“If you knew it were true, would it make a difference in how you feel about your beau?” Jarena softly inquired.
“I’m not certain—I’ve never given the matter any thought. Does it bother you to talk about it?”
“Oh, I can
talk
’bout such things all day long,” Miss Hattie said. “That don’ bother me even a whit. But livin’ in dem conditions—now,
that’s
what’s troublin’ to the soul. Ain’t so easy to push them thoughts aside if you’s ever been on the receivin’ end of a bullwhip or been the one held down in a sharecropper’s shack.”
“Well, at least all of you seem to have fared well. Jarena speaks quite eloquently. I know there were freed men living in Georgetown even before the war who owned small businesses and learned to read and write. Did you attend school, Jarena?”
Jarena’s focus remained on her sewing. “You might say I was blessed with a private tutor. For a time, I worked for an elderly woman who had a vast library. In exchange for a portion of my salary, my parents asked that she assist me with my education. She was a fine lady, and though she spent more time teaching me than I did cleaning her house, she never withheld any money from my wages. Then when my mother became ill, she would loan me books from her library. After I read each one, I wrote a report for her, and then we would discuss the book. She died several years ago, but she directed many of her books be given to me.”
“There now—isn’t that a pleasant story?” Macia commented.
Miss Hattie shook her head vigorously and grunted. “It may be a pleasant story, but dat’s all it is. Jarena never got them books. When Missus Clardy’s daughter found out, she packed up all dem books and shipped ’em off to her house in Georgia. Weren’t nobody said a word ’bout the fact dat Jarena got cheated out of dem books, neither.”
S
amuel pulled his collar tight under his chin and walked alongside Calvin, glad the Harban dugout wasn’t far off. He hoped to enlist the assistance of Calvin and one or two of the other young men to unload the remaining supplies from his sleigh while he spoke with Ezekiel Harban. They approached the residence and the two of them turned their backs to the wind as Calvin knocked on the door.
The door inched open a crack, and Thomas Grayson peeked through the narrow gap before pulling back on the leather handle and permitting the two men entry. “Come in!”
Ezekiel’s shoulders remained slightly stooped, but he stood as tall as the roof of the dugout would permit. Samuel noted that neither Ezekiel nor Thomas could stand completely upright unless they were directly in the center of the dwelling. His earlier visit with Thomas had revealed the Harris dugout had been built first, when they’d been less pressured for time. But as winter had approached they’d been forced to move more quickly—and they’d been able to locate even less wood to use for the rafters needed to shore up their roofs. He wondered how frequently the two men banged their heads each day.
“Good to see ya, Dr. Boyle,” Ezekiel greeted as he accepted Samuel’s outstretched hand in a hearty handshake. “We wasn’t fer certain you’d come back—what with the weather bein’ so cold, but I’m pleased to see you’s a man of your word. I reckon you been over to see Nellie and Calvin’s young’un.”
“Yes, and he’s a fine-looking boy. I’ve been worried about all of you and wondering how I might help. I did manage to bring a few supplies that I hope will assist to some degree. However, I fear it’s not enough to do a great deal of good. The small general store in Hill City is low on supplies, but I brought what they could spare. How are you folks going to make it through the remainder of the winter? Have you come up with a plan?”
Ezekiel sat at the table near the fire and motioned for his guests to join him. “I ain’t in charge of things ’round here, Dr. Boyle. We did take a vote a while back and sent Wilbur Rawlins back to the eastern part of the state.”
Samuel sat down opposite Ezekiel, anxious for more details.
“He and Ivan Lovejoy had differin’ ideas ’bout what was best fer the town,” Ezekiel continued. “Wilbur’s plan got the most votes.”
“Exactly what is Mr. Rawlins hoping to accomplish on his trip?”
“He was plannin’ ta ask for aid—either money or goods, whichever he could get. We’d about given up thinkin’ he was gonna send anything when, lo and behold, he sent ten dollars via the post office in Ellis. Weren’t much, but it was a beginnin’.”
Calvin’s face contorted in a look of frustration as he dropped onto the chair beside Ezekiel. “At least we was
hopin’
it was only the beginning. But it’s startin’ to look like dat paltry amount was the beginning, the middle, an’ the end.”
