Sixteen Brides (18 page)

“We should frame them all,” Zita said. “One for each of the four corners of our home.”

“Four Corners,” Ella said. “That’s it, Mama. That’s what we’ll call our place.” She glanced around at the others to get their reactions. Their home had a name.

Sally waved her petition in the air even as she spoke toward the east. “Take
that
, Ray Gosset. Sally
did
amount to something after all.” She linked arms with Caroline and Zita and sang out, “Swing your partner and do-si-do, we’ve got land now and here we go—”

Ruth and Ella held their hands high, forming an arbor for the others to dance through, and then everyone chanted as Jackson crouched down and did a ridiculous duck walk around them all. “Here comes the train, we’re ready to go—folks think we’re crazy, don’t you know—”

“Yep, we’re crazy, that’s the truth—Sally, Zita, Caroline, and Ruth—”

“April nineteenth is the day—six ladies and Jackson came to stay—”

“Built Four Corners, saw things through—Nebraska’s where their dreams came true.”

Had it really been only two days since they’d all performed that joy-crazed dance outside the land office over at Grand Island? Perched next to Jackson as he drove their supply-laden wagon toward the homestead, Ella pondered how hard it had been to wait while Will Haywood finished up other business so he could help them today. Oh, they had kept busy planning and packing and loading supplies, but Ella was thankful the wait was over. Now, as they trundled along, she glanced over at the second wagon in the small procession and thanked God anew for Will Haywood. Today he would help them drive stakes to designate the homesite. They would lay out a barn and corrals and a henhouse and a garden, and by the time the sun set on today, the Four Corners would be more than just a dream.

As the wagon topped the last rise, the team threatened to bolt. Ella reached over and, putting her hands over Jackson’s, pulled back and hollered, “Whoa!” Jackson flushed with embarrassment. “It’s all right,” Ella said. “You’ll learn.” She nodded toward the rented team. “They don’t know your voice, and they can smell that cold spring water.”

“They don’t know yours, either,” Jackson muttered. “But they slowed down.”

“Well,” Ella said with a shrug, “horses from a livery—even ones as fine as Mr. Ermisch’s—can be more of a challenge. When we get our own team, they’ll get used to you.” Jackson looked doubtful. “They will,” she insisted, and smiled. “After all, you’ll be our main driver once we settle out here.” She motioned around them at the broad expanse of prairie.

“Really?” Jackson sounded hopeful.

Ella nodded. “Of course. It’s a man’s job, after all.” She didn’t like the idea of assigning jobs that way, but Jackson obviously needed a boost, and she was more than willing to give it. He was a good boy.

Finally, they arrived at the new homesite. As Ella tied off the reins and climbed down, the other ladies—who’d followed the loaded wagon in a buggy—followed suit.

Ruth spoke up. “Let’s pitch the tents first,” she said, and pointed toward the cottonwood tree. “Over there. Where we’ll have some shade in the afternoon.” She reached for one of the long rolls of canvas atop the loaded wagon. Sally stepped up to help.

“You know how to pitch a tent?” Jackson sounded surprised.

“Your father and I pitched many a tent in our day,” Ruth replied. She reached into the wagon and handed him a bundle of stakes and a sledgehammer. “Off we go.” She grinned. “Let’s see if we can get the first one pitched before Mr. Haywood and Ella get the parlor staked out.”

While Ruth and Sally and Jackson worked to pitch what Ruth called a “Sibley tent,” Will Haywood and Ella paced off the rooms for the soddy. Will said that fourteen by sixteen was large for a central living area. Ella stood in the center of the future room and held her arms out, pointing first to the left and then to the right. “Front and back doors,” she said, “with a window on either side of each door. So we have plenty of light.”

Once the stakes were driven at the corners and string attached to the stakes, Ella motioned for Caroline and Mama to “think about how things will be arranged in here,” while she and Will staked out the two bedroom wings. Each wing would measure ten by fourteen, giving just enough room to tuck a narrow bed into each corner with a trunk at the foot of each bed and a window in the wall between the headboards.

