Christopher's Journey: Sometimes it takes being lost to find yourself
Chapter 23
“Glad to see ya, son.” Mr. Kinsley exclaimed when Chris arrived the next morning.
He and Hanna had gotten up bright and early. Hanna prepared breakfast while Chris made sure Gus and Gertie were fed. Then they walked into town together.
It was nice to have that time of uninterrupted talk. They, surprisingly, still had so much about one another they did not know. The simple little details that formed the personality within someone.
Hanna spoke of their rabbits they used to have and how much the family loved them. They had gotten the rabbits to breed, raise then process for meat. The two original rabbits, Gus and Gertie, as Priscilla had named them, became family favorites and their lives were spared as they became pets.
Chris never had any pets growing up but had always wished for them. Someone or anything that would snuggle with him and love him unconditionally. His mother never allowed it claiming they could not afford such a responsibility. If only she had paid more attention to Chris, he would not have longed for a pet so much. All he really wanted was her. His mother.
Hanna’s expression had always grown solemn when Chris mentioned his childhood. Ever since Chris had mentioned the abuse he endured. Both physically and emotionally. “I just can’t imagine having parents that will not pay any attention to you, not show any affection or even... beat you.” Hanna choked on the last words. At times, Chris would stop talking about it when he’d see tears well up in her eyes.
“It’s no matter, now.” He’d tell her. “I have you and your family. You are my family now and I am home where ever you are. With you as my children’s mother, I will never worry that my children will suffer the same fate.”
That seemed to dry her eyes and curl a smile onto her face.
After Chris gave her a light kiss, he watched her step up the two steps into the mercantile. Since they were not open, yet, she had to tap lightly on the door and wait for it to be opened. While she waited for that few seconds, she turned to Chris, her eyes dancing and sparkling as if to whisper ‘I love you.’
Chris walked the quarter mile down the dusty main street to the livery. The last building on the right.
“So what am I going to learn to do today?” Chris asked after Mr. Kinsley greeted him.
“Well, I don’t recall you ever bein in here, so I’ll start ya with a tour.” He turned and walked motioning for Chris to follow him. “This half of the building is my livery or boardin’ stable. Most of the folk that live here in town keep their horses here. The pastor keeps his one horse buggy and mare here and Ms. Rougen used to as well. We also get folk that travel through here and drop off their horses while they stay at the boardin’ house. I have a small ledger in me office to sign the animal and wagon in and for a signature. The ledger also tells what the fees are. Besides the mornin’ and evenin’ feeding, we don’t deal too much on this side unless we get a customer. Most of the town people come down and take care of their horses, brushin’, gettin them out fer some exercise and such. I do clean up the stables every night, though, so that‘ll be yer job before you head on home.”
Chris nodded in agreement even though he wanted to wrinkle his nose. What a way to end a day. He had to do that at home, when he had his barn at least but he only had to clean up after two horses. He was anxious to get to the other side of the building to find out how to do blacksmith work. He’d seen it done on movies and TV and it always looked fascinating. Being able to heat up metal until it glowed, then beating it with a hammer. ‘What a great stress reliever’ Chris thought.
“Let me show you my office and around the ledger, then we’ll head to the shop.” Mr. Kinsley said, perhaps seeing Chris’ enthusiasm about the blacksmithing.
Mr. Kinsley’s office was merely a board nailed onto some seahorses and a crate for a chair. The ledger he spoke of was laying open on the edge of the desk next to an ink well and quill pen. The entire room reeked of kerosene and tobacco smoke.
After a brief explanation of the book, Mr. Kinsley finally led Chris to the large, dark and very warm side of the building. A large oven looking contraption dominated the room. It was mostly constructed by layered bricks as black soot flowed out of the large opening. An iron door looking too heavy to comprehend as it struggled to stay on the hinges. Next to the oven was a large box of coal with a shovel leaned up against it’s side. Another large box held chunks of something Chris could not identify. In the middle of the room stood a large tree stump table with an anvil on top weighing it down. Sitting on the stump along side the anvil were a pair of thick gloves, a long, heavy looking pair of tongs and a large hammer. A barrel of water sat along side the stump. The opposite wall held a long counter top, piled with hammer heads, plow heads, knife blades and horseshoes.
It reminded Chris of some scene out of a horror movie but the splendor of the fact that one person had created these items with only his two hands was more significant to Chris.
“This is what I’m talking about.” Chris said out loud but in a whisper.
“Yep, this is the blacksmithin’ shop.” Mr. Kinsley answered proving that there was nothing wrong with his hearing. “You know anything about blacksmithin’?” He asked.
“I know the basics, I guess.” Chris answered. “Just from what I’ve seen on TV.. er, I mean.. ummm... Don’t you just heat up the metal and pound it into a shape with the hammer?”
Mr. Kinsley let out a loud, short blast of laughter. “Well, I suppose that’s the gist of it but there’s a little more to it. Wer gonna start, today with these, here, ore’s.” He pointed to the second box with the unidentified chunks in it.
“The what?” Chris wrinkled his brow.
