Day by Day

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

 The rumble of his empty belly woke him.

Orry sat up, and rubbed his eyes sleepily. He didn't sleep much through the night, out there on his own. He had his squirrel rifle to defend him against anything or anyone, that he kept under his blanket in case her needed it. The sounds of the holler woke him up even more, as did the calling of the clear little rill a few feet away from were he slept, under a cottonwood tree. Pains dulled through his joints, and he stretched to make it go away.

   He stood up, snapping his suspenders up over his wide shoulders. He tucked his wrinkled shirttails in, and slipped his brown leather boots back on.

 "Tecumseh, stand!" he called to the horse, who did so promptly. "Here, boy, let's get a drinka water, huh?"

 Boyishly, he clapped one hand on his leg for the horse to follow. They zigzagged through the thistley, stickery underbrush, coming to the sparkling, clear ribbon of water, the liquid THWIP of the water a tempting invitation to go, and drink.

    Dropping to his knees, he formed a bowl with his calloused brown hands, and splashed the water gratefully on his dusty face. He lowered his hands again, wetting them, finally combing his long fingers through his thick, dark hair. And his hair, rinsed the day prior, still harbored dust. Orry turned his head, rubbing his roan's leg until the animal had taken it's fill of the good water. It tasted richly of minerals, he discovered, when he drank liberally of it himself.

   He filled his canteen with it, along with his extra canteen, and allowed Tecumseh to graze on the grass a couple of yards away. He was ravenous, himself, and satisfied his unfulfilled need with a slice of bread, covered in a heavy layer of wild strawberry jam. He ate every bit of it, but was still not completely full. He rationed his food off, though, and only ate twice a day. Excluding any berries he found. Pop had taught him which ones were edible and which weren't when he was a child, so he hadn't a risk of eating something that was poisonous. Yesterday, he had ran across a blueberry patch, and had taken the time to pick some to toss in his mouth every once in awhile. They were a bit tart, he found, but he liked them that way. Not too sour, not too sweet.

  "Thank ya, God, fer this day Ya gave ta me, and I pray Ya might keep me safe," he said aloud, mindful of the horse. "Ay-men."

 With that, he straightened, and began packing all of his things up. He guessed he had only one day to Kansas, thankfully. The road over the last few days had been difficult, and quite frankly, painful. He bore a scratch under his healing black eye, from a twig that snapped in his face two days ago. He had blisters on his fingers from holding the reins without any protection, and a green and blue bruise on his knee from landing on a slick, green mossed rock in a stream he had been walking in. Nevertheless, Orry was good natured about it, as he naturally was concerning misfortunes. He was an easygoing boy, until something drastic came along. He had forgotten a bulk of the anger against his father, deeming it unnessecary to tote on his shoulders.

   At last, he rolled his blanket up, beckoning Tecumseh to trot on over so that he could load up. They needed to leave soon. He wanted to be in Kansas by tomorrow morning, even if he had to run the horse hard all night. It would do both of them a world of good to be around people-in Tecumseh's case, horses. Orry was a people person, and he liked having someone he could keep company with. Aloneness was not his favorite sound, in short.

   He was thinking of what he would write to Caro when they got going on the trail that lead to his destination. He wanted something to explain, and perhaps soothe a dab of her anger. He cared if she was upset or not, and he wanted her to forgive him for springing it on her so openly, then leaving without even a fare-thee-well. Girls liked sweet things, too. He laughed when he thought of telling her 'how prettily the wind covorted through her hair.'