Morning in Nicodemus (4 page)

   However, he warned himself he shouldn't rejoice over this misfortune. The loss of the two horses would be a major setback if he couldn't find them. 

   He had worked long back in Kentucky to save enough money to buy them. 

   Then when they arrived here and he found the ones he wanted, he had worked hard to break the young horses for riding. 

   Though he wouldn't mind starting out again with new horses even if he had the money to buy them, he didn't want to spend the time needed to redo the work he'd already done. So far Lady was the only one he'd broken to the plow, but he intended to work with the buckskin as soon as he had time. Then he would have a team. He knew where he could trade work for a fairly good Springfield wagon. When Ma and Pa came, Marcus could escort them home in style from the train depot in Ellis.

   Figuring that the runaway horses needed water and would go to the river, he cut across the eastern forty acres of his land. So far this area was untouched. Marcus's plan for it was to leave it in the native buffalo and blue stem grass and fence it for the cattle he hoped to get. That plan suited Virgil. He liked working with cattle much better than plowing. As with raising crops, ranching needed horses. He walked faster following his horses' trail which led straight to his ford on the Solomon River.

   On the river at the spot where there was a natural slope down to the water, he found where the horses had stopped to drink. That was logical. Everywhere else along the river steep mud banks lined the stream on both sides, making access difficult. He had forded the river there on Lady many times. From the many hoofmarks along the water's edge, he knew that the horses had milled around that spot for some time. He must be very close to them.

   He saw that the river hadn't risen at all from yesterday's storm as the funnel cloud dropped down only at his place.

   Again he wondered why Bruce was so interested in his ford. No matter. He had horses to find.

   He wasted many minutes searching for the spot where the horses left the river. Did they cross it? He didn't think so, though the water at the ford ran over a rocky formation. It was shallow enough they could have waded over as he had done many times, but there were no tracks leading out of the river on the other side. Not knowing which direction the horses would have taken, he guessed the horses would go west away from the settled homesteads surrounding Nicodemus. He soon covered the half mile southern border of his farm onto the next unclaimed land.

   Nothing. No horses and no tracks. He turned back to his ford and searched east from there. Until the tracks reached the river the trail had been so plain he didn't doubt that he would soon come upon them and take them safely back to their paddock. Now he was not so sure. Walking slowly along the river bank he brought in all the training his Osage friend had taught him to spot animal tracks. He wished for Likes-to-Hunt. They'd spent many pleasant days last year hunting, fishing, and talking. When Virgil reached the major traveled ford across the Solomon River without seeing anything, and the farmer he met on the road hadn't seen any horses, he doubled back west. He decided that they must have gone west and he missed the signs.

   He paused only long enough to eat the cornbread sandwich Liberty had prepared for him, washing it down with river water he cupped in his hands. As he ate, he wondered again why Bruce wanted the Lander farm so much. 

   True, it was on the river with all the assets the river offered, but so were quite a few other farms in the Nicodemus settlement. 

   Bruce came late after the best river farms were claimed, but he didn't harass any of the others along the river. 

   Virgil's homestead was two miles off the main road on a barely discernable trail. There were still some unclaimed lands on the well-traveled road into Nicodemus. What did the Lander farm have that Bruce wanted so badly? 

   He couldn't understand it. Bethel's father's hostility was explainable. As he pictured Bethel's beautiful laughing eyes and remembered his feelings when he kissed her, he deduced that Gene Martin probably just wanted to keep Virgil away from his daughter. But Bruce? Did he think he could scare him off because he was younger than the other landowners along the river? He couldn't make sense of it all. 

   All his other neighbors, including the Osages who often hunted through the area, were helpful and encouraging. There were already many natural enemies in this semi-arid land—the cruel weather, the stubborn sod, and dangerous wildlife. Why would former slaves coming to this haven in the West cause another former slave so much misery. His White neighbors at Hill City and Ellis were helpful in many ways, like loaning them tools and animals to help break the ground for crops. Some even brought food into Nicodemus last winter when several of the families were starving. That was how he met Likes-to-Hunt, often called Hunter. The young Osage and his group shared with his neighbors some buffalo meat they'd caught on their hunt.

