First Dawn (31 page)

“I’m surprised to hear that. From all that your father said, I believed he was going to remain in Kansas. I must say I’m truly disappointed by your revelation—especially since I planned to draw upon his relocation to illustrate the caliber of men who are choosing to move west with their families.”

“Oh, Father doesn’t plan to leave, only me,” she corrected.

Deep wrinkles creased Martin’s forehead. “Your father is more progressive than I realized.”

“Why, whatever do you mean by that remark, Mr. Eustis?”

“Allowing his daughter to move away and live by herself is rather unusual, wouldn’t you agree?”

She smiled as she shook her head. “Dear me, you completely misunderstood. My beau, Jackson Kincaid, lives in Georgetown. My heart tells me Jackson and I will marry within a year. Of course, we would live on his father’s plantation—Jackson would never consider leaving Kentucky.”

“Since you’re intent upon leaving Kansas, I suppose that’s reason enough to marry Mr. Kincaid, though I must admit I’m sorry to hear you’ll be departing.”

Macia tucked an errant curl behind one ear. “Oh? And why is that, Mr. Eustis?”

“I had hoped for the opportunity to have you visit Topeka—with your family, of course,” he said. “Though I realize Topeka isn’t as modern as some of the large eastern cities, I find it quite agreeable.”

At the moment, any place larger than Hill City sounded agreeable. Besides, Jackson might not arrive for many months. A journey to Topeka could prove a pleasant diversion in the near future—something to amuse her until Jackson arrived.

CHAPTER
27

Ellis, Kansas
•
March 1878

D
awn hadn’t arrived any too soon for members of the Boyle family. Macia decided the only thing that would have been more exciting than meeting Carlisle’s train in Ellis would be the arrival of Jackson Kincaid. However, the thought of seeing her older brother was reason enough for her to rise at daybreak. And even Harvey, who detested the early morning, had hurried off to retrieve the team of horses and wagon before first light.

Mrs. Boyle stepped onto the porch and shaded her eyes as the wagon approached. “I thought we would take the carriage.”

Dr. Boyle took his wife by the arm and patiently urged her forward. “If we’re to bring back supplies as well as Carlisle and his baggage, we’ll need something larger than the carriage, my dear.”

Harvey rushed forward. “Father had Jeb and me replace the wooden bench with a cushioned seat with a back support so you could comfortably rest your back. Jeb even used his blacksmith tools and fashioned some springs to cradle the seat. I’m certain you’ll find it more comfortable.”

Margaret aimed a benevolent smile at her son. “How thoughtful of you boys to try and help.”

Macia grinned at her brother as she climbed into the wagon. The reply made Jeb and Harvey sound as though they were ten-year-olds. “I see you and Jeb put seats along the sides of the wagon, also.”

Harvey nodded. “They can be removed easily enough, if need be. Jeb thought you’d find the ride more enjoyable if you didn’t have to sit in the wagon bed.”

“Did he? I didn’t realize Jeb worried so much about the Boyle women,” Macia commented as they rode out of town.

“Only you. Though I tell him to give up. He’s truly a nice fellow.”

“What is
that
supposed to mean? That I don’t deserve a nice fellow? Jackson Kincaid is a nice fellow, also!”

Harvey grunted. “Jackson is pompous and self-indulgent; he cares little for anyone other than himself. When are you going to see that?”

Macia tilted her chin up and folded her arms across her waist. She almost
hmmph
ed but decided not to give Harvey the satisfaction of knowing he’d gotten to her.

Harvey pulled his hat forward to cover his eyes. Minutes later he was slouched on the seat, sleeping soundly as the wagon bounced toward Ellis.

A train whistle sounded in the distance as they neared the town of Ellis. Harvey pushed himself upright and peered toward the east.

“Did I hear a train whistle?”

Macia shot her brother a look of annoyance. “Yes. If you’d stay awake, you’d know what was going on about you. I believe the only time I’ve seen you awake is when we stopped to water the horses.”

“Come on, I’ll help you down.” He jumped from the wagon and offered his hand.

“You two go on ahead while I assist your mother,” Dr. Boyle instructed.

Macia and Harvey didn’t need any further encouragement. The two of them hurried through the doors of the train station. Though the train had arrived, the passengers had not yet begun to disembark.

