First Dawn

by Judith Miller

  “Does me more good than Nellie. I don’t mind helping with the chores when I take a peek at this sweet baby every few minutes. Seeing his pretty little face sure helps to make the days go by.”

  “Dat and the pleasure of talking with two women ’stead of being cooped up all day with the twins,” Miss Hattie said with a chuckle.

  Jarena laughed. “That’s true enough!”

  Macia’s eyebrows arched. “You have twins?”

  “Twin sisters. They’re fifteen, but sometimes they act much younger.”

  “ ’Cause you spoilt ’em when your mama died. You shoulda took a switch to ’em instead of all the time coddlin’ ’em,” Miss Hattie said. “They’d be more responsible.”

  “Look who’s talkin’ about using a switch,” Calvin said with a laugh. “You talk rough, but you got the softest heart I ever seen.”

  “Can I fetch you a cup of coffee, Dr. Boyle?” Miss Hattie asked. “Ain’t the real thing, but rye coffee’s better’n nothing at all.”

  “No, thank you. If you’re certain Nellie and Nathan don’t need any medical assistance, I promised I would check on others who might be in need of my care. And I want to stop and see Mr. Harban, also. Do you want to come along with me, Macia?”

  Macia glanced at Nellie and Jarena. “Would it be inconvenient if I stayed here until my father is ready to leave for Hill City?”

  “Course not,” Miss Hattie replied, answering for the group. “Go on ’bout your business, Dr. Boyle. Your daughter will be jest fine with us. We may even put her to work,” she said with a jovial laugh.

  “I almost forgot. My mother sent gifts for the baby—and some Christmas gifts, also. Did you bring them in with you, Father?”

  “Indeed.” Her father retrieved a basket he’d placed near the door and handed it to Nellie. “I insisted my wife be practical. Of course, with only the general store, it’s difficult for her to be impractical. I think she would have much preferred to send an engraved silver rattle, but I believe these items will be of greater use.”

  “Thank you.” Nellie self-consciously accepted the beribboned basket, but her face soon shone with joy. Inside she discovered yards of flannel toweling from which to make diapers, two safety pins, four soft blankets with satin edging, and two gowns, which had completely depleted Mrs. Johnson’s inventory of baby goods from the general store.

  “These items are Christmas gifts for your family. However, my wife insisted I tell you that you need not wait until Christmas to open the packages.” Samuel carried several additional bundles from beside the small entrance and placed them on the rough-hewn table. “Now, I believe I should take my leave and go visit Mr. Harban. Do you want to come along, Calvin?”

  “Believe I will. The womenfolk will likely enjoy themselves more if there ain’t no man sittin’ around listenin’ to ’em.”

  While the men donned their coats and Calvin bid Nellie good-bye, Macia stared at the pile of beribboned packages resting on the dilapidated table. Their gifts seemed strangely out of place in these stark surroundings.

  Nellie rubbed her fingers over the soft flannel. “Tell your mama we is mighty thankful for her kindness.”

  Macia forced her gaze away from the table and smiled at Nellie. “Mother had hoped to have sufficient time to cut and hem the diapers, but she couldn’t manage to complete them and the blankets, as well. She wanted the satin binding stitched perfectly. And, of course, my ability to sew would have served only to ruin either of the projects,” Macia admitted with a sheepish grin.

  Miss Hattie thumped a thick branch onto the hard dirt floor. “Only way to learn is by doing.”

  Macia shrugged her shoulders. “Oh, I’ve tried on occasion, but I seem to stick myself more than anything, and Mother grows upset when I bleed on the expensive fabric.”

  “Ain’t no time like the present. We can work on these here diapers while we’s talkin’,” Miss Hattie said. “Jarena, put that chil’ down. He don’ need to be held every minute. Fetch my sewing supplies from that box over there, and you can commence to cutting. I’ll give Macia here a lesson or two, and then all of us can begin hemmin’ the diapers.”

  Macia cringed at the thought and wondered if she should have gone along with her father. Miss Hattie would soon realize she had spoken the truth: any diapers she hemmed would need a good soaking in cold water to remove the blood left by her pricked fingers.

  “Thread you a needle.” Miss Hattie issued the order with the authority of a general taking command of his troops.

