Remember Me
His Father's Son
and
The Long Journey Home
(Little House on the Prairie)
Told from John Jr. Sanderson's perspective
Remember Me:
My name is John Jr. Sanderson and I am descended from John Sr. Sanderson and Julia Stiles. Their ancestors were the Puritans of Massachusetts who built colonies in the New World to raise their children and worship God as they saw fit. However, my parents were born in the 19th century and wished to settle in Minnesota. I was born on the way in the covered wagon and my brother Carl and sister Alicia followed soon after we had settled in the town of Walnut Grove.
I distinctly remember the illnesses that plagued my mother when she carried my sister. Sometimes she would stay in bed and ask her friend Grace Snyder to help her with the chores. However she said she counted it all joy for when her time came, her heart would be overflowing with gladness for she had yet another child to share her heart with as the Lord had said to his disciples. My mother was a tall, stately woman with dark eyes, dark hair and a rich, low voice that spoke with a mixture of tenderness and authority and I never found anything she taught me to be wrong or worthless. Whenever a hardship befell us, she was the first to quote scripture and pray hand in hand with us, so strong was her faith, as the prophets of old. She was as gentle as a dove, yet as brave as a lion. I never doubted for a moment, she would give her life for us. I will never forget the day she held us together as a hen gathers her chicks and we wept, for the typhus epidemic that swept through the town had claimed our father's life. I knew her heart was broken but she never cried in front of us. She simply closed her eyes, nodded gently and said "It is God's will. One day we will see him again."
My father had fair hair and blue eyes like my brother Carl. He loved poetry and books and shared them with us by the fireside. When I was little, I was easily distracted by my toys on the floor but as I grew older I acquired a passion for the pen and ink that has never let go of me since but overwhelmed and possessed me body and soul. While the other boys played ball and chased each other with sticks, I was content to walk through the woods with my paper and pencil. I wrote about everything that came to me, in those quiet hours. My notebook would be filled within a week and my parents scolded me saying paper wasn't cheap and I needed it for school. I promised I would only write about something that stayed in my mind for a long time.
My greatest love, besides writing, was taking little animals home that were young or injured so I could care for them until they were able to care for themselves. Sometimes the crops were less than stellar and we went to bed a little hungry. In times like these, my father would take up the rifle and head for the woods. He asked me to join him, but I couldn't bear the thought of killing anything, even though I understood the neccessity of it.
"You possess a rare beauty in here." he said, pressing his hand to my heart. "Never lose it, son. It will serve you well when you have a family of your own."
When I was fourteen, the Ingalls came to Walnut Grove and they were our dearest friends. I caught sight of the eldest daughters Mary and Laura, running through the hills on their way to school. Mary turned to me and waved hello. And as her sea-blue eyes met my deep brown ones, I was smitted by Cupid's arrow. Perhaps you may think it odd that a boy of fourteen should fall in love and carry that love to the ending of his days, yet I am the boy that was. She was quiet and introspective and shared my passion for books. Her lifelong dream was to be a teacher and then a wife and mother. I will never forget the day I asked her to be my wife. As we kissed, I held her fast and a warmth coursed through my veins, filling me with indescribable joy. My Highland Mary was a princess in mine eyes and I knew I would do anything for her. It touches me deeply to think of how young and hopeful our hearts were, little knowing of the great storm that would befall her shortly after we stood before the altar and made our vows to God. When I learned she was destined to leave the world of the sighted forever, I thought the world would end for us. But I found to my astonishment, the Lord had given me the strength to walk her gently through those first few tempestuous days. She was a princess to me then, she is a princess to me now. Oh my Highland Mary, it will not be long before we will be together again. Truly, there is no one in the world like you...no one.
One day, my mother took us to visit the Ingalls. Mary and Laura had rescued a trio of puppies from a farmer who tied them up in a sack with a rock and threw it in the creek. The girls plunged in and retrieved the sack. Because they acted so quickly, not one puppy was lost. Being a great lover of nature and hating to kill anything, I felt a shiver run down my spine. It was the most insanely evil thing I had ever heard of. If only I had been there with a large stick, I would have thrashed the man within an inch of his life. Looking back on it all, it seems so mysterious that they were there at just the right time. It was as if it was meant to be.
