Walks the Fire

by Stephanie Grace Whitson

  Jesse pondered the future of the Salt Flats. Joseph told of the thriving salt industry that all the settlers expected to spring up and fuel the growth of Lancaster. Jesse saw the potential. Being part of a growing community would provide benefits for LisBeth she would never have had at Fort Kearney.

  They traveled to the southeast, seeming to descend into a shallow saucer. They saw a few trees—one giant elm and a few honey locusts punctuated by plum thickets. When the village of Lancaster came into view, Jesse’s heart sank. The only buildings in sight were a two-story structure of red sandstone, two log cabins, a house with a sod roof, a small stone building, and a dugout! Closer inspection revealed two stores, one shoe shop, six or seven houses, but no main street, no trees, no churches. They crossed several dry creek beds. A coyote trotted into view, stopped, looked in their direction and then continued on its way, unhurried.

  A small crowd had gathered outside one of the larger cabins. Joseph pulled his team up in the shade of the cabin. No one seemed to have noticed the arrival of three strangers. All attention was on a tall bearded man giving a speech.

  “Gentlemen… and ladies… while this is not an official announcement, I feel it is our duty to inform you that the commission has met in closed session and unanimous choice has been made for Lancaster to be the capital city of this great state… the state of Nebraska.” Cheers went up from the twenty or so people who had been listening intently to the speech. A few of the men threw hats into the air in their enthusiasm. A group of boys, apparently coming from the nearest fishing hole, wandered by with the morning’s catch on their line. Pausing momentarily, they quickly lost interest in the spectacle and continued on in the direction of the dugout just visible toward the southeast, near the only trees in sight

  As soon as the speech ended, a large woman dressed in black descended upon them. Her mellow, matronly voice called out, “That you, Joseph Freeman?”

  “It’s me, Miz Hathaway. Brung some poor souls along with me.”

  As Augusta Hathaway looked them over, Jesse shifted nervously in her saddle. The woman was a keen observer. Her eyes moved from LisBeth’s face—was that a wink or just the glare of the sun causing her to squint?—to Jesse’s, to Red Star and took in their clothing, the bedroll, and Jesse’s moccasined feet. Jesse felt as though she had been weighed in a scale and found wanting.

  But then the round face crinkled into a wide smile, the eyes warmed up, and, yes, that really had been a wink she had proffered LisBeth. “And a motley crew you are, Joseph! Well, just go along to the cabin. There’ll be plenty of lunch for you all,” she turned to Jesse, “and then you can tell me how on earth you happened to team up with this miserable wretch!”

  Augusta Hathaway was apparently accustomed to being obeyed. Before Jesse could reply or introduce herself—indeed, before even LisBeth could blurt out a word—the portly woman had picked up her dusty skirts and was striding away from them in the direction of a two-story log cabin at least a hundred yards away. Upon their arrival at the cabin, Jesse dismounted stiffly. Augusta Hathaway swooped down upon her, pulled her into the cabin, pushed her into a chair at a long table, plopped a plate full of steaming food before her, chucked LisBeth under the chin, and then, hands on her hips, demanded that Joseph Freeman tell her exactly what he meant by lighting on her doorstep with two extra mouths to feed and no explanation?

  Before Joseph could reply, Augusta turned to LisBeth, “Drink all the milk you want, honey. The pitcher’s full and the cow’s out back, and there’s plenty more where that came from.”

  Joseph started to reply, but Augusta interrupted again, this time talking to Jesse. “This man is the best blacksmith I ever saw, and I tried to get him to believe me when I told him that Dobytown was no place for the God-fearing. But, just like a man, he wouldn’t believe me… had to find out for himself.” Without expecting a response from Jesse she turned to Joseph again. “Well, speak up, man! What in tarnation do you plan to do now? You finally see the reasonableness of my offer? You gonna stay and be a part of this new city? Did you hear? It’s gonna be the state capital. Now that’s somethin’ to be part of, Joseph! This here’s a place with a future. You listen to me, and I’ll see to it that you make a way for yourself!”

  Jesse was beginning to wonder if Augusta Hathaway ever waited for an answer to any of her questions.

