Vickie held her son in place with a hand on his arm. “Because I didn’t have time. You don’t either. Father wants to get on the road, and we still have to eat.”
“I have to wash in cold water?” Cora splayed her hand across her chest.
Vickie laughed. “It won’t hurt you. Look at Nick. He’s a brave, little pioneer.”
Nicholas looked up at Cora, and an exaggerated shiver shook his small frame. “Nickus told.”
Vickie scooped him up in a blanket, and Cora frowned. “He’ll probably catch his death. All of us will. I don’t know why we had to come here.”
Eliza dumped her wash water and straightened. “Oh, Cora, it isn’t as bad as you’re making it. You don’t have to wash everything. Just hit what shows to get some of the road dust off. You’d better hurry. Mother’s starting breakfast now, and you’re supposed to be peeling potatoes.”
Eliza and Vickie began the upward climb to camp, leaving Cora to grumble about the injustice of her life. Already her early morning fear had faded.
~*~
They had an earlier than normal start that morning, yet the afternoon sun hung low on the horizon before Father raised his hand. “Whoa. This is it. We’re home.
Home? They’d bounced and swayed for over two hours on an old Indian trail that followed the Sac River. Then they had to cross a wide creek before they could eat lunch and start out again. Now they’d finally arrived. But where? Cora’s gaze swept the waving brown prairie grass and the distant forest with its splashes of color as if a giant artist had cleaned his brush of yellows, reds, and various shades of orange. The creek, a ribbon of sparkling water, wound past where they stood.
Cora sought some indication of human habitation—and saw none. Her heart sank. Surely this was not the end of their journey. They couldn’t stay here without any house or neighbors. She folded her arms to stop the tremble. George was right. There was nothing here but wilderness. This was a wild country fit only for animals and an Indian hunting ground.
Father would see how impossible this place was. They’d go back home. Hope flared within her breast as she pushed through the waist-high grass to his side. “Father, this isn’t your land, is it?”
His light blue eyes shone with the pride of ownership. “This is it. It’s a beauty, isn’t it?”
“But Father. There’s nothing here.” Cora grabbed a handful of grass and broke it off. Her eyes burned with unshed tears as she held it out to him. “Look at this. You can’t even see the ground for it. How can we walk through this? We can’t live like animals. We need a house. What if the stars fall again? There aren’t any streets. No town. No people.” Her voice cracked as she fought tears.
Father seemed to notice her for the first time. He looked into her eyes. “Of all my children, Cora, I expected you to understand. This is our dream. We’ll make a home here. It’s bought and paid for. Over a hundred acres of Jackson land. Never again will I bend over a hot vat of molten wax.” He spread his arms wide, taking a deep breath. “What you see is ours, Cora. Smell the fresh air. Fill your lungs with it. Breathe deeply. That’s something you can’t do in a stuffy candle shop. Don’t you agree this is better?”
Cora shook her head, holding back the urge to cry. “I don’t know, Father.”
He smiled and patted her shoulder. “This is a new country, Cora. We have the privilege of building it up. Soon others will come. Don’t worry. One day you’ll have your town. Come, let’s set up camp. We’ll build a shelter tomorrow. You’ll get used to country life.”
He turned away, issuing orders to the others. A single drop slipped from Cora’s eye and she brushed it away. She could never get used to this. A cold gust of wind crossing the creek blew against her face. Dampness coated the air. Winter would soon be upon them, and they had no home. She dragged her steps as she helped her family because there was nothing else she could do. Christmas and George seemed so far away.
Chapter 2
Cora dreamed she was locked outside her home in Saint Louis. She pushed with all her might against the door and couldn’t get in. Fiery lights streaked through the sky, but cold, damp air stung her face and crept down her neck, chilling her. She shivered. Her fingers wrapped around the doorknob. It turned to ice in her hands.
“Cora.” George called her name. Where was he? Inside? Again he called. He must be in the warmth of the house. She pounded the door. Why wouldn’t he let her in? She tugged the icy knob and shook the door. She knocked until her knuckles hurt.