  Macia placed the thread between her lips and wet it before attempting to hit the eye of the needle. It took several attempts in the semi-dark room, but she finally succeeded. She gave Miss Hattie a triumphant smile.

  “Well, put a knot in da end,” Miss Hattie coached.

  Macia did so and held the threaded needle in front of Miss Hattie’s face. “How’s that?”

  She didn’t look up. “If it’s threaded and knotted, it’s fine. Now watch how I double over this edge. Put it on the table and den press it down with yer finger so it holds. Otherwise, you can heat up the sadiron and press the edges down.”

  Macia truly did not want to iron, so she did as she was told. “Now what?”

  “Stick the needle down underneath so the knot doesn’t show when you take your first stitch, and then you’s gonna whipstitch all the way up the edge, jest like this. And don’ you dare be stickin’ that needle in your finger and bleedin’ on that there diaper. I ain’t got time to be doing no extra washin’.”

  Both Nellie and Jarena were grinning at Miss Hattie, but Macia was certain the old woman meant every word she’d spoken. And so she watched closely as Miss Hattie made exaggerated movements with her needle and thread, carefully instructing Macia exactly where she should place the needle in order to catch the cloth while properly hiding her stitches beneath the folded edge of fabric.

  She gave Macia’s hand a slight push and urged her into action. “Now, you’s a smart gal, and I figure you’s gonna do jest fine. Go on, now. Get started with your own.”

  With each stitch, Macia gave Miss Hattie a sidelong glance and wondered what would happen if she stuck herself and bled upon the fabric, though she truly didn’t want to find out. Perhaps some conversation would help divert Miss Hattie’s attention.

  Macia kept her eyes fixed upon her stitching, fearful of a reprimand from Miss Hattie. “Tell me, when you aren’t sewing or tending to a newborn baby, how do you pass your time on these long winter days?”

  Jarena glanced up from her stitching. “When there’s no snow on the ground and it’s not overly cold, we go out and gather buffalo bones as well as sunflower stalks and buffalo chips for our fires. Seems as though there’s never enough fuel to keep our fires burning warm. Of course, there’s always the cooking and laundry—and I enjoy reading when time permits. As for the men keeping busy, my pappy has been working on digging a well. He and Thomas were careful to dig deep enough before the ground froze so they could continue their digging once winter set in—same with some of the other families.”

  Macia stared at Jarena, both bewildered and fascinated. “The buffalo bones you mentioned—you burn those in your fires, also?”

  Jarena shook her head. “No. A storekeeper in Ellis told us that buffalo bones are shipped back east to make fertilizer, so we’ve begun to collect them—it’s one way the women and children can help to earn money.”

  Macia nearly swooned at the notion. Traipsing out on the cold open prairie to retrieve animal bones was certainly not her idea of a suitable pastime.

  Suddenly Miss Hattie pointed a finger at the diaper Macia was stitching. “Let me see what you got done.”

  Macia immediately held up the cloth for Miss Hattie’s inspection.

  The older woman nodded her approval. “See there? I knowed you could do it. Sewing is like everything else—you jest gotta decide you’s gonna learn how and then have someone like me to spur you on by using jest the right tool.”

  “A
needle?” Macia asked, confused by the remark.

  “Course not, chil’. Fear! Ain’t nothin’ like a good dose of fear to make a person realize they’s able to do more’n they ever thought possible. I learnt that lesson back in the days afore we was freed from bondage.”

  Nellie grimaced. “Now, Granny, don’t let’s talk about the old days. This here’s a whole new life.”

  “Dis may be a new life, but we ain’t livin’ no better than back in dem days,” Miss Hattie muttered.

  “I didn’t want to move out here, either, but Father insisted,” Macia said, hoping to find some common ground with the old woman.

  “I did!” Nellie hastened to reply.

  Miss Hattie folded the diaper and placed it on the bed. “You’s the only one that thought this would be one fine place to set down roots.”

  “Am not—Calvin wanted to move out here, too.”

  Miss Hattie snorted. “We ain’t talkin’ ’bout no menfolk—we’s talkin’ ’bout the women. Everyone knows what them men is thinking— they’s got to own them a piece of land.”

