“This is all dere is to the town?” Mr. Francis inquired as he drew nearer Jarena and Charles.
“I’m afraid so, but there’s more than when we set foot on the town-site in late July. See the sod dugouts the men have been constructing? It was too late to plant when we arrived.”
Mr. Francis stared at her with the same disbelieving look that she’d seen on Charles’s face only moments earlier. With obvious concern, Mr. Francis and the other new arrivals listened while their friends and former neighbors recounted stories about their struggle to survive during the past two months.
Herman Kemble pushed his hat back on his head. “I cain’t say as our introduction to the West has been easy, but we’s mighty glad to have the rest of you arrive. Dere’s safety and comfort in numbers.”
Reverend Mason, who had just arrived, stepped forward. “But what ’bout Mr. Hill? Hasn’t he returned at all?”
Ivan Lovejoy frowned. “We planned to ask you folks if you’d seen ’im. Last news we had ’bout him was that he had headed back to Kentucky to sell more land. You heard or seen anything of Mr. Hill, Wilbur?”
Wilbur Rawlins swept his eyes despondently around the barren townsite. “He was back in Georgetown and told us things was grand. He told me all of you was livin’ off the fat of the land.”
As each question was answered, the anger and dissatisfaction of the new arrivals seemed to increase. In fact, most of the group continued talking until well into the night. Jarena sat beside Charles, with their only protection the lean-to that her father and Thomas had constructed when they first arrived. The canvas canopy was now no more than waving strips of fabric that had been shredded by the incessant prairie winds.
Charles glanced at the sky. “You have quite a view of the stars from your bed each night.”
She nodded. “The lean-to provides little shelter, but with the arrival of more men, surely enough dugouts can be prepared before winter.”
“More people also means that more shelter is needed. Besides, I think many of these families will depart come morning.”
Jarena startled to attention. “Why? Do they care so little for our well-being that they will run off and leave?”
“They have to do what’s best for their own families, and if they believe they should return to Kentucky, who are we to argue? To be honest, I think they would all leave if they had sufficient funds to make the return journey,” he confided.
“So those who will remain have no money? Did they purchase supplies in Ellis?”
“Not much. Most of us spent our savings to purchase the land and pay for the train fare. We thought there would be supplies available in Nicodemus.”
“Didn’t anyone in Ellis tell you about our troubles?”
“They said we should purchase our supplies from them and that there were no stores in Nicodemus where we could buy anything. We figured they were trying to frighten us off so we’d go back to Kentucky. Then the owner of the general store said a fellow named Thomas Grayson could vouch that he was telling the truth. But none of us had ever heard of anyone by that name.”
“This isn’t the South, Charles. Folks around here aren’t going to lie to run you off. In fact, most of them have been kind to us. Maybe you can talk more people into staying.” She tried to camouflage her desperation with cheerfulness, but Charles’s countenance made her doubt she’d accomplished it.
“It would take a tongue more eloquent than mine to convince these folks.”
“Then you’ll be leaving, also?” she asked in a hoarse whisper.
“No, but I’m certain I’ll meet resistance from my parents. If they think we should go back to Kentucky, I’ll encourage them to do so, though I won’t leave with them. Their funds are limited, so they may have no choice but to stay.”
“The little money Pappy brought has long since been spent on supplies and food. Yet he’s happier than I’ve ever seen him—the twins, too. They appear to find this all a grand adventure. But when the winter snows arrive, I fear we’ll all starve to death.”
Charles hunched forward and patted her hand. “There’s always the chance winter won’t be as bad as you’ve imagined.”
“We’ve talked to folks who know this area, and they say the winters are hard. The people down in Ellis will tell you the same thing.”
“With all these frightful tales of winter, I can’t decide if you’re trying to convince me to stay or depart.”
“Oh, I do want you to remain. But I must be honest and tell you all that I know of this place so you won’t later be angry with me.” She looked deep into his eyes, wanting him to see the truth of her words.
He smiled and placed his palm along her cheek. “I believe you, Jarena.”
