Chapter Seven
Clover grimaced as she leaned on a rope-encircled post on the barge and stared into the muddy waters of the Ohio River. The water smelled as murky as it looked.
Ballard had hired one of the better barges, with cramped but clean quarters for them and their families. The wooden cabin set in the middle of the barge made it look a little more like a proper ship. Nevertheless, this was not the romantic river trip she had envisioned.
Clover watched the crew of a keelboat skillfully navigate the shallow draft freight boat past theirs. She inwardly acknowledged that the rivermen were not, as a whole, the dashing romantic rogues that were often described in local stories. Most of the ones she had seen were weather-hardened and none too clean, men who were struggling to make a living—either honestly or dishonestly. The boats were often precariously crammed with solemn-faced people headed west, many of them desperately poor. What she glimpsed of the houses and townsalong the river did not look much better.Newclearly did not meanbetter.They had been on the river for two days and she had yet to see any real sign of prosperity.
“Dinnae look so sad, lass,” Ballard murmured as he stepped up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. “Kentucky is much prettier.”
She leaned back against him. “I am sure it is. I was just thinking of all the grand promises made to people who move west, promises of wealth and the easy life. There are few signs of that here.”
“‘Twill come. A lot of this land is still rough and new. And many of these folk have come from nothing. To have their own piece of land, to break their backs just for themselves and not for some other men, is prosperity to them. I ken that there are exceptions, but, truth to tell, most folk who have an easy life get their money from the sweat of others. Aye, some of them worked bloody hard to get to where they could work less yet still make an enviable amount of money. But ‘tis still the work of others that fills their fancy homes and puts rich food on their tables.”
He looked out at the collection of rough cabins they were passing. “This is just the beginning, lass. Just the beginning.”
“I know. I am sure that parts of Pennsylvania once looked as rough as this. It just takes some getting used to.”
“Where I live it is half settled and half rough. We have passed the raw beginning and started to reach for prosperity. Ye willnae find it as hard a life as some of these folk are living.”
“Oh, I am not worried about the life being hard,Ballard. If I had stayed in Langleyville, my life would have been very hard indeed. But I do worry whether I will be able to handle the difficult labor. Molly will not be with us forever. I have lived a rather spoiled life.”
“Aye, but ye are nae spoiled. Ye will do just fine, lass.”
Clover did not share his confidence, but she did not argue. “Do you live near Daniel Boone?”
“Daniel Boone? Nay, lass. He doesnae live in Kentucky any longer.”
“Has he set out to explore someplace else?”
“Nay. I heard that he and his wife are running an inn somewhere—in Virginia, I think.”
“You jest. Why would he leave Kentucky? He opened the land to settlers. Surely he would have settled there himself.”
“He did. Our government decided Boone’s claim to his land wasnae a proper one and they wouldnae let him keep it.”
“That is appalling. He is fighting them in court, is he not? He deserves what he claims. After all, he opened up the route to that land.”
“‘Tis exactly how a lot of folk feel. I suspect old Boone will be back in Kentucky someday.”
Clover turned and caught sight of Damien playing tag with Clayton. Both boys were too close to the edge of the barge and their mother was occupied helping Molly mend some clothes. Damien stumbled and Clover caught her breath, but then he regained his balance and resumed his reckless course around the deck.
Clover slipped free of Ballard’s light hold. “I had better go and speak to the boys,” she said. “They are not taking care.”
“Do ye want me to speak to them?”
“No, but thank you for offering. You kept them occupied most of the morning.”
“They are good lads and no bother, lass.”
“Humph. At times. This is not one of them.”
She heard him laugh as he left her side and headed toward the captain.
Clover turned her attention back to her brothers, who were still racing heedlessly in all directions. She cursed when she saw Damien running straight for the side of the boat. The boy was so busy looking to see if Clayton was about to tag him, he did not see how near to the edge he was.
“Damien,” she yelled, but he just laughed and kept running.
In mere moments he would fly right off the boat. She ran to cut him off, to catch him before he tumbled into the water.
