“Hello.”
“Yes, sir. I was passing through here in ’54, trapping beaver and muskrat, when an Injun got me! Been here ever since and sure am glad to have the company. What brings you folks out here? I wuz shot with an arrow myself, clean through my liver.”
“Oh, no, Mr. Chapman,” said Katrina. “That must have been awful.”
“Yessum, twas. That Injun snucked up on me, and after he donest shot me and left me afoot, this ole Canook out of Quebec I was trapping with come up apon me and sees me a-laying here, shot and scalped, and says he’d come back through in a day or two, after I wuz fully dead, and bury me. So’s I let off a right mean volley of cussing at him. I figgered he wuz a-turn-tailing and runnin’ off, leaving me to the buzzards. Afore that, I hain’t never put much stock in him. He was a bad one to swill corn liquor. But in the end, that old Canook done me fair and Christian. True to his word, he come back and buried me on this hill good and proper-like, even said words over me. The words wuz French Canook, so I don’t knowed what he said, but…I sure wisht I hain’t a-cussed him like that.”
After Lordor and Katrina had recovered from the shock of discovering they weren’t alone, they learned that Mr. Chapman was originally from Kentucky and a distant cousin of John Chapman, better known as Johnny Appleseed. He also told them more about his trapping days and said that in 1854, the year he had passed through this part of Missouri, the woods had been so thick, you had to cut a path with a knife.
Katrina asked, “Did you see any bears?”
“Why, missus, I musta seed two a day!”
“Mountain lions?”
“Had one jump at me onest, but I rolled in a ball and confused him. He gimme a bad bite and a scratch before he left, though.”
“Were there lots of Indians living around here?”
“Couldn’t say for sure, missus. I just seed the one who absconded with my pelts, my horse, and half my scalp.”
Some time later, Lordor said, “Mr. Chapman, I think I owe an apology to you. I didn’t know someone was already buried here. I might have given your plot away. I’m not sure, but you could be in the Lindquist family plot.”
“Oh, don’t give it no nevermine, Mr. Nordstrom. I’m glad more folks is a-comin’. Jus’ hope they be some females amunst ’em. I seed one smart-lookin’ gal up on this hill afore. Comes up pretty regular like, a-prunin’ them willer trees.”
Katrina said, “Oh, that was Birdie Swensen you saw.”
“Well, I always did like the ladies. I sorely do miss ’em.”
Lordor asked, “How old a man were you when you got shot?”
“Well, lemme see…I weren’t no young man, so I reckon I go back over a hundred years or more by now.”
Later, when Lordor and Katrina told him about present-day Missouri, Mr. Chapman could hardly believe it. “Horseless carriages that you can drive for miles and light you turn on pulling a switch? You’re a-funnin’ with me, ain’t you, Mr. Nordstrom?”
“No, sir.”
“And them carriages goes without pull of horse, mule, or oxen?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, what do they feed the critters?”
“Gasoline.”
Mr. Chapman thought for a while, then said, “Don’t know it.”
Lordor tried his best to explain how electricity worked, but it was no use.
“I heared what you tell me….I jus’ cain’t get a good handle on it. It’s too ahead of me.”
Lordor decided he wouldn’t even attempt to tell Mr. Chapman about airplanes. It would probably scare him to death.
Katrina felt sorry for the man and jumped in. “Oh, Mr. Chapman, don’t feel bad. I feel the same way about electricity. I can’t understand how it works, either.”
“Who’s the president now?” asked Mr. Chapman, changing the subject.
Lordor said, “I don’t know. I forgot to ask. Who is it?”
Katrina answered, “Woodrow Wilson.”
“Is he a good one?” asked Mr. Chapman.
“I guess just like all of them, time will tell, sir. Time will tell.”
Mr. Chapman said, “Ol’ Franklin Pierce was the last president I voted for….How did he fare?”
“I couldn’t say. He was before my time.”
“Ah.”
The three of them didn’t know it, but there were actually four people out at Still Meadows. Across and up was an elderly Osage Indian, who had washed up on the other side of the hill during the flood of 1715. When the old Osage heard the three of them talking, he didn’t recognize it as language. He thought it must be some kind of birds having a fight, and rolled over and went back to sleep.
—
OVER THE NEXT FEW MONTHS, the three of them would visit and chat often, and Katrina and Lordor so enjoyed hearing about Mr. Chapman’s trapping and scouting days. They didn’t know if he was just a master spinner of tall tales or if he really had seen and done all the things he said, but either way, he was very entertaining. One day, he said, “You’ll not believe it, but I scouted with ol’ Kit Carson hisself. He twern’t no taller than my nose, but a better man wuddn’t ever borned.” Then, as was his habit, Mr. Chapman switched subjects and said, “Hey, I’ll tell you a good one. You folks is Swedish, ain’t ya?”
“Yes, both of us.”
“Well, like I say. I seed a awful lot in my day. But folks, I hain’t never seed nor heared anything so beautiful as when the Swedish songbird, Miss Jenny Lind herself, alive and in the flesh, come to Tennessee. I remember it like daylight. It was April of ’52, and all the mens come from miles around to see her. Why, I had to shoot a man in the big toe jest to get a ticket, but I got it. My seat wuz way back up in the balcony, but there twern’t no disappointment to it. She sunged like a bird…and them golden curls. Why, she was so purty, it hurt you to look at her. It wuz like seein’ an angel from heaven, and I hain’t got over it yet. Yes, sir, seeing her wuz the best night of my life. And I’ll tell you somethin’ else….It eased off my dying just a-recalling it.”
Katrina often wondered if Mr. Chapman really had seen Jenny Lind and how she would have felt if she had known that a man in the audience that night, almost seventy years later, thought seeing her had been the highlight of his life.
And then one day, without a warning or even a goodbye, he wasn’t there anymore. They called to him over and over again, “Mr. Chapman? Mr. Chapman?” But he never answered. He was gone, leaving Katrina and Lordor wondering what had happened to him.
Being of a certain age, Lordor and Katrina weren’t alone long. In 1918, they were joined by other original settlers. Nancy Knott arrived first, and, as usual, she got right to the point.
“Since you two died, we had a war.”
“Oh, no, Nancy,” said Katrina. “I was afraid of that.”
“Yah, but it was over soon. The Yanks went over there and come right back home.”
A concerned Lordor jumped in. “Did we lose any Elmwood Springs boys?”
“Oh, no. The Eggstrom boy went, but he come home safe and sound. Oh, and your boy, Ted? He still don’t marry, but if I know men, not for too much longer.”