First Dawn (16 page)
“Where’d ya get the rye?”
“Mrs. Wilson. She said the farmer and his wife gave them some. Said they considered it an act of mercy. The Wilsons didn’t understand the comment until they saw this place. Then they knew why the couple had taken pity on them.”
Ezekiel laughed wearily. “I bought some coffee, but it sho’ won’t be lastin’ all winter.”
“Tell me what else you saw when you were in Ellis, Pappy. Is it a big town like Topeka?”
“Ain’t nowheres near as big as Topeka. Only one street lined with stores, but there’s lots more folks livin’ ’round ’bout that area—farmers and the like. They got a good livery and blacksmith—and they was all nice to me. Didn’t seem to have no dislike ’bout doin’ business with a colored. They was all excited ’bout that doctor—all of ’em comin’ into the store to look over his furniture and making guesses about how much each piece cost. Mr. Hepple seemed to be enjoyin’ all the fuss.”
Jarena’s brows furrowed. She couldn’t imagine why a doctor who could have a fine home and a normal life in any large city would want to move west. What could possibly entice an educated man who had been living in Kentucky to uproot his family and move to Kansas? She wondered if this doctor was like her father—trying to fulfill some distant dream. Did he have children? Were they like Truth and Grace, excited over the prospect of a new adventure, or were they like her— opposed to change?
Ezekiel handed her his empty coffee cup when they got to the lean-to. “Some of the folks down in Ellis is hopin’ the doc will change his mind and settle in Ellis. Guess they ain’t got no doctor in their town, neither.”
“But if he’s already bought land in Hill City . . .”
“That’s what I said. Ain’t no way he’d be able to farm all them acres iffen they live in Ellis.”
“If they’re wise, they’ll turn around and go back to Kentucky,” Jarena muttered as she balanced the coffeepot atop the hot ashes of the fire she’d been using to boil the wash water.
Georgetown, Kentucky
•
October 1877
W
ith a thud, Macia Boyle plopped onto the train seat and folded her arms across her chest. She molded her features into a glowering frown. It was the same unpleasant look she had been directing at her father for the past several weeks—or had it been even longer? At this point Samuel was uncertain, but he forced himself to smile graciously while settling beside his wife.
No doubt this was going to be a long journey. Samuel looked about at his family members and momentarily questioned his decision to uproot them from all they held dear. He was uncertain who appeared more angry, Macia or Harvey. And his dear wife, Margaret, seemed completely forlorn.
“Lovely day for traveling, don’t you agree?”
Margaret gave a faint nod while Harvey and Macia continued to focus their icy glares in his direction. Perhaps he’d try again. “Our accommodations are quite acceptable, don’t you think?”
Another nod and enduring cold stares were all Samuel received in reply. He leaned back in his seat and decided he’d wait until the frosty environment thawed before attempting any further conversation. Surely someone would soon have a question and be forced to speak. Macia opened a book and began to read while Harvey closed his eyes—likely hoping this was all a bad dream, Samuel decided.
They had traveled only a short distance when Margaret shifted toward him. “I do hope our furniture has arrived. I won’t be able to keep a decent house without my own things surrounding me. I realize that such a concept is difficult for a man to understand, Samuel, but it’s true. Attempting to roll a piecrust or make biscuits is nearly impossible without your own bowls and utensils.”
Samuel smiled and patted her hand. It had been years since his wife had prepared her own biscuits or piecrust, but this wasn’t the time to remind her of that fact. Such a comment would likely send her into another diatribe about Cook and the maid being unwilling to make the move west with them. He had promised to hire someone to help with the household duties, though he remained uncertain how or when he’d be able to accomplish that particular feat. At the moment, however, he needed only to allay his wife’s concerns over their household goods.
“I received a letter from the owner of the Ellis mercantile earlier this week. He advised me our shipment has arrived. In fact, even the new items I ordered have been delivered to his store.”
“You ordered new furniture?” Margaret’s face registered disbelief.
“No, not furniture. But I did order farm implements, a wagon, additional medical supplies, a buggy, and runners to replace the wagon wheels when the winter snows arrive—and livestock, of course.”