“I start from scratch, here, son. I get them ore’s from Branson, I mean they’re delivered here from Branson. Ther like a rock that have the metal minerals in ‘em. We’s need to get the oxygen out of ‘em to leave the metal. That theres called smelting. When we got the steel, then we can forge it into anythin' that needs to be made. I make some farm equipment and tools but I mostly jus make horseshoes for the folk, here in Coar.”
Chris’ head swelled up as he tried to comprehend everything that Mr. Kinsley was trying to explain to him. So many words that he’d never heard of when it came to blacksmithing and even the process of smelting was completely foreign to him. He was ready to try, though. “What’s first.” He said anxiously.
“Well, first is first.” Mr. Kinsley replied. “We’s need to get that oven as hot as we possibly can. Go ahead and start shovelin’ them coals into it.”
Chris obediently did as he was told trying to remember to lift the heavy shovel with his legs and not with his back. He knew he wouldn’t last the week if he threw out his back.
“What we call roasting is when we get that sulfur out leavin’ the oxide and that can be directly reduced. Then we’s got the reduction which is the high temp part of the smelting, then we move on to fluxes.”
“Where did you learn how to do this?” Chris asked Mr. Kinsley, astonished with the fact that this was the most he’d ever heard this man speak. He seemed to know the process by the back of his hand, as if he could do it in his sleep.
“Oh, I’s grew up with it. My pappy did it, my grandpappy did it and so on and so forth. It’s been passed down generations. The know-how anyways. My brother decided to go off to school in Chicago instead of stayin’ here and helpin’. He’s talked of comin’ back though.”
“I didn’t know you had a brother.” Chris said astounded but didn’t know why or how he’d know that. He really didn’t take a lot of time to get to know Mr. Kinsley personally.
“Yes, sir.. Lincoln. He’s my baby brother. Almost 15 years my junior. He run off after pappy died and went to some fancy college and became an attorney. He’s since gotten married and had two sons. Lincoln Jr. is.. um lets see..” Mr. Kinsley scratched his dirty beard. “.. he’s goin on 14 and the young sprig, which
they names Louis after me is gonna be 9 here soon, if he aint already.”
“Why would they move back here if he’s a successful lawyer?” Chris asked wondering if he was prying too much.
“Oh, his wife is a country girl, he is too at heart. They thought of movin back and tryin' a hand at farmin’ and for a little peace, I’m guessin’. I think they just worry about me, my health aint that great. I suppose they could give it a whirl and if it don’t work out, he’s still sittin’ on that college degree. They could go anywhere.”
“Whew, college. I would have been happy just to finish high school.” Chris revealed waiting for the endless sea of questions.
“Oh, I hear ya son. I’s never got through the 5th grade.” Mr. Kinsley replied. “I started workin’ at the age of ten. Had to help my pappy with the farmin‘. It seemed I’d be able to go back some years later but then little Lincoln was born, so my ma and pa needed me to help keep food on the table for the lot of us. You quit school to work?”
“Pretty much.” Chris replied, the gang certainly demanded a lot of his attention and services to steal for them. Was that considered work? Looking back, it was such a foolish thing to quit school over. Oh, to be able to just go back and do it right. Chris bit his tongue at that thought. He’d give anything to NOT go back. A time of his life he’d rather forget, not re-live.
The afternoon passed by quickly. At the end of the first day, Chris had mastered the smelting. He was unable to begin the actual forging since Mr. Kinsley preferred he take only one step at a time. As promised, however, Chris was to clean out all of the stalls in the livery before heading out to pick up Hanna. He made sure he quickly got through the duty but thoroughly, being careful not to leave sloppy work. He was longing to see his wife. They had not been separated this long since the day they were married.
It was like Heaven was shining down on him when he saw her behind the counter as he entered the mercantile. Even with her tired, weary eyes, she was a lovely vision.
Making his way through one of the two isles, careful not to knock over any of the kerosene lamps and wishing he’d walked on the side with the rolls of fabric, he finally reached the front counter.
“Well, hello sir. May I help you?” She said with a wink.
“Yes, I’d like to take my wife home now, have some dinner and sink into a hot bath. Can that be arranged, young lady?” he stated jokingly with a wink in return.
“Oh, I think so. Let me just tell Mr. Moyor I’m leaving.” she turned to her left and walked into a small storage room.
Chris looked around taking in the products filling the store. The size was a fraction of the store that he and Mr. Browley had visited in Shorlin but seemed to carry the same necessities. They had a small selection of fabric. Mostly the heavy, farmer clothing type of fabric. Not a lot of impractical yardage, as Mrs. Browley would call it, but enough if someone wanted to make a nice dress or a set of curtains. They had a few kerosene lamps, some cooking pots and utensils. Chris looked upon a table that held some toys. A fire truck, some corn husk dolls and one expensive looking china faced doll. Hanging on the wall were some feather dusters and brooms if somebody did not want to make their own. Behind the counter were all of the dry goods. Flour, sugar, cornmeal, coffee, tea, tobacco along with some molasses and wheel of hard cheese. Laying open on the counter was a catalog from a supplier in Branson if you needed a new stove or any other item, large or small that they did not regularly carry in the store.
