“Yes, Pappy.”
Ezekiel slapped his palm on the table. “Guess we’s settled, then. Best get busy and pack your clothes while me and Dr. Boyle visit fer a while.”
“Tell me, Ezekiel, has there been any word since Ivan Lovejoy made his visit to Topeka? I’ve been anxious to know if the governor has notified Ivan of any efforts made on behalf of the community.”
“Seems as though the governor don’ think he can do nothing on his own ’less there’s been some of them politicians come to look at things fer themselves. Guess they need to see if it’s as bad as Ivan tol’ ’em. He says if things is bad, he’ll seek aid fer us. Course, we could all be dead by the time they gets here.” There was sadness in his eyes as he spoke.
“Did Ivan think the governor was sincere in his commitment to investigate?”
“I don’ think Ivan was too pleased.” Ezekiel motioned to Jarena. “You thought Ivan was upset ’bout his visit with the governor, didn’ you?”
She nodded. “Mr. Lovejoy doesn’t think the governor was sincere, but there’s little chance of getting our message to Congress without the man’s support. Mr. Lovejoy thought there was little else he could do, so he agreed to wait for the arrival of the senators. Unfortunately, the governor didn’t set a date for the visit, so we have no way of knowing when help may arrive.”
Samuel rubbed his jaw and thought for a moment. “Any word from Wilbur Rawlins?”
Ezekiel shook his head. “Nothin’. Ivan stopped at several businesses in Topeka and asked if they’d donate food or money. Seems Wilbur had already gone to most of the stores askin’ for aid. Wilbur done tol’ one of them storeowners he was comin’ back to Nicodemus weeks ago. Course, we know that ain’t the truth.”
“So Ivan didn’t have success gathering any supplies to bring back?”
Jarena poured her father a cup of coffee and set it before him. “Once Mr. Lovejoy learned that most of the business owners had already been approached to contribute, he decided any further efforts would be futile. He returned home with nothing more than his hope that the governor will soon send a few of his senators.”
Ezekiel took a swallow of the coffee. “Hard to believe Wilbur would do such a thing. Sure is sad to see how gettin’ hold of money tests the honor of a man. But I’m still prayin’ that Wilbur’s gonna return with the money or supplies and prove he’s da man I thought he was.”
T
ruth snuggled under the heavy sleigh blankets and enjoyed the jingling of the sleigh bells and whooshing sound of the runners cutting through the snow. She wondered if Mrs. Boyle would be as kind as her husband was and if their daughter, Macia, would like her. Jarena had said Macia was nice, but Jarena had spent only one afternoon with Dr. Boyle’s daughter. Truth hoped her sister was correct, but anyone could act pleasant for a little while—especially among strangers.
What if they didn’t like her cooking or the way she made the beds? Would they slap her like the Kincaids had the help at their mansion? After all, Macia was looking to marry one of the Kincaids—leastwise, that’s what Jarena said, along with the fact that Truth shouldn’t let on like she’d ever heard of the Kincaids. However, Truth wasn’t certain what difference it made if she told the Boyles that her father had sharecropped for the Kincaids. But she had promised her sister, and if there was one thing Truth could do, it was keep her word. She could keep her mouth shut and bite her tongue along with the best of them. No, she wouldn’t say a word, but she might just try to find out why Macia would want to marry into the Kincaid family.
“What if your family don’t—doesn’t like the way I cook and clean?” she ventured, careful to correct her English. Jarena had cautioned that she’d be expected to use her best grammar.
Dr. Boyle patted her hand. “I believe you’ll find we’re not hard to please. As I said, Mrs. Boyle has cookbooks, and she’ll answer your questions. Please don’t concern yourself. My wife has likely already made a list of chores that she’ll explain once we get you settled in your room.”
Truth stared in disbelief. “I get to have my own room?”
He laughed. “Yes, of course. It’s certainly nothing elegant, but it’s private. Of course,
none
of the house would be considered elegant— especially by my wife’s standards.”
“My friend Dovie’s living in Topeka and workin’ as a housekeeper. Her family was gonna move to Nicodemus, but when we got to Topeka, they decided to stay there. I had one letter from her since we got to Nicodemus. There may be more waitin’ at the post office down in Ellis. . . .”
“You must write her and tell her to address her letters to you in Hill City. Levi Turnbull goes down to Ellis and picks up the mail when the weather permits. He’s the postmaster for Hill City.”
