Will knew that Frank was desperate and would do anything to get Gertrude out of his house. Will wasn’t sure how they’d do it, but he promised his brother he’d help move their father’s new two-story, eight-room house a quarter mile up the hill to a lot that Frank purchased at the north end of Ashley Springs. Now that the price of everything had plummeted, Frank looked like a genius for hoarding money over the years. He was one of the few people that Will knew who had available funds. And cash was king these days.
The house, owned by St. Mary’s Catholic Church and on the Church grounds, had been converted into a school, but with enrollment plummeting and repairs needed, St. Mary’s was eager to be rid of it. So they sold it to Frank for a dollar. And Thomas intended to convert it back into a home. With time on his hands, he planned to do the needed repairs.
“I didn’t think Gertrude’s living with Frank would work.” Mary laughed. “Gertrude means well. She’s like her father. She thinks she knows what’s best for everyone.”
“Frank just shakes his head when I mention Mom, but he sure complains about Dad’s swigs on the bottle.”
“I’m with him on that.” She glared at Will. “Frank may be the only sensible man in the family.”
“Did you hear that Dad had to wet Father McCrery’s tonsils to get permission to move the house to Thomas’s vacant lot? It took a quart of good whiskey to convince him.” Will pulled a blanket up to his chin. “It’s getting nippy out. I hope there’s no frost on the hill tomorrow.”
“Surely he didn’t think your father would live on the parish grounds.”
“Father McCrery wanted them to hire a mover, but Frank balked at that.”
“I suppose Father McCrery thinks you’ll drop it on parish property, and they’ll have a mess on their hands.”
“Kinda nervous ’bout it myself.”
The next morning began cool and cloudy. Will hoped they wouldn’t get caught with a muddy slope. When Will arrived at seven o’clock, Frank, Thomas, and five of Frank’s neighbors busied themselves around the house, but it was the horses that caught Will’s attention. A stunning sight. Three teams of Belgians and two of Percherons. Will didn’t think there could be a more beautiful sight than a matched pair of Belgians. Magnificent beasts, almost twenty hands high with long golden manes, the same color as the hair tufts over their hocks. Stately animals. And they knew it. They moved with the egotistical gait of royalty. He was told that Clydesdales were more impressive, but he hadn’t seen a Clydesdale, so he wasn’t about to demote Belgians to second place.
“Frank, how can I help?” He saw they already removed the front porch and jacked the house a sliver above the foundation. Knowing Frank, Will supposed they had been there since daylight.
“Jump down in the hole and give Les a hand,” Frank said. He pointed to a trench they had started to dig toward the east side of the house. They dug for an hour while the five others worked in their holes. All except Thomas. He supervised. “You gotta make those holes longer, boys.” Thomas removed a flask from his coverall pocket and took a long swig, but he didn’t offer it around. “We’ll never get those big logs underneath if we can’t shove them across level. We’re not digging post holes, now are we?”
Les groaned, but Will nodded in agreement. The old man knew his digging, but Will wondered if he’d show his flask at the far side, where Frank was.
By noon, the six holes were dug. Then they placed four inch flagstones at the bottom of each hole, against the openings in the foundation. “Lay them firm, boys, and be sure they’re level,” Thomas called down. “It’s not patio work we be doin’ today, now is it?”
Thomas ran from one side to the other, suggesting and cajoling while the men sweated under the rising sun. Whenever he was away from Frank, he pulled his flask. “Gotta wet the tonsils, keep the voice strong,” he called down to Will while brandishing the flask in his direction. “Can’t be misunderstood, now can I?” Sweat trickled off his brow. “Could lose the whole house if you boys don’t do it right. It’s an awful responsibility.” He took another swig.
After a morning of preparation, Thomas shouted the horsemen forward, but when the ten horses pulled, the logs creaked and groaned as if in agony, but nothing moved.
“Will, go get a couple pails of pea gravel,” Thomas said. “Works like ball bearings. My wagon’s full of the stuff. And Les, get the fellas to help you bring those saplings that I piled alongside the house.” He bit a chaw from his tobacco plug. “We’ll move this old house uphill on ball and roller bearings.”
Thomas took another swig from his flask but didn’t bother to hide it from Frank. The old man was feeling his oats. Will marveled at his father’s wisdom. He may drink a bit much, but he knew his stuff, and everyone there believed it. Thomas was king of the hill today.
They inched upward, and whenever the skids slowed, Thomas dumped pea gravel along the path or urged the men to lay another sapling. Slow but steady, and when the house listed to one side, Thomas and his sons shoveled dirt and laid pebbles in front of the lower skid to bring it level.
By early evening they had dragged the house onto the vacant lot. Thomas looked to the skies. “If the Lord keeps that rain up there, we’ll get her done in the morning.” He spat a stream of tobacco juice in front of a skid. “Gertrude might be fretful ’bout a swimming hole in the basement. Wouldn’t trouble me none, but she can’t swim.” Thomas removed the flask from his coverall’s pocket and took another swig, once again paying no attention to Frank.
That night Will told Mary about the day’s work. “Frank may be paying for it, but it’s Dad who knows what he’s doing. I think he works best lubricated with a little whiskey.”
“How would you know? He’s always a bit lubricated. No wonder Jesse took to liquor. At least Frank has some sense, but I’ll never know how he escaped your father’s influence.”
“Have you heard from your mother? About the circus.”
“Why, yes, I almost forgot. Mother said that Mr. Liddiecoat — he’s the storekeeper — brought the circus to town. Said he’d call the booking agent to get their schedule. Mother’ll get back to us.”
The next morning, Will arrived at the worksite early. He knew they would need the whole crew to get the house on its new foundation. It was bound to be a touchy operation.
But apparently his father had no concerns. As chipper as a robin snatching worms after a rainfall, Thomas directed the crew through the job. Will noticed the flask peeking from his father’s coverall pocket, but didn’t see him take a drink, not yet anyhow.
“Now, fellas, our problem is getting this old girl centered.” He spat a wad of tobacco. “If we don’t get her lined up square, we’re in for trouble, now that’s for sure.”
When Will saw his father take out his flask, he knew that Thomas had a plan. He always launched his ship with a swig of whiskey. “Okay, boys, unload those butt end logs and stone flats I hauled from the old foundation this morning, and run those logs through the rock we took out.”
Will watched his father work and noticed that no one, not even Frank, argued with his commands. And Frank didn’t complain about his drinking either, although Will saw him wince each time his father took a mouthful.
Later Thomas watched the horses slowly pull the house onto the new foundation. “Gotta keep her perfectly straight,” he yelled. He took another swig from his flask, wiped the back of his hand across a trickle that flowed down his chin, but never took his eyes off the timbers.
Will had never seen his dad waste a drop of good whiskey before.
“Keep her movin’, boys, but go slow.”
The big, two-story house inched across the void.
At first Will wasn’t sure they would make it that day, but at the noon whistle, they lowered the house onto its new foundation.
Will was glad to see Gertrude and Mary trudging up the hill with picnic baskets and pitchers. “Have you heard more about Heinzelman’s Circus?” he said.
“Mother called back,” Mary said. Heinzelman changed booking agents. His old agent has no idea.”
While they ate their ham sandwiches and drank lemonade, Will told Frank about Catherine’s puppet man, how he thought he might be Jesse. “He’s probably some place out West. I’d sure like to find him.”
“No matter,” Frank said. “Got no time to chase after another drunk.”
Will hoped that Jesse fared better than most of the other vagrants in this land of despair.