First Dawn (4 page)
Jarena turned first to one side and then the other, wiggling down into the blankets as she attempted to find a comfortable space. She could hear her father talking to Thomas Grayson. His words drifted up from beneath the wagon, and she listened to him assure Thomas that life would be grand once they reached Nicodemus. As Jarena slipped into a restless sleep, she wondered if Thomas believed her father’s declaration.
T
he smoky odor of burning wood filled Jarena’s nostrils as she peeked out of the wagon before sunup the next morning. She could just barely see Thomas hunched over the small fire, feeding it with twigs while he fanned the flickering embers with his hand. The sky remained shaded with the dark, murky hues of night, with only a thread of orange etching the shadowy horizon. Daybreak would soon arrive.
Lifting her skirts, Jarena carefully hoisted herself down from the wagon and approached Thomas. “Have you been awake long?”
He startled at her question. “I didn’ hear ya come up behind me.” He nodded toward a fallen log. “Have a seat if ya like. I thought I heard the horses stompin’ about. Don’ want to lose ’em to horse thieves.”
She peered across the fire. “No, I suppose not. I may as well get breakfast started.”
Thomas tilted his head and gave her a shy smile. “I brought a bucket of water up from the spring. Don’ know if yer pappy told you, but I brought along food for the journey. Since we’re all travelin’ together, I told him I’d turn my supplies over to you in exchange for not havin’ to do none of the cooking.”
“No, he didn’t tell me, but that’s certainly good news.”
“There’s coffee and bacon, an’ I got a dozen eggs packed in straw, and some flour and beans. There’s even some cornmeal and molasses and some other things I can’t remember, but I figure you can put ’em to good use.”
“I’m sure I can, but I’ll be careful to use your supplies wisely.”
It didn’t take long before the aroma of smoking bacon, frying batter, and boiling coffee awakened the remainder of their small group.
“Flapjacks!” Grace declared as she neared the small cooking fire, her face alight with pleasure.
Jarena poured another dollop of batter into the frying pan and then pointed toward the small stream located a short distance from their campsite. “Down to the creek and wash up first.”
Miss Hattie and Ezekiel settled near the fire and helped themselves to the bacon and flapjacks.
“You makin’ more cornpone, Jarena?” Hattie asked.
She nodded and pointed at the molasses. “Help yourself. Thomas contributed the eggs, flour, and molasses. To tell you the truth, I didn’t know if we’d stop long enough to cook the noonday meal, so I thought it best to cook extra this morning.”
“You got you a smart gal, Ezekiel—and a good cook, too,” Miss Hattie praised as she licked the molasses from her fingers.
“Bit headstrong, but she’ll do.” He sent Jarena a grin as he stood up. “You ladies take your time finishin’ up breakfast. Thomas is gonna help me git the horses hitched up.”
While Ezekiel and Thomas readied the wagon, the twins finished their breakfast and then scurried off to the creek to wash the breakfast dishes. A short time later, the tin plates and utensils had been repacked and the damp dishrag was hanging from the back of the wagon to dry in the morning breeze.
The days soon slipped into a routine, though occasionally their schedule was broken by the pleasure of stopping at a settler’s cabin or visiting momentarily with other slow-moving wagons making their way westward. Like the rest of their group, Jarena would wave and shout hello, but she viewed the wagons closely as they passed. The other wagons appeared to be amply filled with beds and cupboards, plows, and other farm implements. She observed crated chickens, an occasional pig, and huge bags of grain among the other settlers’ belongings. Women and children followed behind, herding cattle or horses, and she’d occasionally seen a dog nipping at the children’s heels.
On one of those days when they’d passed several well-laden wagons, Jarena moved to the front of the wagon and sat beside her father. “Have you noticed that the settlers we’ve seen along the way appear more suitably prepared than our group?” she asked. “Do you wonder why they’re carrying so many goods with them and we’re taking so few?”
“They’s likely coming from somewheres nearby—didn’ have to travel on no train like us.”
“Perhaps they traveled by train but purchased goods in Topeka or even St. Louis before beginning their journey by wagon.”
