Dovetails in Tall Grass: A Novel by Samantha Specks

Author:Samantha Specks
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: SparkPress
Published: 2021-04-15T00:00:00+00:00

SIXTEEN

Emma Heard

Monday, August 18, 1862, 9:00 a.m.

Though I got little sleep in the sticky night, a miracle met me in the morning. Ma wanted to take Peter and Catherine into town for new shoes. Otto and Uncle Allen were spending the morning raising beams at the Lamplighter Saloon. Ida and I were free to stay home. I could start my teaching application immediately. Pa hitched Kit and Kamish to the wagon and the crew set off for town in the sprightly August morn. I squealed with delight as the wagon dropped out of sight. What brilliant relief. My sister grabbed her straw basket, heading to gather eggs. Of course, Ida, with her perfect sense of duty, would set to her chores immediately. But my irritation lessened as I realized it was all the better for me that she was going; I could write my letter alone. I assured her I’d be out to help shortly.

I was finally, miraculously, alone. I tiptoed like a mischievous child, sneaking paper and an envelope from my father’s desk. I grabbed his inkwell and pen. The hairs on my neck prickled as I felt a strange sense of something creeping and looked back at the door. The house was perfectly still. Perhaps my guilt was making me spook. Guilt, joy, and excitement wrestled within me: writing to the board was a permanent choice, one I could not come back from. I might as well be saying farewell to my family with these pen strokes. My chest ached but I turned determinedly toward this new future. I carried my stolen supplies upstairs and sat upon the edge of the bed, placing the supplies atop my nightstand. From my seat, I could see out the sizeable 16-paned loft window. I watched Ida enter the henhouse. Harmless clouds drifted carefree across the sky. I walked to the wardrobe, taking Whitman’s Leaves of Grass out from the bottom. How far I had come since I first read this, years ago. I opened to the pages holding Miss Knudsen’s letter. The page I’d read so many times before felt different now.

Not I, nor anyone else can travel that road for you.

You must travel it by yourself.

It is not far. It is within reach.

Perhaps you have been on it since you were born, and did not know.

Perhaps it is everywhere—on water and land.

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