Harvey grasped Macia’s hand and strutted toward the rear doors of the station. “Let’s go wait on the platform.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Wait, Harvey. Mother and Father are coming in now. Let’s all go out together. It will be nice for Carlisle to see the entire family waiting for him when he gets off the train.”

The four of them gathered near the passenger cars, all straining to catch a glimpse of Carlisle through the sooty windows.

Macia pointed at a cluster of passengers inside the train waiting to disembark. “There he is!”

A tear rolled down her mother’s cheek, and Macia embraced the older woman’s shoulder. “Don’t cry, Mother. This is a time for rejoicing. Carlisle is going to be here for a nice long visit.”

“But then he’s off to Fort Sill in the Indian Territory.” She sighed and looked heavenward.

“Let’s enjoy the time we have with him, my dear. There he is now.” Samuel pointed at two men striding toward them. “I wonder if the fellow with him is in the military, too.”

“Father! Mother!” Carlisle greeted as he hugged his parents and then turned his attention to Macia and Harvey. “You all look wonderful,” he said before turning to pull his companion forward. “I’d like all of you to meet Moses Wyman. We met on the train, and Moses explained that he’s going to settle here in Kansas.”

“Good for you, young man.” Dr. Boyle grasped Moses’s hand in a firm handshake. “Have you decided which town?”

The man smiled broadly. “Yes. In a town known as Nicodemus. Have you heard of it?”

Dr. Boyle hesitated. “Yes. We live in Hill City, not far from Nicodemus. I’ve visited Nicodemus on a number of occasions, but I don’t think it’s where you’ll want to make your home. Why don’t we get your baggage and you can accompany us to Hill City.”

“I don’t want to inconvenience you. I was planning on renting a wagon and going directly to Nicodemus.”

“We would truly be delighted to have you accompany us to Hill City,” Mrs. Boyle said. “After my husband explains the circumstances in Nicodemus, you can then make an informed decision about your future.”

Carlisle gently slapped Moses on the shoulder and laughed. “I told you they would be determined to have you visit Hill City first.”

Moses shrugged amiably. “If you insist—I’m not on a schedule.”

After the family was situated in the wagon, Macia asked Moses some polite questions about his trip. “However did you hear about Nicodemus, Mr. Wyman?”

He shifted on the wagon seat. “I’ve lived in Boston for a number of years now and decided it was time to get out and explore some new frontiers. Our newspaper recently printed several articles about Kansas settlements, and I decided Nicodemus might appeal to me.”

“Apparently your local newspaper didn’t investigate very well. You see, Nicodemus is for
coloreds
. Both Hill City and Nicodemus were organized by the same men. They set up one town for whites and one for coloreds.”

“Well, Miss Boyle, I was the editor of the newspaper, and I always insist my reporters gain accurate information before submitting a story.”

Macia could feel the heat rise in her cheeks. “I didn’t realize you were a newspaper editor. And you want to sacrifice living in Boston to come west and live in a soddy or a dugout? I can’t imagine anyone willingly doing such a thing. Had your reporter actually visited Nicodemus?”

“No. However, he did interview Mr. Hill. I believe your fair city is named after him, isn’t it?”

She giggled. “Our city isn’t fair—in fact, it isn’t even a city. However, it does bear Mr. Hill’s name. I fear you will be sadly disappointed if you believed Mr. Hill’s commentary on Hill City—or Nicodemus.”

“No need to discourage Moses before he’s even arrived,” Carlisle said. “Your assessment may be tainted by your overwhelming desire to be living in Georgetown.”

“Just because you’re excited over the prospect of living in tents or in a frontier military outpost doesn’t mean such a life appeals to others, Carlisle. Nicodemus is truly in dire straits, isn’t it, Father?”

“Macia isn’t exaggerating the plight that has befallen the fine folks in Nicodemus. They arrived to pitiable circumstances. You see, Mr. Hill did not fulfill his many promises regarding the organization of the city. The Nicodemus settlers came expecting to find an established town. Instead, they were greeted by the same open prairie they’d traversed since leaving the Flint Hills in eastern Kansas. They’re a strong and determined group, but they’ve been forced to live in harsh circumstances.”

“Is nobody willing to help them?” he asked with a frown.

The wind began to blow harder, and Macia held one hand atop her bonnet. “Father has given them limited assistance and medical treatment, as funds and weather permit.”

