First Dawn

by Judith Miller

  “Remember I was required to pay the filing fee for your land. And you should recall I encouraged you to purchase supplies before we left Topeka—and even at several of the small towns along the way.”

  “But you never told us there wasn’t nothin’ in Nicodemus ceptin’ brush and dirt! You knowed we’da never come if you’da told us the truth, didn’t ya?” Herman Kemble was nearly trembling with anger. “How we s’posed to survive out here? And where’s Ivan Lovejoy?”

  “The railhead’s down in Ellis, but you can’t make it there and back in one day, especially with supplies. As for Lovejoy, I’m not certain where he’s camped, but I’m confident he’s somewhere near here.”

  “He ain’t gonna have enough supplies for all this group,” Herman Kemble retorted.

  Jarena looked at her father. Finally she saw the reaction she would have expected. His demeanor had changed from misery to anger. The vein in his neck throbbed, and his hands were clenched into tight fists. “We ain’t even got horses and wagons,” he accused. “You let us believe we could get everything we needed here in Nicodemus.”

  “I never actually said it would be possible,” Hill replied.

  “You’s playin’ with words—jest like you been doin’ ever since you took our money back in Kentucky!” Herman Kemble hollered. “What you gonna do to make things right with us?”

  Hill’s hands shook as he flapped his arms up and down in an attempt to soothe the crowd. “If you have enough money to purchase these horses and wagons, I’ll sell them to you and make it right with the livery in Topeka—all except my own wagon and team,” he added hastily.

  The men—Thomas Grayson among them—clustered together, and Jarena stood near the perimeter of the circle, anxious to hear the discussion. “We gotta figure how much money each of us can pitch in toward a couple teams of horses an’ at least one wagon,” John Beyer suggested. “Without horses, we gonna die out here.”

  After they added up their money, the men found they could afford only three horses and one wagon. The meager remaining funds would be needed for supplies.

  “We oughta hang him,” Jarena heard Jerome Holt whisper. “He’s a liar and a cheat.”

  “Settle yerself, Jerome,” another man said. “Ain’t gonna turn to no violence. Let’s see what he says ’bout our offer on the horses.”

  Jerome pulled a cotton kerchief from his trouser pocket and wiped his forehead. “He’d best see it our way, or I’m all fer stringin’ ’im up.”

  “Mr. Hill, we got an offer fer ya,” Herman said as the group broke ranks. “We’ll pay ya fifty dollars fer one team and a wagon. You give us one of your horses or pay the owner for one of dese others and make a gift of it to us.”

  “Fifty d-dollars? A g-gift?” Hill stammered.

  “Call it a way to heal the wrong you done to these folks,” Thomas Grayson put in, stepping toward William Hill.

  Mr. Hill’s skin now matched the whites of his watery eyes. He fumbled for words to defuse the growing anger of the crowd as pools of deathly gray settled inside the hollows of his sunken cheeks.

  “Let the man speak,” Ezekiel said as he stepped forward.

  “Thank you, Mr. Harban. I feel terrible about the situation you’re all facing out here, and you’re right—you do need some horses and wagons. Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll go and fetch the Peterson brothers— they live over near Hill City. They agreed to go with me and take all eight of the wagons to Topeka, but I’ll tell them I’m only taking six wagons back. To prove my concern, I’m going to leave you folks with two wagons and two teams—but you only need to pay me for one.”

  Murmurs spread among the new settlers and finally Jerome Holt spoke out. “Don’ be ’spectin’ to hear me thankin’ ya fer leavin’ the wagons. It’s the least ya can do after all the lies ya told us.”

  Mr. Hill’s color improved as he inhaled deeply. He straightened his narrow shoulders before giving them a thin-lipped smirk. “I want you folks to take heart. I promised this town would be ready for you, and you’re going to be amazed at what’s been accomplished by the end of September. As soon as I return to Topeka, I’ll be finalizing the arrangements. In no time you’re going to have a fine little town that you’ll be pleased to call home. Before winter sets in, this town will surpass all of your hopes and dreams.”