“Now, Calvin, we don’ know that fer certain. Ain’t fair to be judgin’ him too harshly afore we know the facts. Wilbur coulda met up with some kind of trouble.”
“Or he could be gettin’ money and then keepin’ it for hisself,” Thomas put in as he joined them.
Samuel leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. “Tell me, Ezekiel, what was Mr. Lovejoy’s plan for surviving the winter?”
Ezekiel wrapped his large hand around a tin coffee cup. “Well, he wanted to go to the governor and then to the Congress and ask for help, if the governor agreed to the idea. I didn’ unnerstand all he was saying, but I do know most folks don’ like the idea of gettin’ the government involved. Ivan got a couple letters from Walt Tuttle—Walt come from Georgetown with us, but den he decided to stay in Topeka. Walt wrote that Wilbur’s been collectin’ large sums of money. So Ivan decided Wilbur must be keepin’ the money for hisself. Ever since Ivan heard that news, he’s been pushin’ to go to the governor again.”
“I see no reason why he shouldn’t,” Samuel said. “It’s obvious the community needs assistance. The more people you have working to foster the town’s cause, the better. Why don’t you and I go and talk with Mr. Lovejoy while Thomas and Calvin unload my sleigh?”
Ezekiel hunched over the table. “No disrespect, Doctor, but my people ain’t so quick to believe that them in power will always do what they say. Ownin’ this here land means more to us than you’s likely to understand. Folks ain’t wantin’ to take any chances of losin’ it.”
Samuel reached across the table to pat Ezekiel’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t suggest anything that might jeopardize ownership of your land. However, at this point, I think the probability of starvation is more worrisome than the slight prospect of losing your land.”
Ezekiel slowly rose from his chair. “I s’pose you’s right about that.”
While Thomas and Calvin began unloading the provisions from the sleigh, Ezekiel and Samuel walked toward the Lovejoy dugout. A light snow had begun to fall, and Samuel looked off to the north, where a bank of darker clouds was slowly moving in their direction. He hoped the weather would hold off until he and Macia made it back home. He didn’t know how his daughter would cope should they be forced to remain overnight in one of the dugouts.
Ezekiel followed Samuel’s gaze. “Looks like we’s in for some more snow.”
As they approached the Lovejoy dugout, Samuel shrank into his turned-up collar like a turtle retreating into its shell. “I hope I can make it back to Hill City before those clouds dump any more snow.”
Ivan Lovejoy opened the door. “What you doin’ out in this cold weather, Ezekiel?” he asked as he stepped aside to permit the two men entry.
“Dr. Boyle here says maybe you’s right ’bout gettin’ help from the government. I still ain’t so sure, but we’s here ’cause he wanted to hear what you was plannin’. I done tol’ him ’bout the money we got from Wilbur.”
Ivan immediately launched into the particulars of the earlier meeting, detailing the settlers’ unwillingness to place their trust in his plan. “And so we now finds us in a even worse condition. Wilbur has one team of horses an’ a wagon, and he’s likely sold dem, too. If Wilbur don’ send any more funds by the end of December, I could make the trip to Topeka and meet with the governor.”
“I’d be willing to accompany you to Topeka, if you’d like,” Samuel said.
Ivan glanced at the floor for a moment. “I ’preciate your offer, Dr. Boyle, but we need to take charge of our future without dependin’ on others speakin’ fer us.”
“Perhaps I could at least write a letter setting forth my concerns for the health of the residents. You could leave it with the governor as additional support for your position, if you think it might help.”
Ivan smiled broadly. “I agree that a letter from you could be helpful. I ’preciate dat.”
Samuel penned a letter at the Harban dugout before going to the Harris place to collect his daughter. “What have you done with Macia?” he joked when his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the dugout.
The women gave him a strange look and Hattie pointed at Macia. “That right there’s your gal.”
“But that girl is sewing. Macia can’t sew. You must have replaced her while I was gone,” he teased.
Miss Hattie chuckled in delight. “That chil’ can learn anythin’ she sets her mind to. Ain’t dat right, Macia?”
“Yes, Miss Hattie.”
“Show your pappy all dem diapers you hemmed,” Nellie encouraged.
When Macia hesitated, Miss Hattie tapped her on the arm. “Go on now, show ’im.”
“I finished all of these.” She held up the pieces of flannel that had been neatly edged.
