urged.  “I’m just dishing up the soup now.  Sorry I haven’t more to offer.  I’d have done better had I known exactly when you’d arrive.  Actually, I was beginning to fear you’d run into trouble.”

“Is there enough . . . for both of us?” Adam asked.  “I don’t wish to put you out, Mr. . . . Josiah.”

“Of course there’s enough, son, more than enough.  Nothing but soup, but plenty of it.  I had hoped to take you to the Patee House for a better meal than I can cook, but it’s simply not safe to be out after dark.”

“The soup is quite sufficient, sir.”  Adam chuckled.  “In fact, compared to most stage station fodder, it’s a feast.”

Josiah’s blue eyes twinkled in appreciation of the humor.  “I’m sure it’s been quite an experience.”

Adam shrugged as he ladled up another spoonful of soup.  “It got old fast, but today’s been the real experience.  Ever since I heard about the bridge disaster this morning . . .”

Josiah looked sympathetic.  “You’ve been worrying all day.”

Adam admitted it with a nod.  “I tried not to, but I’ve come so far and the thought of failing now . . .”

“You won’t fail.  Let me tell you what I’ve worked out.”  Josiah pushed his own bowl aside, while motioning for Adam to continue eating.  “The train is running, but not over the entire line, obviously.”

“How far away is the Little Platte?”  Adam asked.

“About ten miles,” Josiah responded, “but we’ll have to go well beyond that to reach a functioning depot.”  Seeing Adam’s quizzical look, he explained, “Another bridge, about fifteen miles further east, was also burned the same night, after the train had passed.  We’ll have to get to Osborn before you can catch the train—about twenty-eight miles from here.”

“Can we rent horses at the livery?”

Josiah shook his head.  “Confederates confiscated every horse in town before they pulled out.”

Adam’s face scrunched with dismay.  “If I’m walking twenty-eight miles, I’d better start right after supper.”

“You’re only walking a couple of miles,” Josiah chuckled.  “I’ve made arrangements with a man to borrow two mounts.  He lives outside town and managed to hide them when the Rebel troops started confiscating everything in sight.  We will have to be careful we’re not seen.  With that and the distance we have to cover, we’ll be getting up before the sun—quite a bit before.”

“That’s no problem.”

“Not for a country boy like you, I’m sure!”

Adam smiled slightly, but he still looked far from reassured.  “This man?  Can he be trusted?  I mean . . . over in Elwood, they were saying that the Union men had all left St. Joe.  Well, you’re still here, of course, but . . .”

Josiah reached across the table to stroke Adam’s arm.  “Don’t worry, son.  It’s all taken care of.  This man is the father of a former student, and I know him well, which is why I dared approach him.  He was a little reluctant to trust his horses out of his sight, but after I explained the circumstances, he agreed to lend them.  He is a Southern sympathizer, but he’s totally opposed to what’s been going on around here lately, especially the ruthless destruction of private property.  He was appalled by the rail disaster, an attack upon helpless civilians, and he’s willing to help a young man stranded by the rebels’ actions, even though he hopes the South will eventually win.”  He noticed that Adam had finished his soup.  “Like some more?  There’s plenty . . . or I have some apples, if you prefer.”

“An apple, please.”  Josiah brought a bowl of crisp red fruit from the sideboard and set it on the table.  Adam reached for an apple, rolled it from hand to hand and then set it down.  “Sir . . . Josiah . . . did you stay behind just to meet me?  St. Joseph doesn’t seem like a safe place for a Union man these days, and I’d hate to think you risked yourself for me.”

“St. Joe hasn’t been a safe place for a Union man for years,” Josiah said soberly as he, too, took an apple and began to peel it.  “As for why I’m still here, it’s my home.  I’m not sure how much longer I’ll stay, though.  I don’t know if Jamie wrote you this, but the schools have been closed since the end of May, so for now I’m out of work.”

“He didn’t tell me.”

Josiah shrugged.  “No need, really.  The rent’s paid until the end of the month, so I’ll stay that long, hope things settle down and the school reopens.  If it doesn’t, I’ll seek a position elsewhere”—he smiled—“perhaps closer to my boys.”

