First Dawn (33 page)
Their horses and wagon had been strategically moved beside the boxcar that was located on a small spur of track near the railroad station. Percy and Robert stood in the opening of the boxcar awaiting her response.
With a surreptitious glance over her shoulder, Jarena moved closer to Mary and the others and began to speak in a hushed voice. “There are men looking for Thomas. He asked that we keep his identity a secret if anyone should ask if we know him.”
Mary frowned. “What kind of men?”
“I think it’s a posse. We’ll need to get unloaded and on our way without his assistance.”
Percy wiped his sleeve across his forehead. “Without his help, it’s gonna take us longer to get done. Ain’t gonna be time to do no lookin’ for jobs, Robert.”
“Think you two can stand in the back of da wagon and take dese boxes as we hand ’em over to ya?” Robert asked Jarena and Mary.
Jarena nodded and hoisted herself into the wagon before giving Mary a hand up. The horses shifted, and Jarena looked toward Robert Fowler. “Are the horses tied?”
He smiled. “They ain’t going nowhere.”
Mary took a box of goods from her husband and wedged it into a corner of the wagon. “What you think Thomas done that he’s got a posse lookin’ for him?”
Jarena shrugged as she continued working. “I don’t know. He didn’t go into detail. Looks like there’s quite a supply of goods, don’t you think?”
“Not near what we’re needin’.”
Unfortunately, Mary was correct. The boxcar had been a little less than a third full, and it didn’t appear the supplies were going to eliminate the desperate need within their small community. Jarena hoped there would be enough to keep them going until another boxcar arrived.
“Guess we didn’ need to worry ’bout needin’ extra wagons to haul the supplies back home.” Mary’s voice was edged with bitterness as the group settled on the benches.
Robert flicked the reins and the horses stepped out. “We best be thankful we got anything. You need to quit lookin’ at the bad instead of the good.”
Mary gave her husband a look of disdain. “No need for me to look fer the good in ever’thing when you’re always anxious to do it. ’Sides, we wouldn’t be in this place if it weren’t for you insistin’ on how we could trust everyone and how owning land was gonna be the answer to all our problems.”
Robert’s jaw tightened, and he focused on the horses.
A slight chill remained in the early spring air, yet the sun beat down on them with a surprising warmth. Jarena pulled off her jacket and carefully formed it into a headrest while contemplating Thomas’s safety and whereabouts. She’d watched for him as they unloaded the boxcar, hoping he might reappear yet worried he’d be caught if he showed himself. If only she’d seen the men who were looking for him, she could have watched to see if they had left town. But she couldn’t identify any of them. At the moment they had passed her in the depot, she had been enveloped in Thomas’s warm embrace.
The thought of his kiss caused a return of the butterflies she’d experienced when he had kissed her. She’d never felt that way when Charles had kissed her. Though, truth be told, Charles had never kissed her in the same way. There had never been any urgency or fervor in his brief kisses. She wondered how other women felt when they were kissed. If only her mother were alive, she would certainly explain. Perhaps she would ask Nellie when they arrived home. Mary would not be a good choice, she decided. The mere thought of asking the dour woman about kisses caused her to grin as the wagon lumbered off toward Nicodemus.
“What’s that up there?” Robert pointed into the distance.
Percy leaned forward. “Can’t tell. Looks like it might be a man.”
Shifting up onto her knees, Jarena shaded her eyes with one hand. “It’s Thomas!”
“I just got to sleep,” Mary complained as she lifted up onto one elbow. “What’s all the commotion?”
Robert glanced back at his wife. “You been sleepin’ ever since you got in da wagon. Looks like Thomas is up ahead—behind dem rocks and off to the left.”
“Best leave him there if there’s a posse hunting ’im. Last thing we need is men totin’ guns and chasin’ after us.”
“No! We can’t leave him,” Jarena cried.
Robert waved one hand at Jarena. “Settle down, gal. I ain’t gonna leave him stranded out here.”
Mary wagged her left index finger back and forth like the pendulum of a grandfather clock. “You mark my words—that fella ain’t gonna bring us nothin’ but trouble.”
Jarena felt the need to defend Thomas against Mary’s angry remarks. “He’s the one who got us the plow.”