The puppies were small, white and curly, like a combination of a retriever and poodle. My sister Alicia was smitten immediately.
"You be the one to ask Ma." I said. "It's always easy for you to get her to say yes. You've got those sad puppy dog eyes and that makes it really hard for anyone to say no to."
As we walked to school, Ma, Mrs. Ingalls and Miss Snyder followed close by. I said "We've got to hurry. Bye." Then I gave a sidelong glance at Alicia, indicating it was time for her to play her part.
Ma gave her permission to keep the puppy but she also had a stern talk with me afterwards, for Alicia confessed how I had put her up to it.
"I don't mind you asking for things." she said. "But I want you to be honest. You're becoming a man and you're too old to be doing underhanded things like that. One day, you'll have to..."
She stopped and looked away. A dark cloud came over her face for a moment.
"What's that?" I asked.
"Nothing." she said, nervously. "You go on now. I'll see you tonight."
That night, she gathered us around the fireside as we had when Papa was alive. I thought perhaps we were going to read the bible together. There was something so mysterious about her face as it flickered in the firelight-so full of care, yet so peaceful and content.
"Do you remember when your father died and I said we'd all see him again one day?" she asked.
"In Heaven?" asked Alicia.
"That's right." she said, brushing her cheek. "In Heaven...Well, some of us are going to see him sooner than others and the good Lord has decided I'm going to see him very soon."
It was as though a bomb had been dropped and all that was left was a charred wasteland. The words had a horrible finality to them. It was so difficult to accept the reality of what I had just heard. I wondered if I had heard her wrong.
"What are you saying?" I asked.
She gave me a long and solemn look. She had been seeing Doctor Baker in secret and he diagnosed her with cancer of the lymph nodes. She made me promise not to tell my brother and sister as not to worry them. I had prayed day and night for a miracle. Now my worst fears were coming true.
"Oh my God, Ma." I sobbed.
She was so resigned to her fate, she even welcomed it and she seemed almost bewildered that I should feel devastated.
"Just a minute young man." she said sternly. "You watch how you use the Lord's name. And I'll have none of that crying either. There's no reason to cry for someone who's going to live in Heaven. You're crying for yourself, not for me!"
I did not mean to cry but I could not help the tears that sprung to my eyes. I thought I had born all I could bear when my father died and the prospect of losing my mother a year later seemed unthinkable. She did not mean to be harsh; she simply wanted me to be strong for my siblings because I was the eldest. I drove the wagon to town, chopped the wood and plowed the field ever since my father died even though I was only fifteen. "You are the man of the house now." she would say over and over again. "One day you will have a family of your own and it's time you learned to act the part."
Her face softened and she dried my cheeks.
"There. That's better. Now...I don't know exactly when I'm going to be with your Pa, so we have to make plans. We've got to find you a new Ma and Pa."
"I don't want one." said Carl. "I just want you."
"Carl, the Lord's made his decision. You love me, don't you?"
"More than anything."
"If you love me, you'll help me. We've got things to do and I need your help. Allright?"
"Allright."
"I've talked to Mr. Ingalls and he'll make sure you find a good home. He's a good man and I trust him with my life. Come Sunday, we're going to church and I want you fixed up in your finest, sparkling clean and proud. I don't want to see your heads hanging in church. You're John Sanderson's children...and you've a right to be proud...Now off to bed. I'll tuck you in."
Usually, I would consider myself too old to be "tucked in" but tonight I welcomed it for it could very well be the last time.
Alicia held her new puppy close to her bosom.
"Will my puppy go to Heaven if he's good?" she asked.
"Of course he will." said Ma.
"Then will we all be together?"
"Forever and ever."
Ma then turned to Carl.
"No talking when I shut the door. I don't want sleepyheads in church."
"Ok Ma."
Last, she went to me. She had no words; her face said it all. She knew I wanted to be a writer and find the girl of my dreams like the heroes in the books I had read and it saddened her to think of the poems and stories I would write that she would never read, the homestead I would build that she would never see and the grandchildren she would never know. It was all I could do to keep from crying again. She said I felt my emotions very strongly and passionately-that I internalized them too much. As we embraced and kissed, I held on so tight, she had to remove my arms.
"I won't cry, Ma." I whispered.
She smiled and left the room.
