Over the course of days, weeks, and even months, the canvases—derived from spare scraps of linen or cotton fabric and coated with rabbit glue—were stretched and tacked onto discarded boards, slowly transformed. By his hand, pictures were born. There were flowers cascading from vases, horses immersed in fields of green, and landscapes of places I dreamed of and hoped to visit someday. A favorite painting depicted a house that would be perfect in which to raise my own family.
For several months, I tried to sketch pictures from my mind—images of my first dog curled up on the front porch, my family’s weathered farmhouse, and the apple tree with sagging branches. But when trying to draw the likenesses of my real family members, their features continued to fade as if a fog had crept in and their faces were no longer clear, especially my mother’s. What was the color of her eyes?
Maybe the McPhersons sensed my growing sadness, or perhaps Mr. McPherson really did see some promise in my sketches. Because one day, when my chores and schoolwork were finished, he handed me a rolled-up piece of flour sack. It was tied with a strip of burlap.
Go on, open it. I remembered Kate’s words as she patted my arm, and Robert’s broad smile as I pulled the tie loose and unrolled the fabric. My own brushes—one round, the other flat—made from hog bristle. The neighbor’s pig was surely short a few patches.
*****
The train slowed as it pulled into our destination, and I stood to retrieve my case from the luggage rack. In it were the few clothes needed until my return to Boston after Finn and I had enough photos and initial paintings to document the race. A wooden box contained tubes of paints, bottles of linseed oil and mineral spirits, a roll of canvas, and my brushes, including the ones with the hair from a hog that had died so many years before.
Beneath those items was my pistol—just in case.
*****
Stepping from the train was like being caught in a raging river. Hordes of people pushed and argued as they waited to get their possessions from the baggage cars. Covered wagons jostled on the dirt road that ran alongside the tracks. Sweaty horses and mules snorted and brayed as they pulled overflowing buckboards. Men on horseback weaved between the wagons, people on foot, and even an unfortunate soul attempting to ride a bicycle on the rutted road.
“This is where we must say our good-byes. I’ll be making my way to the registration booth.” Mr. Reid extended his hand. “I owe you a favor if our paths ever cross again.”
Finn shook his hand. “Perhaps they will. God Almighty has a funny way of making that happen.”
I eyed my friend, surprised that he may have actually listened to some of the pastor’s sermons while sitting in church with Elizabeth Turney.
“Mr. Reid.” I reached out my own hand. “It’s been a pleasure. We wish you every success. If you get your claim, we’ll try to include your story for the Globe.”
“Boston Globe reporters?” He shook his head. “Thought you must have been outlaws. Yes, I’ll have a story to tell. Front page news, gentlemen.” He stepped into the crowd, calling out, “Front page to be sure.”
With parched mouths, Finn and I worked our way through the crowd toward a makeshift building topped with what appeared to be the remnants of a circus tent and painted lettering. A crowd of gritty men and a few women, equally thirsty and desperate for a whiskey or beer, were gathered inside what was aptly lettered, the Elephant. As we wove our way to the bar, it was obvious we were no longer in Boston.
CHAPTER 14
Mary ~ Arrival, September 13, 1893
Despite Joseph’s best efforts to keep Sadie at a quickened pace, Lizzie’s condition forced us to make more stops than planned. Though her fever had subsided, her stomach was cramped, and the bumpy ride didn’t help matters. I held her in the back of the wagon, but now it was me doing the talking. I told her how much she and Joseph would enjoy their new home that would be above their cobbler store, and how she could help me start a vegetable garden and make curtains for my future house.
“Imagine. With your talent, you can paint scenes of Italy on the walls in the shop. Joseph says the countryside outside Florence is incredible—olive groves, poppies, and tall cypress trees all over the hills. And the sunsets …”
She moaned, and my grip tightened. Joseph snapped the reins, and Sadie trotted toward the buildings we were beginning to make out in the distance—jagged silhouettes cast from the low-lying sun.
