Ezekiel hunched over the table. “No disrespect, Doctor, but my people ain’t so quick to believe that them in power will always do what they say. Ownin’ this here land means more to us than you’s likely to understand. Folks ain’t wantin’ to take any chances of losin’ it.”
Samuel reached across the table to pat Ezekiel’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t suggest anything that might jeopardize ownership of your land. However, at this point, I think the probability of starvation is more worrisome than the slight prospect of losing your land.”
Ezekiel slowly rose from his chair. “I s’pose you’s right about that.”
While Thomas and Calvin began unloading the provisions from the sleigh, Ezekiel and Samuel walked toward the Lovejoy dugout. A light snow had begun to fall, and Samuel looked off to the north, where a bank of darker clouds was slowly moving in their direction. He hoped the weather would hold off until he and Macia made it back home. He didn’t know how his daughter would cope should they be forced to remain overnight in one of the dugouts.
Ezekiel followed Samuel’s gaze. “Looks like we’s in for some more snow.”
As they approached the Lovejoy dugout, Samuel shrank into his turned-up collar like a turtle retreating into its shell. “I hope I can make it back to Hill City before those clouds dump any more snow.”
Ivan Lovejoy opened the door. “What you doin’ out in this cold weather, Ezekiel?” he asked as he stepped aside to permit the two men entry.
“Dr. Boyle here says maybe you’s right ’bout gettin’ help from the government. I still ain’t so sure, but we’s here ’cause he wanted to hear what you was plannin’. I done tol’ him ’bout the money we got from Wilbur.”
Ivan immediately launched into the particulars of the earlier meeting, detailing the settlers’ unwillingness to place their trust in his plan. “And so we now finds us in a even worse condition. Wilbur has one team of horses an’ a wagon, and he’s likely sold dem, too. If Wilbur don’ send any more funds by the end of December, I could make the trip to Topeka and meet with the governor.”
“I’d be willing to accompany you to Topeka, if you’d like,” Samuel said.
Ivan glanced at the floor for a moment. “I ’preciate your offer, Dr. Boyle, but we need to take charge of our future without dependin’ on others speakin’ fer us.”
“Perhaps I could at least write a letter setting forth my concerns for the health of the residents. You could leave it with the governor as additional support for your position, if you think it might help.”
Ivan smiled broadly. “I agree that a letter from you could be helpful. I ’preciate dat.”
Samuel penned a letter at the Harban dugout before going to the Harris place to collect his daughter. “What have you done with Macia?” he joked when his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the dugout.
The women gave him a strange look and Hattie pointed at Macia. “That right there’s your gal.”
“But that girl is sewing. Macia can’t sew. You must have replaced her while I was gone,” he teased.
Miss Hattie chuckled in delight. “That chil’ can learn anythin’ she sets her mind to. Ain’t dat right, Macia?”
“Yes, Miss Hattie.”
“Show your pappy all dem diapers you hemmed,” Nellie encouraged.
When Macia hesitated, Miss Hattie tapped her on the arm. “Go on now, show ’im.”
“I finished all of these.” She held up the pieces of flannel that had been neatly edged.
Her father examined the stitches as though he were checking a healing incision rather than a piece of cloth.
“Didn’t she do a nice job?” Jarena asked as she folded the diaper she had just completed.
“I would say so. I’m very proud of you. I wish we could stay longer so you could help complete all of the diapers, but we must be on our way home.”
“This here gal shows promise,” Miss Hattie told the doctor. “With a little nudgin’, she gonna turn out jest fine.”
Macia’s cheeks flushed at the praise as she handed the partially hemmed diaper to Miss Hattie. “Thank you for teaching me,” she said shyly. “It’s been an enjoyable visit, and I hope you’ll come to Hill City and call on us sometime in the future.”
“I don’ think we’ll be comin’ any time soon, but we thank you for the invite,” Miss Hattie replied with a broad grin. The old woman turned her gaze to Dr. Boyle and nodded.
