“Don’t talk nonsense. And quit that skipping—you’re kicking up dust. Nicodemus is a newly formed town. It’s bound to be even smaller than Georgetown. We’ll have a church or two and maybe a general store—perhaps a few little shops, if we’re fortunate.”
“You don’t know fer sure. There may be some fine buildings jest like the ones here in Topeka,” Truth declared with a firm nod.
Ezekiel patted Jarena’s arm. “Don’ discourage the chil’. This here’s a fine-lookin’ city, and if Nicodemus is only a smidgen as grand, I’ll be happy. I know we done the right thing coming here. This here state is the freest and friendliest state for coloreds.”
Jarena walked alongside her father, remembering back several months ago when he’d rushed through the front door of their small house clutching a tattered handbill. He waved the paper in front of her and insisted she immediately stop cooking and read the words aloud. The broadside explained that the largest colored town in America was being formed two hundred and fifty miles west of Topeka, Kansas. Her father nearly danced with delight when she read the line stating there were lots for sale—five dollars for a house and seventy-five dollars for a business.
Ezekiel Harban was immediately smitten with the idea of owning his own land. They attended meetings at their local church, where two colored men were introduced as the president and secretary of the Nicodemus Town Company, and William R. Hill was presented as the treasurer and the only white man who would be a member of the town company.
Life hadn’t been the same since that day when Mr. Hill had smiled beguilingly at the members of the First Baptist Church and explained the wonders of the great Solomon Valley. He told them of fine acreage and a land that was much like Canaan, flowing with milk and honey for anyone willing to set his hand to the plow. They listened as he told of the rich black soil crying out to be tilled and planted, and of rolling hills that stretched as far as the eye could see. They harkened to his words of abundant wildlife, fine timber, coal deposits, and ample water available from plentiful springs and the south fork of the Solomon River that flowed nearby. And Jarena’s father drank up the information like a man dying of thirst.
Her father was one of the first in line to hand over his life savings in exchange for four train tickets and a piece of paper. The paper was a deed declaring that he owned a piece of land in what he constantly reminded her was the freest and friendliest state for coloreds to settle: John Brown’s former stomping grounds—Kansas.
Jarena gave her father a sidelong glance. “What are you going to do if Nicodemus
isn’t
everything you expect?”
“You gotta have faith, gal. You’s too young to always be lookin’ fer the worst in things. Trust the good Lord. We’s on the right path.”
“We’ll see, Pappy. We’ll see.”
T
here he is!” Grace pointed toward three wagons lumbering down Kansas Avenue. “Mr. Hill’s in the first wagon!”
Jarena wished she could muster a bit of the twins’ exuberance; instead she was filled with anger and frustration. As the minutes had ticked away, she’d grown increasingly vexed at Mr. Hill and his delays. A full three hours had passed since the small troupe had parted company with their leader. All nine families planning to go to Nicodemus waited restlessly in front of the dry goods store. And when the assigned time for Hill’s return had come and gone, many of them had grown apprehensive. What if he didn’t return and they were left to fend for themselves with their meager funds? How would they possibly survive? Jerome Holt, Herman Kemble, and John Beyer had spoken bravely of making arrangements to travel by themselves, while others had argued in favor of waiting for Hill’s return. In the end, they had remained in their assigned location—all except the Tuttle family, who had decided to remain in Topeka instead of traveling on to Nicodemus.
Mr. Hill appeared somewhat contrite as he jumped down from the wagon. “Sorry for the wait.”
Jarena thought it a meager apology but then realized his words weren’t a request for forgiveness—or even an admission of guilt.
“I had more trouble arranging to rent the horses and wagons than I anticipated. However, I’m pleased to tell you that I managed to find three more fellows who want to come along and become a part of the new town.”
Miss Hattie folded her plump arms across her chest. “Hmmph! That don’ make up for the five you lost by being late.”
Hill began counting on his fingers. “Five? That means we’re down to thirty-one settlers making the journey. Who pulled out?”
“Walt Tuttle and his family decided they’s gonna remain in Topeka,” Ezekiel replied.
Hill glanced down the street as though he expected to see the Tuttle family waiting somewhere nearby. “Well, I’ll go and find them. They’ve already purchased their land. Why would a short delay cause them to make such a rash decision?”
“Ain’t no need to go lookin’. Walt sold his deed to Robert Fowler for half of what he paid you, and he’s already got hisself a job working with the blacksmith down the street.”