“That would be wonderful,” Adam said enthusiastically.  “I’d feel better, knowing you were safe, and I’m sure Jamie would.”

“Yes, he would; he’s said so.”  Josiah cut off a thin slice of apple.  “I suppose it would be best, for the duration.  It’s just hard to leave a place when you’ve invested so much of your life into it.”  He slid the slice into his mouth.

“Isn’t it Jamie you’ve invested your life in?” Adam suggested shyly, feeling somewhat uncomfortable with advising an elder.

Josiah laughed.  “What a wise young man you are!  He is, indeed, my primary investment, although I like to think of students like you as an investment, too.”  His countenance changed abruptly.  “Many of them, I fear, will be lost in this conflict—one gone already.”  He looked across the table with piercing eyes.  “Do you have a gun?”

“In my bag.”  Adam smiled wryly.  “I thought I might need it further west, in case of Indian trouble, but never spotted a single hostile.  Now I’m beginning to wonder if the East isn’t more dangerous territory.”

“The border states, mostly.  You should be all right once you head north.”  Josiah leaned forward on his elbows.  “Keep it in your bag, but keep the bag close while you’re on the train.  Middle of last month a train was fired on near Palmyra, a few soldiers killed, and a week ago a fifteen-year-old passenger was killed by snipers near Caldwell Station.”

“Maybe I should just wear it.”

Josiah shook his head vigorously.  “No, you mustn’t, Adam.  John Frémont declared martial law throughout the state last weekend, and if you wear a pistol openly, you can be stopped, subjected to court martial and executed.”

“Court martial!  I’m a civilian!”

“I know, Adam, but so are many of the troublemakers hereabouts.”  Josiah stood and took their empty soup bowls to the sink.  “Frémont means well, I’m sure, but in my opinion he’s gone too far.  He’s even emancipated the slaves of those accused, and much as I support that cause, doing it so abruptly, without the support of the Federal government, can only heighten tensions.”

Adam gathered the rest of the utensils from the table.  “I do wish you’d come east with me, sir.  After all you’ve told me, I’m genuinely concerned for your safety.”

“Not necessarily safer where you’re headed, young man.”  Seeing Adam’s shocked look, he winced.  “I shouldn’t say that.  I’ve just been concerned about reports from Connecticut.”

“I hadn’t heard of any fighting in Connecticut,” Adam said as he pumped water into the sink.  “Just in Virginia . . . and, well, around here, I guess.”

Josiah lathered up suds from a bar of soft soap.  “The real fighting, yes, but not two weeks ago there was an incident north of Bridgeport, Connecticut—at a peace rally, no less!”  He turned toward Adam.  “Northerners opposed to the war have been holding rallies—quite a number of them in Connecticut, where you’re headed.  Naturally, those in favor of the war take issue, and at that one some fire was exchanged.  No harm done, as far as I know, but don’t let your guard down, just because you think you’re in safe territory, son.  In this war there really is no safe territory.”

“Pa would say Nevada was safe territory, that this war isn’t our fight,” Adam chuckled as he took a tea towel and began to dry the dishes after Josiah washed them, “but I’ve seen scuffles even way out there, so I guess I agree with you.  I will watch myself, sir, and I’ll watch out for Jamie, as well.”

Josiah smiled as he passed a cup over to Adam.  “I knew I could count on you, Adam.  Please do keep an eye on him for me.  I’m not worried about his involvement in the strife; if he can keep out of it here, he can manage that anywhere.  I do worry, though, about his overtaxing his strength through too much study, not enough care for his health.”

“I’ll watch over that, too,” Adam promised.

* * * * *

            With the need to rise early on the morrow, Josiah and Adam both turned in shortly after supper.  Adam found it difficult to sleep, however.  Too many thoughts, too many questions swirled through his mind.  He took one of his old journals from the shelf and read for a while, trying to settle himself for sleep.  For a few minutes worries over the war, exams and his family back home faded while he relived the journey west, as he had recorded it for his friend back in 1850.  Finally, he gazed intently at Jamie’s portrait, which Josiah had left in the room.  Once he was sure he’d memorized the features well enough to recognize his friend at the train depot in New Haven, he set it on the table and turned down out the light.  “I’ll see you soon, chum,” he promised.