“Why we need to do all that buying afore we leave Topeka? Anything we needs, we can buy fer ourselves when we get to our new town. Ain’t no sense carting all them things when we can get ’em in Nicodemus. ’Sides, most of us didn’t have money to buy all them goods. Once we gets to Nicodemus, I’s thinkin’ we’s gonna be able to get our supplies on credit ’til our first crop comes in.”
“I still haven’t heard Mr. Hill say there’s a mercantile or dry goods store in Nicodemus.” Jarena turned to Thomas. “Have you?”
“No, he never did tell me nothing ’bout the town itself. He just said he was takin’ folks out west to a town for colored folks and that there was still lots for sale if I wanted to buy one for five dollars. I gave him my five dollars, and he handed me a signed deed.”
Jarena tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “What if Mr. Hill isn’t being completely truthful? Even Miss Hattie said she didn’t believe he could be trusted.”
“There ya go borrowin’ trouble again, gal.” Her father swatted away a fly. “If we’da needed to bring all them extra supplies, Mr. Hill woulda tol’ us.”
“Don’t forget that he encouraged everyone to purchase additional provisions while we were in Topeka.”
Her father shrugged and slapped the reins. “That there was merely a suggestion, daughter.”
Apparently her father’s trust had increased as much as hers had decreased throughout this wearisome journey. As far as she could tell, none of the men had taken time to seek out Mr. Hill and question him. Although there had been one evening when Jarena had convinced Thomas Grayson to discuss their concerns with Mr. Hill, the effort had gone unrewarded. Their leader had excused himself, saying he was ill and needed to rest. And so they had moved on, and Jarena decided she was the only one who was sparing energy to worry about what they would find when they reached their destination.
As their small column of wagons continued westward, the bluegrass and bluestem were replaced by thick, deep-rooted buffalo grass, and the trees grew more scarce and scrubby—except for the cottonwoods that dotted the riverbanks and shaded the occasional creeks. Intermittently they would spot the purple blooms of prairie clover or the delicate blossoms of wild blue flax peeking out through the shifting buffalo grass, but by and large Jarena found the scenery as tedious as their journey.
Thomas had pointed out the bleached bones of buffalos when they’d passed near the deep wallows used by the huge animals, but the twins had little interest in the skeletons or the barren pits. Instead, the girls directed a watchful eye for prairie dogs. They both delighted in the sight of the animals standing guard over their holes like tiny sentinels. It was Grace who decided the furry animals resembled small statues clothed in fur coats—at least until they emitted their high-pitched barks and darted downward into the mottled landscape.
As the settlers moved onward, the distance between farmsteads increased dramatically. The few houses they’d seen of late were soddies— at least that’s what Mr. Hill had told the group they were called. They were squatty-looking homes he told them were constructed by cutting out large squares of sod and then stacking them like bricks on top of one another. Although it was a strange concept to Jarena’s way of thinking, these settlers seemed to think their dirt homes adequate. She shivered to think of living in a house erected from hunks of earth. Who knew what might still be living in that sod.
Truth came running toward the wagon, her arms and legs flying. “Mr. Hill says to pass the word that we’re gonna stop for nooning. I’ll tell the others!”
When the wagons circled a short distance from the creek, Jarena glimpsed her first sight of a dugout. A family had burrowed into the hillside a short distance from the water’s edge, where the bank was somewhat higher. Jarena and several others walked down to the river and gazed at the strange sight, startled when a young woman poked her head from behind the tattered canvas that covered the doorway. The moment the woman spied them, she hurried outside with a baby balanced on one hip and two toddlers clinging to her skirt.
“Welcome!” Her broad smile revealed a row of yellowed uneven teeth. “Come have a cup of coffee and set a spell.”
Uncertain if they should accept the woman’s offer, Jarena consulted Nellie and Mrs. Holt, who had been talking nearby. “Should we accept?”
“Of course,” Mrs. Holt said. “We don’ wanna appear rude. Come along!” She charged forward like a commander leading troops into battle.
Spending time with the stranger had been a battle—at least so far as Jarena was concerned. Forcing herself to remain in the burrowed-out hillock long enough to seem sociable had taken every ounce of endurance she could muster. The dark, dank dwelling made the soddies appear luxurious.
Returning to the campsite, Jarena related the entire experience to her father. “I felt like one of those prairie dogs we’ve seen out on the plains. It’s not normal to burrow into the ground that way.” She wiped the beads of perspiration off her forehead and shuddered involuntarily.