Mr. Hill frowned. “John Hanson?”
Ezekiel nodded. “Um, hum, dat’s it. Anyways, Mr. Hanson done told Walt he needed help and they’d be better off stayin’ in Topeka. Course, Walt’s missus was all fer staying in the bigger city, too.”
“And their daughter Dovie’s gonna work as a housekeeper,” Truth said.
Jarena secretly wished someone had offered her father a position in Topeka. She’d certainly rather remain in a large city with access to the railroad than continue westward. Yet if Charles was coming to Nicodemus, things would surely become more bearable.
The men Mr. Hill had said were joining the group jumped down from the covered wagons and approached the settlers. One of the men, a broad-shouldered, muscular man who appeared to be in his midtwenties, stepped up beside Hill. “You need us to hep load da wagons?” he inquired.
Mr. Hill nodded, and the three men transferred trunks and meager household furnishings from the freight wagons into the covered wagons they’d be using to travel to Nicodemus. “Doesn’t appear you folks purchased many supplies,” Hill remarked.
“We got enough ta get us to Nicodemus,” Calvin replied. “Ain’t no need loading down the wagons with supplies when we can buy ’em once we get to our new home.”
Hill dug the toe of his boot into the dirt. “Might take us longer to get there than you’re expecting. I can wait a little longer if you want to make some final purchases. We’ll need to stop at the livery down the street for the other wagons. If you like, we could camp outside of town and depart in the morning.”
“Iffen we run short of cornmeal, these here men will jest have to get out there and kill us somethin’ to eat.” Miss Hattie spoke for the group. “I’m all fer gettin’ started, even if it is late in the day.”
“Fine, if that’s what all of you prefer. Let me introduce you to our newest recruits and then we’ll load up. This is Percy Sharp, Henry Ralston, and Thomas Grayson.” Mr. Hill pointed to each of the men as he announced their names.
“Still don’ trust dat man,” Miss Hattie said as she walked alongside Jarena toward the covered wagons. “And what we know ’bout them men he’s adding on? Dey ain’t got no womenfolk with ’em, and dat young one is the only one what looks like he kin pull his own weight. Dem other two is gonna be lazy—I can already tell. Don’t get to be my age without bein’ able to judge a man’s worth.”
“You think the young one, Thomas Grayson, appears to be of sound character?” Jarena eyed the muscular young man.
A quick jab from Miss Hattie’s elbow regained Jarena’s attention. “I thought you was pinin’ after Charles Francis, and here you is already settin’ your cap for that new feller.”
A strong southerly wind whipped down the street, and Jarena clutched her bonnet. “I have absolutely no interest in Thomas Grayson. I merely asked if you thought he was a reliable individual.”
“You want me to go tell him you need a hand up gettin’ into the wagon?” Truth sputtered.
With a warning glare, Jarena pointed a finger at her sister. “You’ll do no such thing, young lady.”
Miss Hattie laughed. “You surely got your hands full with them twins. Dey’s about as ornery as the day is long—’specially Truth,” she said. “I believe I’ll jest walk down to the livery. Don’ think I wanna crawl in and out of that wagon any more’n I have to. Besides, I been sittin’ all afternoon.”
“I’ll tell Pappy that I’m going to walk along with you and we’ll meet them at the livery,” Jarena replied. “You want me to tell Calvin and Nellie?”
“If ya like. But tell ’em they don’ need to walk. They’s likely already in a wagon and ain’t no need to climb back out.”
Jarena hurried off to deliver the messages. By the time she and Miss Hattie had walked to the livery, the baggage had been rearranged and seats assigned. Jarena and her family had been allotted the fourth wagon, which would also carry Miss Hattie and the young man, Thomas Grayson.
Ezekiel explained that Mr. Hill had planned for only five conveyances. “But we tol’ him eight was the least we’d agree to—one for each family. Even one of them new fellers tol’ him that with our crates and baggage, there wouldn’t be ’nuff room fer folks if we took only five. Don’ think Mr. Hill was any too pleased, but it appears we’re gonna be plenty crowded even with eight wagons.”
Miss Hattie nodded her agreement. “Iffen I’da been here, I’da tol’ him we needed at least ten. That woulda raised his hackles fer sure.”
Thomas Grayson gave a hearty laugh at the older woman’s remark. “Think you’s a woman after my own heart, Miss Hattie.”