  “Let’s hope it ain’t our bad dreams, or we’ll be out lookin’ fer you, Mr. Hill,” Jerome replied. His voice remained edged with anger.

  “You have my every assurance that you are going to have a school and churches and many shops bustling with business along the streets of Nicodemus before the first snow falls on the plains. Trust me! I am a man of honor.”

  “Don’ appear we got much choice but to trust him,” Calvin muttered.

  Jarena glanced up at her father, wondering if he believed Mr. Hill’s promises.

  “Think we better be puttin’ our trust in the Lord instead of Mr. Hill,” her father said softly.

  If only her father had listened to her back in Georgetown.

  CHAPTER

  5

  The day Mr. Hill departed Nicodemus, a shroud of fear and foreboding settled over the encampment. Uneasiness reigned, especially among the women—and Effie Beyer in particular. Though Jarena had always considered Effie a bit flighty, the woman’s behavior had grown more erratic since leaving Georgetown. Her ill-behaved children made life no easier for the woman. But most likely the recent odd behavior was caused by departing her home in Kentucky and then compounded when their small group had been deposited in the middle of the prairie to survive on their own. And who could blame poor Effie? The only things visible to remind them of what they’d been promised back in Georgetown were the Solomon River and one of Mr. Hill’s line drawings depicting the layout of Nicodemus and the surrounding township.

  So far as Jarena could understand from that drawing, they should have right now been in a community where the north and south streets were numbered First through Seventh and the intersecting streets patriotically bore the names of the first American presidents. But there were no streets or houses or any of the numerous businesses so artfully depicted on Mr. Hill’s map. Worst of all, there was no place to purchase the supplies they so sorely needed. Surrounded by low-lying hills and a vast expanse of prairie, they could only surmise how Hill planned to build the town he envisioned. Little wonder Effie Beyer’s behavior had become erratic. In fact, Jarena marveled that others had not become frenzied or inconsolable.

  A vacant stare filled Effie’s eyes as she approached Jarena. The twins had gathered a number of the children, Effie’s brood included, and were leading them in a game of tag.

  “You think Truth and Grace can make them young’uns behave?” Effie asked Jarena in a quivery voice. “If not, I’ll get mine back over here beside me.”

  Jarena gazed into Effie’s fearful eyes. “They’ll be just fine, Effie. The twins will watch out for them. Both Truth and Grace are good with the younger children.”

  Effie dropped onto the flat-topped trunk Jarena now used as a small table. “I’m scared. I tol’ John I didn’t wanna leave Georgetown,” she whispered, her focus flitting about as she spoke. “Don’ go far!” Her eyes shone with fear as she yelled and waved at her children.

  Jarena grasped the older woman’s hand in a reassuring grip. “They’ll be just fine.”

  “John’s wantin’ to take the wagon and go find our land. I don’ wanna go off by ourselves. I told him we ain’t got ’nuff supplies to last out there by ourselves, but I don’ think he’s gonna listen. What am I gonna do?” She raked her trembling fingers through a mass of unkempt thick hair.

  Jarena pulled the woman into an embrace. “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll ask my pappy what the men are planning. You sit here and rest.”

  “Thank you, Jarena. You’s gonna come back and tell me what he says, ain’t you?” Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears as she held fast to Jarena’s sleeve.

  “Of course I will. Just rest, Effie.”
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  Jarena marched off toward the two wagons, where her father sat talking to several of the men. Whatever was wrong with these men? Did they not care what their wives desired? Was a woman’s opinion deemed so useless that it was given no consideration? For they were now stranded in this unforgiving wasteland.

  Jarena stooped down beside her father and waited until he turned to her. “Somethin’ wrong, gal?”

  She hesitated a moment, her gaze settling on Ivan Lovejoy. “When did Mr. Lovejoy arrive?” she whispered.

  “Few minutes ago. He’s been camped out on his acreage, but he’s gonna move in here with the rest of us fer a spell. Like all of us, he says he was s’prised to find nothin’ completed in the town. Is that why you come stompin’ over here?”

  “No, I was wondering if any decisions have been made—about where we’ll stay until Mr. Hill returns.”

