Hoggee by Anna Myers Page A

Howard on the shoulder. “I’ve been promoted, little brother!”
    Howard stared at his brother. “A bowman, not a hoggee? I thought bowman were grown men.”
    Jack laughed. “I’m sixteen,” he said. “It appears that isman enough for Captain Travis.” He pulled himself up to sit very straight. “He said he had been keeping his eye on me. Liked my work, that’s what he said.”
    â€œYou’ll make more money,” said Howard. “Ma will be glad of that.”
    â€œThat I will, twelve dollars a month and less work to boot. I can tell you I’d rather see to that towrope than drive the mules. All that money, and all I have to do is keep that rope clear of tangles.”
    â€œYou’ve got to secure the boat in the locks, too,” said Howard.
    Jack smiled. “I like the locks, always have.”
    Howard liked the locks, too, watching the water being shut in or let out to move the water to a different level of the landscape. There were always interesting things going on at the locks, too. Drivers had a chance to hear stories told by the lockmen and watch fights over one boat slowing another one down. Howard was careful not to be involved in the fights, but Jack sometimes took part.
    That night Howard lay awake in Molly’s stall for a long time. Jack had started his climb. Howard had known it would happen, but he hadn’t expected it quite so soon. From bowman, Jack would probably move up to being a helmsman and then a captain. Howard remembered old Cyrus’s words: “Your brother is a likely lad.” Everyone noticed. Jack was apt to be a captain before he was twenty. He would undoubtedly be the youngest captain on the Erie Canal and be written about in newspapers and history books.
    Howard went to sleep thinking of Jack in his handsome captain’s uniform, blue with gold braids. He imagined the boat pulling away with Jack on the deck,waving good-bye to people at the canal’s edge. He saw himself, too, on the towpath as usual. He would be driving Molly as always, and he would be watching for flowers to fasten in her harness.
    Howard dreaded telling Laura that their lessons were about to end. He said nothing during the morning lesson, but he did push her more than usual. “Let’s do two lessons this morning,” he said.
    After the noon meal, though, he knew he should tell her the truth. “This is our last day,” he said when the table was cleared. “I go back to work tomorrow on
The Blue Bird.”
    The girl’s eyes grew wide. “But I don’t know very much,” she protested. “I want to learn more.”
    Howard felt guilty, then irritated. He wasn’t responsible for this girl’s education. “I guess that’s how it goes,” he said, and he frowned. “I never wanted to leave school, either, but here I am. I guess what we want doesn’t have a lot to do with what happens.” He took the reader from his haversack and slammed it down on the table.
    â€œI’m sorry,” said Laura. “I had not meant to sound ungrateful.”
    Howard softened. “It’s all right,” said Howard. “I understand how you feel.” An idea came to him. “How would you like to keep this book? You could work your way through it, I think. You are getting good at sounding out words.”
    â€œKeep your book?” Laura reached out to touch the cover and then put her hand over Howard’s. “You would let me keep your book?”
    Laura’s touch sent a new but pleasant sensation through his hand. For a second he did not remember what they were discussing. Then he came to himself.“Yes,” said Howard, and he gave his head a decided nod. “You can keep the book. The paper and quill, too. I bought it all to use with you.”
    â€œYou’ve been a good friend to me, Howard Gardner.” Tears came to her eyes, and she moved her hand to