First Dawn

by Judith Miller

  Lucy grinned and stretched her arms around him. “You’re forgiven.” She leaned back to look up into his face. “Guess what?”

  “What?”

  “Miss Boyle’s going to teach me how to use combs in my hair so I can fix it just like Mama used to!”

  Jeb peered above Lucy’s head and held Macia’s gaze with his steely blue eyes. There was something in his stare, something she couldn’t quite make out, something he intended to convey with that moody look. She glanced away and then turned back. What was it he was trying to tell her? Suddenly she knew. He was flashing a warning. But why?

  As they prepared to depart a short time later, Jeb bent his head, his lips nearly touching her ear. “Lucy’s already lost too much in her young life. Don’t add to her pain by making promises you won’t keep.”

  CHAPTER

  16

  Nicodemus, Kansas • November 1877

  The impassioned prayer meeting ended with a loud chorus of amens. Now they would set about making hard choices, for on this cold morning, the residents of Nicodemus had assembled for two reasons: prayer and decisions.

  Truth and Grace huddled together on one of the wobbly benches positioned along one wall of the dugout. Truth snuggled closer to her twin, hoping to absorb additional body heat. “Why we gotta stay here? Can’t we jest go home?”

  Jarena leaned around Grace. “Because I want to hear what’s said, and it won’t hurt for the two of you to listen, also. You need to understand how difficult it’s going to be for us to make it through the winter. The men are hoping they can come up with a plan.”

  “Afore we left Kentucky, Pappy said God was gonna provide,” Grace said, her eyes filled with a doe-eyed look of innocence. “Don’ see what the men need ta discuss.”

  Jarena couldn’t be angry with Grace. Her sweet, soft-spoken nature made it impossible. “That doesn’t mean we’re not supposed to do our part, too. We need to make plans and take some action on our own. We can’t merely sit and wait on God to provide.”

  “Why not?” Grace’s eyebrows knit together in studious contemplation. “God sent manna to the Israelites, didn’ He? They didn’t do nothin’ but complain.”

  Jarena leaned to the side and hugged her sister. “Yes, He did. But we don’t know how many of those Israelites died before they received manna. If our actions can keep anyone from freezing or starving to death, we should do it. Don’t you think?”

  “That makes sense,” Grace said, bobbing her head up and down. “I’d feel terrible if someone died when I coulda done somethin’. We best stay and hear what we can do to help.”

  Truth gave her twin an exaggerated frown. “You sho’ do shift with the wind, Grace.”

  “I’m sorry. But this be mo important dan goin’ home. We’ll still have time ta do something fun later today.”

  “And what did you have planned for this afternoon, young lady?” Jarena asked Truth.

  “I tol’ some of the younger kids I’d lead ’em in a game of hide the handkerchief if it ain’t too cold out.”

  “You need to quit playing games and learn responsibility,” Jarena asserted. “If you want to go home, I’ll give you permission—but not to lead the children in their games. Instead, you must promise to get busy on that basket of mending.”

  Truth gave her older sister a smug look. “It’s Sunday. Mama never did nothin’ but cook and read da Bible on Sunday.”

  “Mama didn’t live out here on the prairie, and I’m telling you that if you go home, I’ll expect to see a pile of mending completed. However, you’re welcome to stay here with us if you don’t want to sew.”

  “You know I don’ like to mend. I always stick myself with the needle.” Truth looked at her finger as though she’d already been stuck and was beginning to bleed.

  “Not so,” Jarena insisted. “That’s merely the excuse you use. You can sew a finer row of stitches than either Grace or I. You may have Pappy fooled, but I know you can sew and cook. You burn the food or stick yourself with a needle so you won’t be required to do either. And don’t even begin to defy my words. I figured out your tricks a long time ago.”

  After a number of the women and all of the small children had exited the dugout, several men who had been listening from outside filed indoors, appearing thankful for a modicum of warmth. The small space was filled to capacity, yet many of their number were still required to brave the cold if they were to hear any of the discussion.

  “Listen up, folks!” Jerome Holt stood in the open doorway holding his hat in the air to signal the group. “I say we all move outside. How can we reach an agreement when we can’ hear everybody speak?”