“Don’t matter none—he’s got trouble written all over him. I can always tell. And how come
you’s
so set on defending him? You’s acting like a lovesick calf when you’s s’posed to be promised to someone else. Charles know about this?”
Thomas hurried toward them and jumped into the wagon. “Keep moving, Robert. I’m gonna stay down outta sight in case them men come this way.”
Mary scowled at Thomas. “And what we gonna do if they show up? We s’pose to say, ‘Don’ you pay no attention to that big lump laying dere in the wagon. That ain’t nobody you’s interested in’? You’s puttin’ us all in danger, Thomas. Why they lookin’ for you, anyway? What you done to have the law comin’ after you?”
“I don’t wanna cause no trouble, Mary,” he said. “If we see them comin’, I’ll jump outta the wagon.”
“Be too late then. They’ll still come after us for helpin’ you.”
“We’s takin’ him with us,” Robert told his wife. “Ain’t no more gonna be said ’bout it. Now hush, woman.”
Mary scooted away and turned her face to the side of the wagon. Jarena wasn’t certain if Mary was attempting to distance herself from Thomas or if she was embarrassed by her husband’s response. Though there was little doubt Mary’s tongue would be wagging the moment they reached Nicodemus, she remained blessedly silent and brooding for the remainder of the journey.
HillCity, Kansas
•
April 1878
S
amuel Boyle hadn’t lost any time contacting Walt Johnson at the general store. The morning after Moses’s arrival, Samuel had slipped out before breakfast, anxious to gather details about the newspaper office. And Walt had proven helpful. The price sounded reasonable, and the equipment was in good condition. In fact, Walt had even been keeping the printing press lubricated according to the handwritten specifications he’d found in Mr. Jacoby’s desk.
Later that same morning, Samuel had led Moses into the mercantile, feeling confident the young man would immediately agree to purchase the equipment. But he was disappointed. Although Moses agreed that both the price and equipment were acceptable, he didn’t give a final answer. In a surprisingly self-assured manner, he told Dr. Boyle he would commit the matter to prayer. And so he waited for an answer, but thankfully not for long.
Once the decision was made, Moses ensconced himself in the newspaper office, intent upon familiarizing himself with Mr. Jacoby’s operation. Harvey soon became his constant companion, for the young man was excited by the notion of setting type and learning to use the Washington handpress.
Moses had patiently taught him the process, and the entire family had been surprised by Harvey’s continued interest.
“So you truly think you’d like to work in a newspaper office?” The family was seated around the Boyles’s dining table when Moses asked the question.
“I do,” Harvey said as he slathered butter onto a flaky biscuit. “It’s exciting to see a blank piece of paper turn into printed words.”
Moses laughed and agreed. “Yes, but I fear you’ll grow weary of setting type. It becomes a tiresome task once you’ve done it for a while. And a newspaper requires dedication to duty. You can’t run off to fish or picnic on warm spring days or sit at home by the fire when a snowstorm is swirling outdoors. Men who work in the newspaper business must be reliable. Then, too, your father tells me you’ll soon need to begin plowing his acreage.”
Harvey grimaced and looked at the head of the table. “You know I have no interest in farming, Father. I haven’t told you previously, but you need to know I’ve entered into an agreement with Thomas Grayson and several other fellows in Nicodemus. In exchange for the use of the farm implements, they’ve agreed to work our land. I never did plan to spend my time tilling the land—that was always
your
plan for my life.”
Samuel took a sip of coffee and then placed the cup back onto the china saucer. “My hope has always been that you would find a vocation that captured your interest. If you believe the newspaper business is what you’d like to try, then I won’t stop you. As for the acreage, I’m sorry to hear you made an agreement that was completely self-serving. I’ll let the men use the equipment and team, but I’d prefer to
hire
them to perform the work.”
Harvey chuckled. “I did tell them they wouldn’t have to work very hard in our fields, as you wouldn’t expect me to make much progress.”
Samuel joined his son’s laughter. “You see what you’ll have to contend with, Moses?”
“
I
can always fire him, Dr. Boyle.” Moses smiled broadly. “
You
don’t have that advantage. I’ll be busy seeking advertisers and writing copy for him to typeset and print. He’ll work hard and do as he’s told, or he’ll find himself behind that plow after all.”
