Morning in Nicodemus (12 page)

 
   Even though the Landers had a wagon now, they continued to ride their horses instead of going places together in the wagon. That included going to church. Virgil especially wanted his own transportation as he took every opportunity to be with Bethel. Though she always went home with her parents, he was able to catch a few minutes with her.

   After church the young people sometimes got together at someone's house. In the middle of August, when the hot wind was not so persistent, they gathered in the shade of a soddy to visit, play parlor games, or sing songs they all knew or learn new tunes one of them just heard. Everyone enjoyed Virgil's music. He usually managed to sit next to Bethel, but because he was needed to play his fife, she didn't stay beside him. She always ended up beside Marcus as she did this day when the group of young people gathered at a neighbor's soddy.

   While accompanying the singing, Virgil watched Bethel and Marcus laughing together, He stumbled over his notes and lay down his fife. “Sorry,” he said with a frown as he gave an excuse for leaving, “I got to see about the fence around the hog pen. The hogs got out yesterday.” 

   He jumped on Lady and rode her at a lope away from the gathering, going past his place to the river. The natural shade of the cottonwoods and sycamores cooled him. The water flowing by calmed him. There he could think.

   “Virgil,” he said to himself as he sat in the shade of the cottonwood trees on the rocky ledge, “you're got to decide what you want.” Did he want to marry Bethel and live here on his homestead? When he thought of sweet Bethel, he knew he wanted her in his life. But did he want to have children and be a family man tied to this plot of earth for the rest of his life? Or . . . He smiled as he envisioned the other choice. Did he want to go with Walking Owl and Hunter? Explore the West? Meet new people? Be exposed to new ideas? He knew that Bethel would never leave her family. When she married, she should have an extended family all in the same neighborhood.

   He put his hands on each side of his head and moved it back and forth. He wanted both. Visualizing Bethel's bright eyes and sweet personality convinced him he needed her. Looking at the river water flowing past him told him he had to explore the mysterious regions where it originated. He needed to wander the earth. Could he do both? No, that was not possible if he married Bethel, or anyone. Any future wife's wishes had to be included. He'd learned that much from Liberty's talking about women not having much choice in life. He would never uproot Bethel from her family.

   He admitted he was especially angry today watching Bethel's interest in Marcus. Though Marcus rarely talked about Bethel, Virgil didn't miss seeing his brother's yearning glances toward her, and her growing interest in him. 

   It even occurred to him that his leaving Nicodemus could solve the problem for all three of them. Marcus and Bethel could marry and farm the unclaimed quarter next to Martin's that Marcus had his eye on. Marcus could also farm Virgil's place, so Virgil could come and go when he wanted, and Liberty would have a home as long as she needed one.

   Walking Owl's invitation to join the Osages this fall beckoned. He hadn't been able to take up Hunter's invitation to accompany them on their early summer buffalo hunt. Then it wasn't possible. He kept his promise to his father. But this fall would be different. Ma and Pa would be here then.

   He mounted Lady and spent the rest of the afternoon riding over the prairie to some of his favorite spots. Wherever he went, he could still see forever, it seemed to him. Wide spaces, beckoned him. He was master of all he could see. He was invincible. He yearned to see what was over the horizon. And beyond that.

   He loved this country. Wild and lonely. Unpredictable. Rich, yet barren. Beautiful, yet stark in its unending sameness. Its contrasts appealed to him. Not something he fought against but land he honored in all its moods. 

 

 

*     *     *

 

 

   One evening in late August when Liberty rode home from school, she ran to her brothers working out in the field. “C'mon, boys, I'll fix some supper and you fellers get cleaned up. Martins are having a gathering tonight.”

   Marcus immediately put his hoe on his shoulder ready to go to the house. 

He didn't give his usual speech about there still being an hour of daylight left and they needed to work.

   “Well, c'mon. Let's get ready,” he said to his brother. “What are you waiting on?”

Liberty laughed and raced the boys to the house. She set out some left-overs. “This will do for now,” she said. “Mrs. Martin will have some refreshments and everyone will bring something. I'll go get that big watermelon I've been saving for something special.” She ran to the garden.

   Later that evening at the party when Virgil took a break from playing his fife, he was glad when someone suggested his favorite singing game, “In and out the Window.” They could dance to their own singing so he could participate. By the time he was ready, everyone was already holding hands in a single circle.