  Mary Fowler pulled her coat more closely around her shoulders and frowned. “It’s too cold to meet outdoors.”

  Miss Hattie stood up and began walking toward the door. “If I kin put up with a little cold weather, then so kin the rest of ya,” she said in her usual challenging manner.

  One by one, the group rose to their feet and followed the old woman’s lead and then clustered together, trying to avoid the chilly wind. Heavy gray clouds that appeared laden with sleet or snow hung low in the sky as they moved outdoors. Though Thomas assured the twins that it was not yet cold enough for either of those events, the girls maintained a watchful eye and hoped the weather would bring an early conclusion to the meeting.

  Jarena stood behind her sisters with Thomas and her father on either side, and Miss Hattie, Nellie, and Calvin close by. Reverend Mason moved to the center of the group and looked about as though unsure where to begin.

  “I’m not certain I’m the one to be leadin’ this meetin’, so if anyone else wants to step forward, I’ll be happy to turn over control.” He waited a minute, and when no one offered, he continued. “Well, I s’pose the first thing we need to acknowledge is that we’s not gonna make it through the winter on the supplies we have. They’s jest not gonna last. Even though some of da men have hired out and made some mo money, dere’s little work to be found now that winter has begun to set in. There’s no denyin’ we’s in dire straits. Widout supplies, we’s gonna die. It’s as simple as that.”

  Miss Hattie thumped her walking stick into the tough buffalo grass, which had lost all of its summer coloration. “Now, dem ain’t very comfortin’ words, Preacher.”

  “I’d like to be encouraging, Miss Hattie, but I cain’t build false hope. We’s all seen with our own eyes what’s happenin’ out here. There never was the animal life we was promised. With dis cold weather and winter settin’ in, the few small animals we been able to hunt is all but disappeared.”

  “Maybe that’s what we should do: disappear,” Jarena muttered. Miss Hattie’s light touch caused Jarena to look in the older woman’s direction.

  The corners of Miss Hattie’s lips curved up slightly, and Jarena detected a hint of sympathy in the old woman’s rheumy brown eyes. “You’re beginnin’ to sound like a bitter ol’ lady ’stead of a sweet young woman, Jarena. Don’t let dat happen,” she cautioned.

  “I’ll try. Are you feeling poorly, Miss Hattie?”

  “No worse’n anyone else my age—course, ain’t nobody else my age ’round here, is dere?” She chuckled quietly, and the sparkle returned to her eyes.

  “You should be in front of a fire instead of out here in this cold wind,” Jarena whispered.

  “You got any suggestions ’bout what we oughta do, Preacher?” Jerome Holt asked. “Don’t seem to be too many choices.”

  “Well, some of us what came out wid the second group has been talkin’.” The preacher waved toward Wilbur Rawlins. “Wilbur has agreed to go out on behalf of the town and look fer aid. We think it’d be best if he tried to first get some hep from folks in eastern Kansas. We’re hopin’ when people realize how bad off we is, they be willin’ to lend a hand.”

  Wilbur was well-known to everyone. After all, he was an officer of the town company and had been highly instrumental in bringing the second group of settlers west. Had Jarena been a member of the s
econd group, those facts alone would have turned her against the man. Yet, for some unknown reason, the group continued to hold him in high esteem—even value his opinions.

  The gathering turned their attention to Wilbur, who puffed his chest into a prideful swell. “I’d be honored to go out on behalf of our colony. I believe dis is the only alternative left to us. We’s all heard that the Kansas winters can be brutal, and we’s jest not prepared to survive without help. I believe the good people of Kansas will be pleased to lend a hand when dey hear of our plight.”

  “I don’ like the idea of beggin’ for a handout.” The words were shouted by someone near the back of the group.

  “There’s no shame in askin’ for help when it’s truly needed,” Reverend Mason replied.

  “Maybe so, but it don’ speak well for our settlement,” Jerome Holt remarked. “It’s one thing to try to git work from the farmers ’round here, but it’s another matter to go to the big cities and ask fer money from strangers.”

  Wilbur’s features pinched into a tight frown. “We’re not in no position to let pride stand in our way.”

  A smattering of amens could be heard among the group, and Reverend Mason nodded enthusiastically. “Pride can be a sin, Jerome.”

