“Thank you. I’m not so interested in education as my sister, but I better not get behind on my lessons. If I do, Jarena will tell Pappy I need to return home.”
“Well, I don’t want that to occur, so we best begin your lessons tomorrow. Besides, it will give us time to become better acquainted.”
“Does your father cotton to the idea of you marryin’ that Kincaid fellow you mentioned earlier?”
Macia giggled nervously. “Father doesn’t particularly like any of the Kincaids. In fact, I believe that’s one of the reasons he moved to Hill City—to keep me away from Jackson, though I doubt he’d ever admit that fact to me.”
“You’d marry ’im without your father’s approval?”
“If Jackson and I decide to wed, Father will eventually give his blessing. He wouldn’t want to see me unhappy. Here we are—this is your room.”
The room was more than Truth had imagined, and her eyes widened at the sight. There was a bedstead topped by a mattress that looked soft and a coverlet that looked warm, there were pictures on the wall, and there was even a slat-backed rocker in one corner. The single window facing the rear yard was flanked by lacy white curtains. After eating a supper of fried chicken, biscuits, and gravy, she was in a room the likes of which she could never have imagined for her own. She wondered what Jarena and Grace would think of having such a place for themselves. A part of her longed to have them see it, yet a sense of guilt crept in and captured a piece of her joy. While her family huddled around a tiny fire struggling to keep warm, she was cozy and well fed in this lovely house—it seemed completely improper.
Ezekiel pulled his coat tight and ducked his head against the wind as he made his way back to his dugout. He had spent the afternoon visiting with Ivan Lovejoy. Even though he knew no one could have made it to Ellis for the mail, Ezekiel had hoped Ivan might have something positive to say about their situation. Making do had become an all-consuming task. Folks had scrimped and borrowed until there was little left among any of them. Ezekiel had portioned out the cornmeal, flour, beans, and rice delivered by Dr. Boyle. However, each family’s portion had been small, and it wouldn’t be long until those few rations were gone. Thomas had occasional good fortune at a small fishing hole in the river, but none of the others seemed to have his knack for fishing through a hole in the ice.
He’d be pleased to see spring arrive so he could begin working his own piece of land. Even though he knew the plowing and planting would prove a challenge, he longed to begin farming in earnest. Without tools and horses, they’d likely be unable to sow many fields. But even if he had to use an axe to chop out the rows, Ezekiel vowed he’d put in a crop—it would be his first order of business. Certainly, he wanted to build a house on his own land, but his crops would come first. They would provide a means to support his family. At least he prayed they would.
“Ho! Ezekiel!”
Ezekiel lifted his gaze and was met by a blast of icy wind. “Charles! What you doin’ out in this weather?”
“Thought I’d come and spend a little time with Jarena, if that’s all right with you.”
“Course it is. Time gets heavy when we’s indoors all the time. How’s your mama and pappy doin’?”
“Mama’s wishing she was back in Kentucky, and she doesn’t miss any opportunity to tell me, but other than that, I guess they’re fine. Like everyone else, they’re wondering if we’re going to have enough food to make it through the rest of the winter.”
Ezekiel nodded knowingly as he opened the door for Charles. “Come on in.” Charles stopped short at the sight that greeted him. Jarena and Thomas sat at the small wooden table with their heads close together. They obviously were expecting only Ezekiel to enter the room, for they didn’t look up until he cleared his throat.
Jarena jumped to her feet and sent her chair crashing to the dirt floor. “Charles! What a pleasant surprise. I wasn’t expecting you.”
Charles clenched his jaw and glowered at Thomas. “I can see that.”
Thomas grinned and shook his head. “Don’t go gettin’ yourself all riled up. Ain’t what ya think.”
“You have no idea what I’m thinking,” Charles shot back.
Thomas picked up Jarena’s chair. “Ain’t much doubt—all I gotta do is look at all that anger you’re sending my way. You think I’m tryin’ to steal Jarena’s affections.”
“Pretty easy to see that’s exactly what you’re doing,” Charles grumbled, continuing to glare at Thomas. “The two of you sitting there side by side, all cozy.”