Her father patted her hand. “No need to worry, daughter. Mr. Hill already assured us dere’s plenty of trees in Nicodemus. I’m sho’ we gonna have a place that’s at least as good as what we left in Kentucky.”
Jarena stared at her father in disbelief. “I would hope for something better than the small cabin back in Kentucky. Otherwise, why did we leave?”
“Fer the
land,
chil’. No way I can make you understan’, is there? It’s fer the land. When we go to sleep at night, it’s gonna be in a house that belongs to us, and when I harvest, it’s gonna be crops that belong to us—no more sharecroppin’.”
Jarena didn’t attempt to say anything further, for her father was convinced their life would be grand so long as he held the deed to a piece of land. She completed her tasks, and when their nooning was complete, she rode along silently, with thoughts of the young family and the dugout fresh in her mind long after they had departed.
As the wagons rounded a steep hummock, Thomas pointed to the view ahead. “Look over dere.”
Jarena followed his gaze and gasped at the sight. She clasped a hand to her chest, overcome by a deep sense of wonder. Beneath them lay a valley, a lush expanse of fertile-appearing land, with spans of rolling hills overlooking either side of the basin. Far above and to one side of the rolling hills, a magnificent outcropping of limestone rose at least three hundred feet above the valley floor.
She continued to stare, turning her head so as to enjoy every last glimpse of the beauty. “If we’re going to live somewhere like this, then perhaps I will be able to adjust.”
“Mr. Hill says we’re gonna make camp at the Great Spirit Spring tonight,” Truth called out to Thomas and her father as she scurried toward their wagon. “He says it ain’t too far from here.”
Ezekiel frowned. “Where you been, gal?”
“I was talking to Nellie and Calvin. It’s not as dusty near the front of the wagon train,” she replied with her usual bright smile. She hesitated for only a moment before excitedly asking, “What’s the Great Spirit Spring?”
Thomas winked at Truth. “I don’ know, but we gonna find out. Mr. Hill likely knows all about it.”
“I hope you can get more answers about that spring than you’ve been able to pry out of him regarding our new town,” Jarena muttered. “Instead of running to and fro between the wagons, you could help with some of this mending, Truth. Most of the holes that need darning are in either your stockings or your dresses. And you haven’t finished your lessons for the past two days.”
“I don’t know what you’d do if you didn’ have me to scold. And that’s Grace’s dress you’re mendin’, not mine,” Truth retorted.
Jarena looked down at the dress. “Perhaps you’re right, but Grace has already completed her lessons.”
“I’ll do ’em after we make camp. I can’t read or write when the wagon is jostlin’ back and forth.”
“So long as you remember your promise when we stop for the night. I’ll not be put off by your complaints or excuses.”
Jarena watched Truth wave and skip off toward the front of the wagon train. Had she ever been so carefree? Before she was fifteen, she’d been caring for their sick mother as well as performing the household duties and helping the twins with their schoolwork. She poked the threaded needle in and out of Grace’s torn chemise, feeling much older than her eighteen years. Many girls her age were already married— or at least betrothed. But what with nursing her mother and taking responsibility for the house and care of the twins, there had been precious little time for herself, much less for a beau.
And lately her father had become more and more dependent upon her. There was little doubt he expected her to remain at home until the twins were out on their own. And certainly no one could forecast when that might occur, for neither one was willing to take on much responsibility. Not that they weren’t capable. They both had adequate skills and abilities to perform most household duties, though Truth excelled in cooking while Grace proved herself to be an excellent gardener. However, both of them escaped cooking, cleaning, and sewing at every chance.
“Jarena! You daydreamin’ again?” Nellie Harris was walking near the back of the wagon, a layer of dust covering her calico skirt. “Jump on down and walk with me, Jarena. Let’s have us a visit—that mendin’ will still be there come evenin’.”
She continued stitching. “But the daylight won’t.”
“Don’t be so mulish. I ain’t hardly seen you since we left Topeka.”
Jarena gave Nellie a halfhearted grin as she stuck the needle and thread through the edge of the chemise. “Guess it won’t hurt to stop for a while,” she agreed. She tucked the mending into her worn sewing basket and jumped down from the wagon, running several steps to maintain her balance as she landed.