  “So kin slothfulness, but I ain’t accusin’ nobody here of that particular sin,” Jerome said while leveling a cold stare at Wilbur. “Ain’t fair to be sayin’ those that disagree are filled with pride, Preacher. I ain’t being prideful when I say I think askin’ for help is a mistake—just statin’ a fact. An’ I got a right to my opinion, too. The ones that should be helpin’ us are the town companies that told all their lies.”

  “Too late for placin’ blame. That won’t do us no good, either,” Ezekiel commented. “ ’Sides, Wilbur weren’t no better informed than the rest of us, or he woulda come better prepared.”

  “Or stayed in Georgetown,” Jarena added in a whisper.

  Ivan Lovejoy edged his way through the crowd. “I disagree with the idea of goin’ from town to town lookin’ for help. If we gonna get adequate aid, I think we should have a representative go directly to the governor. If we got the governor’s endorsement, we could make a plea ta Congress for assistance. I think if this is properly presented, we could set up a joint plan with Congress to hep us until we’s all self-sufficient.”

  John Beyer resettled his hat on his head. “I don’ think we oughta be doin’ that.”

  Herman Kemble nodded in agreement as he moved to stand alongside John Beyer. “That’s right! The last thing we need to be doin’ is gettin’ the gov’nor and the Congress involved. They’ll be takin’ this acreage away from us, sayin’ we ain’t fit to own land iffen we need the government to help us.”

  “You both need to quit thinkin’ like runaway slaves,” Ivan Lovejoy said. “Nobody’s gonna take your land away from ya. Just because we need a little help don’t mean the government is gonna try to remove us.”

  Herman snorted loudly. “I ain’t so sure you’re right on that account. There’s plenty of white settlers that couldn’ prove up their claims—we seen ’em with their wagons packed up headin’ back east. The government didn’ come to their aid. Why you think they’re gonna be willin’ to help us?”

  “ ’Cause we’ve come here to establish a whole community. We’re not just one or two homesteaders hopin’ to stake a claim. Won’t bode well fer the governor or Kansas if folks get word of a whole town dyin’ one winter.”

  Wilbur raised his hand. “All them that think we’re better off findin’ support by goin’ to the cities and towns and askin’ for help rather than goin’ to the government, raise your hands.”

  Ivan flapped his arms up and down. “Put your hands down! We’re not ready to make a decision just yet!” He scanned the crowd, pointing to a couple of men who continued to signal their agreement with Wilbur. “I said we’re not ready to vote yet.”

  Herman marched forward and faced off with Lovejoy. “Who are you to say when we’re ready to make a decision? Last I knew, we was all equal.”

  Reverend Mason pushed his way through the crowd and stepped between the two men. “Let’s don’ lose our tempers and come to blows over dis. We’re reasonable men and we’s gonna find a practical solution. I say we take a vote in order to see if we need more discussion.”

  Ivan Lovejoy’s hands were rolled into tight fists, and his jaw had begun to twitch. However, he seemed to know he’d lose even more support if he went against the preacher.

  “Raise yo’ hand if you agree with Wilbur Rawlins.” Reverend Mason’s lips formed numbers as he silently counted. When he had finished his count, he motioned the people to lower their arms. “Those in favor of Lovejoy’s proposal, raise yo’ hand.”

  Jarena watched while the preacher tallied the votes in favor of Mr. Lovejoy. It didn’t take long: not many agreed with his position.

  Ivan looked disgusted. “This is a mistake.”

  “Wilbur, I think you should leave t’morrow at first light,” Reverend Mason said. “We’ll pray you come back wid a full load of supplies.”

  “We need the wagons and horses. Wilbur oughta take the train,” Herman Kemble suggested.

  “You got da money for train fare?” someone asked.

  Herman kicked his boot at a clump of buffalo grass.

  “No need to be hard on yerself,” Ezekiel said, patting Herman on the back. “I was thinkin’ the very same thing. Kind of frightenin’ to let loose of one of our teams and a wagon.”

  An appreciative smile curved Herman’s lips and he nodded. “Guess we gotta take a chance or we’ll starve to death fer certain—and that’s a terrible hard way to die.”

