By Ken Drenten

Ground was broken for the Ohio & Erie Canal at Licking Summit south of Newark on July 4, 1825. By 1832, the entire 308-mile route of the canal from Cleveland to the Ohio River was open to traffic. A powerful network of waterway and road thus opened the West to migration and commerce, with even more powerful railroads soon to follow.

CHAPTER THREE: A Business Proposition

Tritt went across Jacksontown’s Main Street, the National Road, to a clapboard building that resembled a large shack that might soon tumble down. The only thing that identified it as a restaurant was a hand-written sign in a dirty window that read “EAT.” He sat down at a rough-sawn table.

“Excuse me, Mr. Tritt, is this seat taken?”

He looked up to see the brown eyes of the woman from the stagecoach looking at him from beneath auburn curls that flowed freely from a man’s hat that covered her head. Remembering his manners, he stood up immediately and pulled out a chair.

“It is now, ma’am. Please sit down.”

She wore a gray workman’s shirt and blue trousers that showed womanly curves under the worn fabric. She was slightly dusty from the road and carried a large carpetbag. She sat down and smiled.

“So you’re a lawman?”

“No, ma’am. Just a private citizen.”

“But you were one once?”

“Of a fashion. I helped maintain order, you might say.”

“You don’t give much away.”

He grinned. “The local laws weren’t exactly in agreement with what some other folks had in mind. Plus I had a bellyful of sleepin’ on the ground, gettin’ shot at, and eatin’ bad food,” he said. “And bein’ paid very little for it.”

“So what do you do now?”

A man came out from behind the slab of wood that served as a counter and placed clay dishes of pork and beans and day-old bread in front of both of them.

“I’ve done some road work, worked at farms as a hired hand, some work on the canal. I go from place to place. Find jobs where I can.”

“So are you also a bounty hunter?”

“Oh, no, ma’am. Well, only on an as-needed basis.”

“Why don’t you do it more often?”

“Ma’am, if you don’t mind me sayin’ so, you ask an awful lot of questions without much of a how d’ye do,” he said peevishly. “But if you have to know, that line of work is mighty hazardous. So I don’t do it very often. Just when an urgent need and the risk is worth the reward.”

She put a spoonful of food into her mouth. “Hmmm,” she said. “Well, I was just trying to make conversation.”

He chewed and winked. “I don’t mind conversing with a good-lookin’ woman,” he said. “But I don’t like bein’ asked a passel of questions all at once.”

“Well, then, let me tell you about myself. I grew up on my father’s farm in Maryland. I was educated until our schoolteacher left and I was the oldest student left, so I began to teach the rest of them. After they managed to find a new teacher, I lived at the farm until I got engaged, to the gentleman who was hired as the teacher.

“Things were fine, you see, until I suspected him of cheating on me as well as stealing from my father, and I called him on it. And I was right. So he left me to be with his new woman. I’ve been moving west since then to start a new life – away from Maryland. I’ve been away for three months now.”

She went on for some time, then added, “The reason I’ve been asking you questions is that I need someone to protect my interests on my travels,” she said. “I don’t want what happened back there to happen again, and I know this country is full of bad men. That’s why I dress the way I do as well – it attracts less attention. Would you be willing to help with my interests on a hired basis?”

“Now your questions have turned into whoppers,” Tritt said. “I’m not in the market for a job as a bodyguard to someone I just met today. And as you have seen today, this Ohio country is no place for a woman to be travelin’. You belong back on a farm, or at least in a town.”

“Have you looked around at this town?” she retorted. “It’s dangerous here.”

“This ain’t what I’d call a settled town,” he said. “This is Jacktown. Keep your head on a swivel all the time here.”

He did, however, eat the rest of his meal with her as she went on about her trip. It had something to do with looking for a lot of lost gold coins or some such story, with a reward at the end for him if he would just provide protection for her. He didn’t pay much attention, but he did notice the attractive spray of light freckles across her cheeks.

Tritt had heard such claptrap about hidden gold from others before, and he didn’t believe the story this time, either. He mainly nodded and mumbled as he finished his food.

After paying for the food, Tritt dusted off his hat, jammed it back on his head, and began to rise from his chair.

“Well, I guess I’d better be movin’ along,” he said to the woman, tipping his hat. “Thanks for the company.”

“Where are you going?”