“Cora.” He called again.
“George.” She tried to get his name past her frozen lips.
“Cora, wake up.” Rough hands grabbed her, pulling her away from her home. Away from George and everything familiar. Her eyes opened to narrow slits, and Eliza’s face came into focus. “Cora, are you going to sleep all morning? We have to help Mother with breakfast.”
A shiver trailed through Cora’s body, and she pulled her covers closer. Her fingers found a frozen dampness in the cloth.
“Oh, there’s frost on my quilt.” Cora glared at Eliza as if she were at fault. “How can you stand this? Don’t you know it’s almost winter, and we don’t even have a real bed, let alone a house to put it in? We sleep on the ground of all things. It’s freezing out here.”
“Sh-h-h.” Eliza put her finger to her lips. “You’d better not let Mother or Father hear you talking like that. They’re doing the best they can. It wouldn’t hurt you to help out once in a while.”
Guilt drove away Cora’s angry words. She sat up, threw off the covers and reached for her shoes. A blast of cold air hit her, and she shivered again. Where were her shoes? Why did she always have to look for them? She rummaged through the rumpled covers and felt a nudge against her shoulder.
“Looking for these?” Eliza shoved her shoes at her. “If you’d put them in the same place every night, you’d know where to find them the next morning.”
“I know that.” Cora grabbed the shoes and shoved them on her feet. Little sisters could be such nuisances. Especially know-it-all little sisters.
She didn’t bother rolling her damp quilts, but carried the pile toward the wagon. Maybe there’d be room to spread them out to dry.
She walked past the fire where Father and John were warming their hands. “We’d better get some temporary shelter up before we even think of starting on a house.”
Cora stopped to listen. Father, his coat buttoned to his chin, clutched a warm cup of coffee.
John lowered a steaming cup from his lips. “Sounds like a wise decision. Think we can get something up before night?”
Father nodded. “It shouldn’t take too long with three of us working. We need to break down one of the wagons first so we can haul logs on it.”
“Cora, can you watch the bacon?” Mother held out a long-handled fork.
Cora tossed her quilts over the wagon’s tailgate and hurried toward the fire. Nicholas ran past her toward Vickie. “Blow, Mama, blow.”
Vickie pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and held it to his nose. She looked up at John from her crouched position. “This is the third time this morning I’ve had to do this. I’m afraid he’s getting a cold. Sleeping on the ground in this weather isn’t healthy.”
“We’re doing what we can.” John frowned and squatted down before his son. “You’re not going to get sick, are you, tough guy?”
“Uhn-uh.” Nicholas shook his head, his large brown eyes serious.
John grinned and patted his back. “That’s a good boy.” John rose. “Maybe we’ll have a better place to sleep tonight.”
Vickie’s blue eyes flashed as she stood. “We will for sure. I’m unloading our wagon today. At least it’s dry.”
“Good idea.” John turned toward Father. “We’ll stay in our wagon, so you won’t have to build as large a shelter.”
Father set his empty coffee cup down. “All right. If you want to. I hope the weather holds.” He looked toward the west where a thick blanket of gray clouds covered the
sky.
Cora turned the bacon one last time and reached for a plate. Of course Nicholas was sick. She’d told Vickie to warm his wash water. It’s a wonder they didn’t all catch their death.
Lenny crowded against her. “I’m hungry.”
“It’ll be ready in a minute. Why don’t you go sit down?” She pointed her fork toward a straight-backed chair several feet away then scooped up the cooked bacon.
“It’s too cold over there. I like it by the fire better.”
“Why? So you can get in the way?” She smacked his hand as he reached for the bacon she’d put on a plate.
“Ow.” He jerked away.
“Wait until it’s time to eat. We aren’t heathens just because we’re living like it.” She put more bacon in the pan, moving quickly to keep from getting splattered by hot grease. Lenny’s jaws moved as if he chewed. “Did you take some bacon off the plate?”
“Uhn-uh.”
“You did too. You’ve got grease by your mouth.” Cora grabbed the plate. “Mother, Lenny’s eating the bacon as fast as I can take it up.”