After passing the flour mill, we entered the edge of town where the Arkansas and Walnut rivers met. The smell of campfires filled the air, and a smoky haze hovered above the water. People milled around tents that dotted the open fields like winter’s first snowflakes, though the end of the day’s heat was still unbearable. The scent of cooking meat made me realize we hadn’t eaten much the last few days, being more worried about Lizzie’s stomach than our own.
“I’m heading to the buildings. One of those must be a doctor’s office.” Joseph clicked his tongue, and Sadie dutifully continued her pace.
We turned onto what must have been the main street. A general store, saloon, and a hardware store were first in the row of establishments.
“Is there a doctor in town?” I called to a woman who held tightly to her child’s hand on the bustling street corner.
“On the left, past the justice’s office.” She pointed in the direction and said something else that was lost in the commotion of the wagons, horses, and crowds of people. We continued on, making our way into the heart of town.
*****
When the doctor stepped from behind the curtain after examining Lizzie, his face told me he had bad news. Dark circles under his eyes provided a perfect match to his frown.
“Seems like your wife may have a tumor of some sort in her stomach. I was hoping it was bad water she drank on your travels, like so many of the others, but she said she hasn’t been feeling well for a couple of months.” He paused and rubbed the gray stubble on his chin. “And there’s a noticeable mass on her right side that’s giving her a fit. I can give her some medicine to help with the pain for now.”
“You mean she will get better?” Joseph nodded as if to answer for him.
“Hopefully, she’ll have some good days, but more discomfort is sure to come if what I’m feeling gets larger. The medicine will allow her to travel to one of the larger towns where you can get her to a physician who can tell you if surgery is possible.” He rolled down his shirt sleeves. “Sorry you’re so far away from home.”
“This will be our home.” Joseph blurted the words. “My wife and I have plans for our new home and business.”
I had remained in my chair to give Joseph privacy with the doctor. This type of conversation was reserved for a husband concerned about his wife. Now, I stood next to him hoping to provide support but knowing I was unable to help either of my dear friends. A single tear trickled over Joseph’s wrinkled cheek. It was sure to be the first of many.
Doctor Bennett offered to let Lizzie rest for the night in the back room since the boarding houses and the Gladstone Hotel were overflowing like buckets of water with all the people streaming into the town. Besides, it wouldn’t suit her to be sleeping on the ground under a makeshift tent.
After a bit of talking, Joseph convinced the doctor it was imperative that he be with his wife, even if it meant sleeping on the hard floor. He started for the back room but then turned and looked at me.
“Mary, you understand, don’t you? I don’t want to leave you, but—”
“I’ll be fine.” With a quick kiss on the cheek, I urged him toward the doorway. “Your wife needs you. And you need her. Besides, Sadie and the wagon need to be taken care of. The kind doctor told me to drive her around to the back of the building for the night. He’ll have one of his sons bring by a bale of grass for the ol’ girl and help keep an eye on things until morning.”
“That boy better keep an eye on you as well.” Joseph’s voice became even more intense. “Get the rifle from the chest and keep it near. You know how to use i
t, right?”
This would be my first night alone in the wagon since we left Adair. Might as well get used to sleeping with one eye open. That’s the way it would be once I had my own land. And when Wesley came, he would have to be kept safe.
“First thing in the morning, we’ll go to the registration booth and get the paperwork.” Joseph produced a weary smile and went into the dimly lit room.
He still believes we can do this. I stepped into the evening air alone and took a deep breath. “Can you do this?” I asked myself out loud.
Standing in this foreign land with an unknown outcome, my own voice seemed that of a stranger’s. Perhaps tomorrow’s sunlight would bring new hope for all of us.
*****
The medicine allowed Lizzie to sleep most of the night, but Joseph looked as if he could have used a good night’s rest as well. Unfortunately, the opium was costly, and Joseph would only be able to provide her its relief in the worst moments.