Samuel smiled at his daughter and knew she did not grasp the import of her invitation. When they were finally on their way home, Samuel patted Macia’s hand. “I’m proud of you for actually inviting people of color into our home.”
The corners of Macia’s lips turned up. “It is truly strange how you forget the color of someone’s skin once you become acquainted, don’t you think?”
“Indeed. Unfortunately, most people won’t take that first step.”
“If Jackson knew of my invitation, he’d likely think I’ve gone mad out here on the prairie. But I suppose there’s no need to worry on that account, for I doubt either Jackson or the folks in Nicodemus will be visiting Hill City any time soon.”
Samuel flicked the reins and urged the team onward. He, too, doubted whether there would be any visitors in the near future. Yet he enjoyed the thought of having the residents of Nicodemus come calling while Jackson Kincaid was at their home. What would Jackson think of such an occurrence? He grinned, relishing the notion.
CHAPTER
23
Nicodemus, Kansas • January 1878
Jarena peeked from under the covers. A light skiff of snow had blown under the ill-fitting door, and bitter cold now seeped through every crevice in the dugout. She snuggled deeper under the blankets, longing for the warm days of summer. There was no reason to jump up from her bed. The ground had been frozen for nearly a week, and little could be accomplished in such weather—at least nothing that required her to rise and prepare an early breakfast. Her sisters and Thomas were sleeping soundly, though she imagined her father had been awake for at least an hour. At least his snoring had ceased some time ago. Likely he found no compelling reason to leave his bed, either.
Jarena turned on her side, wishing for another blanket. Perhaps she should get up and add fuel to the waning fire. Her father and Thomas would likely want a cup of coffee. Her stomach growled as she thought about breakfast. How long had it been since they’d eaten enough to satisfy their hunger? Jarena could barely remember what it was like to sit down and eat her fill. Instead, they now counted themselves fortunate if there was enough food to ward off the hunger pangs. Their daily fare of corn mush thinned to a watery gruel had taken its toll on all of them. She had watched her sisters’ fleshy arms and legs slowly diminish to little more than twiglike appendages and her father’s thickset body turn much too lean. If help didn’t arrive, they’d be no more than skeletons by winter’s end.
Jarena sat up in the bed and forced her feet into the cold shoes beside her bed. Might as well get up. If these troublesome thoughts of hunger were going to plague her, she’d not get any sleep. Wrapping one of the thin blankets around her shoulders, she tossed several buffalo chips and a handful of dried sunflower stalks onto the banked fire. Thankful for the pail of water Thomas had fetched for her last night, Jarena broke the thin layer of ice and filled the coffeepot. The coffee would be weak, but no matter—the men wouldn’t complain. They knew she was doing her best to make do. She moved silently about the room, but the others were soon awake and ready to begin another day.
They had gathered near the fire for Bible reading when a loud commotion came from outside. Certain it was nothing more than children playing in the snow, her father motioned for Jarena to continue reading. She focused on the passage, trying to ignore the noise as it escalated to extraordinary heights. Jarena read more stridently, but when pounding fists sounded at their front door, the Bible reading came to an abrupt halt.
Truth hurried off to answer the door and was immediately greeted by several of the Beyer children. �
�Come quick! There’s Indians out here, and we don’ know what they’s sayin’.”
Truth peered around the doorway. Without a word, she yanked the children inside the dugout and turned to her family, her eyes filled with fear and her mouth gaping. “There truly is Injuns out there. What are we gonna do, Pappy?”
Ezekiel rose to his feet and grabbed his coat from a peg. Thomas and Jarena followed suit, and Jarena immediately issued instructions to the twins to keep the Beyer children indoors. She sent up a silent prayer that the little ruffians wouldn’t completely destroy the dugout before they returned. Several other children were watching the Indians from what Jarena hoped was a safe distance. Ezekiel shooed them off toward home as the three adults approached the group of Indians. Though they appeared friendly enough, Jarena thought her father should have a weapon of some kind—what if they needed protection? There were at least twenty Indians standing around. Perhaps there were even more of them lurking nearby. A nervous giggle stuck in her throat like a wad of cotton.