When Charles left to help his parents set up camp, Ezekiel approached Jarena. “Charles plannin’ to stay or is he gonna skedaddle back to Kentucky with his mammy and pappy?”
“They’re leaving?”
“That’s what they said. And I think the Wilsons be leavin’, too. Truth and Grace bedded down under a wagon with the Wilson girls. They truly was excited to see their friends.”
“Those girls will probably giggle and talk all night,” Jarena said.
Her father leaned down and poked at the waning fire just outside their lean-to. The wood crackled, and a host of dying embers sparked to life and cast a wiggling shadow of her father’s brawny figure. “What about Charles? He leavin’?”
“No—at least that’s what he told me. I think he’s expecting his folks to return home, but he says he’s staying no matter what they decide.”
Her father heaved his muscular body onto the ground. “All them that’s got money is leavin’. I talked long and hard—tol’ ’em we could make it through the winter a lot easier if dey’d throw in with us. Guess it’s gonna take more than talkin’ to convince ’em.”
“How many do you think will leave?”
“I heard that sixty families will be pullin’ out.”
“That’s more than half of them!”
“And them ones down in Ellis’ll prob’ly never come when they hear what it’s like here.”
“They’re feeling the same as we did when we saw this place— betrayed.”
“That’s true enough, but we got more important things to worry about right now. We’s needin’ to get these dugouts built, and Thomas promised to send the breaking plow back to Ellis with Mr. Goddard’s wagons.”
“Nobody brought tools?”
“A few axes and the like—same as the rest of us. The ones that was gonna farm figured they’d be able to borrow from us when the time came for plantin’. The rest figured the town was already up and runnin’ and they’d just move into their new businesses—that’s what they paid that extra money fer. Didn’t nobody figure on building a dugout or soddy the minute they got here.” Ezekiel kissed her good night. “You go ahead and bed down. I’m gonna spend some time prayin’.”
Jarena didn’t argue. She knew where her father would go. The day after they’d arrived in Nicodemus, he’d found a secluded place where a large, smooth rock jutted out of the ground. He’d gone there every night to lean against that rock and pray. Sometimes he’d be gone only a few minutes, sometimes he’d be there half the night. She wasn’t certain what filled his prayers on those long nights—probably their fragile existence in this harsh and unforgiving land. She wound herself inside the thin blanket and wondered how long her father would pray this night.
She wasn’t certain how long she’d slept, but the sun was over the horizon when she awakened to the sounds of horses being hitched to wagons. Rubbing her eyes, Jarena shook off her blanket and stood gazing toward where the new colonists had bedded down for the night. Her father had been correct. In fact, even more of the recent arrivals than he’d anticipated were preparing to depart. She frantically scanned the area, hoping to gain sight of Charles or his parents.
Shifting to her left, she saw him waving his hat in the air, just as he had when she’d first seen him yesterda
y.
She gestured in return and hurried toward him, excited yet fearful what he might say. “Good morning!”
“Good morning to you.” His wide smile warmed her heart.
She gave a quick nod toward the wagons. “It appears they’re preparing to leave.”
“Yes.” He rubbed the back of his neck.
She waited, and when he said nothing, she was compelled to ask, “And your parents, what have they decided?”
“They’ll remain. But only because of me. They argued the folly of my decision, but I told them I want a fresh beginning—a new life.”
A new life. She wondered if his new life would include her. She cared for Charles, and the thought of marriage intrigued her—more so in Georgetown than Nicodemus, however. Life was too unsettled and uncertain in Nicodemus. Then too, she wasn’t clear how people in love were supposed to feel. She had missed Charles, but she had also yearned for all of the friends she’d left behind. Being in his presence was enjoyable, and sometimes he made her heart pound—perhaps that meant she was in love. Once or twice she’d thought of asking Nellie but feared her friend would laugh at such questions—or worse, that she’d tell the twins. Maybe the next time she was alone with Miss Hattie, she’d ask her about love, but for now she was content to know Charles was going to remain in Nicodemus. For now her thoughts of love and marriage were likely unnecessary. After all, Charles hadn’t yet spoken of marriage.