“Leonard Jackson, you wait until we’ve all been served. You know better than that.” Mother lifted a large iron skillet of fried potatoes from the bed of coals she’d pulled to one side of the campfire. “I think everything’s ready. Let’s eat.”
~*~
Cora helped Eliza wash, dry, and put away the dishes. Everyone else unloaded the Jackson’s wagon. They placed everything in a huge pile with the two mattresses on top. Then Father and Ben took off the canvas cover and stretched it over the large pile of boxes and barrels, securing it down against the weather. The rocking chair, small dining table, and Mother’s cooking stove sat to one side. Finally, Father, Ben, and John lifted the wagon box from the frame and set it upside down on the ground.
Cora paused with a dish in her hand. “Father, why can’t we put the mattresses on that for tonight?”
He grinned at her. “I think you’re right. It’ll be our floor. When you finish what you’re doing, dig out the mattresses and set them up. We’ll build a shelter around it. We’ll be sleeping in style tonight.”
He walked around the platform. “We’ll need more room than that, though. See if you can pull or cut some of this grass. Enough to make room for the stove and chair.”
Cora grabbed a handful of grass beside her and pulled. It was dry and brittle but sharp where it broke. Her hands would probably be a mess by evening. Was there no end to this work?
~*~
Cora grunted and shoved her side of the second mattress, letting it fall to the platform. If the position of the sun, now a bright spot in the clouds, was any indication, they’d been working half the morning already.
“That’s good.” Mother stepped back. “Let’s get Vickie’s wagon unloaded now.”
After helping lift several boxes and barrels out and stowing them under the wagon, Cora groaned at the sight of a large, heavy trunk. She stretched her back and looked at her mother.
Mother leaned against the wagon, breathing hard. “Cora, take this corner. Eliza, you go there opposite Vickie. With each of us at a corner, I think we can lower it to the ground”
She looked at Vickie. “We may have to leave this one where it falls. We’ll be doing good to get it out as heavy as it is.”
“I don’t care what we do with it.” Dark hair escaped Vickie’s bonnet, framing her pretty face. “I just want Nicholas off the ground.”
Mother nodded. “Are you ready? All together now, let’s pull and lower.”
Cora strained on her corner and the trunk began to move. There was little she could hold to—only some ornamental scrollwork and part of a leather strap. As the heavy trunk slid away from the wagon floor, Cora slipped her right hand to the bottom, getting a better grip. The trunk fell, pinning her fingers to the ground.
“My hand.” She cried out. “It’s on my hand.”
“Oh, my lands, girls, lift.” Mother called out.
Cora pulled her hand free as quickly as she could, and Mother hurried to her. “Wiggle your fingers. Does that hurt?”
Cora shook her head and scowled. “Mother, my hand isn’t broken.” She held it palm up. The imprint of the trunk was visible across the middle of her fingers. “It’s just bent in a few places.”
Mother rubbed her thumb across the indentation. “All right, but maybe you’d better do something else. Why don’t you keep an eye on Nicholas and Lenny while we finish? Maybe you could pull more grass for the shelter. You’ll need only one hand for that.”
Cora glanced at the two boys playing tag among the boxes that had already been set out. Her hand did hurt. She moved toward the improvised floor and began pulling grass with her right hand. When Lenny ran close, she caught him, holding him until Nicholas was firmly in her grasp too.
“You two will use this shelter as much as I will, so you’re going to help me.”
“Me help?” Nicholas’s large brown eyes widened.
“Yes.” She hugged his soft, little body before letting him go. “You and Lenny can work just like the big men. While they cut down trees, we’ll break down grass. Let’s see if we can finish before they get back.”
She kept the boys working for several minutes before they ran off. She straightened and stretched her back. How much should she clear? Maybe twice the width of the sleeping platform? She went back to work. Eliza soon joined her. In spite of being a real nuisance, Eliza never seemed to mind working.