Samuel didn’t doubt for a moment that Moses was speaking the truth. His youngest son would follow orders; otherwise he’d be out of work.
When they’d finished supper, Macia pushed her chair away from the table. “If you’ll excuse me, I told Truth I’d take Mother’s supper up to her. She hasn’t been willing to eat a thing today.”
Samuel’s smile disappeared at the news. “I’ll join you momentarily, Macia. Carlisle, why don’t you come along? Your mother would like to spend some time with you before you leave.”
“Good evening.”
Truth startled, and the pan of dishwater tipped, spilling sudsy water down the front of her apron and onto the floor. When she turned around, there was a look of exasperation on her face.
“Do you
always
sneak up on folks?” She bent down to sop the pooling water from the floor.
“Let me do that.” Moses squatted down to help her and attempted to take the rag from her hand.
She looked up and stared directly into his brown eyes and was reminded of a large bear she’d once seen traveling through Georgetown in a circus cage. She wondered what this refined gentleman would think of her comparison and almost giggled aloud.
“I’ll take care of it. Wouldn’t want you to get that fine suit of yours all wet.” She stood up when she had finished wiping the floor. “Something you’re needin’?”
“Everyone’s busy elsewhere and I thought I’d come out and visit with you, but all I’ve succeeded in doing is creating more work for you. I’m terribly sorry.”
She shrugged. “The floor has to be scrubbed anyway—you just gave me an early start on getting it done.”
“I must say you have an excellent attitude about your work. Do you like being in the Boyles’s employ?”
“Dr. Boyle is a good man. He freely gives medical attention to the folks over in Nicodemus, and he truly believes in equality,” she told him as she wiped down the counters. “Some folks say the words, but they don’t really mean them in here,” she said, touching her chest. “But not Dr. Boyle—he’s honest. Why, he even stood up to a bunch of congressmen that came out here from Topeka.” Without encouragement, she related the details of Dr. Boyle’s disagreement with Senator Pomeroy. “He told those congressmen exactly what he thought.”
“He does appear to be a fine man—as does his son Carlisle. They both put their faith into practice. And even Harvey shows promise. He’s going to work for me at the newspaper office.”
“So you decided to stay in Hill City after all.”
He nodded. “You gave me some sound advice. Folks who can’t buy food can’t buy newspapers. However, I do plan to print a free monthly newspaper for the folks in Nicodemus once I get established.”
“That’s right nice of you.”
“Seems like we’re a lot alike.”
She looked skeptical at his remark. “How’s that?”
“For one thing, we’ve both decided we’re going to live in Hill City rather than Nicodemus. And we both like the Boyle family. You did say you enjoyed working for the Boyles, didn’t you?”
“I’d say those are about the
only
things we got in common, Mr. Wyman. As far as working for the Boyles, how could I
not
like it? I’m living in better conditions than I ever had in my life. The Boyles are kind; I have my own room with a soft bed and good food to eat. But you shouldn’t be askin’ me questions like that. I already said you should find you a white gal.”
“But it’s
you
I find interesting and attractive.”
Truth picked up a towel and wiped her hands. “I’m not that kind of girl, Mr. Wyman. If you’re looking for someone to warm your bed, you’ve come to the wrong person.”
The air escaped Moses’s lungs in a giant heave. “I am so sorry. So very, very sorry. I’m not attempting any such thing.”
“Come on, now, Mr. Wyman. What else does a white man want with a colored girl?” She hung the towel on a hook. “I think you better leave.”
Thomas scanned the horizon, certain he heard horses approaching in the distance. Perspiration began to form across his upper lip as he strained to listen. He had been fervently praying the posse would give up and return back east, yet it was too soon to rest easy. He doubted whether they would admit defeat this soon, especially after following him all this distance.
Jarena stood by the kettle of boiling water near the dugout, dropping small pieces of soap into the caldron of dirty clothes. She’d been most pleased with the lye soap she’d gotten from the boxcar of goods sent by Wilbur Rawlins. Thomas drew near and gave her a brief smile before fixing his gaze to the south. “Do you hear horses comin’ our way?” Surprised by the tremor in his voice, he broadened his smile and awaited her reply.
With a tilt of her head, she listened for a moment and then nodded. “Yes. Do you think it’s the posse?”
