First Dawn (27 page)

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 community 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?”

“Osage.”

“That’s it. Osage Indians. Anyway, Thomas said he heard tell they come through this way on their hunts from time to time.”

Samuel listened as the small family related the details of the Indians’ visit and other occurrences of the past month; he marveled at their thankful spirits. He doubted he or his family would have remained so stalwart. In fact, after hearing their story, he considered leaving the dugout without putting voice to his primary cause for coming.

“And what about you and your family?” Ezekiel asked.

The question gave him the needed opportunity to make his appeal. He hesitated a moment, worried the small family might find his request insensitive after all they had been forced to endure. However, Margaret’s need won out. “My wife is ill and she needs to remain in bed or she isn’t going to get well. However, she feels obligated to get up every day and complete her housework, cook meals, and perform all of her household duties. Jarena, I’m sure you’ll remember that Macia is ill-equipped to be of much assistance.”

Jarena smiled. “As I recall, she didn’t seem to have much training with housework, though Miss Hattie was able to improve her sewing skills.”

Samuel laughed. “Indeed. However, I fear that her mother hasn’t been able to do the same. I was wondering if one of you girls, or perhaps someone else here in Nicodemus, might be willing to come and live with us in Hill City—take care of Mrs. Boyle’s duties so that she’d be willing to remain abed. Of course, there would be room and board as well as wages.”

“Well?” Ezekiel arched his bushy eyebrows and looked at his daughters. “Any of you wantin’ to go and earn some money?”

“I’d be pleased to assist you, Dr. Boyle, but—” Jarena started.

Truth giggled and winked at Grace. “But she ain’t willing to leave Charlie Francis back here in Nicodemus.”

“I don’t need you speaking for me,” she said, directing a frown at her younger sister.

Grace wrapped her arms tight around her waist and seemed to shrivel into a small child. “I don’t think I want to leave the rest of my family,” Grace meekly replied.

“I’ll go,” Truth said bravely. “The money will help, won’t it, Pappy?”

“Of course it will help, but you don’t need to be goin’ ’less that’s what you want to do. You needs to be sure, ’cause the doctor can’t be bringin’ you back here every time you’s missin’ me or your sisters. Ain’t you gonna miss havin’ Grace ta keep ya company?”

“Course I will, but I ain’t gonna be gone forever. Once the missus gets better, I’ll be back home. Ain’t that right, Dr. Boyle?”

“Yes, if that’s what you decide. And I’m in hopes my wife’s health will be restored very soon.”

“You’s gonna have to work, gal,” Ezekiel said. “Ain’t gonna be like livin’ here where you depend on Jarena to do things when you’s wantin’ to slack off. When you’s workin’ for someone, you’s got to give your very best. You understan’ that?”

“Yes, Pappy.”

“You knows when it’s washday or time to be fixin’ a meal, so don’ you be waitin’ ’round fer someone to tell you to get to movin’. Jarena done trained you ta do things proper, and you need to make us proud.”

“I know, Pappy. I only do that at home ’cause it makes Jarena get all upset,” she said with a quick chuckle. “Only thing is, I don’ know if I can cook the fancy kind of food your missus might want. I only learned to cook simple fare.”

“I’m certain we’ll be pleased with whatever you prepare. However, if she wants something special, she can give you some instruction. Besides, she has cookbooks. Even she must use those from time to time. She didn’t do much cooking before we moved to Hill City. Can you read, Truth?”

“Oh yes. Jarena’s been teachin’ us to read since we was little.”

A frown creased Jarena’s soft features. “I do worry Truth won’t be receiving her school lessons once she leaves home.”

“Set your mind at ease, Jarena. I’ll be certain to have Macia assist in that regard. In fact, Macia has quite a library of books, and she also helps one of the young girls in Hill City with lessons. I’m certain she’d be pleased to do the same for Truth.”

Truth shot her sister a disgusted look. “You’re determined to keep my nose in a book, ain’t you?”

“
Aren’t
you! Obviously you need additional lessons since you refuse to use proper English. And we’ll expect to receive letters from you, also,” Jarena added.

“No doubt you’ll be goin’ over each one lookin’ for mistakes.”

Jarena gave her sister a hug. “Only because I want you to always do your best.”

“Your sister’s right, Truth,” their father said. “You need to be learnin’ to read and write real good. Don’ want you growin’ up like me: not able to read or write ceptin’ to sign my name. I’s good at signin’ my name.”