Pilgrim

Bowman, Doug

ISBN 10: 081254045X / ISBN 13: 9780812540451

Verlag: Forge Books, 2002

Beschreibung

Very Good Condition. Five star seller - Buy with confidence!

Bestandsnummer des Verkäufers X081254045XX2

Bibliografische Details

• Titel: Pilgrim
• Verlag: Forge Books
• Erscheinungsjahr: 2002
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN-10: 081254045X
• ISBN-13: 9780812540451
• Einband: Softcover
• Zustand: Very Good

Über diesen Titel

Inhaltsangabe

Eli Pilgrim abandons his simple life as an Ohio pig farmer to seek fame and fortune in the wide open spaces of Texas, unaware of the challenges, dangers, and hardship he is about to confront. Reprint.

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1
 
 
It was nigh onto midnight when the three Pilgrim brothers stepped through the doorway of their southwestern Ohio cabin and hung up their heavy coats. "I'll bet you I'm gonna quit chasing them hogs just as soon as this cold weather's over," the youngest of the boys was saying. "Ain't no way in the world to keep 'em in a fence a quarter mile long, nohow. I'm gonna sell my part of 'em at the first sign of spring, then get me a good saddle horse and head for Texas. I've heard that a man can make a living chasing cows out there, and that he can sit on his butt while he's doing it"
"You shouldn't believe everything you hear, Eli," the oldest of the boys said, as all three pulled up chairs and seated themselves in front of the fireplace beside their mother. "It's been my experience that there's always a catch to anything that sounds all that good."
"So, what if there is a little more to it than I heard?" Eli asked emphatically. "It's still gotta be better'n chasing hogs in the snow three or four nights a week, with the cold wind cutting you in two and blowing your lantern out every time you turn around. I tell you, Lawton, I've made up my mind. I'm heading for Texas as soon as the grass turns green."
Ophelia Pilgrim had been sitting beside the fire listening to the conversation between her sons. She hung the sweater she had been knitting across the back of a nearby chair. "I suppose you're old enough to do whatever you set your mind to, Eli," she said. "Twenty-five percent of them hogs belongs to you, and I believe that'll come to about fifty head. I'll speak to your Uncle Neely tomorrow. If he don't want to buy you out, maybe me and your brothers can scrape up the money."
Lawton spoke quickly. "You don't need to talk to nobody, Ma. We can get the money ourselves." He motioned to his youngest brother. "If Eli wants to walk out on what's gonna be the most prosperous hog farm in Ohio, just let him go. He always did think different from the rest of us, anyhow."
Justin, the brother yet to be heard from, spoke now. "You ought not to be running off nowhere, Eli," he said. "We should have our own bacon- and sausage-making business going in about two years, then we can quit selling live hogs to the other companies and start getting rich ourselves."
Eli shook his head. "I've made my decision, Justin. I'm gonna sell out and go to Texas."
"So be it," the mother said with finality. "I don't want to hear you older boys trying to talk him into changing his mind, either. He's old enough to do his own thinking now, and for all we know, his idea might be better'n ours." She shoveled ashes over the coals in the fireplace, then turned the coal-oil lamp down low. Just before she disappeared down the narrow hall-way, she added over her shoulder. "I'm gonna call it a night, and I reckon you boys oughta turn in, too. Them hogs might be out again by daylight."
Three minutes later, the cabin was dark and quiet.
Eli Pilgrim lay awake for a long time making his plans. He appreciated his mother saying he was old enough to do his own thinking. Of course he was. He would turn twenty one years old on the third day of April, about the some time the grass turned green. Then, leading a pack mule loaded with enough provisions to last a month, he would ride off this hill a full-grown man. And he should have no problem finding his way to Texas. He already had a map, and his father's pocket compass was still lying o the mantelpiece above the fireplace. He would put the instrument in his pocket so he could refer to it anytime he was uncertain about directions.
And he would not spend one minute worrying about his mother. Though she was fifty-five years old now, her health seemed to be good, and he had never known her to be sick with anything worse than a bad cold. Anyway, his brothers would remain close by even if they should eventually marry, and good old Uncle Neely, the older brother of Eli's dead father, Jake, could always be depended upon in an emergency.
A veteran of the Civil War, Jake Pilgrim had died in a hunting accident in the fall of 1866. "My brother fought that war for nearly four years without gittin' a scratch," Eli had often heard his uncle say, "then accident'ly shot hisself to death tryin' to git a damn Thanksgivin' turkey."
Being only five years old when his father went to war, Eli had not become well acquainted with him until after the conflict was over. Jake Pilgrim had not been home from the war for more than a week when he bought his youngest son a rifle and set about teaching him to stalk game. Father and son hunted together for well over a year, during which time the son became an excellent marksman.
New Year's Eve of 1865 was a day that Eli would remember as long as he lived. That was the morning his father had spotted a big buck lying in its bed but passed up the shot so that his young son might have it. With the cold wind blowing out of the north, they had just walked around to the south side of a frost-covered hill when Pilgrim suddenly put a hand on his son's shoulder and brought him to a halt He put a forefinger to his lips, then pointed across the hill.
Following his father's point with his eyes, Eli eventually saw the flick of an ear, then was able to make out the head and antlers of a buck deer lying in the tall grass. The animal was looking straight at them. Eli lowered the barrel of his rifle very slowly, then took aim and fired. The big buck dropped its head and kicked a few times, then lay still.
"You hit him right between the eyes, son," his father said when they had closed the distance. "Right smack in the face!"
"That's the only part of him I could see, Pa," Eli said, then stood by while his father hugged his neck.
Jake Pilgrim slit the animal's throat, then turned the carcass over. "He's a monster, all right," he said. "I've been hunting deer for more'n thirty years, but I never shot one this big. We've got to hang these antlers on the wall."
"Do you know how to mount 'em, Pa?"
"Sort of, but I know your Uncle Neely can do it better. I'll talk to him about it."
Uncle Neely had mounted the antlers on a cedar board, and to this day they hung above the fireplace in the front room of the cabin. Eli himself had eventually begun to ignore them, for thinking about them always gave him a choky feeling. He cherished the days he had spent in the woods with his father, and looking at the antlers brought back too many memories.
Though Jake Pilgrim had treated his wife and all of his sons exceedingly well, he had always seemed to have a special affection for his youngest And the feeling had been mutual. In fact, even after ten years, a day never passed that Eli did not think of his father. Now, as he lay in bed thinking, he could not help wondering what Jake Pilgrim would think of his youngest son's decision to leave the farm and head west.
Eli's last thought before going to sleep was the same as it had been on countless nights before: if he himself had been on that last turkey hunt, would the situation have turned out differently? Would his father have had the gun pointed in some other direction when it accidentally discharged? Knowing that he would never know the answer, the young man finally fluffed up his pillow and drifted off to sleep.
* * *
On the first day of April, older brother Lawton handed Eli a stack of double eagles across the kitchen table. "We had to borrow a little of that from Uncle Neely," he said, "but we were bound and determined to treat you right. Your share of the hogs turned out to be forty-eight head, and Ma figures they're worth about three-fifty apiece. Uncle Neely says they wouldn't bring more'n three dollars a head on the open market, but we decided to give you a little above market value." He pointed to the coins. "Two hundred dollars there, and I'd say you're gonna be needing it all in that godforsaken place you're heading off...