“Now that I’m workin’, I’ll be able to pay for postage so I can write to Dovie. Pappy said we needed to use our money fer food instead of stamps. I know he was right, but I sure didn’t want Dovie thinking I’d forgotten ’bout her already.”
“And how does she like working in Topeka?”
“She likes it real good. Both her and her mama are working for a rich man who works in the capitol. A congressman or something like that.”
“I’m afraid our house will bear little resemblance to the house where your friend Dovie is working. However, I’ve promised my wife that we will build a new home as soon as the weather turns warm.”
“She don’t like your house?”
“No, and I understand her complaints. Our home in Kentucky was far superior. However, compared to other homes in Hill City or Ellis, it’s quite nice.”
The two of them settled into a comfortable silence until Truth spied the semblance of a small town not far in the distance. “Is that Hill City?”
“Yes. Not long now.”
In no time, Dr. Boyle was reining the team of horses to a halt in front of a large frame house. Truth looked back and forth between the house and Dr. Boyle. “Is this
your
house?”
“This is it. I’ll get your bag and we’ll go inside. I’ll have Harvey take the horses and sleigh to the livery.”
Truth’s stomach began to turn like cream being churned into butter. As she followed Dr. Boyle up the front steps, she said a silent prayer that the Boyle family would find her acceptable. Though she told herself there was nothing to fear, she still wasn’t completely convinced.
“I’m home!” Dr. Boyle called as they entered the hallway.
“Did you find someone to—” Macia stopped short when Truth stepped out from behind her father. “Oh, good! I was worried you’d come home without help.” She grasped Truth by the hand. “Do take off your coat and come and help me in the kitchen. I have no idea what I’m doing, and Mother insists upon chicken for supper. You can cook chicken, can’t you?”
“Macia! Where are your manners? You’ve not even been properly introduced.”
“I’m sorry, Father,” Macia replied, her cheeks now crimson. “Mother has been unwavering about supper preparations. She insisted upon chicken even though she knows such preparation goes well beyond my culinary expertise. I’m Macia Boyle.” She smiled brightly.
“My name is Truth Harban. Pleased to meet you.”
“Jarena’s sister?”
“One of them. I have a twin sister, too. Her name is Grace.”
“Truth and Grace—interesting names.”
She nodded. “My mama said our names was good principles to live by—straight outta the Bible.”
“And so they are,” Dr. Boyle said. “You may hang your coat here in the hallway or in your room, whichever you choose. I’ll take you upstairs and show you the room where you’ll be staying.”
“Why don’t I help Macia with supper first? There’ll be plenty of time to see my room later.”
“Thank you,” Macia whispered as they walked down the hallway to the kitchen. “I haven’t any idea how to cut up a chicken, much less fry it.”
Truth sighed with relief. She was thankful Mrs. Boyle didn’t want some fancy recipe like Dovie helped fix for that congressman in Topeka. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad after all. The house was much finer than she’d expected, and she reveled in the warmth. The Boyles obviously had enough fuel to keep their fires burning throughout the house. Truth tried to imagine Macia out hunting for buffalo chips to fuel the fires and almost laughed aloud.
“If you’ll show me where your mama keeps her kitchenwares, I kin get started.”
Macia quickly removed her apron and handed it to Truth as she pointed out what little she knew about the kitchen. “If you can’t find something, just begin looking until you find it. I’ll set the table.”
Before Macia could flee from the kitchen, Truth grasped her by the hand. “Wait. What else were you s’posed to fix with this chicken?”
“Whatever you want to fix. There are some sweet potatoes and some white potatoes in the root cellar. Mama said she’d like some green beans. Just fix whatever you think would be good.”
Truth stared at the chicken and wondered who had killed and plucked the bird. She was sure it hadn’t been Macia Boyle. “You pluck this chicken?”
Macia shivered. “No. We buy our chickens from Mrs. Johnson. We brought a couple when we first came here and she’s taking care of them for us. She kills and plucks them for Mama when we need one.”
As she surveyed the kitchen, Truth was thankful for the hours of cooking instructions Jarena had forced upon her throughout the years—even if she had attempted to avoid using the skills while living at home.