“Don’ you go tryin’ to sweet-talk me. You’s way too young fer the likes of me,” she said, joining in his laughter. “Now give me a hand up into this wagon. Maybe we’ll get out of town afore nightfall.”
When the weary entourage finally departed Topeka, it was late afternoon, and Jarena had pushed aside all thought of working on her mending. All of her time was spent pushing crates back into place or catching a falling crock as it was jostled loose. There was little doubt they would need to rearrange their belongings when they finally stopped for the night. Nothing remained in place as the wagon shifted and pitched back and forth through the rutty grasslands.
The sun dropped behind a ripple of hills. Twilight was upon them when Mr. Hill finally declared they would make camp along the banks of a small creek.
“You’d best not spend much time with food preparation—better to get plenty of rest. We’ll have a long day tomorrow.”
Jarena set the twins to work rearranging and tying down their belongings in the wagon while she peeled and fried some yams over the open fire and Miss Hattie stirred together a batch of cornmeal mush.
“I’m afraid this won’t be much of a meal,” Jarena lamented.
“I bought a few things while the rest of you was off sightseeing,” Hattie told her. “There’s a slab of bacon in the wagon. Tell Grace to fetch it, and we’ll fry up a little to go with the yams. It’ll give ’em a little more flavor and seem more like a meal if we have us a little meat. And send Truth down to fetch some water. I’s gonna need some coffee.”
Jarena did as the older woman instructed, all the time wondering why she continued to remain with the Harban family when Nellie and Calvin were in the wagon behind Mr. Hill. Surely Miss Hattie would prefer to share her provisions and travel with her own relatives.
Grace handed her sister the bacon and peered into the frying pan. “I hope you’re gonna fix more than that little bit. Pappy said Mr. Grayson’s gonna be takin’ his supper with us, too. That ain’t enough food to fill all of us.”
Jarena frowned and shooed her sister away from the fire. “It will have to be enough. We’ve got to make our supplies last until we get to Nicodemus.”
Miss Hattie jovially slapped her bulky thigh. “Iffen you drink a lot of that water your sister’s fetching for us, you can trick your belly into thinking it’s full.”
Grace asked, “You gonna travel all the way to Nicodemus with us, Miss Hattie?”
Miss Hattie tilted her head and peered out from beneath the wide-brimmed sunbonnet she’d donned when the wagon train departed Topeka. “You wanting to get shed of me?”
“No, ma’am. I’m glad to have both you an’ your bacon! Just figured you’d wanna travel with Nellie and Calvin.”
“Their wagon’s already full. ’Sides, this is where Mr. Hill put me, so I figure I’s gonna stay put.” She gave Jarena a wide grin.
Jarena smiled in return. She was pleased to have the companionship of the older woman. The twins had each other to talk to, and now her father had Thomas Grayson. It would be nice to have an older woman with whom she could visit and share her concerns.
When the meal was ready, they gathered around the fire and clasped hands before offering thanks for their safety and provision on the journey—all of them except Thomas Grayson, who, Jarena noticed, had quietly slipped away the moment her father had mentioned prayer.
Truth turned to Jarena after her father had uttered the final amen. “Mary Beyer said her mama fixed plenty of food for them.”
Jarena sighed. “Mary Beyer’s only four years old. She has no idea how much food her mother prepared.”
Later, as they settled into their covers, Jarena lightly touched Miss Hattie’s arm. “You think Mr. Hill has everything prepared the way it should be?”
“Don’ be frettin’, chil’, ’cause it ain’t gonna change a thing. Jest gotta trust the Lord. No need to lose sleep our first night in dis here new state.”
Jarena considered the old woman’s words. She knew worrying wouldn’t change things, but she also knew remaining calm would prove a difficult task. She’d often attempted to cease worrying over her mother when she was lying on her sickbed. Even when the doctor had said that her mother wouldn’t recover, Jarena had prayed and trusted God for a miracle. But a miracle didn’t happen. Her mother died, just like old Doc Hardy had predicted.
On that night nearly two years ago, Jarena Harban’s uncompromising trust in God had faltered. Oh, she still believed that Jesus was the Son of God and that He died on the cross to save her from her sins— that hadn’t changed. But the issue of trust—that
had
changed. No longer did she cast all her cares upon the Lord, believing things would be fine. At her mother’s deathbed, the issue of trust had changed. Instead of placing her unwavering confidence in God, she had reclaimed responsibility for her own well-being. God had fallen short of her expectations, so she no longer trusted in His provision.