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Thomas Lincoln’s Son Encounters the World Beyond Pigeon Creek

Abraham Lincoln awoke suddenly from his troubled dream, his stepmother’s cries still ringing in his ears: “Stop it! Stop it! Please, stop it!”

In his dream, Sallie Lincoln had been trying to wedge her way between Abraham and his enraged father. The two had begun to argue, and their dispute had escalated rapidly.

“Yer lazy, boy! I’m gettin’ fed up with yer books and yer writin’ and not payin’ attention to yer work! We gotta finish harvestin’ our own crops, and old man Gentry’s already askin’ fer yer help ta bring inhis crops and split some new fence rails fer his store! We’re gonna need his money ta help pay taxes on this land, and fer some new shoes and supplies fer yer ma and the farm that we cain’t afford right now!”

“But I already done twice as much work as Johnston!” Abraham heatedly countered. “He’s the lazy one! And yesterday, I done at least as much as you in the field! You take a break every hour in the shade and drink half our water, while I keep workin’. I only read my books while you and Johnston are eatin’ lunch!”

“Listen ta me! I’m yer pa!” Thomas Lincoln remonstrated. “I know yuh think yer better’n the rest of us, but yer not as smart as yuh think!”

“I don’t think I’m better! I just think there outta be more ta life than cuttin’ down forests and plowin’ and plantin’ crops and prayin’ you’ll have enough food ta last through the winter. Folks who do better’n us, whoimprove themselves and live civilized lives and rule over the likes of us, know how taread—they’re educated!”

“Civilized?! Are you sayin’ we ain’tcivilized? By God I won’ttolerate such talk under my own roof!” Thomas roared, as he lurched forward to lay hands on his impertinent son.

That was the moment when, in Abraham’s dream, Sallie had intervened and he had awoken.

Lying in the stillness of the cabin loft where he shared a cornhusk bed with his stepbrother and cousin, Abraham shuddered. It was only a bad dream. Even so, with his heart still racing, he silently conceded to himself the hard truth the dream had conveyed about his escalating tension with his father. Abraham was eighteen years old and had been seriously entertaining the idea of leaving home to strike out on his own for some time. But unable to coolly dismiss the deeply conflicted feelings conjured in his dream—especially his stepmother’s anguished cries—he resolved once again to stay, to stifle his growing restlessness and resentment. He was not yet ready to abandon the only life he had known for an uncertain incursion into the larger world beyond Pigeon Creek, nor did he wish to betray the hopes and affection of his stepmother, to whom he had become strongly attached.

***

Four years later, standing on a Saint Louis pier on the banks of the Mississippi River, twenty-two year-old Abraham Lincoln and John Hanks were about to part company. “Take care’a yerself, Abe. You been down this