“Stop it, Charles! I’m helping Thomas learn to read and write— nothing more. You seem to be condemning both of us for acting dishonorably. I don’t appreciate such accusations, nor do I take them lightly. Do you think so little of me that you believe I would behave in such a manner?”
Charles’s pleading look reminded Ezekiel of a drowning man longing to reach shore, but this wasn’t Ezekiel’s quarrel. “You got into this on your own, and I guess you’s gonna have to get out the same way.”
“I apologize, Jarena. I wasn’t meaning to cast doubt on your behavior, but I figure Thomas is going to use any time alone with you to his advantage—what with you being so pretty and all.”
Grace giggled at the final remark.
“Are you implyin’ I’d act less than honorable toward anyone in this house?” Thomas pressed.
“I’m saying I think you’ll do whatever you can to win Jarena’s heart. I see the way you look at her when you think I’m not watching,” Charles countered vehemently.
“This is foolishness. Thomas isn’t interested in me. He only wants to develop his reading and penmanship skills. Isn’t that right?” Jarena looked to Thomas for confirmation.
He shrugged. “Guess if he wants to believe I’m tryin’ to court you, then that’s up to him. I ain’t gonna say nothin’ more.”
“You see?” Charles scowled. “He all but admitted I’m right.”
“Enough!” Ezekiel interrupted. “Ain’t gonna spend the rest of the evenin’ listenin’ to this arguing back and forth. Either make your peace or I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, Charles. Not that I’m holdin’ nothin’ against you, but Thomas lives here, too, so I sure can’t be askin’ him to leave.”
“May I ask permission to have Jarena come and visit over at our dugout? If she wants to, that is.” Charles gave Jarena a sidelong glance as he made the request.
“I don’t see why not,” Ezekiel said. “You wanna go over and visit with Charles and his folks, Jarena?”
“Sure is cold out there. You might wanna stay here by the fire,” Thomas said, raising a questioning eyebrow toward Jarena.
“I think I can manage to keep her warm,” Charles said with an icy stare.
CHAPTER
25
HillCity, Kansas • February 1878
Truth donned the heavy woolen cape Macia had given her and decided she should check with Mrs. Boyle one final time before heading off to the general store. She silently padded upstairs and quietly entered the bedroom. Should Mrs. Boyle be napping, she didn’t want to disturb her. Truth remained still, waiting to be acknowledged.
“Yes, Truth?”
“I’m leaving for the general store, Mrs. Boyle. I have your list with me. Is there anything you need afore I go?”
“No, thank you. I finished my tea, and I believe I’ll go back to sleep for a while. Close the door as you leave, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Truth backed out of the door and carefully pulled the door handle until she heard the now-familiar click.
Grasping the basket with one hand, she trudged through the crusted snow toward the Johnsons’ general store. The world was silent save the crunching of snow beneath her feet, and she wondered if this quiet was anything like the vast silence that had surrounded God before He created the animals and mankind. The thought of such ongoing stillness caused her to shiver.
The tiny bell over the front door of the store announced her arrival, and Mrs. Johnson fluttered from their l
iving quarters. “Truth! It’s mighty cold to be out walking.”
She shrugged. “It’s not so bad.”
“How’s Margaret doing today?”
“Not well,” she said as she pulled the grocery list from her pocket, “but she was up and about earlier in the week. I’ve got a list of supplies I need to purchase. Hope you got everything on hand.”
“I should be able to help you. Mr. Johnson was down to Ellis on Saturday and made it through the snow in fine order, thanks to the good waxing job he did on the runners before leaving. At least that’s what he says.” She started scurrying around, gathering the items on the list. “I think it’s the horses that should be receiving thanks for hauling that load of goods through the snow.”
“Either way, it’s a blessing he was able to make it. I know your supplies were running low, and Dr. Boyle’s been hankerin’ for some real coffee.”
“I can sure help you with that. We got coffee and tea in our shipment. Mr. Johnson picked up the mail, too. There’s several letters for the Boyles you can take with you. And I believe there’s one for you and another for your father.”
“One for me? I hope it’s from my friend Dovie. I can’t figure who’d be writing to my pappy, though,” she commented with a thoughtful frown. She examined the envelopes and nearly squealed with delight when she saw Dovie’s familiar handwriting on the envelope addressed to her. She didn’t recognize the awkward script on her father’s letter, but the name in the upper corner was familiar: Lilly Verdue—her mother’s half-sister, who lived in Louisiana. Why would she be writing to her father?