Although preparations had taken longer than she expected, Truth hoped that the final product would meet with Mrs. Boyle’s approval. Despite the fact that Truth longed for the taste of sweet potatoes, she prepared the white potatoes instead. After adding a lump of butter and several dollops of cream, she mashed the potatoes until her arm ached. The gravy was nice and thick, just the way her own pappy loved it, and she thought of him sitting down to this fine meal and how he would savor each bite. She’d let the fire get too low and the biscuits hadn’t browned the way they should have, but she hoped the family would allow for the fact that she hadn’t ever cooked on a stove quite so nice as the one in their kitchen. Once she’d prepared a few more meals on the cast-iron cookstove, she’d do better.
When Macia finally peeked into the kitchen, Truth beckoned her forward. “Should I fix a tray for your mama, or can she come to the table for her meals?”
“She’ll come down and join us, though she’ll go back upstairs if she becomes overtired during the meal.”
Truth wanted to ask what ailed Mrs. Boyle but knew such a question would be considered improper. Perhaps Dr. Boyle or Macia would volunteer the information. Truth stood near the sideboard, prepared to serve as the family entered the dining room.
Dr. Boyle entered the room with his wife firmly clutching his arm. “My dear, this is Truth Harban.”
Truth gave a slight curtsy and smiled. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Boyle. I hope supper is to your liking.”
Mrs. Boyle smiled in return. “We’re all very pleased to have you here with us—especially Macia.”
“And I’m Harvey,” a younger version of Dr. Boyle said as he entered the dining room. “You can disregard Mother’s last statement. I’m even more pleased to have you. Eating Macia’s cooking was difficult on my digestive system.” He chortled as he looked in Macia’s direction.
Once the family was seated and Dr. Boyle had offered thanks, Truth began to serve the meal. “I don’t have no experience serving, Mrs. Boyle, so please tell me when I do something wrong.”
Harvey chewed a bite of chicken. “So long as the food tastes this good, you can’t do anything wrong around this place.”
When the dishes had finally been washed and put away, Macia accompanied Truth upstairs to her room. “This house is truly awful. You must be very careful or you’ll trip on the loose floorboards. I’ve fallen down any number of times since moving here. I can’t wait until I can leave this horrid place.”
Truth thought the house quite wonderful, but she didn’t dispute Macia’s opinion. “Your father said he’s buildin’ a new house this spring. You must be very happy.”
The brown silk fringe that trimmed Macia’s cream wool day dress swayed in a gentle rhythm as she walked down the hallway. “It is my hope that I’ll be living in Kentucky by the time construction is completed on such a house. If good fortune is with me, Jackson Kincaid will ask for my hand, and we’ll return to live at his home in Georgetown.”
Truth snapped to attention at the mention of the Kincaid name. So Jarena had been correct: Macia Boyle
was
planning to marry Jackson Kincaid. How could someone who treated colored folks so kindly be smitten with the likes of such a man? And how could her father permit such a thing? Dr. Boyle and old Mr. Kincaid were as different as daylight and dark.
“Father mentioned Jarena is concerned about your schooling. If you’d like, I’d be happy to take over with your lessons. Jarena mentioned her love of reading. If you share her interest, you might enjoy my large library of books. You may borrow any of them.”
“Thank you. I’m not so interested in education as my sister, but I better not get behind on my lessons. If I do, Jarena will tell Pappy I need to return home.”
“Well, I don’t want that to occur, so we best begin your lessons tomorrow. Besides, it will give us time to become better acquainted.”
“Does your father cotton to the idea of you marryin’ that Kincaid fellow you mentioned earlier?”
Macia giggled nervously. “Father doesn’t particularly like any of the Kincaids. In fact, I believe that’s one of the reasons he moved to Hill City—to keep me away from Jackson, though I doubt he’d ever admit that fact to me.”
“You’d marry ’im without your father’s approval?”
“If Jackson and I decide to wed, Father will eventually give his blessing. He wouldn’t want to see me unhappy. Here we are—this is your room.”
The room was more than Truth had imagined, and her eyes widened at the sight. There was a bedstead topped by a mattress that looked soft and a coverlet that looked warm, there were pictures on the wall, and there was even a slat-backed rocker in one corner. The single window facing the rear yard was flanked by lacy white curtains. After eating a supper of fried chicken, biscuits, and gravy, she was in a room the likes of which she could never have imagined for her own. She wondered what Jarena and Grace would think of having such a place for themselves. A part of her longed to have them see it, yet a sense of guilt crept in and captured a piece of her joy. While her family huddled around a tiny fire struggling to keep warm, she was cozy and well fed in this lovely house—it seemed completely improper.