First Dawn

by Judith Miller

  “Jarena! You daydreamin’ again?” Nellie Harris was walking near the back of the wagon, a layer of dust covering her calico skirt. “Jump on down and walk with me, Jarena. Let’s have us a visit—that mendin’ will still be there come evenin’.”

  She continued stitching. “But the daylight won’t.”

  “Don’t be so mulish. I ain’t hardly seen you since we left Topeka.”

  Jarena gave Nellie a halfhearted grin as she stuck the needle and thread through the edge of the chemise. “Guess it won’t hurt to stop for a while,” she agreed. She tucked the mending into her worn sewing basket and jumped down from the wagon, running several steps to maintain her balance as she landed.

  Nellie clapped her hands. “Good fer you! I thought you’d land on your backside, fer sure.” Nellie gave her a broad smile and grasped Jarena’s hand in her own. Soon they began to swing their arms back and forth as they walked off to the side of the wagon train. And for a moment Jarena felt as though they were little girls out for an afternoon romp.

  “How are you feeling, Nellie?”

  “Jest fine. I’m not sick, you know—jest gonna have a young’un.”

  Jarena nodded. “Guess I remember hearing how sick Mama was with the twins. Pappy said she could hardly get around for the last couple months before they were born. And her feet swelled up—almost looked like they’d burst if you stuck a pin in them.”

  “I still got a long time afore I have any of them complaints. Calvin says if I didn’t tell, no one would even know we was gonna have a young’un. You think that’s true?” She smoothed her skirt tight around her belly and awaited her friend’s reply.

  Jarena studied the barely rounded stomach as though she were an authority on expectant mothers. “Not much there now, but just you wait.”

  “That there Grayson feller’s good-lookin’. I been watchin’ him. I’m thinkin’ he might be takin’ a likin’ to ya.”

  Jarena pulled her hand loose. “Don’t be foolish, Nellie.”

  Nellie tilted her head back and laughed before reaching down to pull a nettle from her bare foot. “I think you could turn his head without even tryin’ if you’d jest put Charles out of your mind. I figure Charles will stay in Kentucky—that boy don’t have no hankerin’ to start a new life.”

  Jarena cast an accusatory glare in Nellie’s direction. “What’s come over you, Nellie Harris? If it was Calvin left behind, you’d not be thinking of another man—or would you?”

  “Me and Calvin’s married—Charles ain’t even mentioned nothin’ ’bout marrying you. Has he?” Nellie danced around to face Jarena. “Tell me, Jarena. Has Charles asked your pappy fer your hand?”

  “Not exactly, but your grandma said he’s coming to Nicodemus. Soon as his folks decide they’re ready to leave Georgetown.”

  “You see? He ain’t man enough to strike out on his own. Now, that Thomas Grayson, he appears to be more than ready.”

  Jarena was silent for several minutes, unwilling to continue bantering with Nellie. She had no interest in Thomas Grayson nor any other man except Charles Francis. And oh, how she missed seeing Charles. But even if he would have asked for her hand, Jarena knew she couldn’t have remained behind while her father and sisters set out for unknown territory. They needed her—even more than she needed Charles. Unfortunately, Nellie had no way of understanding her loneliness. After all, Calvin was right alongside her, day and night.

  Nellie reached down and grabbed Jarena’s hand again. “Don’t be mad at me, Jarena. I was jest pokin’ fun.”

  She sighed. “Don’t you miss being back home?”

  “No, I can’t say as I do. We’re goin’ to somethin’ better, Jarena. We’ll have land of our own and a town where we’ll be free to make decisions instead of white folk making ’em for us. Won’ have to worry ’bout nobody else tellin’ us what we’s s’posed to do.”

  “Things weren’t so bad for you in Georgetown, Nellie. You could have gone to school as long as—”

  “You know I don’ like book learning. And workin’ as a housekeeper fer them white folk wasn’t much better than bein’ a slave. They didn’t treat me no better, and that’s a fact. I never had a free minute fer myself. When I wasn’t cleaning inside the house, they had me working in the yard, and in the evenin’ they expected me to watch after their young’uns. Didn’t pay me nothin’ extra, neither. And the little bit of money they paid me I had to give back fer my room and board. I tell you, Jarena, I got mighty tired of working day and night and having nothin’ to show fer it in the end. Me and Calvin is gonna have us a nice place to call our own in Nicodemus—same as you and your family.”