   “You're in the middle, Virgil,” a deep voice called out. Laughing, Virgil tried to take someone's hands in the circle. No one let him. After much laughter two players lifted their clasped hands to let him into the center. Marching to the left, the group began singing “We're marching ‘round the levee.” Virgil did some fancy footwork on the next verse as he wove in and out under the arched arms of those in the circle. “Go in and out the window.” At the next verse, “I kneel because I love you,” he stopped in front of Bethel. That meant that she would then join him inside the ring. The dance repeated with the two of them in the middle this time.

   On the next time through when both of the inside players had to choose someone to kneel in front of, Bethel chose Marcus. Virgil quickly lost interest in the dance, though he continued until everyone in the outer circle was chosen and the dance ended. 

Bethel escorted by both Virgil and Marcus, went to the impromptu table of refreshments.

   Though Virgil wanted to leave, he made himself stay. When Marcus became involved with another farmer discussing when the ground would have the best moisture content to plant wheat, Virgil had a private talk with Bethel.

   “I thought you were my girl,” he said, “but you keep choosing Marc.”

   “I like you Virgil. I like you a lot, but I like Marcus, too.”

   “You can't have two fellers.”

   “Why not? I like to dance with Marcus. And I like to be with you. Why can't I be friends with both of you?”

   “Because I don't want to share you.”

   Bethel stiffened and sat straight. “You're not my Massa. I don't belong to you or anyone else.”

   That stopped Virgil. Of course no one owned her. He struggled for the correct words. “I mean you need to choose.”

   Bethel looked at him for a moment. “I don't remember being asked. And I'm not ready to choose yet. And if I was, I might not choose you.”

   “Why not?”

   She looked at his handsome face and athletic body. “You're really smart and talented. Learning to read so fast and not even going to school. And in music and everything. You're strong and work hard at everything you do. You're lots of fun and I like you a lot, but . . . ”

   “But what?”

   “Well . . . ” She paused as she glanced toward Marcus who was gesturing enthusiastically in his talk with a neighbor. 

   “Well what?” Virgil insisted.

   “You're not going to stay here. I'm surprised you've stayed this long and didn't go with Hunter on their buffalo hunt. I know you wanted to more than anything. When your folks get here, you'll leave. You don't like farming.” She talked faster and faster as if she didn't get the words out quickly, she wouldn't be able to say them. “Marcus is a good farmer. He loves it. Papa says he'll do well here. And most important, he isn't going anywhere.”

   “I can farm. And I could stay here.”

   “Yes, you could. You could do anything you wanted to.”

   Virgil said, “I could stay here. I love the land here.”

   “But you wouldn't be happy staying here and farming. You'd always wish you'd traveled around, seen the West, maybe even gone to the Pacific. There's so much you want to do, and farming isn't it.” She stopped and put her hand on his arm. “You know that's true, don't you?”

   “Yes.” Virgil squirmed and shuffled his feet as Marcus rejoined them.

   When Marcus saw their grim expressions, he asked, “What's so serious?”

   “We were saying how much you like it here,” Virgil said, “and how well you will do.”

   “That's right.” Marcus's eyes lit up in his enthusiasm. “I have a real opportunity here. There's no prejudice against colored people, in fact we are completely equal and run our own township. And there's lots of free land. I'll soon be twenty-one to file for my own homestead. Then I can save and get more.”

   “Yes, you will.” Bethel smiled at Marcus, hanging on every word. “That's sort of what we were saying, wasn't it, Virgil?”

   Virgil nodded.

   “Someday I'll be a big wheat farmer and sell bushels and bushels of wheat to the world,” Marcus said. “We here in Nicodemus Township could raise enough wheat to furnish bread for all the world. At the town meeting we talked about getting a community threshing machine.” 

   “See?” Bethel said to Virgil.

   Virgil just nodded his head.

   “See what?” Marcus asked.

   “Oh, nothing,” Bethel said. “You're just being you. C'mon, let's dance some more. Let's do ‘Pop Goes the Weasel.' That takes one girl and two boys. That's us. She took a brother's hand in each of hers and pulled them to the open space for dancing. “C'mon, girls,” she shouted to the group around the refreshment table, “grab two fellers and let's dance. Holding Virgil in her right hand and Marcus in her left, she led off singing:

 

 

   “A penny for a spool of thread,

   A penny for a needle.

   That's the way the money goes,

   Pop goes the weasel.”

 
   After a stormy night, the dark clouds hung on giving some relief from the September heat. Once again Virgil was busying himself in the new field chopping and digging out wet blocks of sod. Even though his boots were wet and his pants legs soggy up to his knees from the wet grass, this morning he didn't hate this job as much as he always had. This might be the last time he'd have to do it, for he would soon be out West somewhere. His parents were coming today for sure. A couple of days ago Marcus left to drive Lady and Buck to Ellis to meet them at the train station. No problem this time. Ma was well and Pa had enough money for train tickets and freight for their belongings they couldn't part with at their sale back in Kentucky. According to Marcus's calculations before he left, he said he'd have them here mid-morning today, after camping out one night on the road.