  Jerome Holt didn’t hesitate to answer. “Best we all stay together.”

  The others nodded—all except John Beyer. “I was thinkin’ to get on out to my land. Thought maybe ya’d let me take one of the wagons and maybe borrow a few tools. I’m anxious to get started on puttin’ up some shelter for my family.”

  Percy Sharp, who had been pretty quiet thus far, shook his head. “You know I ain’t one to speak against any man doin’ as he sees best for hisself and his family, but we gotta think about the whole group— not just ourselves. Every man here is anxious to provide shelter for his family, I know dat, but rushin’ off by ourselves is the worst thing we can do right now. There’s safety in numbers. I think we should stick together right here at the townsite.”

  “I agree,” Robert Fowler stated. “If you take off with one of the teams and a wagon and the few tools we got amongst us, how’s the rest of us gonna get anything done ’round here?”

  John’s jaw tightened. He yanked his hat from his head and threw it to the ground. “Appears you think I’m selfish, Robert. Who was it that loaned you the fi’ dollars to pay the land company so’s you could come out here?”

  Robert glanced toward heaven and then shook his head. “I ain’t saying you’s selfish—jest saying we ain’t got much in the way of supplies and we best keep the little we got in one place. And jest in case you forgot, I paid back the money I owed you—plus a quarter for interest.”

  “Is all of you agreein’ with Robert?” John asked angrily as he surveyed the group.

  His answer was a chorus of um-hums and nodding heads.

  A puff of powdery dust billowed from John’s side as he picked up his hat and slapped it on his pant leg. “Guess if that’s how all of ya feel, I got no choice but to stay. But I’m telling all of ya that when Mr. Hill gets back here with our supplies, I’m headin’ out to my place.”

  Jarena sighed. At least she would be able to carry good news to Effie. Perhaps the woman would settle herself once she knew that her family would be remaining with the group.

  She made her way back to where the harried woman was seated and gave her an encouraging smile as she drew near. “You can rest easy, Effie. He’s agreed to stay with the rest of us until Mr. Hill returns.”

  Effie’s forehead creased with worry lines, but she thanked Jarena. “I best get back over there. I was watchin’ John. He’s mad as a hornet— won’t be no pleasin’ him tonight.”

  “That may be true, but it’s the other men he’s angry with, not you. In his heart, he knows it’s best to remain with the group. He’ll come around soon enough.”

  Effie jumped up and skittered across the small encampment, her billowing skirt whipping about her legs. Jarena tsked as she stared after the woman. She almost thought about saying a prayer for Effie Beyer, but there was no need to bother, for Jarena and God weren’t on speaking terms. In fact, they hadn’t been communicating much since before she left Georgetown. Her prayers had grown sporadic after her mother’s death, had increased when her father announced they would leave Georgetown, and had stopped completely when they boarded the train destined for Kansas. Oh, she still uttered the perfunctory prayers before meals and at bedtime, but the intimate chats had ceased. There was no use praying if God never answered.

  “You sure is lookin’ sour today.” Miss Hattie chuckled as she plopped her ample body onto the trunk Effie had vacated.

  Jarena gave her a halfhearted smile. “I was talking to Effie. She’s getting more unpredictable with each passing day. I worry about her— and her children.”

  The older woman attempted to fan herself with a limp handkerchief. “Best we be prayin’ for her. Outside of helpin’ with the young’uns, ain’t nothin’ gonna help her ’cept our prayers.”

  Jarena sat down beside the older woman. “You pray for her, Miss Hattie. God doesn’t hear my prayers.”

  “Don’t be talking nonsense, chil’. God listens to everything. He answers all our prayers.”

  “Well, if that’s true, why did my mother die? And why am I sitting out here in the middle of this desolate place?” she asked crossly.

  “Now, hold on—I said God answers. I never said He answers the way we want. There’s a big difference ’tween the two.”

  “That’s the response I get from everyone. That’s not an answer, just an excuse.”

  “You listen here, gal. God don’t need nobody making excuses for Him. You think jest ’cause you don’ get the answer you want that God’s not listenin’ to you? Does your pappy always answer the way you want?”