  “This move is what Pappy and the twins want, but it’s not what I want.”

  Nellie bobbed her head up and down. “You want Charles, and you’re thinkin’ if your pappy would have stayed in Georgetown, maybe, jest maybe, he’d have asked you to marry him. That’s it, ain’t it?”

  “Is that so wrong?”

  She shrugged. “Ain’t wrong, but you can’t be fer sure he’d have asked even if you’d stayed behind. Charles seemed to take a likin’ to Calvin’s cousin Belle, as I recall. ’Sides, with all your book learnin’, maybe you could teach the young’uns when we get to Nicodemus. We’s sure to have us a fine schoolhouse, and you’s the smartest person I know! You always said you liked helpin’ the twins with their lessons. You need to think about the future instead of lookin’ back.”

  Jarena gave her a feeble smile. “I’ve got the rest of my life to think about the future. Right now, I feel as though I’ve left too much behind. I’ll likely never be able to put flowers on my mama’s grave again.”

  “But your mama ain’t in that grave, Jarena. She’s in heaven. You know dat.”

  “Yes, but it gave me comfort to go sit by her grave and talk to her. I can’t do that anymore.”

  “She can hear you jest as good in Nicodemus as she could in Kentucky. ’Sides, it’s the Lord you need to be talkin’ to, Jarena, and you know that’s the truth.”

  “Look up yonder,” Thomas hollered from the wagon’s high seat.

  They sped to catch up with the Harban wagon.

  Nellie and Jarena craned their necks in the direction of a hill that rose about twenty feet above the valley of the Solomon River.

  Jarena hurried to the front of the wagon. “Are we there? Is that the spring?”

  “Looks that way. The wagons are slowing down.”

  Jarena stared off toward the rising mound. Water seemed to overflow from the top of the hill. It trickled downward in rivulets and then formed a stream that flowed into the river. The wagon stopped near the foot of the hill, and Thomas jumped down from the wagon. While her father tended to the horses, Thomas made his way up the mound and stooped down. He dipped one finger into the water and then stuck his finger in his mouth.

  “It’s salt water,” Thomas announced in a loud voice.

  “Mr. Hill says the Injuns believe the spring is sacred,” Truth reported with excitement as she and Grace drew near, “but he says the trappers call it the devil’s washbowl.” Her eyes gleamed. “Kin we climb up and look, Jarena?”

  “Ask Pappy. Mr. Grayson says it’s salt water, so don’t plan on drinking it.” Moments later the two girls came running back to the foot of the hill. “Pappy says we can go if one of you goes with us,” Grace panted.

  “I have no interest,” Jarena said before heading back toward the wagon. “I’m going down to the river. I need to wash some clothes before supper.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Thomas told the twins, “but it’s jest a pool of water and nothin’ more, so don’t go up there expectin’ too much.”

  “That’s right. Don’t expect much! That way you’ll not be disappointed,” Jarena whispered.

  She gathered the soiled clothes and headed off toward the river, wondering if Nellie was right. Perhaps Charles wasn’t ready to begin a new life. But how could she fault him if that were true? She didn’t want a new life, either—at lea
st not in Kansas.

  CHAPTER

  4

  Thomas ambled down the hillside, pleased he’d taken time to accompany the Harban twins. They’d had a great time while exploring nature’s wonders atop the mound. But the girls’ astonishment also stirred memories that Thomas had buried long ago—memories of a time when he, too, had been filled with pure delight at the discovery of God’s amazing creation.

  Forcing the thoughts from his mind, Thomas turned toward the river. Sodden clothes had been spread across sturdy bushes or hung from the low-hanging branches of the cottonwood trees that flourished near the water’s edge. Jarena had obviously been hard at work. He hesitated for a moment before walking in her direction.

  “You might want to move dem clean clothes a mite nearer the wagon. If a wind comes up tonight, dey’ll be scattered from here to Topeka,” he said as he sidestepped close enough for Jarena to hear him.