“I gotta go to a place to wait until tomorrow for an office to open,” he said.

“What then?”

“Well, I don’t want to talk about such things in a place like this.”

“You have something coming to you, then?”

“That’s right.”

“Then where are you going?”

“Out and about. I have no plans.” He began walking out the door, and she followed him into the street.

“But didn’t you say you would help me?”

“I don’t recall sayin’ so.”

“What are your plans, Mr. Tritt? Riding to the next town or farm and begging for work? Then spending it on whiskey and women? That’s not much of a plan.”

That rankled him. “Now see, here, young lady –“

“If you won’t go with me, I’ll go myself.”

He put a lanky arm in front of her to keep her from getting run down by a team of horses on the dusty street, where horses and wagons were passing noisily.

“I been tryin’ to tell you. It’s too dangerous for unaccompanied young ladies out there on this pike.”

“Why is it too dangerous? And who said I was a lady?”

Tritt smiled. “Maybe it’s because you talk too much an’ ask too many questions,” he said, and sighed. “You ever rode a horse before?”

“Of course,” she said with an unladylike snort. “I’ve ridden many horses on my father’s farm.”

“How about a team of horses behind a wagon?”

“Yes, I’ve done that, too. And slopped hogs, and butchered chickens and pushed a mule across a field. I’m no delicate flower, Mr. Tritt. I aim to work.”

“Well,” he said.

“Well, what?”

“I’ve been lookin’ for the right opportunity to come along to do some hauling.” He scratched his chin. “Maybe it would work, but I don’t know.”

“What would work?”

“Aw, nothin’. I was just thinkin’ out loud.”

“But if all we need is a team of good horses and a wagon and some equipment, you could help me. Is that right? Then we’d be able to have the means to find the go–”

He put a finger to her lips so she would not blurt out that word in a public place. It could be dangerous for random ears to hear it. “Listen, ma’am, I was thinking out loud and probably out of turn. We’d also need to keep this between the two of us. I don’t think –”

“Don’t you think that if we’re going to be spending time in partnership together you should start calling me by my actual name? It’s Susan,” she said. “Susan Whitworth. Miss Susan Whitworth.”

“Susan,” he repeated. “Would you settle for Susie?”

“’Susie’ sounds like a mule’s name.”

“As good as any, and you seem as stubborn as one.”

“Well, what’s your full name? I can’t go on calling you Mr. Tritt.”

“Why not? That’s what other people call me – Tritt. It’s my last name, and it’s uncommon enough that I don’t need to use any other.”

“But you do have a first name, don’t you? What is it?”

“I don’t go by my first name.”

“Then I’ll make one up for you. What shall it be – Clement, or Percival, or maybe Waldorf?”

“OK,” he sighed. “My first name is Elmer. Are you happy now?”

“Elmer,” she repeated. “Elmer Tritt.”

“That’s right.”

“I think Elmer is a nice name.”

“Men don’t need to have nice names,” Tritt said.

“OK, it’s a good, solid name,” she said. “How about if I only call you Elmer when other folks aren’t around?”

“That’s fine,” he said with a clenched jaw. “Since we’ll not likely be in many situations like that.”

“So you agree to help me!” she squealed, starting to throw her arms up to his chest. He threw his hands up.

“Under one condition — you’ll do as I say,” he said sternly. “It could be there’ll come a time when your life will depend on listenin’ to what I say. Understand?”

“Sure, I understand. I guess I have some work to do to get ready. Where will I meet you, Mr. Elmer Tritt?”

“You’ll be most likely to find me outside the sheriff’s office just after 9 a.m.,” he said.

“Good. I will see you then.”

He tipped his hat to her and walked into the hotel saloon nearby, not looking back to see whether she would follow him in or not. He figured not.

“Whiskey,” he said to the bartender. He would need it, he thought, if he was really going to take on Miss Susan Whitworth, who was rather old to be a tomboy and seemed an unlikely business partner. It would be highly out of the ordinary and would probably raise a few eyebrows. But somehow, that might just suit him fine. It might just be interesting.

NEXT: A Nasty Reminder

Ken Drenten is creator and editor of Dusty-Tires.com, a travel blog for out-of-the-ordinary places in Ohio.

Subscribe to Dusty Tires and receive a weekly email with the latest blog article. It’s free!

All rights reserved, Dusty Tires (dusty-tires.com), 2025.