Walk Away West by J.F. Collen

Author:J.F. Collen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: historical fiction, new york in the 1800s, pioneer passage west, womens issues, literary fiction, womens fiction, american old west
Publisher: Evolved Publishing LLC
Published: 2020-09-13T16:00:00+00:00

“Low bridge, everybody down!” shouted Elizabeth, jumping off her chair on the top deck. The other passengers obediently jumped down too.

“Low bridge, everybody down. Low bridge, we’re coming to a town,” the two girls sang. “Much fun,” Elizabeth said, from her crouching position on the deck, even though for this bridge at least, she could have stayed standing. The bottom of the bridge cast its shadow over them as the packet boat slid underneath. “Can we play this at home too?” asked Emma.

Home. Nellie felt a pang of longing for the place to which she might never return.

One of the staff offered them drinks from a tray.

“Mama, iced water with lemon juice, again,” said Emma. “But where do they keep the icehouse?”

Nellie suppressed a grin and explained, “The canawlers pack enough food and supplies for the journey. I am sure they engineered enough room for ice, both as a preservative of perishables and a complement to our beverages.”

The steward overheard her. “Little Ladies, yer in for a treat. Yep, yer mama’s right, we carry our supplies with us, but not a hold-full for the entire journey. You’ll be seeing the farm urchins, in their bateaus, sidling up to our packet. They’ll be hawking their fresh produce, and fresh caught game.”

Just as he finished speaking they heard a shrill, “Halloo!” from the water below. The Wright women looked down and saw a group of children on a flat-bottomed rowboat holding up quail, partridge, and pigeon, as well as bunches of carrots, lettuce, and radishes. As they floated onward, the steward jumped from their packet onto the children’s boat. Nellie and her daughters looked on in amusement as the man haggled for the best price and then bought sixteen quail for their dinner.

“Mama, on land, we travel to the market. On the canal, the market travels to us!” said Emma. Nellie smiled.

The steward threw his bartered bundle on deck and then clambered back onboard. As the children’s rowboat slipped back behind them, the sky darkened. The beautiful autumn day vanished behind a thick black cloud.

CRACCCK! A loud clap of thunder seemed to rumble right behind them.

“Best be heading below, Miss,” said the steward. “Ye won’t want to be out on deck in a thunderstorm.”

Emma looked down the canal and along the berm behind them. “Where did those children go? They mustn’t be out in a storm either.”

“We haven’t yet seen lightning. The storm must still be miles away.” Nellie said, with a soothing hand on Emma’s head. “Furthermore, I am sure any children smart enough to barter with a canal steward aboard a fancy packet boat will be smart enough to vacate the canal in a thunderstorm.”

But as she shepherded the children to the hold below, her eyes scanned up and down the canal. Nowhere to be seen. I hope they arrived safely at their home. I, too, tremble at the thought of children out on the water in a storm. She shuddered, picturing the drowned children washed ashore from the Henry Clay disaster and then laid out in a dignified manner on the beach by Agnes.

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