When I awoke, at first I thought our conversation last night was a dream. I would tell it to my mother and she would assure me everything was allright. But I knew in my heart there was nothing to be done. She asked the Rev. Aldrin to let her speak after the service. She made all three of us face the congregation with her. I would much rather, she had not. I felt so stiff and awkward as if we were slaves to be auctioned off.
"Good afternoon friends." she said. "Some of you may not know me. I'm the widow Sanderson and these are my children John Jr, Carl and Alicia. I'll make this as brief as possible. I know it's warm in here and the reverend did get a little longwinded today."
The congregation laughed softly.
"It's really very simple...I always felt I was too ornery to die but it seems I was wrong. God must have found some good in me because he's calling me early. My young'uns here will need a new home. I won't go on about what fine children they are, because as their mother, I'm a bit prejudiced. But they are fine students and well-mannered as I'm sure Miss Beadle here can tell you. Anyway, I wanted to let it be known that they'll be needing a family. I'd appreciate it if no one said anything right way. It's not a decision to be made in haste. It takes nine months to have a child, so folks should at least think on it a day or two before having three. Well, that's about it. Thank you."
After church, Ma invited Miss Snyder and her fiancee Mr. Edwards and the Ingalls to join us for a picnic.
Mr. Edwards was a mountain man who had lived by his wits since he was a child. He had a rather tragic past, for his wife and daughter died of smallpox long before he came to Walnut Grove, yet he always seemed so merry around us children. While he loved us all the same, he had a special spot for my sister Alicia because she reminded him of the little girl he had lost. He would dazzle us with tales of his adventures and unlike most yarnspinners, they were all true. Brilliant, hilarious Mr. Edwards, how I miss you still.
We all played blind-man's buff by the lake and even my mother joined us for her heart was as light as a feather. When we all settled down to eat, I sat next to Mary Ingalls and shared a poem from one of my books. Laura and Carl teased us, saying we were too mushy but I did not care. I was in love and I saw no reason to hide my feelings as long as they were sincere. When we parted ways, I gave her a sprig of flowers.
Then it happened. The next day, when we were getting ready for school, Ma collapsed. She was very pale and found breathing difficult. I took her arm and helped her to her bed.
"Go get Doctor Baker, Rev. Aldrin and the Ingalls." she said.
I hugged her quickly and did as I was told.
When I got home, Alicia was in great distress. She ran to me with open arms and I rocked her back and forth for what seemed an eternity. Carl paced back and forth, silently the way our father would when something was bothering him.
The Ingalls stayed in Ma's bedroom for a long time. When they came out they said she wanted to see us.
Alicia jumped onto the bed and nestled in her mother's arms for what would be the last time. Carl and I sat at a distance.
"Grace Snyder will watch over you until the Ingalls find you a home. Be sure to mind her."
"Yes'm." said Carl.
She closed her eyes and said softly. "I am the Resurrection and the Life. He that believeth in me, though he were dead, shall live. And whosoever believeth in me, shall never die. Do you believe this Alicia?"
"Yes."
"Do you believe this Carl?"
"Yes."
"Do you believe this John."
"Yes." I said, sniffing.
"Good. When you miss me, remember this and hold fast to it. Carl, Alicia, will you go now? I want to speak to your brother alone."
They both left. My mother looked long and hard and there was worry in her eyes, though her voice remained calm.
"Look after them, John."
"I will. I promise."
"I can't promise you a home together. You're good children but there are not many people who would be willing to take in three at once. I have not told the others. It would be too much for them to bear, now. They will find out in their own good time. Never, ever broach the subject to them."
"Of course."
"Love the Lord, work hard, honor your promises, hold fast to your friendships, be at war with your vices and I can always be hopeful for you."
This was too much for me. I bowed my head and wept like a child.
"I promise."
"There now. You are the man of the house. I did not want the others to see you cry. That is why I scolded you. I will not do so now."
I threw my arms around her.
"I won't let you go." I sobbed.
"Oh...that Mary Ingalls is quite a young woman...You love her, don't you, John?"
"Yes."
"Does she feel the same?"
"I don't know."
"Well...give it time. When you come of age...think on it. It would be a fine thing for both of you."