“Looks important,” Mrs. Johnson said while examining a piece of mail addressed to Dr. Boyle.
Truth took the letter with an official-appearing seal imprinted on the envelope. “It does look important.” She carefully tucked the missive among the supplies in her basket. “I suppose I best be on my way. Don’t want Mrs. Boyle worrying.”
Mrs. Johnson tapped her finger on the counter. “You need to sign the ledger.”
“Sorry,” Truth mumbled. She always had to be reminded to sign the Boyles’s page in Mrs. Johnson’s ledger book.
The walk home wasn’t nearly so enjoyable as her earlier journey. The basket was heavy and soon cut into the flesh along the inside of her arm. Just when she’d comfortably positioned the basket, the wind increased and swirled a continuous blast of stinging snow into her face. By the time she arrived home, she wished for nothing more than the warmth of a fire, a cup of something warm to drink, and a few moments alone to read Dovie’s letter.
Dr. Boyle opened the door as she arrived and quickly took the overflowing container from her arm. “What are you doing walking about in this cold weather?”
“We needed the supplies, and the wind wasn’t blowing when I left the house. In fact, it didn’t seem cold in the least as I walked to the mercantile.”
Truth fidgeted excitedly. “I received a letter from my friend Dovie, who’s living in Topeka. And I brought letters for you, too.”
“Then you must sit down and read yours while I read mine.” Dr. Boyle pulled one of the kitchen chairs away from the worktable.
“I’ll make you a cup of coffee before—” “Sit, sit. My coffee can wait,” he instructed.
Truth sat down opposite Dr. Boyle and began reading Dovie’s carefully formed words, smiling at her friend’s funny stories about keeping house and tending the two sons of a legislator and his wife. From all accounts, Dovie was plenty busy with all of her duties, and her mistress didn’t sound nearly so nice as Mrs. Boyle. However, she was off duty each Sunday and allowed to attend church services and visit with her family until sundown. In that regard, Truth thought Dovie quite fortunate. She wished that she could visit her family once a week. However, both distance and weather prohibited any such arrangement for her.
Dr. Boyle slapped his letter on the table with a resounding whack. “That man infuriates me!”
Truth flinched and immediately dropped her letter onto the table. Dr. Boyle’s face was twisted in anger. “What man?” Her voice warbled with fear.
He glanced up, and his countenance softened. “I’ve frightened you. I’m terribly sorry. It’s just that this letter angered me.”
“I noticed.” She wondered exactly what had caused Dr. Boyle’s rage but hesitated to inquire further. She’d bide her time. If he wanted to tell her, so be it.
He folded the letter, tucked it back into the envelope, and stood up. “I’ll be in my library.”
“But your coffee . . .”
He gazed at her absentmindedly. “When it’s ready, I’ll come back and fetch a cup.”
Macia entered the kitchen in yet another dress Truth had never seen. She wondered how many clothes were stuffed into the two wardrobes in Macia’s room. “I thought I heard Father down here.”
Truth nodded. “He was—but he’s gone off to his library. He closed the door.”
“I went over your lessons while you were at the store. I noticed them on the chest in your room as I passed down the hallway. I’ve corrected them for you.”
Truth startled at Macia’s comment. “You went through all of the papers on my chest?”
“As I said, I corrected your lessons.” Macia glanced at the ceiling. “I believe I hear mother stirring about upstairs. I best go check on her.”
Long after Macia had departed the room, Truth remained rooted to her chair. What if Macia had read the letter she’d begun writing to Jarena? Truth trembled, but she willed herself to remain calm. She must begin supper preparations. Forcing herself into action, she counted out enough potatoes for the evening meal. Her hands shook as she began to peel. She tightened her fingers around the handle of the paring knife and hoped she wouldn’t cut herself. Why hadn’t she tucked the half-finished letter into the chest of drawers before leaving for the store? She tried to remember Macia’s exact reply. It had been elusive— which meant she’d surely read Truth’s remarks to Jarena regarding the Kincaids. Now Macia would know her father had been a sharecropper for the Kincaids. This wasn’t good—not good at all. Yet what could she do? Confront Macia? No. Best to remain silent and wait. If Macia didn’t mention the letter, neither would she.