  Augusta went on, “Goodness me, Joseph, set yourself down and eat somethin’. I got so caught up in the future I plumb forgot to dish up a plate for you. Sorry about that.” While she talked, she ladled a plate full of the roast meat and potatoes that bubbled on the iron stove in the corner of the cabin. Plopping it on the table without ceremony, she handed Joseph flatware wrapped in a spotless white napkin. Joseph sat down and began to eat.

  “Well, I guess he’s not going to tell me a thing, so, my dear, how did you come to Lincoln. That’s the new name, Joseph, Lincoln. They tried to get the vote against statehood—thought the Democrats would never vote for statehood if they knew the capital would be named for our dear departed president,” Augusta dabbed an imaginary tear from her eye out of respect to the slain president. “Humph! Just like a man. They’ll use anything to try to maneuver their way. But it didn’t work. No sir, it didn’t work! We’ve got ourselves into the Union as a state, and Lincoln will be the capital. And, Joseph, you’ll be interested to know, that in Nebraska, the Negroes will be able to vote!”

  Joseph looked up in disbelief. Augusta assured him it was true. Jesse waited to be given permission to answer the question. Now, just which question should she answer if she were ever given opportunity to speak? As usual, LisBeth took the initiative and said, “We got lost in the dark, and Red Star took us to Mr. Freeman’s campfire. I was scared at first, ’cause it was dark, and he was black, and he had a gun. But then he smiled and I knew he was gonna be my friend. I like people with big voices. You’ve got a big voice, too, Miz Hathaway, but you winked at me, and you said I could have all the milk I wanted, and I think you’re gonna be my friend too!”

  Augusta chuckled. “Well, it appears that my fierce exterior has failed to fool you, young lady. I must practice my demeanor more. Never let it get around that Augusta Hathaway is an easy mark!” She winked broadly at LisBeth and turned with a great smile to Jesse. Jesse suspected that Augusta Hathaway had yet to convince anyone that she was a woman to be feared. In spite of the booming voice and the bustling manner, she exuded kindness like a great comforter ready to be spread over those around her.

  At last, she asked Jesse’s story, and waited for a response. Seating herself in the rocker that stood by the kitchen fireplace, she folded her hands over her ample lap and waited for Jesse to speak. Jesse looked down at her work-worn hands. She rubbed them together and reached up to tuck a stray curl back into the roll at the nape of her neck. Joseph gulped coffee noisily, clearly uncomfortable in the silence that had suddenly descended upon the cabin’s interior. LisBeth crossed and uncrossed her legs under the table and sipped milk daintily. Augusta waited patiently. At last, Jesse collected her thoughts and spoke.

  “My daughter and I have lived at Fort Kearney for many years. I’ve been a laundress there since LisBeth was an infant. My husband was killed before LisBeth was born, and we were forced to fend for ourselves. We fled Fort Kearney in the night when our safety was threatened, and God directed us to Mr. Freeman’s campfire. He agreed to let us accompany him here. We need a new home. Joseph seems to think that Lancaster—Lincoln—will be a great city someday. I must think of my daughter. A city could perhaps offer schooling— and a chance for a better life.”

  Augusta Hathaway wanted to know more. But the gray eyes that met hers were veiled; they warned her not to ask too much. Still, they looked directly at her, not wavering. The woman had gumption, Augusta decided. Gumption to pick up and leave a bad environment, gumption to travel for days, gumption to start a new life. She said as much to Jesse.

  “Gumption? No, Mrs. Hathaway. I have no courage of my own. I’ve always had dif
ficulty making decisions, but the Lord seems to have cared for us in spite of my weaknesses. Coming here just seemed the right thing to do.”

  Augusta interjected, “Was it also the only thing you could do?”

  Jesse answered honestly. “No. In fact, when we left Fort Kearney, we were waiting for the arrival of an old friend who had invited us to accompany his wagon train to Oregon. But we couldn’t wait. And I had decided we wouldn’t go, anyway.”

  “Why on earth not, if you had friends there?”