  Jarena broke off another piece of thread. “I didn’t want to come out here.”

  “But now that Charles done moved out here, she’s not so unhappy,” Nellie teased.

  “Is Charles your beau?” Macia asked.

  “We’re not betrothed. . . .”

  Nellie giggled. “But she’s hopin’.”

  Macia directed a soulful look at Jarena. “I left my beau back in Kentucky, too, but I haven’t been as fortunate as you. He made it quite clear he had no intention of leaving—not that I would ever expect him to. Instead, I prefer to return home, but I would be most happy if he would at least come for a visit.”

  “That would be nice,” Jarena said, bobbing her head in agreement. “And perhaps if he saw what it was like out here, he’d be inclined to propose more quickly and take you back to Kentucky. Have you asked him to come and visit for a spell?”

  “Oh yes. And I continue to hope he will soon write and tell me that he’ll arrive at the first sign of spring. I thought it would be lovely to return for the holidays, but of course Father sold our house, and he wouldn’t consider remaining overnight with Jackson’s family—in fact, I doubt he’d consider spending any time at all with them. Besides, he says it’s foolish to consider traveling in the middle of winter.”

  Miss Hattie inspected Macia’s stitching. “Um, hmm. Now, jest look what you’s been able to learn today. You’s doin’ a fine job. Jest knot off the thread and get started on the other side.”

  Macia breathed a sigh of relief. She had completed one edge without pricking her finger, and apparently the stitches met Miss Hattie’s exacting standards. Though she would have preferred to cease sewing, she realized that wouldn’t be an option—not with Miss Hattie watching her every move.

  Jarena placed the scissors back in the box and picked up a needle and thread. “Your father doesn’t approve of your beau?”

  “He’s not overly fond of him, but he doesn’t hold any member of the Kincaid family in high esteem.”

  Macia thought the women appeared surprised by the admission, particularly Jarena. Perhaps they were more surprised by the fact that she was permitted to continue seeing a man for whom her father had little respect than by the admission of her father’s dislike of the Kincaid family.

  “And why does your father dislike this family?” Jarena asked.

  Macia hesitated, hoping her words wouldn’t cast Jackson in an unfair light. “My father was born and reared in the North. He has always opposed slavery and was vocal about his beliefs. Needless to say, he found himself at odds with most folks living in the South, including the Kincaid family.”

  “Ouch!” Jarena quickly shoved her finger into her mouth.

  Miss Hattie gave Jarena a look of surprise. “You stick yerself?”

  She nodded. “My finger will be fine—and I didn’t get any blood on the diaper. Do go on with what you were telling us, Macia. I believe you were saying something about the Kincaid family, weren’t you?”

  “Yes. Father says that because the Kincaids owned one of the few large plantations in Kentucky, they could have led by example after the war. Instead, they chose to maintain their hemp fields by using sharecropping tactics that continue to hold the former slaves in bondage. Of course, I don’t know if that’s true. . . .”

  “If you knew it were true, would it make a difference in how you feel about your beau?” Jarena softly inquired.

  “I’m not certain—I’ve never given the matter any thought. Does it bother you to talk about it?”

  “Oh, I can talk ’bout such things all day long,” Miss Hattie said. “That don’ bother me even a whit. But livin’ in dem conditions—now, that’s what’s troublin’ to the soul. Ain’t so easy to push them thoughts aside if you’s ever been on the receivin’ end of a bullwhip or been the one held down in a sharecropper’s shack.”

  “Well, at least all of you seem to have fared well. Jarena speaks quite eloquently. I know there were freed men living in Georgetown even before the war who owned small businesses and learned to read and write. Did you attend school, Jarena?”

  Jarena’s focus remained on her sewing. “You might say I was blessed with a private tutor. For a time, I worked for an elderly woman who had a vast library. In exchange for a portion of my salary, my parents asked that she assist me with my education. She was a fine lady, and though she spent more time teaching me than I did cleaning her house, she never withheld any money from my wages. Then when my mother became ill, she would loan me books from her library. After I read each one, I wrote a report for her, and then we would discuss the book. She died several years ago, but she directed many of her books be given to me.”

  “There now—isn’t that a pleasant story?” Macia commented.