“Ready.” Hanna said, walking out with her reticule.
They seemed to walk home at a snails pace. “How was your day?” Chris finally asked realizing they had walked almost half way home in silence.
“Oh, it was fine. I should have thought before I spoke when I said this sounded more like woman’s work. I’ve never lifted so many things in my life. Lugging in wood for the stove everyday seems like small potatoes, compared.”
“I hope they’re not working you too hard.” Chris stated with concern.
“Oh, no. Mr. Moyor said this was a one time thing for me. It was due to that shipment of merchandise he spoke to us about. It only comes in every three months, so I will not have to endure another. School would have started by then and I will be with my kids again.”
Just her saying that spread a smile across her face. Chris could see how much she loved being a teacher. She loved engraining knowledge into their little, impressionable minds. She loved spending the day with them and most of the children were younger siblings of the people she grew up with. She knew and loved them all.
“He also wants to utilize my time there and get everything down, dusted and scrubbed. It’s something they strive to do once a month but have not been able to since the beginning of summer. That’s what I am to begin working on first thing in the morning all the while keeping an eye on customers.”
“What are Mr. and Mrs. Moyor doing while you run around like a headless chicken?” Chris asked hearing the snide in his own voice.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, they’re not kicking back with a glass of lemonade lashing a whip at me. It’s all a part of the learning process. Mr. Moyor will be spending a few days taking inventory of the new items that came in and to keep track of what is selling or not for his next order. Mrs. Moyor is still in charge of keeping house and cooking the meals. She helps me watch for customers but she prefers I practice keeping my attention on multiple things incase she has to ever leave me to tend the store alone.”
“I see.” Chris said instantly regretting his question.
“What sounds good for supper?” Hanna asked, changing the subject.
“Oh, anything will be fine. I need to head out and tend to the horses, I’d like to check on the crop, then I’ll be in. I realize it’s not bath day but do you think we can make an exception? I am covered in sweat and soot.”
“I think I can handle making you a shallow bath just for today. We still have some stew rabbit left if you do not mind having that again. I will whip up some biscuits as well and pop those into the oven.” Hanna replied.
“That sounds wonderful.” Chris said, brushing his hand across her back.
They reached the farm, Hanna going straight into the house and Chris heading out to check on the horses. He wanted to look upon the crops first to see how the tiny sprouts were doing. All seemed well until he looked over toward the stump.
‘The other two pennies arrived on Tuesdays, will I get another tomorrow?’ He wondered.
It took all they had within themselves not to drop face first into their stew. “I don’t remember the last time I’ve been this tired.” Chris exclaimed.
“Oh, I never asked you how your day went.” Hanna said, piping up a bit.
“It went fine. It was actually very informative and interesting. I never knew so much goes into blacksmithing. Mr. Kinsley is an interesting fellow, as well. I didn’t realize how much about him I didn’t know.” Chris replied. “Did you know he had a brother who practices law in Chicago?”
“Hmm, Lincoln is it?” Hanna said curling her face to one side in thought. “I’ve heard him mention him a couple of times. I do believe he came to visit Mr. Kinsley several years ago, when I was just a girl. I only saw him in passing in church. We were never formally introduced.”
“He talked a bit about him today. He sure knows what he’s doing around that blacksmith shop, though. He was rattling out words I’ve never heard of before. He knows the process left and right. It was actually quite impressive.”
“I should say it is. He has been doing it almost his entire life and I can tell he enjoys it. The pride that goes into his work, as well, makes it of better quality. Ma and pa get their horseshoes from him and they’re always happy with his work. I believe pa’s plow came from Mr. Kinsley, as well and it’s held up for years. I’m glad you had a good day.”
“And I’m glad you did.” Chris said returning the gesture. “I’
m also grateful this is temporary. Could you imagine keeping these two jobs, plus teaching, plus taking care of the home, farm and animals. It would wear a man straight into his grave.”
“Whew, it’s hard to think about. No sense in overworking our minds with something that probably will not happen. We’ll work off our debt, build a wonderful barn, then I can begin teaching in the fall while you harvest the wheat. Back to normal.” Hanna threw him a smile as she got up from her seat, clearing the dishes from the table.
“I don’t know how normal that would be. I’ve never done a harvest by myself.” Chris said with a lack of confidence in his voice.
“You had never plowed, harrowed or seeded by yourself either and you did a fine job of it.” Hanna stated with a tone of pride.
“I suppose you’re right.” He smiled. “I shouldn’t fret about it.”
Hanna placed the dishes into the first basin of the dry sink, then hurried over to the stove to check the large pot filled with water. She tapped the side quickly to test the temperature, then dipped her finger in to double check. Her shaking her hand back and forth, blowing on her index finger proved that the water was hot enough to be added to the tub already half filled with cool water.
“I will get this pot of water into the tub for you. You can soak for a bit while I wash up these dishes, then I suppose you wouldn’t be opposed to heading to bed a bit early tonight.”
“Not at all.” Chris exclaimed. “Not at all.”