POLIO Spreads

Today Fisher requested that we hold a special meeting of POLIO, in order to officially vote in Rick Tavvi as a member and our trail boss. Not one of us was opposed to this idea so we met for dinner at Sylvester's home. Since Dorcas's departure, he has seemed to change considerably. He has dubbed his home "Lair of the Unfettered Gentleman" and has been spending an awful lot of time at the saloon. He has been heard to say that Dorcas leaving him has been a "blessing" and the "chance for a fresh start" and a "miraculous healing from a chronic and debilatating disease". He is also growing a mustache. I'm a little concerned for him. It is more clear than ever that he needs a woman out West. Me and Fisher are even more anxious now to hear from Sam Sherman.
The meeting was a great success. We unanimously voted Rick a member of POLIO and our trail boss. We then had a dinner which Fisher brought over from home. (He had Lem make extra food to leave with Sylvester.) After dinner Rick told a riveting Indian tale. Unfortunately my mind was unclear due to Sylvester's home brew, and I do not have the memory to recall it here. I may ask him to retell it at a later time.

A Great Asset and a Powerful Ally

Friends Sidcott and Plimpton returned to us today, shortly after the midday meal. Both were tired, but happy as they walked, guiding the wagons into town. They had nothing but good news they said, but would not share it until they had had a bite to eat and a drink. I pressed them, asking if they had gotten everything. They exchanged a queer look and Henry replied they had gotten it all, and a little more. Try as I might I could not get them to reveal their secret until they had filled their stomachs.
They had done well indeed. They had gotten all the supplies on the list, which leaves a few things to get in Independence before we head West. They had also managed to trade their horses for oxen. Then they shared what they had both been anxious to tell me. They had found us a guide.
On their first night in Jefferson City, Sylvester felt the need to relax after their journey, so Henry and he went to a saloon. There they met a mysterious old man. He is apparently very experienced in the frontier and says he has been to Oregon twice. At the time he was asleep in the back of the wagon, but when he awoke we were to gather our families and he would introduce himself properly. The best part was, appart from us providing him with food, clothing, shelter, and a little alchohol, he did not want to be paid.
It was several hours before the old man awoke, and when he did we all met at the home of Fisher Jones. By the end it was clear that fortune had brought us upon a most remarkable man.
His name is Rick Tavvi, Master of Land, Sea, and Water, which is the shortened form of his Indian name Ricki Ticki Tavvi, which means "Fast Like Hare Quick Like Rabbit". As an infant he was abandoned, but by the grace of the spirits, he was found, taken in and raised by the Hequilechile (HAY-KWIL-A-KEY) Indian tribe; a mysterious group of people who live a week and a half's journey to the West in a forest of giant mushrooms. They have secret dealings with the spirits that allow them many powers, such as the ability to communicate with the good animals of the forest. These powers were passed down to Rick from his adoptive father, the chief of the Hequilechile, Chief Lallemand (LA-LA-MA-DA), which translated means "Raging Bull Who Doesn't Mind The Rain". On Rick's thirteenth birthday he left his people to make his fortune in the wide, wide world. Since that time he has been a travelling salesman, a travel guide, a shop keeper, a storyteller, a sheriff, and a soldier. He was in the War of 1812, and when his general and friend William Henry Harrison was named president, he placed upon Rick his title of Master of Land, Sea, and Water.*
Rick says he is more than happy to escort us across the wild Western lands, but warns that it will not be easy. I think we are all thankful that we will have someone with his usefulness and experience with us. It takes a great weight off my shoulders, as I'm sure it does many others.

*While this claim cannot be completely disproven, there is no record of William Henry Harrison ever knowing a man by the name of Rick Tavvi. In fact this claim is in all liklihood false considering William Henry Harrison became the first president to die in office after only 30 days as president when pneumonia and pleusiry took his life at the age of 68.