  Jesse struggled to find words to explain her decision. “I don’t know, really. It just didn’t seem right, somehow. LisBeth was born here, on the prairie.” Jesse gazed over Augusta’s shoulder and into the distance. “There’s just something about the prairie. It grows on you—gets into your blood, I guess.” She looked back at Augusta and blushed, embarrassed. “It sounds silly and trite…”

  Augusta interrupted her, “It’s all right, dearie. I feel it too. I grew up in Minnesota with trees everywhere—right up to the house. You couldn’t see a thing of the land. It closed a body in and kept you guessing about what might happen next. The minute I set foot across the Missouri River I knew this was the place for me. Nebraska’s a place where you can see clear to the horizon and on into the future.” The voice grew mellower and dropped a few decibels, “This land took my husband and my sister and her children… cholera… I ought to hate it here, but I don’t. It suits me. Lincoln’s gonna be a great city someday, and Hathaway House Hotel is gonna be part of that city!”

  Joseph’s interest was kindled afresh. “Hathaway House, ma’am?”

  Augusta’s energy returned and she stood up abruptly, her broad hands gesturing expansively. “That’s right, Joseph, Hathaway House. They’ll be all sorts of people arriving in Lincoln soon: stonemasons and carpenters and all kinds of people to build. They’ll need a capitol building first, and then there’ll be more—a university, a penitentiary, churches, schools. I already feed a half dozen bachelors supper every night. They’re here lookin’ for claims out in the countryside. I can cook and clean with the best of them, and Hathaway House is going to be the best hotel on the plains! Now, Joseph, are you or are you not going to put up that lean-to like we discussed and open your blacksmith shop? Since you’ve been gone, I’ve expanded the plan, too. Why not a livery stable?”

  Joseph grinned broadly at Augusta’s ever-expanding plan for his future. “Miz Hathaway, I spent lots of hours thinkin’ ’bout your plan. Seems like I couldn’t find a better chance to make my own way anywhere else. And if they’re gonna let me vote in this here state, then I’d say that Nebraska’s home from now on! And hooray for Lincoln!”

  Augusta turned to Jesse. “Mrs. King, a hotel is a prodigious amount of work. You been a laundress for the infernal military, so you know all about hard work. If you care to join up with me, I’ll offer you and LisBeth a room and meals and a salary—although a mighty small one at first—in return for your help with the laundry and housekeeping and whatever else comes up!”

  LisBeth’s face brightened and she looked eagerly at her mother. Jesse paused only momentarily. The prospect of more days traveling to find another town to settle in was not one she relished. “I’d be honored if you’ll have us, Mrs. Hathaway.”

  “There’s just one requirement you may find difficult” The woman folded her arms across her bosom.

  Jesse looked up with apprehension at the suddenly stern face.

  “You may not continue to call me Mrs. Hathaway. I’m just plain Augusta to all thirty of the illustrious citizens of Lancaster-turned-Lincoln, and I’ll not have you puttin’ on airs with all this Mrs. nonsense. You call me Augusta and I’ll call you Jesse and that’s that! And you, young lady,” August turned to LisBeth, who sat up straight and looked suddenly serious. “You call me Aunt Augusta. That will hush any overcurious souls who just can’t mind their own business.”

  June 22, 1867, is recorded in Nebraska history as the day that the capital was chosen. Nowhere is it written that another important ceremony was witnessed on that day. Of course, the only witness was a recently freed slave. It was, however, a most significant day for Jesse and LisBeth King, recently of Fort Kearney, Nebraska. Adopted into the family of Mrs. Augusta Hathaway, the well-known hostelier, the very unknown King women began a new life.

  Twenty-five

  And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men.—Colossians 3:23

  New residents came pouring in, swelling the population and bringing Jesse and Augusta more work than they had anticipated. They cooked stew, put up preserves, and bedded down travelers, working from sunup to sundown with little time to spare. Augusta kept up with current events by reading the articles in the local Commonwealth aloud, with no admission charged for her editorial commentary.

  Fifty miles away, in Omaha, the Republican sneered, “No one will ever come to Lincoln… no river, no railroad, no steam wagon, nothing… fifty miles from anywhere.” Augusta took the slight personally, “Hmph! Just sour grapes, that’s all. They wanted the capital for themselves, and now that they’ve lost, they just can’t say anything nice.”