The next morning, she was gone. I had no more tears, just a dry emptiness inside. Mechanically, I dressed myself, took my coat and umbrella and headed for the top of the hill where she would be buried next to our father. I stood at the new cross with Carl and Alicia huddling at my sides. It rained so hard, it seemed the Heavens themselves were crying. My sister-in-law, Laura said they did this to replenish the earth so new things would come alive. When I asked her who told her that, she smiled mysteriously and said "A good friend of mine." This friend of hers was a hermit who watched over her when she ran away from home until her father and Mr. Edwards found her. They were certain he was her guardian angel.
It was a small gathering, only the pastor, doctor, mill owner, the Ingalls, Mr. Edwards and Ms. Snyder.
The pastor opened his bible and read from Psalms.
"I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made Heaven and Earth. He will not suffer thy foot to be moved. He that keepeth thee will not slumber. Behold, he that keepeth Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. The Lord is thy keeper: the Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand. The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord will preserve thee from all evil: He will preserve thy soul. The Lord will preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, now and forevermore. Amen."
He took a paper from his coat.
Julia Sanderson asked me to read this today. She wrote it to all of you, loved ones and friends alike.
'Remember me with smiles and laughter for that's the way I'll remember you all. If you can only remember me with tears, then don't remember me at all.'"
For a week, we stayed home from school. I went about the farmyard chores while Grace Snyder cleaned and watched over my siblings. When I was finished, I took long walks in the woods. It was so refreshing to come in contact with nature-to listen to the sounds, look at all the plants and trees and spot the occasional deer. As I sat by the creek, I pondered all my mother had told me. Somehow, I felt she was still with me in some mysterious way, like the cloud of witnesses in the Bible. I looked up and whispered. "Oh Ma, I hope one day, I can be like you."
Mr. Edwards was our greatest comfort and joy. Every day he came to help me with the repairs in the barn. He even offered to make a treehouse for us. He could be gruff and cantankerous in a very funny sort of way.
"If you hand up one more board, I think we got her finished." he said, putting on the final touches. He had been so engrossed in the project, he had locked himself into the house. There was only one opening and it seemed he was about to nail a board there as well.
I looked uneasily at my brother Carl.
"I think you'd better tell him." said Carl.
"Mr. Edwards." I called.
"Hmm? What?"
"Uh, I didn't want to say anything 'cause you said you'd built a lot of tree houses..."
"Oh, hundreds of them is all."
"Well, I think you forgot something on this one."
"Well, what would that be?"
"A door, or a hole, or something so as we can get in."
He looked around and saw the problem. He took one of the boards that had been freshly nailed and wrenched it free.
"There!" he grunted. "There's your door! That there's a king-size door, ain't it? You can drive a wagon through it. Boys, see if you can find some more nails."
"Yes sir." I said.
A few hours later, the treehouse was finished. While I was writing in the woods, Alicia came to me, looking sad.
"Alicia, why are you crying? Is it Mama?"
She shook her head.
"Well what then?"
She put her arms around me.
"Grace and Mr. Edwards were talking. They said a rich lady is coming to see me."
"Oh, well I'm sure she's nice."
"It isn't that...there's a farmer and his wife who wants you and Carl. Neither of them want all of us."
I stroked her hair gently, trying to think of what Ma would say."
"Oh...I see. Well, I'd like to stay together too but we can't always have what we want. The Lord will provide. He just doesn't always answer us the way we want him to."
"It's not fair."
"I know. I know. Mr. Ingalls is a good man. He might not be able to find us a home together but he wouldn't give us to someone bad...Come now. No more tears. Let's go home and play checkers, how's that?"
Alicia smiled and nodded.
Minerva Farnsworth was a dowager from Minneapolis and cousin to Harriet Oleson, the storekeeper's wife. She had never married and wanted a little girl to raise as her granddaughter. She spoke of all the oppurtunities she wanted to give my sister-a governess, then a boarding school, fine clothes and plenty of parties. Maybe even a trip to Europe once in a while. Mr. and Mrs. Anders were the farming couple who wanted to adopt me and Carl. The husband was interested in hired hands-young enough to bring up and old enough to do the work around the farm and earn our keep. Later on, I learned the wife briefly mentioned she wanted a little girl too but her husband hushed her up.