When they finished, Cora climbed on the platform and sat on one of the mattresses. From her perch, she could see the boys as they played. There had to be something more interesting to do in this awful place than watch two little boys play. She looked toward the woods in the distance as the crashing sound of a falling tree reached her ears. Ben was lucky. Cutting down trees would be better than this. Boys always got to do the fun jobs. And worthwhile—like building a shelter. Once the job ended, it didn’t have to be repeated. But washing dishes had to be done over and over. Babysitting, too, was never ending. There was no satisfaction in doing something that would have to be done again almost as soon as it was finished.
The early morning frost had almost dried by noon, and the men weren’t back from the woods yet. She climbed down and moved to the campfire. Mother had beans cooking. Cora lifted the lid to peek inside. “Mother, where’s the meat?”
Mother set a box down and arched her back. “There is none.”
“Don’t we have any side meat left? I thought I’d put some in these beans for seasoning.”
“What you cooked this morning was all we had.”
Vickie set a small box with the others and stretched. “Maybe the men will shoot something while they’re in the woods.”
Eliza laughed. “Not with all the noise they’ve been making. Any animal with sense would be far from here by now. Why can’t we eat beans without seasoning? They’re just as good that way.”
The wagon emerged from the cover of the trees in the distance, and mother sent an approving look toward her youngest daughter. “That’s exactly what we’re going to do. Let’s give Cora a hand with the meal. If those men are as hungry as I am, they’ll want plenty.”
No one seemed to notice the lack of seasoning as they dug into their meal until Ben looked up. “Where’s the meat?”
Mother shook her head. “We’ve eaten it all.”
“Don’t we have any meat at all?”
“No.”
“What about tonight? What are we eating for supper?”
Mother shrugged. “We could have beans again.”
Ben turned to Father. “I could take the gun and scare up something for supper. If you don’t need me this afternoon, that is.”
Father slanted a look toward John. “We could get along by ourselves, couldn’t we?”
John grinned at Ben. “Sure, wouldn’t even miss the runt.”
Ben frowned. “Hey, watch what you say about me. Who cut down the most trees?”
John laughed. “Y
our father did.”
“All right, but he doesn’t count.” Ben grinned toward Father before turning back to John. “I mean between the two of us.”
John held his head up and crossed his arms. “Hey, I finally got that one tree down.”
“Yeah, and it almost got you too.”
Vickie’s head jerked up. “What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing.” Father sent a frown to the other men. “No damage done. John’s tree got caught in another tree when it fell. It twisted and came toward him, but he got out of the way in plenty of time.”
It sounded exciting to Cora. Her morning had been dreadfully dull. She stood when Ben did. “Ben, I’m going with you.”
“Cordella Jane Jackson. You’ll do no such thing.” Mother’s brows drew together.
“Why not?”
“Young ladies do not go traipsing off in the woods with a gun.”
“Why would you even want to?” Eliza stared at Cora.
Cora almost answered the truth—she was bored beyond endurance—but she stopped in time. Mother said idle hands were the devil’s workshop. She’d be sure to find something horribly dull for her to do.
“To spend time with Ben and see Father’s land. Maybe I can find some wild greens or nuts.” She turned toward Father, knowing his weakness for nuts. “Didn’t you say pecans grow around here?”
His eyes twinkled as if he understood. “Yes, there’s a chance you may find pecans on the ground now.”
“But a young lady—”
“I’ll take care of her, Mother.” Ben stood back watching. “A pecan pie or something baked with walnuts sounds good.”
Father grinned and patted his stomach.
Mother sighed. “I still don’t think a young lady should go on a hunting trip.”
“Please, Mother. This isn’t Boston. Surely you can see it’s different here. It isn’t even Saint Louis. If we’re going to survive in this wilderness, we’ll have to go out and look for food. It isn’t as if the neighbors will see me.” Cora tried to keep the sarcasm from her voice. “Please, let me go with Ben.”
Again, Mother sighed. “All right. I suppose you’re right. Stay close to Ben and be sure you’re home before dark. As cloudy as it is, you won’t be able to tell time so start back early.”
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