Chapter 1: The Move West

Thomas Sherman had come from Virginia in 1839. The lure of free land had been strong. He remembered his father getting cheated out of his share of the crop that year, and it started the family moving west. He had thought it was a great adventure, like the stories in the books that he had. He had been lucky that old Mr. Rogers had taught him to read, and had even given him books of his own. He had almost twelve books. To actually own any book, besides the bible, was a testament to your wealth. He had been very proud of his books, and never missed a chance to show them off.

Only eleven years old, and already he owned eleven books, and Mr. Rogers had said that if he could finish the book that he had loaned him, then he would give it to Tom as a going away present. Tom had been proud of himself when he told Mr. Rogers that he had finished the book. Mr. Rogers just smiled and said that he knew that he would finish it. Then he watched as Tom climbed into the wagon that was heading west. He still remembered Mr. Rogers waving to them, and telling them to take care of each other.

It was almost five months before they reached Independence, Missouri. The winter months made moving slow and cold. There they had to wait almost another month, before they could join another wagon train heading west, toward opportunity and free land.

Tom listened to the discussion of the two different routes; the mountain route and the prairie route. The mountain route would take longer, but they would have a better opportunity for water and plenty of grass for the animals. The prairie route was more direct and easier travel, but lack of water or grass would be fatal. Tom listened as his father quickly decided on the Mountain Route.

Every night in the camps Tom heard the loud talking, and bragging about the great opportunities. He listened again to what everyone would do, once they reached California. Tom thought that it had such a magical sound to it. They sang songs, and drank from an old jug. The children played games, and the women sat and gossiped. Tom saw only the wonder in it all.

He was at the awkward age of eleven. Not a man and not a boy. The grown-ups didn't want him with them, and the kids didn't either. The young girls smiled a lot and Tom found himself captivated by their budding forms. Even though he still didn't know what he wanted to do with them, he knew that they looked wonderful. All of his books talked about love and adventure. He was living the adventure, and he was sure that he would find love.

The older boys taught him about fear, when they caught him 'making eyes' at Sally Perkins. She was the most beautiful girl in the camps. She was almost fifteen, and every boy in the camps wanted her to be his bride. She was seeing them all after dinner, and everyone knew that before this trip was over Sally would be a wife. But Sally was determined to take her time and pick the best man. She never gave anyone the idea that he was any more special, then the others. Everybody knew it, but still there were a few that didn't like any competition, even from a young boy. Tom had asked Sally for a walk three times that week. They talked about his books, and he even brought one along to read to her. She was impressed that Tom was educated; most of the young men couldn't even write their own name.

Billy Wilson was fifteen and as solid as a tree trunk. He had spent his life in the fields and behind a plow. He was also one of those young men, but he showed Tom that he didn't have to know how to read, or write to turn his face into a bloody pulp. Sally watched the exchange and didn't interfere, but when it was over she went away with Billy Wilson. Tom learned that the strong men got the pretty women, and the weak men got everything taken from them. He had learned that lesson very well, and didn't think that he would soon forget it.

He was surprised when his father and mother returned that night, and his father made a comment about the fight. Tom knew that there wasn't anybody that would have called it a fight, it was a simple beating, but the word had spread all over the camps. Billy Wilson was strutting around the camps, letting everybody know that Sally Perkins was his girl and Sally was not denying it. Tom still remembered when his father said, "Well boy, I guess that now you know just what good all book learning is. When a man wants something, he takes it. If you ain't strong enough to fight for it, then you don't deserve to have it." The anger in Tom flared up and even before he knew what he was saying the words had left his mouth. "You mean just like your crops?" Tom found himself back on the ground again that night, with his ears ringing and little pinpoints of light across his vision.

As his vision cleared he saw his father standing over him, the rage clear on his face. He knew that he had crossed a line that he could never step back over. He watched as his mother pulled him into the wagon, giving Tom a look over her shoulder that said that he was on his own. He understood. His father rarely listened to his mother. She was the one that had encouraged his education, saying that strong men make the world, but educated men run it. He wasn't so sure about that any more.

He still remembered that as he crawled into his blankets under the wagon that night, he had a smile on his face. It hurt to smile, but he didn't care. He thought about the quotes of wisdom that Mr. Rogers had taught him, and it came to him, 'misery loves company.' He had never understood that, at least until tonight. Tonight his misery had company. He was sure that he would pay a price, but he felt good now.

As he lay there, the sounds of his father's grunts and groans, mixed with his mother's little squeaks told him that she was doing her best to drain the anger from him. Yes, you don't live for five months in a wagon without seeing the act. His father often made sure that Tom got a full showing of his manly abilities, much to the shame of his mother. It was just another way to show his son that he was the only one in charge of their family. Since the first time, she pretended that Tom didn't exist when his father demanded sex. He thought about the time that his mother blushed when she looked at him; it had been the following morning, after she had spent the better part of an hour on her knees sucking his father as he grinned at Tom the whole time.