I couldn't help feeling a bit envious of Alicia, for I had read of such fine homes and glittering circles of people from my books and always wished I could jump through the pages and enter that world, for I was the sort of boy who wanted to know a little bit of everything. But I tried not to begrudge her, her luck. Miss Farnsworth was a fine lady and said she liked me and Carl but one child was all she could handle and besides an offer had already been made for us. I only hoped Alicia would not change in her feelings towards us as she grew up when she was elevated in status.
All of us were feeling quite subdued when we came home so Mr. Edwards played the harmonica for us. Soon we were clapping and dancing around him and the bleakness of our prospects seemed nonexistant for a moment.
Then Mr. Ingalls came in and said he wanted to talk to us alone. I ushered my siblings into the bedroom and held them close. I knew exactly where this was headed and wasn't looking forward to seeing how they would take it in. Mr. Ingalls paced back and forth, nervously. He found it difficult to look us in the face and no wonder for he felt he had failed us...and our mother.
"You know...I made a promise to your ma. I promised her I'd find a home for you...And I want you to know I did my best. It's...It's just not easy for folks taking on a big family all of a sudden. The Anders think real highly of you boys. They're good people. They've got a good farm. It will be a real good home for you. And you all know what a fine lady Miss Farnsworth is. She lives in Minneapolis. She's got a big house. And she told me that...she thought Alicia was about the prettiest thing she ever saw.
I wanted to find a home for you together but I couldn't. It won't be easy at first. But everything will be all right...And Alicia can come visit lots of times. Minneapolis is close, real close. Well...That's it."
"Mr. Ingalls." I said. "Ma told us to do whatever you said. She said you knew best. We know you tried. We'll be all right."
"After church on Thursday."
That evening, we packed silently. There were no tears or sighs for we had been taught by our mother to manfully accept whatever fate sent us. Then we thanked Miss Snyder and Mr. Edwards for watching over us and went to bed.
It was a beautiful Thanksgiving day when we went to church. A friendly wind passed by and the trees turned gold, red and orange. Looking back on it all, I realize the timing could not have been more perfect for we had much to be grateful for that day. As we sat in the back of the church, the pastor's words went straight to my heart.
"We have much to be thankful for this day as we've gathered here in God's house. I'd like to think that our church could be overflowing on all days, not just the ones that are special. Because all of our days here on God's earth are special. Remember that this Thanksgiving day so your hearts may be filled with joy and love all the year through. Reach now for the hand of a friend or a loved one and feel the strength that can only come from caring while I read this psalm.
'Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all ye lands. Serve the Lord with gladness. Come before his presence with singing. Know ye that the Lord is God. It is he who made us...not we ourselves. We are his people; the sheep of his pasture. Enter into his gates with Thanksgiving and into his courts with praise. Be thankful unto him...Bless his name. For the Lord is good, his mercy is everlasting...and his truth endureth to all generations. Amen.'"
As we filed out of the church, my feet grew heavy with every step. I had prepared myself for this moment-when the Anders and Miss Farnsworth would separate us. They were standing at the foot of the stairs to the church doors, smiling.
"We'd like just a minute alone please." I asked.
"Certainly." said Miss Farnsworth.
I took my brother and sister aside. Carl was taking it manfully on the chin but poor Alicia was crying. I bent over and placed my hands on her arms.
"We'll be all right." I said. "Don't worry about us. Ma said Mr. Ingalls is a good man. He knows what he's doing. You won't be so far away. We'll see each other very soon. Don't worry and remember we love you."
I hugged her tightly for a moment then returned to the group.
"We're ready." I said.
"Come child." said the dowager.
Alicia stepped forward cautiously.
"It's allright."
Alicia drew back and clung tightly to me.
"No it ain't!" said a voice at the top of the stairs. It was Mr. Edwards. "It ain't allright. Look, Charles, I got mad at you the other day 'cause, uh...well, I wasn't...I wasn't mad at you. I was mad at me. You were right. I'm alone because I made that choice. But don't ask me why. I don't know. I just...maybe guilt, fear, I don't...I don't know. If I knew the reason, I wouldn't be alone right now. I got nothing agin' you, Miss Farnsworth, or any of you folks. It's just that I think these children ought to stay together."
He descended the steps to Miss Snyder.
"Grace, um...I know this ain't the time or the place, but if we're going to have us a family we ought to get ourselves married."