   He had no answer. Putting the problem out of his mind, carefully and slowly searching the ground and bushes for any signs, he retraced his steps along his side of the river. 

At every break in the trees and low vegetation along the bank, he stopped to examine the southern side. 

   The brown water flowed undisturbed between the steep mud banks. An occasional fish came to the surface for an insect, creating short-lived ripples on the water's surface. Beside noting for future use the location of a beehive in a rotted sycamore, he saw only some black birds soaring high over the river. He heard nothing more than a tom turkey calling his mate. No horses.

   Facing west, Virgil had to shade his eyes from the setting sun. After traveling a few miles without seeing any sign of the horses, he decided they must have crossed the river. It had become too dark to search the other side if he walked back to his crossing. He'd hunted along the river enough to know there was no closer ford where he could get across, unless he swam. He wouldn't do that without knowing the horses were there. He shivered even thinking about the cold river water. Even dry, he was chilly as the sun's warmth disappeared. He had no choice. He had to go home and start again in the morning.

 
   Liberty loved the days when Virgil was gone. Not because she didn't want him around, but because then Marcus needed her to help him. Then she could be outside, not trapped in the dismal soddy. Outside she didn't have to contend with the insects, especially fleas, in the dirt floor or coming out of the thick sod walls. But when she thought of this, she felt guilty complaining. Her problems were minor compared to what her mother had to put up with. Though Liberty herself had never experienced slavery, she knew all about it. It wasn't only her name that broadcast the wonderful condition of liberty. She saw it daily in her parents before she and her brothers left Kentucky, and recognized that gift in her brothers here in Kansas.

   She looked around her little domain. It was cruder and much less comfortable than their hut at home. No! this is home, she corrected herself. This is ours. Everything she touched and out the one window as far as she could see, everything belonged to them. The Landers, all but she born in slavery.

   Virgil and Marcus worked harder than they ever had without complaining—even wishing the days were longer so they could accomplish more. There were many things to discourage them. Ma and Pa not coming.

   She wiped off a tear with her apron tail. Opposition from neighbors, their own kind. They certainly didn't anticipate that. The uncertain and often frightful weather, like the twister yesterday. She could go on and on. But none of the troubles discouraged the boys, who just tightened their belts and plunged on. Here was Virgil afoot, scouring the prairie for their runaway horses, and Marcus testing the ground hourly to see if it was dry enough to work—to redo what he and Virgil had worked on so hard yesterday.

   No, she hadn't experienced slavery, though it seemed she was a slave to the soddy. All her time was spent raising, gathering, and preparing the food for three meals a day, keeping their worn-out clothing wearable, and making their cramped soddy livable. Too much time in the dark soddy. Working in the garden and caring for her geese were her pleasures. Even during winter's blast or summer's heat, she enjoyed the time she could spend outside.

   So today, being able to help Marcus in the cornfield was truly a vacation. As the day reached noon before Marcus decided they could begin, she almost wished Virgil wouldn't find the horses. Then she felt guilty. Poor boy, tramping all over, while she stayed comfortably at home.

   She giggled. Poor boy? Not hardly. He loved exploring the plains. He was probably glad he didn't have to help Marcus harrow and plant. And even though Virgil didn't like the monotony of farming, he would agree that working the soil was much better than stuck in this soddy. Virgil would go crazy if he had to stay inside all the time. Like she almost did last winter.

   A shiver went through her as she remembered being alone in the soddy for a few weeks last winter when the boys were away working on building the railroad. 

   Everyone in the family agreed she had to stay. And it was worth it, for the boys earned enough money to buy the cow and sow, the seed corn, a plow, and other farming and household equipment they needed.

 

 

   Last winter before they left to work on the railroad, Virgil had looked with satisfaction at the wood by the door. He and Marcus had cut down a dead tree, sawed it into stove-sized pieces and stacked it right by the door along with bundles of dried grass for starting a fire. They had also added some green wood that would hold the fire longer. “There's enough cornmeal and deer jerky to last until we get back,” he said. Then he handed her a rifle. “Maybe you can get you a fresh rabbit.”

   She doubted that as she hadn't learned much about guns. He showed her how to load it.   “Anyway, you can scare away the coyotes or other animals,” he said.