Her father waved his right hand. “I’ve been able to accomplish very little, though it’s not for lack of trying. And the residents have made valiant attempts themselves, but thus far nothing of substance has been forthcoming.”

Moses leaned forward and rested his arms across his thighs. “Perhaps a plea to the state legislature or to the Congress should be considered, Dr. Boyle.”

Samuel nodded in agreement. “We entertained a delegation from the Kansas legislature not long ago, but there are divisive opinions. When they departed, I didn’t have a clear-cut feeling that anything had been accomplished. Even though land promoters actively pursued these settlers, there are men in the legislature who believe coloreds have nothing of value to offer Kansas. A sad commentary upon some of those who hold positions of power in this state.”

“When Carlisle said his family hailed from Kentucky, I didn’t expect such a tolerant attitude toward coloreds.”

Samuel laughed. “Though I’ve lived many years in Kentucky, I was reared in the North. I was never a proponent of slavery, a position that didn’t endear me to most Kentuckians. Unfortunately, my attempts to influence them against slavery weren’t particularly successful, either.”

“Seems as though you did a fine job with Carlisle. He tells me he’s going to be a chaplain for our colored soldiers.”

Mrs. Boyle flapped her hands in a dismissive wave. “I’d be pleased if he would avoid the military entirely.”

“You’re worrying needlessly, Mother. I’m doing the work God has called me to, and I’m going to be fine. I’m certain you’ll be pleased to hear that Moses is hoping he can continue his newspaper work out here in the West.”

Macia almost giggled. Carlisle obviously hoped to direct the conversation away from his military assignment.

“Now, that’s a wonderful piece of information,” Dr. Boyle said excitedly. “Hill City had a newspaper for a short time. Unfortunately, the owner printed only four editions of the paper before succumbing to a heart attack. We could certainly use a man of your talents in Hill City.”

“To be honest, my plan was to set up my newspaper in Nicodemus. Like Carlisle, I had hoped to work and live with the colored folks.”

“I think you’ve both taken leave of your senses,” Macia said with a sigh.

“There’s an old printing press and some other newspaper equipment in Hill City. Widow Jacoby took the train back to Ohio and left everything just as it was the day her husband died.”

Moses’s eyes glowed with excitement. “Do you think she might be interested in selling the equipment?”

Samuel nodded enthusiastically. “I’m certain she’d be delighted to accept any offer. She left the matter in Walt Johnson’s hands—he owns the general store.”

Moses and the family gathered around the dining table that had been elegantly set with fine china and silver in anticipation of Carlisle’s homecoming supper. Both sweet potatoes and white potatoes surrounded the loin of pork that had been roasted to perfection. Mrs. Boyle’s corn relish, pickled beets, and apple butter, which she said had been carefully packed in straw and transported from Georgetown, were served in fancy china bowls. Slices of lightly browned homemade bread were neatly arranged on a silver bread plate that matched the other pieces of glistening silver service that bedecked the table. Moses couldn’t remember when he’d eaten a meal quite so well prepared and beautifully served.

The conversation was lively and enjoyable, yet Moses found himself watching Truth Harban as she moved in and out of the room, anticipating every need before a word was spoken. At one point she noticed him scrutinizing her and she frowned, but he was unable to keep his gaze off of her.

Mrs. Boyle’s face contorted into a scowl as she placed her fork on her empty plate. “I don’t think I shall ever speak to William Wheeler again!”

The woman’s remark interrupted Moses’s thoughts, and he turned toward her. “Why is that, Mrs. Boyle?”

The hostess stared at him in disbelief. “Why, because he used his influence as vice-president to procure Carlisle’s appointment as an officer in the Army even though Carlisle never attended West Point.”

“And that displeases you?”

“Indeed! It makes me sorry we have friends of influence when something of this nature occurs. I doubt Vice-President Wheeler would want
his
son entering the military and going off to the hinterlands to be killed by savages.”

“Do have a little faith, Mother. I may surprise you and come back alive.”

Mrs. Boyle looked at Carlisle from the sides of her eyes. “The truth is, you haven’t had the proper military training to prepare yourself for the harsh conditions you’re going to experience living in the wilderness and fighting Indians. I doubt you’d raise a hand even if one of those savages attacked you.”