First Dawn (30 page)
“Then I suppose 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.
S
upper would be served at seven o’clock, and as the hour drew closer, Truth began listening for the sound of voices in the outer rooms. She feared Mrs. Boyle would be upset if the guests were late and even more distressed if the meal didn’t proceed exactly as planned. Truth hoped she could meet the older woman’s expectations. She hadn’t even heard of some of the dishes she was expected to prepare, nor had she been aware of the finer points of setting a “proper” table for eight. She now knew that the napkins must be folded to resemble fans and placed in the exact center of each dinner plate. Pure nonsense so far as Truth was concerned, yet Mrs. Boyle found these minute details to be of extreme importance.
Truth had just begun to whisk cream into the soup when she heard the front door open. Soon thereafter, the sounds of animated chatter and laughter floated into the kitchen. When she heard the tinkling of a small bell, she quickly donned the white apron Mrs. Boyle had instructed her to wear when serving.
The four guests and the Boyle family settled into their chairs as Truth delivered the platters and bowls to the dining room. When she was sure she had brought everything, she stood near the buffet, preparing to refill dishes and fill empty glasses and cups while the family and guests partook of the meal.
“I can’t tell you how much we appreciate your invitation to supper, Mrs. Boyle.” Senator Pomeroy helped himself to yet another piece of the succulent chicken as he spoke. “I must say, this is the first bite of decent food I’ve had since leaving Topeka.”
“Thank you, Senator. Back in Kentucky, we would have truly entertained you. We left a lovely home with magnificent gardens back in Georgetown.”
“You sound much like my wife. She’s still longing for her home in Vermont. However, the future of our country is in the frontier.”
Dr. Boyle nodded his agreement. “Settling any new area takes time and frequently requires the assistance of others. After viewing the conditions in Nicodemus, I feel certain you men will encourage the governor to seek immediate aid for the town.”
Senator Pomeroy wiggled his neck and then gently tugged at his nooselike collar. “I don’t believe Governor Anthony was completely forthright in his letter to you, Dr. Boyle. He sent this delegation primarily because he had promised Mr. Hill that he would do so. However, the governor is of the strong opinion it wouldn’t be in the best interest of the state to send out a plea for help.”
Dr. Boyle frowned. “Why not? Surely there are those who would be willing to help. If not those living in Kansas, then surely in the surrounding states—or even back east.”
“You must remember that we’re still attempting to live down the grasshopper plague of 1874.”
“We sent out a cry for help after that disaster,” Senator Dwyer remarked. “However, our appeal proved to be a mistake.”
“When folks heard of that catastrophic event,” Pomeroy continued, “they decided against settling on the plains. We are now beginning to recover from that misconception. Once again, we’ve begun to increase our citizenry by convincing people that Kansas is the granary of the West.” He sprinkled pepper on his baked potato. “If we send a representative to Washington stating that our western communities are failing and need assistance, it will be the ruination of populating the high plains.”
“And do the rest of you concur with Senator Pomeroy?” Dr. Boyle asked the others at the table.
Senator Eustis speared several green beans with his fork. “There’s no denying that the settlers in Nicodemus have a genuine need.”
“Oh, that fact goes without saying,” Senator Dwyer agreed. “None of us believes their request is unjustified.”
Senator Pomeroy shifted in his chair. “However, the fact remains that the governor and other members of the legislature have grave concerns over the tactics being employed to attract more coloreds to the state. Unless they have the proper resources to sustain themselves, they’ll become a burden upon the government. They’ll be expecting handouts all the time. Surely you agree that such ongoing requests will place an unfair burden on the remaining citizenry.”
Dr. Boyle sighed. “I believe that argument should be directed toward the governor’s friend and colleague Mr. Hill. He’s the one who actively wooed coloreds from Kentucky with promises of an existing town—false promises, I might add.”
“It is patently clear that Mr. Hill made false assertions, but nothing can be done to change what has occurred in Nicodemus.” Senator Dwyer stroked his graying beard as he spoke.
Dr. Boyle leaned forward and gazed directly into Dwyer’s intense blue eyes. “I must heartily disagree, Senator Dwyer. The legislature can set things aright by granting aid to the families in Nicodemus who were enticed to Kansas under false pretenses.”
“For the record, Dr. Boyle, we have had numerous reports that Wilbur Rawlins, one of the Nicodemus settlers, has been sending out pleas for help that extend throughout eastern Kansas and even into other states. In addition,” Pomeroy continued, “I believe you’ll find that he has received food, supplies,
and
money from private sources. I’m told he even traveled to the Michigan state fair and gave an impassioned plea for his poor, starving Negro brothers. Supposedly, the audience was so moved that several boxcars of supplies were sent. We can only hope Mr. Rawlins will cease this activity.” Pomeroy pointed his fork at Dr. Boyle. “Immigrants who plan to settle on the high plains will be deterred should they hear these disparaging reports!”