She grimaced at the news. “I fear you’re spending all of our savings on items we won’t even need if we return to Kentucky.”
He jerked around in his seat. “We are
not
returning to Kentucky, Margaret. If anything happens so that we’re unhappy in Hill City, we will decide upon another place to live, but it will
not
be in the South. If this doesn’t work out, I’ll think of something.”
“No need to raise your voice, Father,” Macia said, arching her brows. “I’m certain the people in the next coach aren’t interested in your nebulous plans for the future.”
He met his daughter’s cold stare. “You may recall that on many occasions, I’ve attempted to discuss our move in a civil manner. Unfortunately, it seems the only way I’m able to convince any of you that I am earnest is when I speak in a harsh manner.”
“There’s never been any discussion.” Harvey slouched down into the seat. “Whenever any of us voiced an objection, you immediately rejected our arguments. You made yourself abundantly clear from the beginning: we’re being forced to live wherever
you
decide. I never considered your declaration an invitation to discussion.”
Samuel stared at his son and daughter. Though only a few feet separated him from his children, it seemed as if the narrow space had grown into a yawning abyss.
Samuel leaned back and rested his head upon the cushioned seat in their private compartment. He’d spared no expense in travel accommodations. It had been a meager attempt to mollify his family, though he should have known it wouldn’t help. For a brief moment he considered once again voicing his genuine need to live somewhere other than in the South. Dare he tell them how desperately unhappy he’d been all these years, how he’d yearned to live anywhere but among those who had embraced slavery as a way of life before the war?
Samuel closed his eyes and knew he should remain silent. What good would more words accomplish? After all, to truly explain the depth of his feelings would likely cause wounds that would never heal—especially with Margaret. Oh, she knew of his unhappiness, but she had tucked away any thoughts of his discontent in the same manner she packed the children’s outgrown clothes—hidden out of sight and far from mind.
Perhaps his decision
had
been unfair. He’d been wrestling with that thought since purchasing the acreage in Hill City. However, he truly believed that years of deference to the children’s desires had caused their undeniably selfish behavior. Perhaps if he had told them
no
more often during their formative years, they would have accepted his decision to leave Kentucky without fanfare. Both Macia and Harvey had been willful from an early age. They should have been reared with a strong hand, but that hadn’t occurred—nor had their conduct changed. All of this left Samuel to wonder whether he had failed miserably as a parent. But then there was Carlisle, who was neither spoiled nor selfish.
Samuel bent forward and rested his forearms across his thighs as if to close the chasm dividing him from the children. “You are both very young with your entire lives spread out before you. This is an opportunity for you to see what God has created beyond the borders of Kentucky. You may be pleasantly surprised. And if you are intrinsically unhappy in the West, you should explore other places before rushing back and settling in Kentucky,” he urged.
“I didn’t realize the depth of your distaste for the place of my birth,” Margaret said, her voice barely audible above the train’s clacking sounds.
Pain reflected in her eyes, and Samuel realized that his short discourse had done exactly what he had wanted to avoid. “Please don’t misconstrue what I’ve said, Margaret. I find Kentucky a beautiful place, but like the other southern states, its beauty is tainted by bigotry. I know in my heart that it is time to leave. I believe there is a God-given purpose for this move.”
When he looked at his family, he saw that his explanation had not helped. The children stared through him as though he hadn’t spoken at all, and Margaret’s pained look remained. He closed his eyes and silently prayed that his family would eventually come to love their new home and that he had truly understood God’s leading.
Throughout the remainder of their journey, the family exchanged only necessary information as they switched trains or when they stopped for meals at a depot. Even shopping and an overnight stay at a fine hotel in St. Louis did not help breach the gulf. For the most part, each one silently watched the passing scenery and remained lost in private thought.
S
amuel flagged the weary-looking conductor as he entered the car to validate their tickets. “How far to Ellis?” he inquired.
The trainman pointed toward the north side of the rails. A smattering of small wood and limestone buildings was partially visible through the smudged train windows. “That’s it coming up.”