   Liberty was cleaning the house and giving the new room a final once-over to be sure everything was as good as she could make it. She had even put a bouquet of sunflowers on the bedside table Virgil made to set beside the real bed the parents were shipping from Kentucky. 

   Unless they looked carefully, they wouldn't notice at first that the walls were constructed from sod, for Virgil had coated them with a plaster he made of limestone and sand he hauled in from the river. He hoped that would keep out some of the crawly things they had to content with. The three siblings had made every effort to make it comfortable and inviting.

   Not liking the commotion inside, the cat Nicky sat on the bench by the front door, calmly washing his face. Bustling about, Liberty was checking on her cooking. She stepped outside yet another time to the garden for something fresh to add to the welcoming dinner she was planning for her parents' homecoming.

   Homecoming? Virgil thought that was a strange word to use when neither parent had ever been here. But all three agreed that they had made this claim a home. It was the only real home that any of them had ever had. It belonged to them. It was the Lander home. And true to their name, they owned the land. Keeping time to his chopping at the sod, he hummed his tune, seeing in his mind the words he and Liberty had written down:

 

 

   “No one owns me

   Or my fleas and snakes

   That live along with me.”

 

   Then he sang softly a new chorus he made up on the spot:

 

 

   “For I control me

   I can do what I want

   With my fleas or snakes . . .”

 

 

   He finished by saying aloud, “Or with anything else. For I am Virgil Lander, landowner, voter, and citizen of Nicodemus, Kansas, in the United States of America.”

   With all his might he struck the ground with his grubbing hoe to mark out another square of sod. This morning, Virgil had purposely worked at the most strenuous, and most disliked, job on the farm. He needed to prove to himself that he could do what it took to survive here if he chose to stay. And, he admitted, he knew it would please Marcus to have more sod ready. He counted the blocks as he cut them out and stacked them ready to carry to the homestead for a winter shelter for the horses. He was now on number seven.

   Maybe he should go fishing he wondered? Time would go quicker on the river. No, the trees along the bank would hide the trail. He wouldn't see them coming. Besides, there was no real excuse to fish for food today. He and Marcus had just butchered one of the shoats before they sold the others. They had plenty of fresh meat for the noon banquet Liberty planned and plenty more joints salted down for later use. This winter they wouldn't need to depend entirely on his hunting skills for food.

   Across the field he saw Liberty's back as she faced east looking down their trail toward the main road. She turned to him and put out her arms to indicate, “No sign of them.”

   Virgil sighed and marked out still another block. To kill time he ran through his head things that interested or bothered him. Thoughts of Bethel kept appearing, but he refused to let them through. Bruce popped in. That thought was all right. He felt some satisfaction there. 

   Bruce was gradually cheering up, or perhaps a better way of saying it was that his depression was lessening. As his own place was materializing, though he still would not move to it, he smiled sometimes. Instead of just working in the back of the store, he was now often delegated to the front to wait on customers. However, he still did not attend any community gatherings, except church on Sunday morning. Beyond that, he remained a loner.

   Virgil had no hard feelings for him. He admitted he might have done the same thing had he been in Bruce's shoes. It was hard enough to submit to hated looks and discrimination as he experienced in Kentucky, but to fear for his life? And knowing he was going to die, then saved less than a second from having his neck broken in a noose? Even with his lively imagination, Virgil couldn't picture that.

   To make it even harder to bear, not only did Bruce have to endure all that hardship, he had to do it alone. Virgil was never without his family. Yes, he felt good about Bruce. He knew he'd be fine when Hunter brought Isabel and the boy next week on his way to the fall hunt. 

   Not only was Virgil thinking positively about Bruce, he was beginning to see his good points.

   One afternoon in town when Virgil tied Lady to the hitching rail, Bruce had been watching him from the front of the store.

   “Hi, Virgil,” Bruce said.

   Surprised that he spoke as he was usually silent, Virgil returned the greeting.

   “I noticed that your mare toes in her left back foot,” Bruce said.

   “I hadn't noticed.”

   “That hoof needs a special shoe. If you want, I'll fix it for you.”

   “No, I don't . . .”

   “Better let him do it,” the storekeeper said. “He's good. He's re-shod all our horses.”