  She glanced over her shoulder and frowned. “I didn’t plan to leave them here. I’m merely spreading them out until I finish the rest of the wash.”

  Raising a brow, Thomas gave her a half grin. “Merely a suggestion. No need to get yo’ hackles up.”

  Jarena sighed as she rubbed a piece of hard lye soap into the collar of her father’s shirt. “I have no interest in arguing, Mr. Grayson.”

  “Good! Then why don’t I keep you company while you finish the wash? Maybe havin’ someone to talk to will make your work easier.”

  “A little help is the only thing that’s going to make my work any easier,” she said, plunging the shirt into the water.

  Thomas quickly moved to her side and knelt down. “Hand me that pair of britches and I’ll soap ’em down.”

  Jarena sat back on her haunches and stared at him.

  “Guess if you ain’t gonna give ’em to me, I’ll get ’em myself,” he said, reaching around behind her.

  Before Jarena could object, he had thoroughly doused the trousers and was taking the soap from her hand.

  “I’m an old hand at washin’ clothes. We’ll have these done in no time. Why don’t you tell me ’bout Kentucky? Your sisters say you didn’t wanna leave.”

  “My sisters talk too much. Besides, that’s only half true.”

  He grinned. “Which half?”

  Jarena stared down at the wet shirt. “I asked Pappy to wait until some of the others came out here and settled—to make certain there were no problems before we left home.”

  “But he didn’t listen.”

  “No. Pappy came home one afternoon all excited and waving a torn handbill over his head like it was the most important piece of paper he’d ever laid eyes on.”

  “An advertisement for Nicodemus?”

  She nodded. “He already told you?”

  “A little. But I’d like to hear what you have to say.”

  She tilted her head to one side and met his intense gaze. “Why?”

  He shrugged a shoulder. “I guess ’cause you’re the only person in the group that don’ appear to be excited about goin’ to live in dis new town. Your pappy says—”

  “That it’s the Promised Land, full of deer, buffalo, wild turkey, and other fowl—more good food than a man could ever eat? That there are herds of wild horses waiting to be caught and tamed? That because the soil is fertile and the weather so agreeable, crops will sprout from the ground almost unbidden? That because of John Brown, Kansas is the freest and friendliest state for coloreds to settle?” She groaned in exasperation. “I know what my pappy says, Mr. Grayson. I was sitting right alongside him in church when Mr. Hill and his partners gave their speeches. My pappy believes every word they said.”

  “And you think they were lyin’?”

  “I think before a man drags his family across this country, he should be certain he’s hearing the truth. But I’m not a man, and I didn’t have a say in the matter. My pappy is set on owning a piece of land.”

  “Can’t fault a man for takin’ a chance at seein’ his dreams come true. Who knows? Your dreams might come true in Nicodemus, too, if you give the place half a chance,” Thomas said, watching her.

  Jarena stood up and dried her hands on the cotton apron that covered her faded blue skirt. “I believe that’s the last of my wash.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, jumping to his feet. “I’ve made you mad, haven’t I? Was it my comment about your pappy followin’ his dream?”

  “I’m not angry, Mr. Grayson. I hope Pappy and the twins will be happy in Nicodemus, but I find it difficult simply to rely upon everything we’ve been told. I suppose you could call it a . . . a lack of trust.” Her final words were no more than a whisper quickly carried off by the warm evening breeze.

  Thoughts of her visit with Thomas Grayson near the Great Spirit Spring were far from Jarena’s mind two days later when Mr. Hill commanded that the wagons be brought to a standstill, and the thirty-one travelers clambered out of the wagons to see their promised land.

  “This is it, folks. You’re home!” Mr. Hill shouted.

  Shock coursed through Jarena like lightning on a sultry summer night. “We’re home? What does he mean? Pappy, what does he mean? There’s nothing here.” Her voice sounded hollow and desperate.

  Jarena clutched her father’s powerful arm in a death grip and squeezed her eyes shut. Surely everything would be different when she opened them—it had to be. Though she could feel her father tugging away, she tightened her grip on his arm. She needed an anchor.

  “Ain’t nothin’ gonna change just ’cause you’s not lookin’,” he said in a soft voice.