She stared at the fearsome group. All of them were tall and muscular. Their heads were completely shaved—except for a scalp lock that extended from their foreheads to the back of their necks. Tattoos emblazoned their chests and arms, and they wore beaded ear ornaments and armbands of intricate design and beauty. Robes of buffalo or bearskin draped their shoulders. Jarena marveled at their apparent comfort standing outdoors in the frigid January weather. They appeared stately, and she hoped it was kindness she saw in the eyes of the warrior who stepped forward.
He rubbed his belly and pointed toward the dugouts. “Food!”
Jarena took a step backward and nearly laughed aloud at the request. If only they knew how little food there was in this tiny settlement. Overcome by the absurdity of the request, Jarena motioned the man to follow her.
Ezekiel shot a warning glance in her direction. “Jarena!”
“No, Pappy, let them see we have no food.”
She trudged forward, occasionally glancing back over her shoulder and motioning the man forward. The remainder of the entourage followed at a distance while watching the apprehensive faces that peered from behind partially open doors. Jarena pushed open the dugout door and told her sisters and the Beyer children to sit on the bed. The visitor bent down as he entered the hovel. Jarena lifted the near empty sack of cornmeal and opened the other crates and sacks, as well, showing him what little they had.
“No food. We have no food.” She pulled on her dress to emphasize she’d grown thin from lack of nutrition. She wanted to make him understand they were starving.
He looked at her and frowned. “Food!”
She hurried to her sisters and tugged on their too-large clothing. How could she make him understand? She held out her empty hands. “No food.”
“Food!” The Indian grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her outside of the dugout. Motioning to Thomas and Ezekiel to follow, he walked to the edge of the settlement and pointed to their tethered horses and supplies a number of yards away. Still holding Jarena by the arm, he continued toward the horses with Ezekiel and Thomas following on his heels.
As they drew nearer, Thomas said, “They been on a winter hunt. I heard tell in Topeka ’bout the Osage Indians comin’ through and goin’ to the mountains on their winter hunts. Looks like they was mighty successful, too.”
The leader looked at Jarena and walked toward a dead antelope. “Food!”
Jarena pointed back and forth between the animal and the settlement. “For us? We can have this antelope? You’re giving it to us?”
The leader grunted an affirmation and then spoke to several of his men. A short time later the animal had been deposited outside the Harban residence and Jarena was attempting to thank the leader for his kindness. She quickly grew frustrated, doubting he’d understood any of her rambling words.
Without warning, he tugged on the side of her loose-fitting dress and then pretended to eat. “Food.” He nodded encouragingly.
She smiled and agreed. “Yes. Food will help my dress to once again fit. Thank you.”
The Osage left the settlement as silently as they’d entered. There had been no reason for the small band of hunters to stop and share their food in Nicodemus—no reason, save the prayers of God’s starving people.
The bright February sun glistened with an intensity that belied the ice- and snow-covered ground outside Samuel’s window. He wondered how the folks in Nicodemus were faring and if Ivan Lovejoy’s visit with the governor had resulted in any assistance for the fledgling community. Though Christmas had been somewhat bleak in the Boyle household, he was certain the folks in Nicodemus would have gladly exchanged places. Samuel had hoped to make another journey to the settlement on several occasions, but his plans had been thwarted each time, either by the weather or his wife’s sickly condition. Today, however, he was determined to succeed. No threat of a storm loomed on the horizon, and there were no patients waiting for medical attention, save his wife. He prayed this journey to Nicodemus would resolve some of her worries so that she would finally stay abed and regain her strength.
Macia walked into the parlor with a pleading look upon her face. “Please may I go with you, Father? I do long to get out of this house for a short time—and I would so like to see how much little Nathan has grown.”
“And I would enjoy your company, my dear. But someone needs to remain at home with your mother. I think you can lend her more comfort than Harvey. I’ll do all in my power to take you with me the next time. The weather will be much more pleasant by early spring.”