As other patients filed into Doctor Bennett’s office, we thanked him for his hospitality and helped Lizzie onto the front bench of the buckboard. Heading down Summit Street, we made our way toward the outlying fields to erect our tent for a couple of evenings. After that, if all went as planned, my friends would have their tent pitched on a town lot—the future site of Contolini’s Cobbler Shop. And I would have mine propped on a claim of one-hundred-sixty acres to call my very own.
*****
Lizzie insisted she would be fine if she rested while we waited in line to register for the race. Joseph and I both needed the papers to prove we were legitimate land seekers once we staked our claims—not one of the Sooners who were known to sneak into the territory well ahead of the race, even at the risk of being arrested … or worse.
Word among the people clustered around the tents was that the crowds lined up to register had grown well beyond the number expected.
“We’ve been sleeping in shifts,” a man camped only yards away said to Joseph and me. “Yep, my son dozed on the ground while I kept our place. If we both would have been sleeping, those possums would have sneaked right past. Not thinking for a minute to wake us to move along in line.”
The boy, nearly matching his father’s height, still wore the wiry build of youth. “Yep, Ma brung us biscuits and coffee. If it weren’t for that, I think I may have laid down and died.”
As the boy scratched his red-tinged hair, my mind conjured up pictures of the father and son pair, rusting away like abandoned farming equipment in fields.
“We appreciate the advice. We’ll have my wife bring us some food and water if the wait is too long.” Joseph glanced at the opening to his and Lizzie’s tent. “Sir, I don’t even know you, but will you keep an eye on her for me?”
“In a place like this, good people have a way of finding one another. The Lord is making sure of that.” He extended his hand. “Pastor Allen. Walter’s the first name. St. Louis is, or I should say was, our home.”
“Good to meet you, Pastor.” Joseph shook his hand. “This is Mary Roberts, a close friend from back home. She traveled from Missouri with my wife, Lizzie, and me.”
The pastor tipped his hat. “A pleasure, ma’am. This is my son, Gabriel. My wife is at the general store getting a few last items—if there’s anything left, that is. With the Run only a couple days away, Arkansas City has never seen the likes of this many people. It’s like bees swarming a hive with all the activity.”
Joseph and I looked at each other. It was time to get on our way.
But first, Joseph stepped closer to the pastor. “Sir, I’m not very good at praying, but you must have a way to talk with God.” He gripped the pastor’s hand. “Will you ask Him to heal my wife?”
Pastor Allen was silent for a moment. “I’ll pray for your wife.” He squinted at Joseph as he gathered his thoughts. “But when you return from getting signed in properly, we’ll pray together for her.” The pastor smiled. “The Lord knows you just as well as He knows me. I’m sure He’d love to hear from you.”
*****
Like a meandering crack in dry earth, thousands of people moved in slow motion through the parched fields towards the mill, the makeshift location for registration. Its eastern side doorway was tiny in comparison to the hordes that would need to pass through it to pay the race fee.
“Threading a needle, I’d say.” Joseph frowned at me as he surveyed the area. “Looks like the officials weren’t ready for all this.”
“We’d best get in line and hold our ground.” I stepped behind a gentleman—so covered in layers of dust and grime he looked like an aged bronze statue—and had to suppress a smile when he spoke.
“No need to hold on to your hat, ma’am. Line hasn’t moved more than an inch the last hour.” He pointed to a small piece of paper displayed on the brim of his hat. “See this number? Eventually, they’ll be coming by to give you one. Don’t want to lose it since it’s your way of proving your place.” He pushed the paper deeper behind a frayed leather strap. “Yep, keeps folk from breakin’ in line.”
After only a few minutes, the line had lengthened behind us by at least several dozen more souls. I pulled my hat lower to shade my eyes from the intensifying sun—shining too brightly for not yet being at its peak.
*****
When the sun was well on its descent, a newfound energy bubbled throughout the line. People chattered and stretched to peer around those ahead. I pushed up to my tiptoes to see what was causing the excitement and tapped the bronze man’s back. “What’s going on?”
