Chapter Text
When Ponyboy Curtis stepped out of the schoolhouse in Independence, Missouri, he only had two things on his mind: the blue-green forests of the Oregon Territory and the overdue rent notice sitting on the table.
He wished he were in the beautiful Oregon Territory people told stories about. Instead, he was slogging through muddy Missouri, smelling the stink of the streets and dreading cholera outbreaks.
He wondered what it would be like, to go on the trail out. Ponyboy liked to think he was bricky enough to tough it out. It would be hard work, but thrilling, to be on the trail, headed West for land with his family, seeing so many new sights along the way. It sure would be a heck of a lot better than life here in Independence. The name was too ironic. Pony felt trapped in his hometown. He could tell his family did, too. Trapped in poverty. And unwelcome memories.
His brothers seemed to be getting tireder and tireder, working their behinds off just to put a meal on the table. Sometimes, the money didn’t even stretch that far.
Even so, his oldest brother, Darry, still made Pony go to school three days a week. Ponyboy wanted to work more days at the general store, but Darry wouldn’t allow it. Not like he had allowed Soda to stop school and take on full-time work like him. Pony was just too good at school. His brothers thought he could make something of himself. Personally, Ponyboy thought that maybe he could, too. Despite the schoolhouse being cramped and stuffy and him feeling like he was always ahead, learning backwards, he enjoyed school and learning. He liked the maps on the walls and reading textbooks and writing on his slate.
But sometimes, life did get monotonous. Every week was the same-old. He had buddies, but no one too close. And missing Ma and Pa never did get easier, no matter what Sodapop and Darry told him. No matter what they said, Pony wondered if they were having just as hard a time. Even though Darry hadn’t cried at the funeral. Even though he hardly ever saw Soda stop smiling—that kid was a downright gigglemug, even when he shouldn’t be.
There were still some fun days. Their buddies came over sometimes, Two-Bit and Steve. Sometimes they came with food. Sometimes they came hungry. Sometimes, they spent the night. Their house was small, hardly enough space for the Curtises to sleep, but Darry always left the door open.
Steve was constantly getting kicked out by his pa. Two-Bit had been grieving his family for not much longer than the Curtises had after they died in a cabin fire.
So the Curtis home was theirs, too, whenever they needed it.
But Ponyboy was starting to wonder how long their home would remain their home.
His answer came that very night over a supper of salt pork and beans. The house stank of the dirty water running through the streets. It was a cramped clapboard house with warped floors and a perpetually musty smell, just one larger room with a loft for sleeping. A single candle lit the table. Outside, the church bells were tolling the latest round of cholera deaths.
Ponyboy hated the sound of those bells. Cholera had taken his father in one night and his mother the next, only last September. It was mid-April now. Darry had been picking up the pieces ever since.
His brothers looked up from their suppers at the sound, too.
Soda tried to keep the mood up. He was good at small talk. If it could even be called small talk when Soda was doing it. He talked a lot. All the time.
But something felt off that night. It wasn’t until Soda asked Darry how his day was when the news finally came out.
“Boys,” Darry said in a way that made Ponyboy’s heart drop. He pulled something out of his pocket and dropped it on the table. It was a handwritten note, torn at the top like it had been nailed somewhere and pulled down. “I’m so sorry.” The words scraped out of his throat, like they killed him to say.
Sorry? More and more dread filled Pony with every word. He didn’t think he’d ever heard Darry say he was sorry for anything. He read the note.
To Darrel Curtis Jr. and Occupants
You are hereby notified that rent being due and unpaid for the dwelling situated on Cedar Street for the term of two months past, you are required to quit and surrender said premises within five days of receipt of this notice.
Failure to depart peaceably shall compel further action under the laws of Jackson County.
Signed,
Elias Baker
Proprietor
Independence, Missouri
April 14th, 1844
Sodapop looked at it with watering eyes. Pony was shaking.
“So this is it?” Soda finally choked out. “There’s nothin’ we can do?”
“Nothin’,” Darry said softly, his eyes hard. “I’ve tried everythin’. Partial payments. Extensions. Extra work. He’s just done. He ain’t budgin’ no more.” He dragged a hand over his face. “I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice barely audible.
Soda took his hand. “It ain’t yer fault. I—I coulda done more, too, I coulda—”
“No,” Darry stopped him. “No. Let’s not… It’s done. No dwellin’ on it. We couldn’t have done anythin’ more. We just gotta do the next thing now.”
“Like find another house?” Ponyboy asked uncertainly.
Darry was silent for a long moment. “No. I’m thinkin’ we hitch a wagon out. Get land out West. Start over.”
His brothers stared at him with open mouths.
“You mean it?” Soda asked, his voice breathy with wonder.
“I dunno what else we can do,” Darry admitted, pulling back the notice. “But we make this decision together, okay? It ain’t gonna be safe. Or easy.”
“And since when was life here that way?” Soda asked. He bounced in his chair. “It’s the right time of year and everythin’. Darry, we gotta! We can take Steve and Two with us!”
“Yes,” Pony added eagerly. “Soda’s good with mules, Steve could fix up the wagon, and the rest of us can do other sorts of things.” He could already picture himself seated in the front of a wagon, sketching the sunset right before they all tucked in for the night around a fire. Golly, it seemed like something right out of a book.
Darry nodded. “S’what I been thinkin’.”
Soda shot up from the table like a bullet. “So that’s it, then?” He let out a whoop and slung his arms around Darry’s neck, then he ran over to tackle Pony in a hug, nearly tipping his chair and sending them both toppling. “We’re goin’ to Oregon!”
Pony looked at Darry for confirmation, hardly able to believe it.
His brother looked back at him and nodded, like he was having trouble fully grasping it himself. “Sure ‘nuff,” Darry said. “Whatdya say, Pony? You think you’d like it out in Oregon?”
“I think I’d like it jus’ fine.”
Soda and Darry looked at each other, seeming to have a silent exchange. Then, Darry gave a small smile, sighing and leaning back in his chair, giving a slight shake of his head. “Well. Looks like we’re goin’ to Oregon, y’all.”
Soda hollered so loud in celebration, Pony was sure if they weren’t getting evicted already, that would’ve sealed the deal.
Pony went back to his food, even though he was hardly hungry anymore. Finally, finally. They were getting out of this place.
They were starting over.