Macia wrinkled her nose and plopped down in the chair opposite him. “We don’t know that for certain. The snow may remain on the ground until May or June.”
His daughter was correct. They didn’t know when the cold weather would disappear. He’d heard varying reports from the folks in Ellis, Stockton, and other outlying areas. Even those living in Hill City gave conflicting accounts, and Samuel wasn’t sure whom to believe. Besides, the weather could change dramatically from year to year. He doubted if anyone could accurately predict when spring would finally arrive in Kansas.
“Be certain you heat some soup for your mother’s noonday meal and take it to her in our room, Macia. She needs to remain in bed. If she’s awake, you could read to her. I received a newspaper from Georgetown the other day—better yet, read from one of those books of poetry she enjoys.”
“Yes, Father. And where is Harvey? Is he going with you?” There was a hint of jealousy in her voice.
“No. He’s helping Jeb Malone down at the livery.”
She sniggered. “Harvey is helping Jeb? It’s more likely Harvey is sitting by the fire avoiding any work here at home while Jeb takes care of his own tasks at the livery, don’t you think?”
“Jeb came and asked for your brother’s assistance. That being the case, I must assume he’s helping in one way or another. Besides, there’s not much he can do here at home right now. The wood is piled high and the animals are cared for. Was there something you wanted him to do?”
“I suppose not. You had best be on your way if you’re going to get back before nightfall.”
Samuel leaned down and kissed Macia’s cheek. He realized she was lonely, and a visit with Betsy Turnbull, Ada Johnson, or Louise Kramer did little to allay his daughter’s feelings of isolation. Truth be told, young Lucy Malone provided more company than any of the married women. When he went to the livery for his sleigh, he would ask Jeb if Lucy could visit Macia this afternoon.
By the time Samuel arrived in Nicodemus, the sun was overhead. The journey had taken longer than he’d anticipated with the snow slowing the horses considerably. He realized the unfortunate delays would limit his time in Nicodemus. Along the way, he decided to stop first at the Harban dugout. Ezekiel could likely give him any news regarding the success of Mr. Lovejoy’s visit with the governor. That fact aside, Samuel found a warmth and sincerity in Ezekiel, a camaraderie that drew him to the man. Certainly there were others in the co
mmunity who were more educated and of greater means than Ezekiel Harban, but none of finer character—at least not in Samuel’s mind.
The door to the Harban dugout opened, and Samuel was greeted with Ezekiel’s welcoming smile. “Come in. Come in. Ain’t this a good surprise. Look who’s come to see us,” he said to the three girls who were gathered around the fading fire.
Truth jumped up. “Dr. Boyle! How nice to see ya. I’ll pour you a cup of coffee.”
Samuel waved for her to sit down. “No. You save that coffee for yourselves.”
“You sho’ you don’ want some?” She remained standing beside her chair. “Don’t nobody drink it ’cept Pappy and Thomas.”
Jarena emitted an exasperated sigh. “Nobody drinks it except Pappy and Thomas.”
“Dat’s what I said.” Truth’s eyes twinkled with mischief.
“No, but I thank you for the kind offer.” Samuel glanced about the small room before returning his gaze to Ezekiel. “Where is Thomas?”
“Seems to think he’s gonna find him some critter out there in the snow to trap and bring us for supper. Tol’ him the only thing he’s gonna get out there is cold hands and feet, but he don’ listen no better’n the rest of these young’uns. He goes out there ever’ day and checks them traps.”
Leaning forward, Jarena directed her full attention on their visitor. “What brings you out in this frigid weather, Dr. Boyle?”
“Several matters, but first tell me how you folks have been faring through these last months.”
“It’s been a true test of faith, but the Lord has provided—not a lot, mind you, but we’s getting by,” Ezekiel answered. “About the middle of January, when we thought we wouldn’t make it no longer, we had us a prayer meetin’ led by the reverend. The next day—the very next day— there was a band of Indians come through here. What kind was they, Jarena?”
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