   Showing a brave front, but quaking inside, she watched her brothers ride away. “Scare away animals?” That was something she hadn't thought about.

   But being alone wasn't too bad until the first big snowstorm came. It lasted for several days without warmer days in between to melt it away as was the case in Kentucky. Every day she had to shovel the path to the spring, to Goosie's pen, and to the pile of hay the boys stacked beside Beauty's paddock. The snow there wasn't as deep as around the soddy. The wind blew most of it away since the area wasn't sheltered by the slope of the ground like the soddy was.

   When she finished her chores, she sat imprisoned in the desolate soddy. Though she tried to keep busy, mending her dresses and trying to keep the soddy clean, she thought each day would never end. 

   She sang songs and danced in the open space inside, but she only raised dust from the dirt floor and bumped into their crude furniture.

   After the first few days of snow, two White men from Hill City came by to see if she needed help. They brought some food, including potatoes, onions, and turnips. Her meager store of root vegetables from their first small garden was gone. When she added them to her monotonous diet of cornbread and deer jerky, she believed she had never tasted anything so good before.

   Liberty talked to Beauty, and to Goosie, but she couldn't stay outside long for it was too cold. After forking out the mare's hay, putting some grain in Goosie's trough, and replacing their frozen water with fresh water from the spring, she hurried back into the warm soddy. Being warm was its only asset. She was grateful the boys got it built before they left. She would surely have frozen in the temporary canvas, tent-like shelter they first lived in.

   Not wanting to waste the precious candles or gasoline in the lantern unless necessary, she was in darkness during the long night. Dusk came at four in the afternoon and light didn't return until eight the next morning. Even then it was dark in the soddy. Clouds covered the sun and snow fell much of the time, obscuring what little light the one window let in.

   She slept in her clothes, not for warmth, for as long as she kept a fire going, the soddy was comfortable. She wanted to be ready to go outside in case wolves or coyotes came.

   Some nights she heard a rustling followed by a warning squawk from Goosie or a frightened whinny from Beauty. 

   Without taking time to put on any wrap, she lit the lantern. She stepped outside and yelled or waved her arms to scare the intruders. With a stout stick in one hand and the lantern in the other, she ran out, yelling until the coyotes retreated.

   She went to Beauty, talking to her and stroking her until they both calmed down. Before she returned to the soddy, she shined her light on Goosie's pen to be sure it was still secure.

   Wide awake and frightened, she reentered the soddy, turned out the lantern and lay down, certain she couldn't get to sleep again. But eventually, each time she did sleep, awaking in the cold with Goosie announcing it was time for feeding. She revived the dying fire and started the day all over again.

   One time when the coyotes weren't scared off by her yelling, she remembered Virgil's gun. She grabbed it off the wooded hooks mounted on the east wall, quickly loaded it, and shot at them. “No, you don't,” she screamed. “You leave Goosie and Beauty alone.” She thought she nicked a coyote, because she heard a howl. The pack turned back and didn't return that night. The next day though she searched the snow-covered area for blood, she didn't find any.

   She had heard stories of women alone on the prairie going crazy. She believed it could happen, but was determined that wouldn't happen to her.

   She sang every song she knew just to hear the sound of a voice. She talked to the animals and herself. Out loud she kept scolding herself, “Liberty girl, hold on. You gotta get through this for Ma and Pa and the boys. They need you to hold on. Get a grip on yourself. You can do it.”

   Looking back on that time, she knew Beauty and Goosie helped keep her sane, as well as Bethel and her mother's weekly visits. They tried to persuade her to come to their place until the brothers returned. Though tempted, Liberty knew she needed to stay.

   But probably of more help than all of them was Nicky. 

   One day Bethel and her mother came by. Inside Bethel's buttoned-up coat was a small gray kitten. When Bethel opened her coat, he jumped out. After thoroughly exploring the soddy, he sat in the most comfortable chair and calmly washed his face. Then he curled up to sleep. It was as if he said, “Okay, this will do. I'll stay here awhile.”

   Nicky was the life-saver, for he could be with her inside and out. His eyes watched her every move in the soddy. Each night his warm little body next to hers comforted her. His soft purr lulled her to sleep. Outside he followed Liberty wherever she went. When the snows came he gave a pitiful meow for her to pick him up. She put him on her shoulder. He quickly snuggled into the front of her coat. She could feel the vibrations of his purr as she did her chores.