  Augusta had barely finished her commentary when a fine carriage pulled up outside the hotel. Three gentlemen dressed in top hats and well-tailored suits descended and paused to survey Market Square. One finally broke away from the trio and entered the hotel, dusting off his top hat carefully as he asked, “Would there be a possibility of supper being served three extra boarders this evening?”

  Never one to turn away business, Augusta assured him that Hathaway House would be pleased to serve him and his companions a fine dinner—in about two hours.

  The man bowed stiffly and left to inform his companions.

  “Hmph!” Augusta blustered, “he practically wrinkled his nose when he came through the door. Doesn’t think Hathaway House is good enough for him!”

  “Augusta,” Jesse chided. “That’s not fair—you don’t even know the man.”

  “Know him?” Augusta retorted, “I know him all right. That’s Jonathan Daniels from Omaha. He’s the one who threw such a fit when they secreted the state records out of Omaha in that snowstorm last winter. Would I ever like to know just what he’s got up his sleeve! Think quick, Jesse! What can we serve for supper that’s—elegant? If that fellow has one tiny excuse to put down Lincoln, he’ll do it. One of those other men is probably a reporter, and I’m sure they’d just love to write a nice little article about how impossible it is to even get a decent meal in the west! Now, Jesse, say what you will, but it’s our civic duty to feed those men the best meal they’ve ever et.”

  Jesse couldn’t argue with civic duty. Joseph was requisitioned to go hunting prairie chickens.

  “LisBeth, come along!” Jesse called. “Augusta, we’ll be back in a little while. I’ve got some ideas.” Grabbing their bonnets, the two were out the door before Augusta could ask too many questions. Heading away from the village, Jesse began gathering—a root here, a few leaves there.

  “LisBeth, look for a bushy plant with bright orange flowers—there! Over there! That one! See how the butterflies flock to it? Dig down deep and bring up a few roots. We’ll use that to flavor the soup. Now… a few more of these,” Jesse stripped some leaves off a plant and stuffed them into the already full muslin sack she had brought along.

  “Mama, where on earth did you learn about all these plants. You never cooked with these before.”

  Jesse smiled. “Remember when I told you how the Lakota helped me and Pa? Well, they taught me about plants, too, and these things are all edible. And they taste wonderful. I don’t think those gentlemen from Omaha will have experienced quite the same taste ever before.”

  LisBeth looked at her mother.

  Jesse grinned. “I also learned how to cook dog meat stew.” LisBeth grimaced and Jesse added, “but I don’t think we’ll put that on the menu tonight… although, actually, it tastes quite good.”

  Back in the kitchen, LisBeth plucke
d the birds while Jesse made a salad of wild greens and onions. The birds were roasted in the oven alongside a wild plum upside-down cake.

  “We’ll make leadplant tea instead of coffee. Just tell them it’s imported.” Jesse whispered.

  “Mama, you taught me never to lie,” LisBeth chided.

  “Well, it is imported—from the prairie!”

  Just as the cake came out of the oven, Jonathan Daniels, Timothy Price, and Pythias Young were seated at their table—a few feet away from the regular boarders, as requested. They conducted their important business while the kitchen help served them.

  Pythias Young was the first to notice that things were not quite right. Looking down at his plate, he poked suspiciously at the greens. But hunger won out. With a sigh, he muttered, “I guess I shouldn’t have expected a proper meal out here on the frontier,” and took a bite. He took another bite. Then he tried the wild carrots. By now, Jonathan and Timothy, the less timorous members of the party, had attacked their prairie chickens with gusto.

  The planned meeting was forced to wait. The three gentlemen from Omaha had forgotten that they were genteel and must set a good example for the rough-hewn pioneers of Lincoln.

  Augusta and Jesse served up huge platefuls of the food to all the boarders, who acted as if they ate in such grand style every evening at Hathaway House.

  Jesse could have hugged scrawny Tom Mason when he commented—just loudly enough to be overheard, “Another excellent meal, Mrs. King. I always say, ‘Hathaway House in Lincoln surely knows how to serve fine fare to one and all.’”