Grace was dumbfounded.
"Oh, Isaiah'. I..."
"Now, I love you. You hear that? I ain't afraid to say it no more. And I love them kids, too. Well, the point is, if you all will have me, I'll do my best to make you happy."
Grace smiled and wept for joy.
"Well, I'll do the best I can too!"
They turned to us and smiled. And a surge of joy leapt into our souls and we ran to their arms, laughing and crying at the same time.
The Ingalls joined us as we stood before the altar with Grace, Isaiah and the Rev. Aldrin. Little did I know, our families would be bound by even closer ties a few years later when Mary and I did the same. Fate may be a fickle master, but like Mary and Laura and the puppies, sometimes it seems as though it was meant to be.
His Father's Son:
A year passed and I was sixteen. As I gathered around the birthday cake with my brother, sister and new parents, I felt as happy as a prince. Carl and Alicia gave me a book of poems by John Keats and Mrs. Edwards gave me a quill pen and fine paper. I hugged them tight and thanked them for it was just what I wanted. Then I opened Mr. Edwards' present. It was a long, wooden rifle. I felt very quiet and solemn as he raved about it.
"Stand up there. Feel the weight of that thing. That there is a genuine Winchester 73. Well, look at that. It's got a walnut stock, sporting front, and rear sights. Why, you can't get a better rifle than that. Well, what do you think?"
"It's beautiful." I said, quietly.
"Well, what's the matter?"
"Well... I mean, isn't it too expensive? It must have cost you dear."
"Oh, don't you worry none about what the cost was. You see that? He had me fooled there. Thought he didn't like it."
"No, I like the gun. Thank you very much."
"Hey, I'll tell you what. Come Saturday morning, you and me, we're gonna go out and have ourselves a little hunting trip. How's that sound?"
I smiled weakly. "Sounds fine."
"Can I come, too?" asked Carl.
"Well, we'll have to see about that. You know, there's times when the older menfolks like to get off by themselves. Ain't that right, John?"
"Yes sir."
"Well, you menfolk can just talk about that later." said Grace. "Right now I want to get this cake cut and served before it gets old. Here you are, John."
"Thank you. Thank you all."
That night, I felt bad for my new father. I didn't want to hurt his feelings, so I pretended to like the new rifle. I had always felt insecure about not being able to kill. I understood the importance of it-after all, store bought meat wasn't cheap. When I came of age and had a wife and children I would have to manfully put aside my feelings for the sake of the greater good. But I just wasn't there yet.
I told Mrs. Edwards how I felt and she said she would discuss it with him. Unfortuanetly, the next day he strongly urged me to go. He said it was high time I learned one of the hard facts of life and I was too old to be "collywaddled." He did not mean to sound harsh; he was just hurt at not being able to connect with me by sharing the things he loved. I put on my hat, picked up the rifle and headed to the woods with him. I hoped I would be able to shoot for his sake; after all, it was because of him, my siblings and I were not separated, and I owed him this. But the more I thought about it, the worse I felt.
We stopped at a lake to rest. I sat down with my notebook and thought about what to say-it seemed the words came better from the tip of my pencil than the curve of my lips.
Dear Mr. Edwards...
It seems so funny writing that...Mr. Edwards. I want so much to just say 'Pa' or 'Dad' or something, but I can't-not unless I know that you want me to. And I just don't feel like you do. I guess it's because I can't be the kind of son you'd want. Maybe I could be someday. I'll try. I'll try as hard as I can to make you proud of me, but I'm afraid now because I know in my heart that I can't do what you want me to do. Please try and understand. Please love me anyway.
John
"Here." I said, handing the note to him.
"Thanks. I'll read it later."
"No. Read it now. Please."
He looked over it for a moment, then stuffed it in his shirt pocket.
"Allright. Let's go."
I knew he considered me weak and foolish and I didn't blame him. But I just had to share what was in my heart. We walked deeper into the woods. Just then, we heard the crackling of branches. Something was near.
"Stand back." said Mr. Edwards, sternly. "Cock your rifle."
I did as was told. He stepped forward listening carefully for every rustle. Then it happened. There was a deafening roar and a large black bear appeared. It happened so fast, it seemed he had fallen out of the sky. He seized Mr. Edwards and mauled him back and forth.