Waiting for Plimpton

No sign of Henry and Sylvester today. However it is not time to worry yet. With their wagons heavy laden with supplies, their return journey is bound to take longer. It is also always possible they needed more time in Jefferson City for one reason or another. Whatever the case, I hope their return is soon.

Crime and Punishment

Fisher and I have both been anxious these past several days. Henry and Sylvester should be in Jefferson City by now, and will probably return to us on the 23rd if they make good time. We are also awaiting a letter from Sam Sherman in response to our request. That response will not arrive until April. Until then all we have to do is sit and wait, and try to think of something to do incase this falls through.
Today marked the end of Isaac-Albert's punishment. Since we found out that he had been providing Dorcas with the means to leave her husband he has been paying for it. Although he says he had no idea what she was planning, we feel it is important that he learn to be open and honest with his parents. That is why Abigail and I and the children have ignored him for the past five days. At all times, we have pretended as if he was not around. Today me and Abigail sat him down to explain why we had done what we had. He was rather bitter about the whole affair and tried to claim that he had not noticed a change from our usual treatment of him. We are disappointed he did not learn the lesson we had hoped he would, and for his lack of repect we sent him to bed without supper. Sometimes I do not know what is to become of our little Chimaera.*

*In Greek mythology the Chimaera was a monstrous creature made of parts from many different animals.

Letter to an Unknown Woman

As Fisher requested I arrived at his house this morning, excited to finally discover his plan. When I arrived he had pen and paper laid out on his table. He offered me some breakfast. I had already eaten, but I accepted some coffee. We chatted while Fisher finished his breakfast, then he cleared his things, placed the pen and paper in front of me, and before I realized what he was doing, he was dictating a letter for me.

Dearest Sam,

I pray this letter finds you well. I trust New York is treating you as it always has and that business is good. Lem and the children are in good health and high spirits. Now forgive me for being forward but allow me to speak more bluntly. Sam, you know what kind of man I am. You know that I am honest, and have never been one to take advantage of a friend, but I need a favor that requires the help of a man in your line of work. A dear friend of mine has recently experienced a heavy loss, and I was hoping you could help the friend of a dear old friend. I am afraid we have no time for the usual formalities associated with this kind of transaction, but my friend and I are departing for the West in less than a month and a half. I have enclosed a letter in my friend's name and $50. I realize that this is far less than the usual price, but it is the most I can offer for the happiness of my friend. I am placing this entirely in your hands. I trust you will make all the necessary arrangments, and I trust your judgment in making the most important decision. Please respond as quickly as possible, so that I know that this letter has found you, and that I can rest at ease knowing my friend is taken care of.

Your Friend,
Fisher Jones,
Actor

I was full of questions, but Fisher urged me to first take the letter to the Post Office, full of worry that it would not reach its destination in time.* I set off for the Post Office immediately and was able to deliver the letter in time for it to be sent out that day. When I arrived back at Fisher's house, he had me sit with him, and explained the letter he had just written.
Fisher has an old friend in new York named Sam Sherman. Mr. Sherman puts men in search of wives in touch with women living in Europe. The men correspond with the women for a period of time, then if the man wishes, the woman comes to America and they are married.** Because of the time we have, Fisher is requesting that Mr. Sherman simply choose a woman and send her to Sylvester. It will in all likelihood be at least twenty days before we receive Mr. Sherman's response. We can only hope that Mr. Sherman will agree to this.

*Although the first message by telegraph, "What hath God wrought!", was sent by Samuel Morse in 1844, the first commercial telegraph wire from Washington D. C. to New York was not completed until the Spring of 1846.
** Many early American settlers married women they had never met that had been sent over from Europe. In present times these would be referred to as mail order brides, which today come mainly from Ukraine, Russia, Colombia, and the Philippines.