  In the gray light of daybreak the next morning, a small group gathered to bid Wilbur farewell and pray for his safety. Ezekiel and Jarena were among those present.

  “Things is gonna be jest fine,” Ezekiel whispered to his daughter. Wrapping his arm around her narrow shoulders, he looked into her eyes and gave her arm a gentle squeeze. She longed to share his confidence; instead, her heart was filled with apprehension of what lay ahead.

  CHAPTER

  17

  Asharp scream pierced the still countryside and shattered the silent beauty of the bright white snowfall that blanketed the town of Nicodemus. Jarena startled awake and sat up in bed with her eyes opened wide. She held her breath and listened.

  “Pappy! Did you hear that?” Her voice was ragged. Trembling, she yanked her blanket up around her neck.

  “Coyote,” her father mumbled in response.

  In his bed across the room, Thomas rolled to his side. “That weren’t no coyote. Sounded human to me.” His voice was low and filled with worry.

  Before Jarena could answer, another shrill cry cracked through the still December night. Thomas jumped up from his pallet and hurried to the makeshift door of their dugout while Jarena waited in her bed. When Thomas said nothing, she wrapped the worn blanket around her shoulders and padded across the cold dirt floor to join him.

  “You see anything?” Jarena stood by his side and stared into the mantle of snow shrouding the small community. The stark white coverlet sparkled in the moonlight and shed an unexpected brightness upon the mounded dwellings. She shivered as a blast of frigid air brushed her cheeks with a frosty kiss.

  “No, but I’m sure that noise wasn’t no animal howlin’. Wait! Look over toward Calvin and Nellie’s place. Is the door open?” They waited and watched, straining to see any sign of movement. “It’s Calvin. He’s comin’ outside.”

  “Miss Hattie ailing?” Jarena called out, her voice carrying on the cold night air like a clanging bell.

  Calvin lifted his lantern higher. “That you, Jarena?”

  “Yes. Is something wrong over to your place?”

  Calvin ran toward them with the lantern dangling from his hand. “It’s Nellie. The baby’s comin’, and she’s havin’ trouble.”

  “What’s goin’ on?” Ezekiel called from his bed. “A man can’t get no sleep in
this here place. Close that door—you’s lettin’ this little bit of heat get outside.”

  “It’s Nellie—she’s having the baby, Pappy. Calvin’s on his way over here.”

  Truth sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes. “Why’s Jarena and Thomas at the door, Pappy?”

  Calvin’s eyes were filled with fear as he stomped the snow off his feet. “Sorry for the mess—and for wakin’ up everybody, but Nellie’s doing poorly and Miss Hattie’s plumb wore out. Can you come and spell her for a while, Jarena?”

  She flashed a questioning look at her father.

  “Jarena don’ know nothin’ ’bout birthing a child, Calvin. Best to get Mildred Kemble. She’s a good midwife. Won’t hurt none for Jarena to go along and lend a hand with boiling water and such, if she be needed.”

  Calvin wrung his hands. “I think having Jarena there would give Nellie some comfort. She’s in an awful lot of pain. Miss Hattie said she don’ think the baby’s turned right.”

  “Now, don’t go borrowin’ no trouble. Wait and see what Mildred has to say. She’s brought more babies into this world than Miss Hattie has. You get on over to the Kemble place and fetch her back to your dugout. If Mildred can’t come, then fetch Caroline Holt. Jarena will be over shortly.” There was a calmness to her father’s voice that appeared to strengthen Calvin.

  Once Calvin was out the door, Grace and Truth settled back under their blankets, and Ezekiel sat on the edge of his narrow bed. “You go over and help out for a while, Jarena. They’s likely worryin’ when there ain’t no cause, but if having you around will ease Nellie a bit, then that’s the least you can do fer your friend.”

  “What about breakfast?”

  “Truth and Grace can both cook jest fine. ’Sides, soon as you leave, we’re all goin’ back to sleep. It’ll be at least an hour ’til sunup.”

  Jarena pulled an old blanket along the rope that separated her bed from the men and quickly donned her dress and stockings before pulling on her worn leather shoes. She hastily pulled the blanket down from the rope and tucked it across her lumpy bed, all the time hoping Nellie wasn’t suffering overly much. Her stomach lurched at the thought.