sleeping in lofts and store rooms. Anyway, I didn’t say I thought you should take deck passage. I asked you if you wanted to. It’s your eleven dollars.”
“Right now look to me it be our dollars. I thought we spose to be partners.
You the one said she gonna help plow fields and go wash loggers’ clothes, she
has to. You be spendin’ money on bein’ a lady, we ain’t gonna make it ’round to
next summer.”
Her jaw fell open when she understood what he was implying – not that he
should take a cabin like her, but that she should take deck passage like him. She turned her gaze on the boat. It was a warm afternoon and she tried to convince
herself that it might be pleasant, lounging in the sun on the deck, with a nice cool
breeze off the lake. But she’d had her own room all her life, never slept on the
same side of a wall as family or friend, let alone in public, surrounded by strangers, on a hard wooden deck.
“I don’t know, Mourning. Maybe we’d both better get cabins. Out on that
deck someone could steal all our money while we’re sleeping. We wouldn’t get
any rest at all, having to watch our things. We’d get to Detroit so tired, we’d be
in no shape to buy our supplies and make the trip to Fae’s Landing that same day. We’d end up wasting even more money on hotel rooms in Detroit.”
“Way you got that money tied to you, ain’t no one gonna be stealin’ nothing,
’less you dead first. Anyway, we can take turns sleepin’. You think you gonna have a nice soft bed waitin’ on you in that log cabin? You gonna sleep on good
hard Michigan ground. You best be gettin’ used to it. You wanna keep to your plan, you gotta get used to bein’ poor folks. For a time anyway.”
She stared out at the late afternoon sun on the lake and took a deep breath. He
had a point. And spending two days on the deck of a steamboat could be her first
adventure. Sitting all alone in a cabin would be boring. She’d never thought of it
that way, but Mourning was right. By embarking on this journey she had
volunteered to live like poor folks. She’d better get used to doing without, making do. But what clinched her decision to sleep on the deck was her desire to
wipe the smirk from Mourning’s face.
I’ll show him. I’m not as spoiled as he tries to make me out to be. Anyway,
I’ll feel safer with Mourning nearby than I would alone in a cabin.
“All right. We’ll both take steerage. I can sleep on a deck every bit as well as
you.”
She went in to book their passage and then handed her tapestry bag to
Mourning, together with his ticket. “You get our cases on board,” she said. “I’ll
go buy food for the trip. The ticket agent said the boat will be stopping in Cleveland, so I’ll buy enough for just the first day.”
“Wait.” He went to the wagon and opened his bag. Take these.” He handed
her two buckskin pouches. “Ask the folks in the store to fill them.”
“Of course, I was just about to ask for them,” she lied, angry with herself for
having forgotten about water.
“How we gonna find each other on that boat?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” It seemed to have doubled in size during the course of their
conversation. “You pick what you think is a good place – with any kind of privacy or protection from the wind – and wait for me to find you.”
She walked a few blocks to a general store and bought bread, butter, a small
pot of jam, a few slices of cheese, some salt beef, four hard-boiled eggs, four apples, and two pears. She saw a pump handle out back and received permission
to fill the skins from it. It made a heavy load and she trudged down to the wharf.
