Editor’s Note: This is an ongoing series which runs each Thursday morning titled the Richland Chronicles by author Paul Lintern. It is set in 1831 and tells the story of Richland County through the eyes of a young girl.

It was as though her ears had been invaded by the fullness of the forest her first morning at the Oakland Inn.

There were sounds of cardinals, mourning doves, ravens and hawks, the cackle of chickens and the call of the rooster, plus the noise of the cattle and horses, pigs and sheep. It was as though everyone were celebrating a good night’s sleep with a wake-up call to everyone else.

Amelia was surprised it was so loud. She did notice, however, that she did not hear the sound of wagons on cobblestones or the whistles and yells of dock workers unloading cargo from a European ship, as she did most mornings at home. Then she opened her eyes and saw that the sun was pouring through the tree branches into her small window and right on her face.

She figured that was the reason Autumn gave her that end of the bed; her new “sister” was sleeping soundly in the shadows at the other end, a lump under the covers. The adults already were up. Their two beds were neatly made, the bigger one for Jacob and Peggy and a narrower one for Elizabeth.

Jacob, in his own little bed, was stirring, but still clinging to sleep. Amelia thought of her own bedroom, the bed with its canopy that allowed drapes to keep drafts out in the winter, and netting to keep mosquitoes out in the summer. That room seemed bigger than this inn.

Amelia climbed out of bed and walked down to the kitchen. She was surprised that no one was there, and wondered how she would get breakfast, until she heard some kettles being shuffled around outside. The soft breeze met her face and brushed away the mustiness in the cabin. The cool blades of grass next to the cabin tickled her feet and the aroma of ham and biscuits at the fire about 20 feet away erased the sleepiness.

Around the campfire were Peggy and Elizabeth, with no sign of Jacob or Charles.

“Good morning, precious one,” Elizabeth said. “Sleep well?”

“Softest bed since I left home,” Amelia said.

“I hope Autumn didn’t keep you up; she’s not a still sleeper,” Peggy said.

“I did not notice,” Amelia said. “She was sleeping rather still just now when I got up.”

Amelia wondered about herself being a still sleeper; no one had ever mentioned it.

“Still sleeping? I’ll bet that was just her lumpy pillow under the blanket. She got up at dawn and went to help Katherine with some churning.”

“Butter?”

“It doesn’t churn itself,” Elizabeth smiled.

“Jacob and Charles are tending to the cows and horses and feeding the sheep and pigs. They’re just down at the barn, if you want to go see,” Peggy said.

Amelia was sitting in a nice armchair made of tree limbs lashed together with rope. Despite being nice and cozy next to the fire, the thought of watching Charles attempt to help with chores was something that caught her curiosity. She walked over to the barn, not sure whether to walk up the bank into the top floor where all the hay and straw was, or to go around back, to the lower level, where the animals were. The backside was messier, but more likely where the men were.

She peeked around the corner at the stalls inside. There was Jacob, leading a horse out to a hitching post near the wagon, and there was Charles, putting straw in the horse stalls. He saw her smiling at him as he turned around.

“You should have seen me when I was shoveling out the manure,” he said, then added, courteously, “Good morning, dear Amelia.”

“Good morning, Charles. Are you ready for your journey home or will you be staying on as a farmhand,” Amelia asked.

“I can always use the help,” Jacob jumped in. “Of course, Amelia, your father has already given me you. Here, grab that bucket full of grain. You can feed the chickens.”

Is this what mother and father had in mind, Amelia thought. They want me to appreciate the ways of the frontier and the blessings I have in Boston. I probably can do that just by watching.

Nevertheless, Amelia grabbed the bucket, first with one hand, then with both when she realized she couldn’t really lift it otherwise, and she walked toward the chicken coop.

“Take a handful at a time and spread it out as you throw it on the ground. Give them all a chance to get some food. Chickens have a pecking order, you know, and some of the smaller ones won’t get any unless you spread it out well,” Charles said.

“How do you know that?” Amelia asked.

Charles looked at Jacob, then at her.

“Who do you think feeds the chickens at home?”

“What else don’t I know about you?”

“Nothing you really need to know. Now, let’s finish and enjoy a fine country breakfast, then I shall take my leave. A courier is coming to collect me within the hour,” Charles said.

Breakfast was served out of a skillet onto wooden plates with everyone sitting around the fire, in a chair or leaning against a tree. It was far from the elegant manner Amelia was used to — they didn’t even break out the silverware — but the food was quite tasty, and very filling.

Before Charles left, he took Amelia aside.

“Remember, your parents want you to become part of this family for the summer. Your father has high regard for Mr. Zeiters, even though, as you can see, they are very different from one another. Can you imagine your father and Jacob as boys your age, playing around your grandfather’s place?

“They want you to see that no matter where you are, the best qualities will rise up out of anyone of character and culture. Use your best manners, be helpful and pleasant, and learn from your summer here.”

Charles turned to bid farewell to his hosts and climb on the wagon, but not before he turned back to Amelia and smiled, “But don’t forget to have fun.”