"SHOOT HIM! SHOOT HIM!" he hollered.
I looked back to this day over and over again trying to figure out what was going through my mind. I wanted so badly to shoot but I felt rooted to the spot, powerless to do anything. Fortuanetly, the bear only hit him about four times, took the sandwiches out of his backpack and trudged off.
I ran to his side. His head was covered with blood.
"Go get help." he mumbled.
That evening, Carl and Alicia stayed over at the Ingalls. Doctor Baker bandaged Mr. Edwards' head and shoulders.
"If it had been anyone else, I'd say there was no chance." he said. "But that man is as strong as they come."
I walked to the barn and sat down, staring at my rifle. This was the worst day of my life-even worse than when my parents died. If Mr. Edwards didn't make it through the night, his blood would be on my hands. There was darkness all around me and there was darkness in my heart. Mr. Ingalls found me. I expected a well-deserved reproach but instead found complete sympathy and understanding.
"He's strong. He's gonna be all right."
I shook my head.
"It's my fault."
"Come on. What kind of thing is that to say?"
"It's the truth. I just stood there and watched...Mr. Ingalls, what's wrong with me?"
"There's nothing wrong with you, boy."
"Then why didn't I shoot? He begged me to shoot. He kept screaming it over and over. And I just stood there..."
"John, all sorts of things run through a man's mind. There's no telling what any of us would have done."
"But I'm not a man."
"Sure you are."
"No, I'm not! Don't you understand? I'm not! If I were, he wouldn't be in there dying right now."
"Now, I don't want you to talk about dying. I just told you he'd be all right."
"I... I wanted to be like him, but I couldn't...I wanted him to be proud of me. I wanted him to love me."
Mr. Ingalls knelt down beside me and put his hand on my shoulder.
"He does love you."
"No, he doesn't. And I don't blame him either."
"John..."
"Leave me alone, Mr. Ingalls, please!"
Mr. Ingalls left.
I picked up a rock and scrapped myself until I bled, so great was my despair. I stared at the gun once more, his cries still echoing in my mind. I picked up the gun, grabbed a handful of bullets and headed for the woods. I found refuge in the roots of a large tree and stayed there all night. The bear might come back but I did not care. I wished it had been me instead.
The next morning, I loaded the rifle. I would come back with some game to show my father I wasn't a coward. A young male deer came by. I held it proper and took aim. But once again, I felt I was betraying myself, so I shot the bullets into the ground. I collapsed in a pile of leaves and cried until my nose ran and my head throbbed. I could hear an accusing voice hissing in my ears "It's all your fault!" I then felt my pocket and discovered there were a few bullets left. Slowly, as if in a trance, I took them out, loaded them and placed the rifle in my mouth.
"Oh God, I know this is a sin." I whispered. "But I just can't live with myself anymore. Please don't send me to Hell."
"Don't do it." said a voice.
I took the rifle out of my mouth and turned around. It was Mr. Ingalls once more.
"Don't do it." he repeated.
"Why not?" I said. "I had the power to save him and I didn't. And now I just want to die."
"How do you think your death will affect the people who love you? Your brother, your sister..."
I stared at the ground.
"I came out here...I wanted to prove something to myself. I had a deer in my sights standing right over there...But I couldn't. I don't blame him for how he feels about me. We're just two different people, that's all."
"He loves you."
"No, he doesn't."
"It's that letter you wrote him, isn't it?"
I gasped. "How did you know?"
"Grace found it in his pocket."
"Then you know I'm right. He read it...and it didn't mean anything to him. He just stuffed it in his pocket...It's not easy to write something like that."
"He can't read."
"What?"
"Isaiah can't read and he can't write...You want him to be proud of you...Well, he feels the same way. That's why he didn't want you to know he couldn't read, because he wants you to respect him."
"Oh God."
"You want to be like he is, and he wants to be like your Pa was...He loves you, boy. He loves you."
I threw my arms around him and wiped away the last tears.
"I want to see him." I said. "I want to go home."
When we got home, Grace had no words at first, only open arms. I was overwhelmed at how easily she forgave me even though she had every reason not to and I counted myself blessed beyond measure to have her as my new mother.
"I'm so glad you're okay." she said. "We all love you, John."