He only shrugged, but then leaned into the conversation in front of him. “It’s about time,” he shouted, then spun around towards me. “Word is the marshals are opening a second booth.” He grinned, making the dirt-stained lines in his face even more pronounced.
“I could have suggested that a long time ago.” Joseph smirked. “But I’ll take it. Best news we’ve heard today.”
Just as he spoke, a gangly boy raced towards us. When he stopped, he was panting. “I’ve been running up and down the line trying to find you.”
“Gabriel?” I grasped the boy’s arm.
“Ma’am.” He gave me a quick nod but turned to Joseph. “It’s your wife, sir. She’s in plenty of pain and calling out for you. My ma and pa are with her, but they think you need to come right away.”
Joseph’s hands began to shake. “Mary, you stay right here.”
“No. I’m coming with you, Joseph.”
“This is no time to argue.” He pointed at the ground. “You hold our spot, and if this line splits in two, make your way to the shortest one.”
“But …”
The distorted look on Joseph’s face caused my heart to twist. It was a mixture of frustration and confusion. But mostly what I saw was fear. I gave him a hug. “Tell her I love her and ...” A lump grew in my throat. “And to be strong.”
But he had already run off alongside Gabriel, both of them disappearing into the crowd.
CHAPTER 15
Daniel ~ Observing, September 14, 1893
McKelvey had made arrangements for us to stay at the Gladstone Hotel. A relief, in spite of the fact the desk clerk was busy turning away a constant stream of weary travelers, even those willing to pay extra for a place to sleep. The conditions in the growing city of tents along the outskirts of the town caused a sick feeling of guilt, reminding me of my many comforts.
“Hardy folk, to be sure.” Finn shook his headful of curls. “Like back home. Mum and Da took on anything to make a better life for themselves.”
“There’s a good smattering of Scottish brogue here, especially in the Elephant.”
“Aye, like the Scots say, never drink whisky with water and never drink water without whisky.”
We’d spent a good part of the time since we arrived in Arkansas City talking with rushers from all parts of the country. For most, the chance to own a sizeable piece of land for farming or raising livestock was the draw. For others, the town sites and the opportunity to set up wh
atever kind of shop—in what they hoped would be a growing metropolis—was the dangling carrot. A good many laughs were had with several who came merely for the excitement—the thrill to see whether their horse, buggy, wagon, or even feet, could carry them faster than the others.
Most in the crowd were men, but women dotted the landscape. Some busily cooked over fires while others washed pots and utensils or mended holes in tents and clothing. Small children hung to their mothers’ aprons while the older ones entertained themselves playing leap frog, hide-and-seek, and challenging each other to running races and wrestling matches.
“Ever consider signing up to run?” Finn shot me a sideways glance. “I see a bit of wanderlust in you since we’ve been here.”
“That’s ridiculous.” I shoved my hands deep into my pockets. “Everything I need is in Boston. A job. Decent apartment—”
“No prospects.”
“Of what?”
“You know. A woman. Maybe even one to marry.”
“Finn, we’ve had this conversation—more than once—so I’m leaving the lady love to you.” A wagon pulled by two mangy mules rattled by, causing me to step aside.
“Just may do that. Thinking about asking Elizabeth to marry me when we get back.”
“Really?”
“Aye. She’s smitten with me, and I’m not wanting her to get away with someone else.”
“And you believe she’ll say yes?”
“First, I plan on asking her father. He likes me. Knows I’m a hard worker at the paper.” Finn leaned closer and whispered, “Do you think she’d want to marry me?”
“She’d be loony if she didn’t. And you don’t have to whisper. Nobody knows you here.”
Finn visibly stiffened. “Except him.” He looked past me. “The bum from the train. I think he spotted me, and he’s not looking like he got any friendlier.”
“Do you have your barker?” My own gun was packed in my bag. I kept my back turned and quickly played possible scenarios in my mind.
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