   “I did notice she wore down that shoe different than the others,” Virgil said. Reluctantly, he let Bruce take Lady to the town blacksmith shop. Half an hour later, he brought the mare back. He led her in circles in front of the store. Lady stepped smartly without the foot turning in.

   Virgil picked up her hoof to examine the new shoe. Then he looked at Bruce who was grinning. Virgil didn't know what to say. Digging into his pocket for his money, the only thing he could think to say was, “How much do I owe you?”

   “Nothing.” Bruce entered the store and walked toward the back.

   Since then Virgil's opinion of Bruce became more positive. When he thought of all he'd been through and without any family with him, he understood. It'd take a stronger man than Bruce to handle it.

   The concept of family triggered thoughts of Bethel. This time he couldn't make her go away. His parents' coming was the crucial point in his life. With their arrival he could accompany Hunter and Walking Owl when they stopped by. He could do all that he dreamed of doing, and he could keep his home in Kansas. With his parents' arrival, he could now do both. 

   “I am Virgil Lander,” he said again. But his elation didn't last. He couldn't do both and also have Bethel.

   Though Bethel said she wasn't ready to choose, he knew it wouldn't be long until she'd want to marry. Marcus was ready. Though the brothers never talked about their love for Bethel, each knew the other's mind. Virgil knew that if Bethel chose him over Marcus that his brother would continue on in his stoic way. 

   He'd be hurt, but he'd cope and continue working. Could Virgil do that if she didn't choose him? Could he go on and continue working here? He didn't know. He didn't want to find out.

   Perhaps he shouldn't leave the burden of choosing up to Bethel. For both families, steady, dependable Marcus was the best choice for Bethel. Deep down, Virgil knew that. His brother was handsome, capable, and loving. Real husband material. All Virgil had to do was leave. Then no problem. Marcus would be there. It seemed simple.

   A sob tried to surface in his throat. He held it back. He couldn't give her up. He didn't think he could go on as Marcus would. He'd loved the girl since her family first came to Nicodemus. 

   Virgil chopped with increased vigor at the stubborn sod. He couldn't do it! He was no saint. But . . . 

   In spite of the cooler morning, perspiration dripped off his face, his arms wet below his rolled-up shirt sleeves. Then he looked west behind him over the waving grassland to the endless horizon that always beckoned him, even when partially banked with clouds as today. He imagined the clouds as being mountains filled with golden promises just waiting for him filled with unknown adventures and possibilities.

   In the east the lingering clouds from the early morning storm still hid the sun. A breeze cooled the prairie, hinting of fall. At mid-morning, Liberty gave a happy call. “Virge! Virge! I see them. They're coming. Ma and Pa are with him.” She was jumping up and down and waving him on. “Oh, Virge! Come quick! They're finally here.”

   Virgil dropped his hoe in the field and rushed to join her, scattering Goosie and her goslings that were announcing the new arrivals. 

   Startled by all the excitement, Nicky jumped off the bench and dived into the house. Beauty pranced the restraints of her pen, the cow and calf bucked, while the sow and her new litter of pigs added their grunts to the general excitement. Together, arms around each other, Virgil and Liberty watched Lady and Buck's slow progress as they pulled the loaded wagon toward them on the rough trail. 

   Golden sunlight broke through the clouds, back-lighting the wagon and those in it. It illuminated Marcus so that he seemed to glow. It framed their parents' faces, emphasizing their broad smiles as they waved their arms in greeting. Virgil and Liberty looked at each other.

   “You're going to leave, aren't you, Virge?” Liberty asked.

   He paused before answering. “Yes, there's so much that I want to see—that I need to see. But I'll never really leave this home we've made here in Nicodemus. You understand, don't you?” His dark eyes begged her.

   Liberty nodded. “This will always be your home.”

   “I knew I could count on you, little sister.” The horses bringing the rest of the family drew near.

   “What about Bethel?” Liberty asked.

   Virgil lowered his eyebrows for a moment, then said, “Marcus loves her and I think she favors him. He's . . .” 

   His smile returned. The team was close enough to hear their labored breathing. He winked at her. “C'mon, Lib. Now we can truly say that it is morning. Morning in Nicodemus!” He spread out his arms to indicate the wonder of the open spaces, their home burrowed into the incline of the prairie, and the streams of sunlight in the east breaking through the holes in the dark clouds.

   Liberty nodded. Hands clasped, they ran to the wagon, singing:

 

 

   “'Twas a long weary night, but the morning was 

   near.

   There are signs in the sky that the darkness is gone

   There are tokens in endless array,

   When the storm which had seemingly banished the 

   dawn

   Only hastens the advent of day.”