The young man who had been introduced as Senator Eustis’s son suddenly leaned forward in his chair. “Then the land promoters must paint a clear picture of what awaits these settlers. Instead, they create chaos with half truths; the settlers will continue to come ill-prepared to build new lives when they believe civilization already exists in this vast wilderness.”
Everyone at the table turned to stare at Martin Eustis. From all appearances, they were surprised he’d entered into the conversation and even more taken aback by his pronouncement. Senator Pomeroy’s look of surprise soon turned to irritation.
“It is my understanding that you accompanied our delegation because you wanted to write a piece for the Topeka newspaper encouraging folks to settle in western Kansas.” The senator’s voice was tinged with anger.
“Let’s don’t forget that my father extended the invitation.” Martin directed an amiable smile toward his father.
“Indeed. And the governor concurred that Martin would make a fine addition to our number.” There was a note of pride in the senator’s voice as he spoke.
“However, I made no agreement to write an article that upheld your opinions, Senator Pomeroy. I’ll report the facts as I see them. The newspaper owes that to its readers; don’t you agree?” Martin’s unwavering stare required a response.
Senator Pomeroy cleared his throat. “Yes, of course. I wasn’t implying you should write a misleading story. However, I do hope you’ll grant me the courtesy of reading your article before it’s submitted to your editor—especially since you’re traveling at the pleasure of the governor and the legislature.”
“Quite the contrary, sir. My employer is paying the cost of my train ticket and accommodations. As for reading the article before it’s submitted, I’d need to seek my editor’s permission.”
Macia gave the young newspaper reporter a look of admiration. “I agree with Mr. Eustis. I don’t believe my father would have purchased land and moved us into these primitive conditions had Mr. Hill honestly presented the existing state of affairs in Hill City.”
A gentle smile curved Dr. Boyle’s lips as he watched the exchange between the two young people.
Martin turned his attention to the doctor. “Is that true, Dr. Boyle?”
“It’s true that I was somewhat misled. I did expect to see a larger community and better living conditions.”
“But you’ve remained in Hill City,” Senator Pomeroy asserted, “and you’ve not looked to others for financial aid. As I see things, the land agents should immediately cease beating the drum for the coloreds— they must issue their appeals to white immigrants who have the money and intelligence to establish themselves without begging from others.” There was a hint of triumph in his statement.
“The land promoters are doing exactly what the legislature expected of them: bringing in new homesteaders to settle the plains,” Senator Dwyer said. “It only makes good sense to reach out to those most in need of a new beginning.”
“You mark my words,” Pomeroy said, clenching his jaw, “the coloreds will be the ruination of the West.”
Angered by Senator Pomeroy’s remarks, Truth thought to take up the argument, but she stopped short when Dr. Boyle slapped his hand on the table with a resounding
whap
.
“I am completely disgusted by such attitudes. I’ve visited with every member of the Nicodemus community, and I have absolutely no doubt that those fine folks will make exceptional contributions to this state. They are a dedicated, industrious group of people who are intent upon carving out a good life for their families. In spite of their dire circumstances, they remain enthusiastic and anxious to begin planting crops, building new homes, and establishing businesses. And they’ll be able to do all of that if they are given the same assistance and treated with the same kindnesses as their white brothers receive.”
Senator Eustis took a drink of water and nodded. “I’m certain the governor will give credence to your words.”
Samuel directed a wry smile at Senator Eustis. “Only if he actually hears them.”
“Are you certain you wouldn’t prefer joining the men in my father’s library?” Macia asked Martin Eustis as they walked into the parlor.
“I’m absolutely certain. Since leaving Topeka, my days have been filled with political discussions. I long to talk about something other than the Kansas legislature and the problems they are attempting to solve. Spending time with you and Harvey will be a welcome change.” Martin sat down opposite Macia.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to settle for a visit with Macia,” Harvey said as he shrugged into his coat. “I promised our local blacksmith I’d return to assist him after supper. I don’t expect I’ll be home until late.” He buttoned the last button. “It was a pleasure meeting you. I’m certain Macia will do her best to entertain you.” Harvey gave his sister an exaggerated wink, shook hands with Martin, and then hurried out the front door.
Martin leaned back in his chair. “I’m thankful you’re not going to send me off to a smoke-filled room of legislators who are likely belaboring their strategies for settling the West.”
“You mentioned an article you’re writing for the newspaper. Do your readers in Topeka find western settlement a topic of interest?”
He nodded. “Growth in population and settlement of the high plains is a matter of importance to many folks, though I’m sure there are those who find the topic dull. However, tales of the grasshopper infestation several years ago have caused many to reconsider moving to the plains. There remains a sense of doubt that farmers will ever be self-sufficient in this part of the state. And while I don’t think I can alleviate all of their doubts, I do want to give an honest report of what I find.”
“That’s admirable of you. However, I don’t believe that even an honest report would have prepared me for life in this region. I long for the day when I’ll return to make my home in Kentucky.”