Charles grasped her hand. “Come have some breakfast with us.”
Jarena glanced over her shoulder. “I haven’t seen my father yet this morning, and he’ll need to eat.”
“He’s already out in that far field with that Thomas fellow. They’ve been out there since before sunup. My mama sent me out there, and I asked your father to breakfast, but he refused. Said they had to return that plow they’re using and they wanted to get as much sod broken as they could before the last wagon pulled out for Ellis. I took him some cornbread and a couple biscuits.”
“I know he’s thankful for your kindness, Charles.”
“I offered to spell Thomas for a while with the plow, but he said nobody could use it but him. Probably just as well, since I don’t know anything about plowing. Now, if he needed a silversmith, that would be different.”
Jarena looked around the open prairie. “I don’t imagine there’s going to be much need for a silversmith in Nicodemus. At least not any time soon.”
“Then it’s good I didn’t plan to continue in the trade. I’m anxious to try my hand at farming, where I can take charge. Mr. Henry was a good man, but that business back in Georgetown belonged to him. I would have been his apprentice until the day he died.”
“And his son’s after that ’cause you’d never have the money to buy such a fine business,” Jarena said as she neared the fire, where Charles’s mother was engrossed in cooking breakfast.
“Good morning, Mrs. Francis,” Jarena greeted.
Mrs. Francis looked up, and it took only a fleeting glance for Jarena to see the pain in the older woman’s eyes. “How are you, Jarena?”
“Much better now that I’m surrounded by so many familiar faces.” She took the tin plate of corn mush and syrup Mrs. Francis offered.
“Best enjoy it while you can. What about you, Jarena? Would you leave iffen you had a train ticket back home?”
Charles jumped to his feet. “Mama! I told you I’m going to stay here regardless of what anyone else does. Owning my own place is what I want to do, and my decision has nothing to do with Jarena.”
His words cut to the quick, and Jarena stopped eating in midbite and slumped like a wilted flower thirsting for a drop of water. “Even if I had a ticket, I couldn’t leave. My family is here, and I have nothing left in Georgetown except my mama’s grave.” She handed the empty tin plate back to the older woman. “If you’ll excuse me, I must see about the twins. They spent the night with the Wilsons. Thank you for the breakfast,” she added, nearly forgetting her manners.
Hiking her skirt, she strode off toward the wagons with Charles’s words ringing in her ears. “My decision has nothing to do with Jarena.”
She rounded the wagon and spotted her father and Thomas moving toward the townsite. Jarena watched as the two men exchanged words. Thomas was hauling the plow, and her father looked weary from the early-morning work. The wagons began to pull out of their circle and form into a straight line. Most of the departing families were already seated inside the wagons, obviously anxious to begin their journey home—and Jarena couldn’t fault them, for she, too, longed to leave. Had Charles asked her to be his wife and return to Kentucky, she would have gladly joined the departing wagons. But he hadn’t, and so both she and Mrs. Francis would remain in Nicodemus against their own desires.
“Hold up!” Thomas hollered as he approached the last wagon. He bent over, gasping for air, and when he’d finally gained his breath, he straightened and walked toward the front of the line.
“Find a space and jump aboard if yer wantin’ to leave,” the driver called.
“The breaking plow—I promised Mr. Horton I’d return it with the wagons goin’ back to Ellis. Mr. Goddard said dere’d be no problem sendin’ it back with you.”
The man shoved his hat to the back of his head. “Ain’t room in none of dese wagons for dat plow.”
The driver flicked the reins and signaled for the wagons to pull out as Ezekiel stepped alongside Thomas.
“There’s no room for the plow,” Thomas said. “I gave Mr. Horton my word—what if he sends the law after me?”
There was a deep fear in Thomas Grayson’s eyes. Jarena could see it take hold as he spoke to her father. They all feared lawmen—and for good reason. The law never appeared to be on the side of the colored man. But with Thomas there seemed to be something more.