   She did have Beauty to ride to the Martins or to Nicodemus a couple of times. Looking back on it, she realized it really wasn't too bad, but she had never been alone in her life, nor experienced a barren Kansan winter. Thank goodness the really big snow storms in late February that almost covered the soddy didn't happen until the boys were back home. She doubted she could have stood up to them by herself.

 

 

   This balmy April day, waiting until Marcus indicated it was time to help in the corn field, she shook away the memory of that experience. Being alone was what made that time so difficult.

   During other hard times she was with her family, like with yesterday's cyclone. That storm was upon them and gone so quickly, she hardly realized what was happening. Or had time to be afraid. But the main thing was that she wasn't alone. 

   Marcus was with her then. And she wasn't alone now. She could handle whatever Kansas would deal her. She would proved it. Marcus was just outside testing the soil once again hoping it was dry enough to work. And Virgil would return before dark.

   Thinking about the lonely winter reminded her of some words in the song about the slave Nicodemus, “Twas a long weary night.” They seemed to speak directly to her now as they did during the lonely winter. She sang aloud the whole verse:

 

 

   “‘Twas a long weary night, we were
   almost in fear

   That the future was more than we
   knew,

   '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 seem-
   ingly banished the dawn,

   Only hastens the advent of day.”

 

 

   She frowned. Throwing Marcus's torn shirt she was mending on top of the bed pads, she walked to the door. She stepped outside to see the cornfield where Marcus was testing the ground again for the tenth time that day. She saw him shake his head and drop the clod of dirt he crumbled in his hands. She returned inside and glanced at his unmended shirt.

   Nicky rubbed against her legs. She picked him up and held him in her arms, stroking him as she looked out the door. This time of year, in spite of having to work in the dark shoddy most of the time, she could enjoy the huge outside whenever she wanted. Her frown changed to a smile. Her life really wasn't so bad.

   Later that afternoon, happy to be in the cornfield, her face shaded from the bright sun by her sunbonnet, she made one little hole after another in the straight rows Marcus laid out. Into each hole she carefully dropped two kernels of corn and covered them with a hill of fine, rich dirt.

   She gloried in the work. The beautiful day seemed to beg Liberty to forgive the winter's storms and to apologize for yesterday's cyclone. The gentle breeze stirred in the sixty-five-degree temperature of the late April afternoon. The prairie was fresh and alive in its rebirth from the long winter. A flock of quail flew up in front of Marcus. They flew low over the field. An eagle soaring in the sky started to swoop down until Liberty yelled at it and swung her hoe in its direction.

   “No, you don't,” she cried. “You won't use our seed for your dinner or those little bobwhites, neither. Go somewhere else.” She smiled when it flew east out of her sight.

   “We're destroying the quails' home,” she called to Marcus who was disking the land next to her plot.

   He nodded. “There's lots more space for them.” He pointed west where the birds were landing and quickly scampering out of sight into the new grasses.

   Liberty made another giant step that Marcus said measured thirty-six inches. She made a small hole with her hoe and dropped two more seeds.

   The sun set before they finished planting the corn. Though her back hurt and her hands had blisters from the unaccustomed work with the hoe, Liberty hurried home happily behind Marcus and Lady. She looked back at their cornfield, a tiny plot cut out of the prairie. Instead of seeing the black dirt island in the middle of green, she envisioned tall brownish stalks with ripened ears of golden corn hanging from each one.

   No matter how hard it was, she knew they were far better off than being in slavery like the slave Nicodemus in the song. Like her parents had been most of their lives.

   Inside the soddy, her happy mood predominating, she removed the lid of the iron kettle to see about supper. The left-over stew smelled fine. It hadn't spoiled in the cool air, and the bugs hadn't found it yet. When she wiped off some dirt that had fallen from the sod ceiling onto the lid, her pleasure of planting the field made her wonder if a woman would be allowed to homestead a plot. That thought hadn't occurred to her before. She knew that the requirement was “head of a family.” Well, she could be head of a family one day. She was fifteen now. Six more years to go! She became excited. She would stake out a claim when she was twenty-one if women were allowed to.