There was little time to think about the letter during supper, for it was then that Truth discovered the contents of Dr. Boyle’s letter. He’d obviously spent the remainder of the afternoon fretting about it, for it was the first thing he mentioned once the family had seated themselves for supper. Surprisingly, Mrs. Boyle decided to join them, and as Truth hurried to set another place at the table, the doctor told about the correspondence.
“I’ve had a letter from Governor Anthony. Truth picked it up at the mercantile when she was shopping today.”
Margaret arched her eyebrows. “The governor? And why is he writing to you, my dear?”
“Seems he’s sending a delegation of legislators from Topeka. He wants them to observe firsthand the conditions in Nicodemus. He says he’s received conflicting reports and needs accurate information so he can make an informed decision.”
“But why come to Hill City if it’s Nicodemus he’s investigating?” Mrs. Boyle said, frowning.
“They can’t possibly conclude their journey in one day, and it seems that Mr. Hill told the governor I would be willing to make arrangements for an overnight stay for the gentlemen.”
She gasped. “Here? In Hill City? At that primitive sod hotel? Whatever will those men think?”
“I’m certain they’ll be mortified,” Macia offered.
Dr. Boyle spread a thick layer of jam on his biscuit. “Just because you’d be affronted doesn’t mean they’ll feel the same. I’m certain these men know what to expect out here on the prairie. I plan to register them at the hotel unless you’d prefer to host them.”
Margaret clutched her bodice as though she might faint at the suggestion. “Have you taken leave of your senses, Samuel? I wouldn’t consider entertaining overnight guests in this house.”
“Then I s
uppose the issue of their accommodations is settled. In addition to the governor’s missive, I also received a letter from Mr.
Hill—one that truly caused my blood to boil. Had Mr. Hill been standing in front of me, I do believe I would have given him a tongue-lashing that he’d not soon forget.” Harvey leaned back in his chair. “A letter from Mr. Hill? So the lost has been found. What did he have to say, Father?”
“He asked that I escort the group of delegates to Nicodemus and give the men a good report concerning the two communities. A good report. Can you believe he’d ask such a thing? He went on to say he’d be in my debt if I would explain that he’s had difficulty meeting the completion dates because of his other commitments. Then he asked that I tell the legislators he did everything possible to fulfill his promises.” “From his request, I surmise he’s hoping your principles are no better than his own, which proves he does not know you at all, my dear— after all, you spent little time with him in Georgetown. He likely believes you have no personal knowledge of the difficult circumstances in Nicodemus.” Margaret lifted her cup to her lips and then hesitated. “I suppose we should at least extend a supper invitation, though I abhor the thought of entertaining dignitaries in this excuse of a house. When will the delegation arrive?”
Samuel unfolded the letter, scanned the contents, and gave his wife a wry smile. “If I calculate correctly, they should arrive in Ellis next week and in Hill City shortly thereafter, weather permitting.”
Margaret frowned as she set her coffee cup back on the matching saucer with a loud clank. “They certainly didn’t allow much time to prepare for their visit. I suppose we could all pray for a snowstorm.”
“I’ve never known a time when you weren’t prepared to entertain,” Samuel said with a smile.
The next week was a blur, the days fading in and out at a rapid pace as Truth worked to complete Mrs. Boyle’s list of preparations. The older woman was up and about for long periods each day, apparently feeling well enough to plan a dinner party. Though Truth had gone to her room late last night, she remained awake long enough to complete her letter to Jarena and pen a brief letter to her father and one to Grace. Dr. Boyle had agreed to deliver her missives along with the mail Mr. Johnson had picked up in Ellis for the Nicodemus settlers. Even though Dr. Boyle and the other delegates would be in Nicodemus for only a few hours, Truth hoped Jarena or Grace would have time to send a reply with Dr. Boyle. She longed to hear how her family had been faring and perhaps receive a word of praise for the money she enclosed with her letter. But mostly she wanted to know why Aunt Lilly had written to her father.
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