  She slowly lifted her eyelids. Her father was correct. Nothing had changed. The scrubby brush, the dry buffalo grass, and the flat, expansive prairie loomed before her like a bad dream.

  “Where’s the town, Pappy? There’s nothing here.” Once again she tightened her clawlike hold upon his arm.

  “I see that, chil’. Now take them sharp nails outta my arm, and let’s go take a look around.”

  Jarena knew there was an irritated look on her face as her sisters ran up to her chattering excitedly.

  “Ain’t you glad we’re finally here?” Grace asked.

  “Have you taken leave of your senses? Take a look around you! There is nothing—absolutely nothing here!” Each word burst from her lips like an explosion of buckshot.

  “We’re here. And I reckon Mr. Lovejoy must be ’round here somewhere,” Truth replied.

  Jarena’s jaw tightened. Her worst dreams were coming true. Why didn’t her family understand how horrible this was? “Look at this place—both of you. Do you see anything that resembles a town? Any houses? Any church or school? Perhaps a livery stable or mercantile? Any evidence that a well’s been sunk to provide water? Other than Mr. Hill’s declaration, please tell me if you find even one thing that appears to be what we were promised.”

  With her hands on her hips and her chin jutted forward, Jarena defiantly awaited their answer. Before either of the twins could respond, Jarena heard heated words of protest from other members of the wagon party being directed at Mr. Hill. The protests caused satisfaction to wash over her like a spring rain.

  At the sound of thunderous laughter from Herman Kemble, they all turned in unison. When his laughter finally ceased, he turned to Mr. Hill. “You’s joshin’ with us, right?”

  William Hill’s already pale complexion had turned a pasty white, and he tugged at his scraggly blond mustache. Jarena watched as he focused his unwavering gaze upon some indeterminate object on the horizon, obviously unable to look any of them in the eye. “We’re . . . uh, we’re a little behind schedule on our building projects,” he lamely explained. “But soon we’ll . . . uh, begin, and in the meantime, all of you can erect your own homes. You’ll have the freedom to decide upon what type of shelter you want to build.”

  Jarena stared at him in disbelief. He made it sound as though they’d been granted some special privilege for which they should be grateful. Did he truly believe they were so foolish? And why did the ot
her men remain silent? Were they so bewildered that they were rendered speechless, or was it their fear of contradicting Mr. Hill that caused them to suddenly become mute? She looked for Thomas Grayson but couldn’t find him in the crowd. Jarena turned to level a sharp glare at her pappy but stopped short. Was the dampness on his cheeks perspiration or tears? She couldn’t be certain, but she softened her gaze and grasped his large, worn hand in her own.

  “We’re going to be all right, Pappy,” she whispered with more confidence than she felt.

  He glanced down at her, and another tear escaped his deep brown eyes. “You’s right about that, chil’. The good Lord ain’t gonna let nothin’ bad happen. He delivered us to dis here promised land, and I know He’s gonna be watchin’ over us.”

  Jarena couldn’t disagree aloud, for the older man’s vulnerability was obvious. At this moment in his life, he needed encouragement, not harshness. Pushing aside the desire to remind him of her many admonitions, she squeezed his hand reassuringly.

  Seemingly freed from his state of shock, Calvin Harris waved a fist in the air. “There ain’t nothin’ here! This is open prairie. There ain’t no town!”

  “He’s right!” several others agreed, joining ranks behind Calvin.

  Mr. Hill backed away from the angry crowd and quickly ascended a small grassy mound several feet away. “You’re wrong!” he shouted. “There’s opportunity all around you. Land! Freedom! The chance to make this town exactly what you want it to be.”

  A voice came from the crowd. “We want what you promised us. You took our money and done nothin’.”

  “Delays—merely delays,” Hill replied as he loosened his collar. “You men know that nothing ever progresses as quickly as planned. Besides, we set September as the month we’d have everything completed, and it’s only July.”

  Herman Kemble took several large steps toward the mound. “Even if we give you ’til the end of September, ain’t no way you’s gonna have this town built by then. Why, you ain’t even got no supplies here to build with. Ain’t no streets laid out or nothing else as far as I can tell. What’d you do wid our money? You sure didn’ use it here. How you ’spectin’ us to get by with no stores and no supplies, Mr. Hill?”