Samuel straightened, tugged his suit jacket into place, and did his best to look enthusiastic. “Not much longer now.”
Macia stared at the flat, desolate prairie and then gave her father a dour look. “It’s good that I hadn’t raised my expectations.”
The train screeched to a stop, and Samuel stood to assist his wife along the aisle. As they stepped down from the train, a stiff wind whipped their clothing, and they hastened inside the train station without prompting.
“Quite a wind stirring out there,” Samuel commented to one of the men seated inside the train station.
The haggard old man laughed and, with amazing precision, spit a stream of tobacco juice into a brass spittoon near the counter. “This ain’t nothing. Jest you wait until we get us a real windstorm.”
Samuel glanced at the billowing dirt cascading down the street and then peered at his wife from beneath the narrow brim of his felt bowler. It was obvious she’d heard the old man’s comment—they all had. “Sounds as though we’re in for some new experiences.” His attempt at cheerfulness fell flat. “No need to look so grim. It appears as though this good man has survived the elements.”
The man gave a hearty nod. “There’s plenty of us that have survived. Course, there’s them that ain’t, too.”
Samuel turned his attention to Harvey. “Why don’t you see if you can locate our luggage while I set about finding the livery and general store.”
“There’s only one street,” Harvey mumbled under his breath as he trudged off toward the station platform.
“Wait here,” Samuel instructed Margaret and Macia before making his way to the ticket counter, where a railroad employee was busy counting money and tickets. “Excuse me, could you tell me how far it is to the livery and the general store—the one owned by Mr. Hepple.”
The clerk placed one hand atop the pile of money and looked Samuel up and down before actually meeting his gaze. “Hepple owns the
only
general store in Ellis, and it’s down the street thataway.” He pointed his thumb to the right. “The livery’s directly across the street,” he added.
“Thank you,” Samuel replied.
The man continued to examine Samuel before his eyes drifted to Margaret and Macia, who had followed him and now stood a few feet away. “By any chance are you the new doctor moving up to Hill City?”
Samuel smiled and extended his hand. “Yes. Samuel Boyle. And this is my wife, Mrs. Boyle, and our daughter, Macia. That’s our son Harvey bringing in the baggage.”
The man shook Samuel’s hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Jim Benson. You sure have had a lot of goods arriving here lately. My wife made a special trip over to Hepple’s just to have a looksee at your furniture. She said she’d never seen anything quite so fancy.”
Samuel nodded politely, uncertain how he should respond to such a comment. “I’m . . . I’m glad you’ve been enjoying it.”
“Oh, she didn’t sit on it or nothin’, just looked. My missus said she was particularly fond of a velvet corner chair.”
Once again, Samuel smiled and nodded. “Well, we had best get over to the livery and pick up our wagon. We’ll need to get loaded up so we can head out to Hill City.”
“Mr. Hepple took most of your furniture up there last week, though from the looks of things, you got plenty of other goods to haul. You ought to consider living here in Ellis. Ain’t no train service up in Hill City—ain’t much of nothing in Hill City, as a matter of fact. I think you’d be much happier in Ellis, and we could use a doctor.”
Macia immediately stepped forward and tapped her fingers on the counter. “You mean Hill City is even more desolate than this place?”
“Far as I know, though there’s more in Hill City than Nicodemus. Both them towns was platted out by W. R. Hill, but I don’t know as he’s done any more than sell the land. Only a few weeks ago there was maybe three hundred coloreds come out here from Kentucky and Tennessee— all of ’em fixing to make their homes in Nicodemus. Few days later, more than half of ’em were on the train headed back home. Can’t say as I blame ’em, neither.”
“Surely you’re wrong! Coloreds wouldn’t want to head back to the South, where they were so poorly treated,” Macia sarcastically countered, her eyebrows raised in a questioning arch directed at her father.
“They were afraid they couldn’t make it through the winter—didn’t come prepared. Now, you folks, you’ve done the right thing. You ordered your supplies and shipped your belongings ahead of time. You’ll do mighty fine through the winter. Mr. Goddard said you even had the forethought to order a sleigh.”