"How is he?" he asked.
"He just woke up. I'm fixing him some broth."
"Can I see him?"
"Sure."
"Do you have my letter?"
"Yes."
"Let me have it, please."
As I looked at Mr. Edwards laying there in the bed all bandaged up, thanks to me, tears welled up in my eyes. I knew it would take a lifetime to forgive myself.
"Tried to show you what a good hunter I was." he mumbled. "Didn't turn out too well, did it?"
"I gave you a letter the other day. Remember?"
"Yeah, I remember."
"Well...I'd like to read it to you now."
"Well, there ain't no need for that."
"Yes, there is...isn't there?"
He looked at me and saw that I knew. I read the note aloud, placed my arms around him and wept one last time. He gently caressed my hair and whispered. "My son...my son."
A week later, he was well enough to get up and move around. One morning, I found him in the treehouse where I usually went to read.
"Pa? Pa?"
"Huh? What?...What is it?"
"Breakfast. Ma sent me out here."
"Oh, yeah, I'm on my way."
"What are you doing up there?"
"Oh, I'm, uh... Resting. Father's got a right to get some rest, ain't he?"
Later that day, I returned to the treehouse and smiled. There was a McGuffy's reader with the bookmarker at the alphabet in the beginning.
The Long Road Home:
Our crop did well that year, but unfortuanetly, the buyers in Mankato wouldn't give my father or Mr. Ingalls a decent price for corn and wheat as they had already bought from some prestigious companies. So they hired themselves out to a freight station for some manual labor. I wanted to go with them and prove my worthiness but I was still in school.
They were gone for three weeks. When Mrs. Edwards read her husband's letter to us before we went to bed, she stopped for a moment then resumed. Carl and Alicia took no notice of it, but being a writer, I knew there was something in it she didn't want us to see and it worried me because she caught her breath as if she were afraid. When Carl and Alicia were asleep, I asked her.
"They're carrying explosives from station to station-nitroglycerin."
I gasped.
"You mean...the stuff in the bottles?"
"Yes."
"Oh dear."
"Oh they'll be allright. Those bottles are in crates with hay and they cool them off with water from time to time to keep the liquid at a stable temperature."
"But supposing one falls out..."
"They won't." she said more sternly. "And don't you ever say a word to Carl or Alicia about it. Now off to bed."
"Yes Ma."
The next morning I visited the Ingalls. The kitchen and dining room was a mess-flour and egg shells everywhere. Mary was at work in her apron and scarf.
"Hi Mary."
"Oh! Hi John!"
"I was wondering if you could help me study for the history exam."
"Oh I'd love to but it's Ma's birthday and I'm making her a cake."
"Where's Laura?"
"She's out back with Carrie. Carrie had an accident."
"Is she okay?"
"Of course, she's okay. It's not that kind of accident."
It took me a minute to understand what she meant.
"Oh!" I said, with a laugh. "Now I get it...Well don't worry. She'll grow out of it."
"I know. Will you reach that bottle of vanilla for me?"
"Sure."
I reached to the top shelf of the cupboard. As I took hold of the bottle, my hands brushed up against a jar of maple syrup, sending it falling.
"Oh! I'm so sorry!" I protested, picking it up.
"It's allright." said Mary. "I'll clean it."
"No. I made the mess. I should be the one to clean it."
"Come now John, you may be king of the pen and paper, but I will be queen in my own kitchen."
"You will be queen wherever you walk." I said.
"What?"
My heart stopped for a moment. I blushed and looked down.
"Forgive me...I should not have said that."
Mary smiled.
"It's allright."
Even in her scarf and flour stained apron, she was as beautiful as a rosebud.
"You know, some wildflowers would look really nice on the cake when it's finished." I said. "What do you say I go get some?"
"That's a lovely idea."
"I'll be right back."
I went outside for a moment and came back with a considerable bouquet.
"Aww, those are so beautiful." said Mary. "Ma will love them."
I took a large pink flower and a piece of Queen Anne's Lace and tucked it between her hair and scarf.
"There." I said. "Now you are truly queen of the kitchen.
She laughed.
"Well, I'd best be going. Tell your Ma, I said happy birthday."
"I will. And thanks."
That day, I ran all the way home, as light as a feather for there was hope in my heart and wings on my heels.