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. 

Appleseed John was gone by the time Amelia got up the next morning, even though she had been in the habit of getting up about sunrise each day, with Autumn.

“When will he come back?” Amelia asked.

“Whenever he comes back; he doesn’t know, so we don’t ask,” Autumn said.

“Where is he going?”

“I doubt that he knows that, either, but wherever he finds himself, chances are one of his apple orchards is there,” Autumn said, then smiled, “or will be, soon.”

Elizabeth and Peggy were preparing breakfast, as usual, when the girls finished their chores at the barn. Joshua, who had been waking up earlier, too, was sitting at the fire, waiting for the girls to return.

“Uh, Uh,” Joshua said to Amelia, arms outstretched.

“I thought I was the big sister,” Autumn said, wrinkling her nose at Joshua as he smiled at Autumn and clung to Amelia.

“Four arms, no waiting, now,” said Elizabeth, stirring the porridge.

“Uh, uh,” said Joshua, pointing to the horse, Chestnut.

“You certainly do not say much,” Amelia said, looking at Joshua.

“Doesn’t have to. He has all of us to speak for him,” Elizabeth said. “When Autumn was a baby, her brothers wouldn’t let her get a word in edgewise. It was always, ‘Mother, Autumn wants this,’ or ‘Aunt Elizabeth, Autumn needs that.’ The boys had to go to college before she would speak.”

“But he is almost 3 years old,” Autumn said.

“Everyone in their own time, in God’s time,” said Elizabeth. “Besides, what lies behind us and what lies before us are small matters compared to what lies within us.”

Autumn looked puzzled,

“What does that have to do with anything?”

But Amelia brightened up.

“You’ve been reading Mr. Emerson’s book.”

“Yes, and what a joy he is. I have never been able to read other philosophers, but his writings, it’s like they just pour into my heart,” Elizabeth said.

Autumn just looked at her aunt, then reached out her arms and said, “Uh.”

Elizabeth shook her towel at them and said, “Just go on now, I have more reading to do.”

”We’ll go for a ride,” Autumn said.

They saddled up Chestnut, and, as they had done several times before, Amelia climbed up in back, then held Joshua in the saddle until Autumn climbed up. Then Joshua crawled around in front of Autumn.

The rides were slow because of Joshua, and because three in a saddle is rather unsteady. But they were favorite times for both girls, because they could talk, or not talk, explore new paths or take the old familiar ones, think about important things, or think about nothing.

And when Joshua was along, there usually was entertainment from what he saw and did. They had taken a longer ride than usual, all the way to Olivesburgh, more than five miles, farther than if they had ridden to Mansfield, the opposite direction.

Autumn seemed excited to point out her special places along the way — a grove of peach trees, not yet ripe; a field of sunflowers just showing promise; an artesian well, bubbling up out of the ground. Amelia noticed several aromas that were peculiar, and she wondered how Ohio could smell so different from Massachusetts.

She asked Autumn to tell her abut some of the smells, but Autumn couldn’t help her. “I don’t know what you are smelling, but the countryside. I don’t smell anything unusual,” Autumn said.

They waved at Emily Pittinger working with her mother in their garden, rode up the long lane to greet old Mrs. Osbun, who recently was widowed, and nodded to Mrs. Holstein, but without making real eye contact, because it was rumored that Mrs. Holstein was a witch.

As they passed through the Black Fork, they stopped to wash off Joshua and his pants, as he had been riding a bit too long. In Olivesburgh, they enjoyed a picnic lunch of bread and potatoes, and bought strands of licorice at the General Store, with a nickel John had given them.

Chestnut was the perfect horse for them, young enough to put up with the whims of young girls, but old enough to sense when a new direction is not a good one, like this day, when, on the way back, Autumn said she thought it would be fun to explore the Big Hill.

The Big Hill, just a couple miles northeast of Oakland, was a nice place for a good view of Franklin Township, and if a good smokey fire were going at the Inn, it was possible to see all the way to Oakland.

But Chestnut was not going to be convinced to go up Big Hill. He seemed interested only in returning to Oakland, on the established road, even though the path up the back side of Big Hill was smooth and well-traveled. No amount of coaxing could move that horse up the hill.

Finally, the girls simply pointed Chestnut toward Oakland, and let him take them home. That evening, an old Delaware Indian known as Cornstalk stopped by the Inn, after a day of hunting.

“Any success?” Jacob asked.

“No deer, no bear, no success, all too shy,” he said, “but big scare.”

“What scared you,” Jacob asked.

“Hunting on Big Hill, looking at rocks for bear sign, in front of me, big snake; in back of me, big snake; everywhere, big snakes.”

A lair of rattlesnakes on Big Hill was quite a find for the locals, because, even though the snakes were not inclined to invade a farm, they still created havoc for any livestock or person that happened upon them.

“That must be why ol’ Chestnut wouldn’t let us go up there,” Autumn said, and she told her father what had happened to them earlier. Cornstalk offered to show Jacob the lair the next day, for a loaf of Peggy’s bread.

Jacob agreed, but decided he and brother John should ride out with Cornstalk that evening. Then they could attack the lair in their time.

“Cornstalk doesn’t always remember to keep appointments,” Peggy explained to the girls.

It was dark when Jacob and Uncle John returned, and Cornstalk was on his way. But the girls were still up with Peggy and Elizabeth, helping with the latest knitting projects. They wanted to hear the news.

“We found the signs. Of course the snakes were settled for the night. It’s in a deep ravine just a little east of Mr. Guthrie’s farm. We’ll gather up a few neighbors to take care of it later this week,” Jacob said.

“Can we go?” Autumn and Amelia asked together.

“You want to kill snakes? What sort of daughter are we raising Mrs. Zeiters, and what would Mrs. Pendergast say?” Jacob said, mockingly. “Yes, you may go; I will put you in charge of collecting the rattles.”

“When Nature has work to be done, she creates a genius to do it,” Elizabeth said, with a soft smile as she continued her knitting.

Autumn and Amelia just looked at each other and said, “Emerson.”