Such Will and Grace

Henry and Sylvester left this morning for Jefferson City with our list of supplies and the money to buy them. If their path is clear and they do not meet any obstacles, it should take them four days to reach their destination. It will probably take two days to get supplies and rest their horses, so we should not hear from them for at least ten days. Fisher says that will be plenty of time to get his plan underway, but he is worried there will not be enough time to carry it out before we leave for the West. I'm very curious to see what crafty scheme Fisher has in store for our dear Sylvester.
Speaking of Sylvester, he has shown great resilience since his loss. He did not object to going with Henry in the least, and while obviosuly shaken, has held himself together remarkably. I've never seen such a graceful show of strength of will.

A Marriage Killed by POLIO

We learned what has become of the drawings of Isaac-Albert. Henry Plimpton arrived at our house this morning to call an emergency meeting of POLIO. I climbed into the wagon with him and we headed for the meeting at Fisher's house. We arrived and got right down to business. I was surprised at first because Sylvester was not present, that is until I learned the reason for the emergency meeting.
It seems that yesterday, Dorcas Sidcott left Sylvester. Apparently, she had been planning to for some time. Ever since New Year's she has been paying Isaac-Albert a penny for every picture he drew. She has been sending these to a man back East who has been selling them for large sums of money. The man was sending Dorcas a portion of the money which she has been saving for her journey back East. She left a note saying that she was marrying the man back East, whom she has left nameless, and asking Sylvester to make no attempts to contact her. Sylvester is utterly distraught.
Fisher however has kept his wits evidently. He says he has a plan. It is high time for the trip to Jefferson City. Henry has agreed to go, and take Sylvester with him, in an attempt to get his mind off his wife. Fisher will need my help making the arrangements for his plan, which he has thusfar refused to give me any details about. Henry and Sylvester are expected to leave within the next few days.

Receiving My Inheritance

Rufus and Rebecca are gone. Their parting was bitter. It was difficult seeing them say goodbye to their daughter. I drove them back to town to catch their stage around 9 o'clock. The trip was painfully quiet; there weren't even any birds singing. Rebecca refused my hand when I offered to help her from the wagon. She walked past me and got right into the stage coach. Rufus got down next. I searched his face for some sign that the events of Saturday night had not been completely lost in the drunken sleep that followed. He stepped off the wagon, his eyes refusing to meet mine. I took up their luggage and followed him to the coach. The driver and the shotgun rider took the luggage from me and began to secure it to the roof of the coach. I was about to turn and leave when Rufus turned to face me. He stood, stone-faced. For a brief second I thought I saw the flicker of a smile appear on his lips, then he drew back and punched me hard on the left side of my head. I hit the ground dizzy and disoriented. I looked up through my watering eyes and saw the blurry figure of my father-in-law board the stage and shut the door.
I stood up, and began to walk back to the wagon, my head pounding and my heart hurting, when something struck me in the back of the head causing me to stagger. I turned around to see the coach start moving back East, then looking down at my feet, I saw Rufus's pocket watch lying in the dust. I picked it up, dusted it off, and placed it into my pocket.
Say what you will, but I think the watch was meant as a final sign of acceptance. I think Rufus was giving his watch to the son he never had. That is why I will pass it on to William when he is old enough. Even though it stopped working when it struck me in the head.