  “No! We wouldn’t be here if he did.”

  “Does that mean he didn’t listen to you or that he didn’t understand what you wanted?”

  “No. But it does mean he didn’t care what I wanted—just like God doesn’t care.”

  “Your pappy cares and God cares. Thing is, they got more control over your life than you do, and that’s what you’re not likin’. You think you know what’s good for you better’n God does, but that ain’t the truth of it. Whether you wanna believe it or not, God’s got plans for you, Jarena, and He ain’t gonna give in to your whims. It ain’t fer us to know everything, gal. If you’s as smart as I think you is, you’ll get down on your knees and start prayin’ again. It’s time you started trusting God.”

  Trust. She was beginning to hate that word. She jumped up when she noticed the men’s meeting breaking up. “Looks as if they’ve finished talking. Think I’ll go and find out what they decided.”

  Miss Hattie grinned. “You can run from me, but you cain’t run from God.”

  Jarena ignored the remark and hurried off to meet her father. “Any other decisions been made?”

  “We gonna stay here and live the best we can, just like we did on the trail. I asked Thomas to throw in with us.”

  Jarena’s eyes widened at her father’s casual announcement. Myriad rejoinders immediately came to mind, but she bit her lip and looked skyward for a moment before returning her father’s gaze.

  He reached up under his wide-brimmed hat and scratched his head. “Is that there look s’posed to tell me you don’ like my idea?”

  “We don’t know anything about him. He’s a stranger. Besides, it seems he’d be more at ease with the other single men.”

  “Thomas is a good man, and he’s willin’ to help me when the time comes to start buildin’ our house. I don’t recall you complainin’ about eatin’ the food he gave us out on the trail.”

  Jarena knew there was no sense in arguing any further. Thomas Grayson would remain a part of their family; her father had already decided.

  “We all picked out spots where we’ll make our camps ’til Mr. Hill returns. Ours is gonna be over dere,” he said, pointing toward a flat, grassy area protected on one side by a low-lying hill. Her father turned to leave and then glanced back over his shoulder. “Gonna be hard ’nuff gettin’ along out here. Best we’s kind to one another.”

  Jarena tried to smile, but she figured it looked more like a grimace. “I’ll do the best I can, Pappy.”

  He nodded. “I know you will, chil’. I always been able to count on you.�
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  Several days later Jarena hunched over the small fire. Grasping the fabric of her skirt for protection, she lifted the iron skillet of cornmeal mush from the fire. Rationing food was a necessity, and the gnawing in their bellies had become a pervasive, unwelcome companion. All of them longed for a hearty meal, yet the abundant animal life they’d been promised was not the reality. She wondered what would happen when winter set in and the jackrabbits and prairie hens disappeared completely. She’d attempted to discuss the matter with her father on more than one occasion—especially when the men were lamenting their lack of hunting weapons. But he had discouraged such talk, telling her they would be fine—God would take care of their needs. Jarena had wanted to angrily rebut his words, but she remained silent. Only time would tell who was correct.

  She had joined her family as they’d laid out the campsite that would be their home until Mr. Hill returned. The other families had staked out their makeshift camps nearby, each wanting the protection of the group, yet seeking a small modicum of privacy for their families. Members of the group had equally divided the canvas and shared their few tools in order to construct the small lean-tos that now dotted the prairie landscape. The worn white canvas, held overhead by fallen cottonwood branches found near the river’s edge, provided their only shelter. The unrelenting winds would daily swat the flimsy roofs to the ground, and daily they would console themselves by saying it wouldn’t be long until Mr. Hill returned. Each time they spoke of Mr. Hill’s return, Jarena wondered what would become of them in this desolate place if Mr. Hill did not return.

  Jarena leaned across the fire and stirred the paltry skillet of mush. At the sound of approaching footsteps, she jerked around to see Thomas walking toward her.

  “Mornin’. Didn’ mean to scare you.” He leaned down, lifted the coffeepot from atop the glowing embers, and poured a small portion of the brew into his tin cup. He looked at the thin layer of mush. “Not much left in the way of supplies?”