Blue Shadows Farm: A Novel

20. Blue Shadows—February 1867

119 February 1867 From doing farmwork, Silas Starkweather’s hands became tough and calloused, his muscles hard. He was surprised how all the hard work had agreed with him. The time had passed quickly since he arrived in Link Lake last spring. He’d planted ten acres of wheat in five-acre plots, each surrounded by a fence he had built with his own hands, black locust trees for posts and pine for the connecting pieces. His neighbors quit asking him why he built so many fences. The way they saw it, the only ones he really needed were the ones encircling the pasture where his loyal oxen grazed and the ones keeping the three pigs he’d gotten late last fall from straying off. His neighbors also quit asking why he spent so much time walking over his plowed fields with his head down and his hands behind his back. He had spent every weekend last summer and fall doing that. Walking, walking. Some said he must have heavy thoughts on his mind. Others thought for sure that his war injuries were causing this unusual behavior. Who could predict a man’s behavior when he was shot in the head? Sophia continued staying with him, helping keep the cabin in 20 Blue Shadows order, cooking, baking, washing, scrubbing the cabin floor, doing all the things necessary to keep the home spotless. She had even taken on the task of watering the pigs each morning and night, feeding them table scraps along with a few ears of corn stored in a little corncrib that she had helped Silas build. Justin Meadows and Silas had also built a small chicken coop that housed about twenty-five hens, enough to provide fresh eggs for Silas and Sophia with enough left over to sell a few dozen to the mercantile in Link Lake. Sophia was good with chickens and enjoyed caring for them. February 22 was Silas’s birthday, the same day as George Washington ’s. Sophia had decided the neighbors should have a birthday party for him, and she made all the arrangements without telling him anything about it. If he knew about it, he probably wouldn’t come, she correctly guessed. He seemed most comfortable by himself, sitting by the fireplace on a cold winter night, reading a book. He never said so, but Sophia had concluded that he really didn’t like living in central Wisconsin. Occasionally, Silas agreed to walk to a neighbor’s home for a meal, but that was the extent of his socializing. When he drove his oxen to Link Lake for supplies, something he did every two weeks or so, he never stopped at the local saloon, which was a regular hangout for many local men. He might linger a bit at the mercantile, talking with whoever happened to be there, but then he was on his way home. February 22 dawned clear and cold. Sophia got up, took care of the morning chores, and left right on time for class at Link Lake High School. Her mother had encouraged her to attend. Link Lake High School had only twenty-five students, and she was one of but two young women there. “Waste of time when girls go to school, beyond learning how to read and write and do some figuring” was the mostly agreed upon attitude in the community. Silas was rather pleased with her quest for knowledge; nearly every day when they ate supper, she talked about what she was studying as she shared her lessons and books with him. 120 Blue Shadows—February 1867 121 Blue Shadows—February 1867 When Sophia returned to the cabin from school that Friday afternoon, she reminded Silas that they were eating supper with her folks. She said nothing about this day being Silas’s birthday. Of course, he had forgotten. He had been busy mapping out new fields to be plowed the following spring, and even sketching where the fences would go. Sophia hurried out to feed the chickens and gather the eggs. She also tossed a few ears of corn to the hogs and forked some hay into the manger for the oxen. “Pull on your coat, Silas; we must go, or we be late,” Sophia said when she came in from doing the evening chores. Silas pulled on his heavy winter coat and cap and the two of them set out walking...