Her father examined the stitches as though he were checking a healing incision rather than a piece of cloth.
“Didn’t she do a nice job?” Jarena asked as she folded the diaper she had just completed.
“I would say so. I’m very proud of you. I wish we could stay longer so you could help complete all of the diapers, but we must be on our way home.”
“This here gal shows promise,” Miss Hattie told the doctor. “With a little nudgin’, she gonna turn out jest fine.”
Macia’s cheeks flushed at the praise as she handed the partially hemmed diaper to Miss Hattie. “Thank you for teaching me,” she said shyly. “It’s been an enjoyable visit, and I hope you’ll come to Hill City and call on us sometime in the future.”
“I don’ think we’ll be comin’ any time soon, but we thank you for the invite,” Miss Hattie replied with a broad grin. The old woman turned her gaze to Dr. Boyle and nodded.
Samuel smiled at his daughter and knew she did not grasp the import of her invitation. When they were finally on their way home, Samuel patted Macia’s hand. “I’m proud of you for actually inviting people of color into our home.”
The corners of Macia’s lips turned up. “It is truly strange how you forget the color of someone’s skin once you become acquainted, don’t you think?”
“Indeed. Unfortunately, most people won’t take that first step.”
“If Jackson knew of my invitation, he’d likely think I’ve gone mad out here on the prairie. But I suppose there’s no need to worry on that account, for I doubt either Jackson or the folks in Nicodemus will be visiting Hill City any time soon.”
Samuel flicked the reins and urged the team onward. He, too, doubted whether there would be any visitors in the near future. Yet he enjoyed the thought of having the residents of Nicodemus come calling while Jackson Kincaid was at their home. What would Jackson think of such an occurrence? He grinned, relishing the notion.
Nicodemus, Kansas
•
January 1878
J
arena peeked from under the covers. A light skiff of snow had blown under the ill-fitting door, and bitter cold now seeped through every crevice in the dugout. She snuggled deeper under the blankets, longing for the warm days of summer. There was no reason to jump up from her bed. The ground had been frozen for nearly a week, and little could be accomplished in such weather—at least nothing that required her to rise and prepare an early breakfast. Her sisters and Thomas were sleeping soundly, though she imagined her father had been awake for at least an hour. At least his snoring had ceased some time ago. Likely he found no compelling reason to leave his bed, either.
Jarena turned on her side, wishing for another blanket. Perhaps she should get up and add fuel to the waning fire. Her father and Thomas would likely want a cup of coffee. Her stomach growled as she thought about breakfast. How long had it been since they’d eaten enough to satisfy their hunger? Jarena could barely remember what it was like to sit down and eat her fill. Instead, they now counted themselves fortunate if there was enough food to ward off the hunger pangs. Their daily fare of corn mush thinned to a watery gruel had taken its toll on all of them. She had watched her sisters’ fleshy arms and legs slowly diminish to little more than twiglike appendages and her father’s thickset body turn much too lean. If help didn’t arrive, they’d be no more than skeletons by winter’s end.
Jarena sat up in the bed and forced her feet into the cold shoes beside her bed. Might as well get up. If these troublesome thoughts of hunger were going to plague her, she’d not get any sleep. Wrapping one of the thin blankets around her shoulders, she tossed several buffalo chips and a handful of dried sunflower stalks onto the banked fire. Thankful for the pail of water Thomas had fetched for her last night, Jarena broke the thin layer of ice and filled the coffeepot. The coffee would be weak, but no matter—the men wouldn’t complain. They knew she was doing her best to make do. She moved silently about the room, but the others were soon awake and ready to begin another day.
They had gathered near the fire for Bible reading when a loud commotion came from outside. Certain it was nothing more than children playing in the snow, her father motioned for Jarena to continue reading. She focused on the passage, trying to ignore the noise as it escalated to extraordinary heights. Jarena read more stridently, but when pounding fists sounded at their front door, the Bible reading came to an abrupt halt.
Truth hurried off to answer the door and was immediately greeted by several of the Beyer children. “Come quick! There’s Indians out here, and we don’ know what they’s sayin’.”
Truth peered around the doorway. Without a word, she yanked the children inside the dugout and turned to her family, her eyes filled with fear and her mouth gaping. “There truly is Injuns out there. What are we gonna do, Pappy?”