  Miss Hattie shook her head vigorously and grunted. “It may be a pleasant story, but dat’s all it is. Jarena never got them books. When Missus Clardy’s daughter found out, she packed up all dem books and shipped ’em off to her house in Georgia. Weren’t nobody said a word ’bout the fact dat Jarena got cheated out of dem books, neither.”

  CHAPTER

  22

  Samuel pulled his collar tight under his chin and walked alongside Calvin, glad the Harban dugout wasn’t far off. He hoped to enlist the assistance of Calvin and one or two of the other young men to unload the remaining supplies from his sleigh while he spoke with Ezekiel Harban. They approached the residence and the two of them turned their backs to the wind as Calvin knocked on the door.

  The door inched open a crack, and Thomas Grayson peeked through the narrow gap before pulling back on the leather handle and permitting the two men entry. “Come in!”

  Ezekiel’s shoulders remained slightly stooped, but he stood as tall as the roof of the dugout would permit. Samuel noted that neither Ezekiel nor Thomas could stand completely upright unless they were directly in the center of the dwelling. His earlier visit with Thomas had revealed the Harris dugout had been built first, when they’d been less pressured for time. But as winter had approached they’d been forced to move more quickly—and they’d been able to locate even less wood to use for the rafters needed to shore up their roofs. He wondered how frequently the two men banged their heads each day.

  “Good to see ya, Dr. Boyle,” Ezekiel greeted as he accepted Samuel’s outstretched hand in a hearty handshake. “We wasn’t fer certain you’d come back—what with the weather bein’ so cold, but I’m pleased to see you’s a man of your word. I reckon you been over to see Nellie and Calvin’s young’un.”

  “Yes, and he’s a fine-looking boy. I’ve been worried about all of you and wondering how I might help. I did manage to bring a few supplies that I hope will assist to some degree. However, I fear it’s not enough to do a great deal of good. The small general store in Hill City is low on supplies, but I brought what they could spare. How are you folks going to make it through the remainder of the winter? Have you come up with a
plan?”

  Ezekiel sat at the table near the fire and motioned for his guests to join him. “I ain’t in charge of things ’round here, Dr. Boyle. We did take a vote a while back and sent Wilbur Rawlins back to the eastern part of the state.”

  Samuel sat down opposite Ezekiel, anxious for more details.

  “He and Ivan Lovejoy had differin’ ideas ’bout what was best fer the town,” Ezekiel continued. “Wilbur’s plan got the most votes.”

  “Exactly what is Mr. Rawlins hoping to accomplish on his trip?”

  “He was plannin’ ta ask for aid—either money or goods, whichever he could get. We’d about given up thinkin’ he was gonna send anything when, lo and behold, he sent ten dollars via the post office in Ellis. Weren’t much, but it was a beginnin’.”

  Calvin’s face contorted in a look of frustration as he dropped onto the chair beside Ezekiel. “At least we was hopin’ it was only the beginning. But it’s startin’ to look like dat paltry amount was the beginning, the middle, an’ the end.”

  “Now, Calvin, we don’ know that fer certain. Ain’t fair to be judgin’ him too harshly afore we know the facts. Wilbur coulda met up with some kind of trouble.”

  “Or he could be gettin’ money and then keepin’ it for hisself,” Thomas put in as he joined them.

  Samuel leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. “Tell me, Ezekiel, what was Mr. Lovejoy’s plan for surviving the winter?”

  Ezekiel wrapped his large hand around a tin coffee cup. “Well, he wanted to go to the governor and then to the Congress and ask for help, if the governor agreed to the idea. I didn’ unnerstand all he was saying, but I do know most folks don’ like the idea of gettin’ the government involved. Ivan got a couple letters from Walt Tuttle—Walt come from Georgetown with us, but den he decided to stay in Topeka. Walt wrote that Wilbur’s been collectin’ large sums of money. So Ivan decided Wilbur must be keepin’ the money for hisself. Ever since Ivan heard that news, he’s been pushin’ to go to the governor again.”

  “I see no reason why he shouldn’t,” Samuel said. “It’s obvious the community needs assistance. The more people you have working to foster the town’s cause, the better. Why don’t you and I go and talk with Mr. Lovejoy while Thomas and Calvin unload my sleigh?”