CHAPTER
10
The group of settlers—old and new together—sat in a large ring, much like the circle formed by the recently departed wagons. Once again a plea to contribute funds was issued. Believing the appeal unfair, the new arrivals objected strongly. Bitter words soon peppered the quarrel and required more than a few wise words from Ivan Lovejoy, Wilbur Rawlins, Jerome Holt, and Ezekiel, who attempted to defuse the increasing hostility. Before peace was finally restored, Reverend Mason had pointed to Scripture for the answer. He reminded them they were members of the family of God, and rather than withholding their meager funds, they should be seeking out ways to help one another. The shamefaced group finally approved a journey to Ellis to purchase supplies and return the plow.
In the meantime, they decided to cut as many sod bricks as possible to provide frontage for the dugouts. They would dig with every tool available and into any nearby hillock. Desperate for shelter, the new arrivals began their work at a feverish pitch.
“If they continue at dat speed, they gonna wear themselves out afore noon,” Thomas commented as he and Ezekiel passed several families frantically digging into the hillside.
“Dey’ll learn,” Ezekiel replied with a slight smile. “You been givin’ any more thought to what I asked you?”
“Nosuh, and I don’t plan to, neither. You’re gonna have to find someone else t’ make that trip to Ellis, ’cause it won’t be me. After hearing that folks was talkin’ about hangin’ me when I was late gettin’ back from that trip I made afore—well, that’s ’nuff to tell me I won’ be in charge of their money again. If it was jest to return the plow, I’d consider makin’ the journey.”
“I unnerstand, but I think they learnt their lesson. Nobody wants to take time to make the trip.”
“Well, I won’t change my mind.”
“Then I s’pose I’ll be the one to go.”
“Once you’re on yer way, I’ll begin diggin’ out the shelter for you and your womenfolk.”
“No need for you to bother yourself,” Charles Francis said as the two approached. “I’ll take care of helping Mr. Harban with his dugout.” Charles stood with his axe propped on one shoulder. “Thou
ght I’d cut some of this sod into bricks for our place,” he added.
“Mighty nice of ya to offer yer help, Charles,” Ezekiel said, beaming in the new arrival’s direction.
“You gonna have plenty to do gettin’ your own place ready for winter. I’m better able to hep the Harbans,” Thomas interjected.
“Probably best you work on your own shelter.” Charles swung his axe into the sod, where it stuck without completely severing the thick grass.
Thomas directed a self-satisfied smile at Charles. “That buffalo grass is stronger than you might think.”
Charles tugged the axe out of the ground and then took another hefty swing, this time cutting through the sod. “There isn’t anything out here on the prairie that I can’t handle as well as the next fellow.”
Charles swung the axe into the strip of sod again with a noisy grunt. “Mr. Harban, I’ll keep an eye out for Jarena while you’re down in Ellis.” He had evidently overheard their conversation as they had approached.
“Jarena and the twins will be fine. Thomas will sleep nearby, and dere’s ’nuff folks aroun’ that no harm is gonna come to them. You look after your own folks. I know your mama ain’t happy ’bout bein’ here, so you best be doin’ all you can to please her.”
“Yes, sir, whatever you say. Whereabouts are you planning to build your dugout, Thomas?” Charles turned a menacing glare on Thomas.
Thomas hesitated, and Ezekiel slapped him on the shoulder. “He ain’t gonna dig no shelter for hisself. I tol’ him ain’t no sense in it.”
Charles took a step toward Thomas. “You’re going to live with them? In their dugout? All winter?” His voice was loud.
“Well, it ain’t as though we’re gonna be hibernatin’ like the bears,” Ezekiel put in. “Me and Thomas agreed to share a place afore the rest of you came. Come spring, he’s gonna help me build a soddy out on my farmstead, and we’ll put in crops together. Then I’ll help him with his soddy. Works out good since our acres adjoin each other,” Ezekiel explained.
First Dawn Page 11