Love, Found in an Unexpected Place

The floodgates burst last night. It's odd, but I cannot clearly remember what caused it. It happened at dinner. Rufus and myself had both had quite a bit to drink. In the middle of the meal, Rufus made a comment; something about a blacksmith and a Frenchman, and the Frenchman being French, and the blacksmith being 'colored'. I believe it was mostly the liquor talking, and I am not even sure it made sense, but I know his intentions were hurtful. I slammed down my knife and fork, tried to stand up, tried again and succeeded, and stumbled out to the barn.
I don't know how long I stood there, staring at the wall trying to get my head to stop pounding, but when I turned around Rufus was standing in the doorway. He looked at me with his head bowed. His face looked uncharacteristically sheepish. We stood staring at each other for a few moments before he spoke.
"I wanted to apologize."
"Accepted", I said bitterly.
"No, I'm trying to say that I'm sorry."
"I heard you", I said, "Abigail probably sent you to apologize, and you have done so."
"No, Abby didn't send me, and I'm not just apologizing for tonight. I want to say that I'm sorry... for everything."
This surprised me. I looked him in the eye, and my anger started to fade despite the part of me that was saying I would never forgive him.
"Am I just supposed to forgive and forget the last thirteen years? For thirteen years of you making me feel inadequate? Making me feel like I was never good enough?"
"No, I couldn't expect you to just forgive me, but I am sorry just the same and I needed you to know that."
We looked at each other again.
"All I've ever wanted..." I didn't want to show him any weakness, but I could feel my eyes begin to well. "All I've ever wanted was to feel, for just a moment, that you thought of me as a son."
He had turned his back to me. "I'm sorry for who I am," he said. "I'm a lot of things... I'm good at a lot of things." He turned towards me again and I could see tears shining in his eyes too. "But one thing I can just never seem to do is find the words to say... to find the words to express the way I feel about you."
He put his head in his hands, and let out a long sigh. "You're taking my daughter Jebediah. You're taking her from me again, and this time you're taking her so far away that I don't think I'll ever see her again. But dammit Jebediah, if there is one man that is going to take my daughter from me, I'm glad it's you. I've always been proud of you, and I'm sorry you've never known... I've never been good at sharing my feelings."
I could feel a tear break loose and streak down my face.
"Sir?"
"Call me Rufus."
I smiled. "Rufus, does Mrs. Sugarfoot feel the same?"
"Please, call her Rebecca, and no... she hates your guts."
We stood together for minute, laughing, then as if there was a signal that neither of us could hear, but both could understand, we wept openly and embraced one another.
"I love you son."
"I love you dad."
I never expected to find such tenderness in those old calloused hands, nor such warmth in those old arms, which still had strength enough to crush a kitten.
I awoke this morning, hung over in the barn. Mr. Sugarfoot must have had more than I had last night for he seemingly remembers nothing of our encounter, and punched me in the stomach when I asked to play him at a game of checkers. Still, I suppose I should be grateful. For a few minutes last night, Rufus Sugarfoot was my father, and I, for the first time, was his son.

Neither Seen Nor Heard

They've been here two days. I've been spending a lot of time in my shop. When I am around they still treat me as if I don't exist. Altogether they seem much more somber than usual. I think that in their mind, this trip is the last time they will see their daughter. I have on occasion, overheard Rebecca trying to talk Abigail out of going. As for Rufus, he spends much of his time smoking his pipe on the porch, staring out towards the horizon, as if he is waiting for something that will never arrive.

The Monday of the Week of Misery

I drove the wagon into town early this morning after receiving a message yesterday that Abigail's parents would be arriving today. I arrived in town around 9 o'clock, had a cup of coffee and sat and waited for nearly an hour. Around 10:30, the stagecoach rolled into the station. The horses panted and pawed the ground as the driver jumped down and opened the door. A gloved hand took hold of the driver's outstretched arm and he helped my mother-in-law out of the coach. She stepped gracefully into the dusty road and breathed deep as she took in her surroundings. She was smiling; a good sign. As she continued to look around I stepped forward to welcome her. Our eyes met, and her smile disappeared quicker than the songbirds before a rainstorm.
She greeted me through pursed lips as Rufus climbed out of the coach. He nodded to me, put his arm around his wife, nodded towards their luggage, and walked to the wagon with that same old limp the War of 1812 gave him. I loaded their bags into the wagon and began the long, silent journey back to the house.
When we arrived at the house they happily greeted their daughter and their grandchildren, leaving me to carry their bags to Isaac-Albert's room. Isaac-Albert will be sleeping in the barn temporarily.
Dinner was uncomfortable and so far Rufus and Rebecca seem to be giving me the cold shoulder. I cannnot decide whether I prefer this to the usual constant barrage of criticisms, but I do know that I am not looking forward to the remainder of their visit.