“You might want more windows,” Will suggested. “Crosswinds are a good thing on a hot summer night. You can always hang a quilt up to keep the winter winds from blowing through.”

Ella considered. That would mean four more windows, and windows weren’t cheap. She called a meeting of the minds, and the ladies decided that more windows would be worth the extra expense. And so it went all that day. Ella was clearly in charge, and yet she was careful to ask for advice and opinions. The only real disagreement came when Hettie insisted that she didn’t need a “high-hipped roof ” above her loft.

“Th-that’s going to cost way more in labor and shingles and all,” she said. “I don’t mind ducking down a little. Goodness, it’s only a sleeping loft. I don’t plan to
live
up there.”

Ella glanced around at the others. Words weren’t necessary. Only nods. She looked at Will. “A hipped roof. A high one.” She glanced at Hettie. “It’s not just for you. It’s for all of us. We’ve come to stay. We build to give that message. To others, and to ourselves.”

By day’s end, Four Corners boasted three Sibley tents—one for eating, one for sleeping, should the ladies decide to camp over at the homesite, and one for storage. Stakes and twine suggested a good-sized sod house, a small barn, and, much to Sally’s delight, a large henhouse. As the afternoon sun lengthened the shadows from the one tree within sight, Ella looked over the place, and for the first time, the enormity of what she had proposed threatened to override her enthusiasm. Could they do it? Could they really do it? Create a home and raise enough food to survive a winter out here?

As the wagons and buggy made their way back toward town and the white of the three tents receded into the distance, Ella almost lost courage. Almost. But then Zita said something about how God was going to restore the years the locusts had eaten.

“I hope you’re right, Mama,” Ella murmured.

“Hope on. Hope ever,” Ruth said, from the buggy next to them.

“Hope springs eternal,” Caroline offered.

“Hope does not disappoint,” Hettie chimed in.

“I hope Red and the hens like it out here,” Sally said. And everyone laughed.

CHAPTER
FOURTEEN

Faithful are the wounds of a friend;
but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful.

PROVERBS 27:6

J
ackson Dow, you’re cheating!” Linney jumped up, upsetting the checkerboard and sending checkers skittering across the general store floor. “I’m
glad
you’re moving onto that stupid homestead on Monday!
Caroline
won’t let you get away with cheating. Neither will Zita or Hettie or anyone else. It’ll be like having a dozen mothers, and you need every one of ’em to teach you right from wrong!”

“I am
not
cheating!” Jackson shouted back.

“Well, how else can you explain beating me four times in a row? My pa says I’m the best checker player he’s ever seen—besides Mr. McDonald, and no one
ever
beats Mr. McDonald.”

Jackson glowered. “Well, maybe your pa was just being nice and letting you win! Or maybe I’m just better than you. Did you ever stop to think somebody might actually be better than you at something?!”

“Are you calling my pa a liar?”

Caroline, who’d been helping Martha check things off the list of provisions the women were planning to take to the homestead on Monday, decided it was time to intervene. “Hey, you two.” She laid her pencil down and walked to the back of the store. “First of all, Jackson, a gentleman doesn’t
gloat
when he wins a game. He is gracious whether he wins or loses.” Then she turned to Linney. “And, Linney. Your pa isn’t a liar, and Jackson didn’t say he was. On the other hand, he does dote on you, so perhaps he doesn’t try as hard to win as he might.”

“He doesn’t
dote
on me.” Linney swiped at a tear. Grabbing a feather duster, she marched to the far corner of the store and began a furious scattering of dust.

Caroline exchanged glances with Martha, who nodded toward Linney.
Talk to her
was the unspoken message. In turn, Caroline nodded toward Jackson.
Distract him.
Clearing her throat, Martha said, “Jackson. I’ve a couple of crates of things in the storeroom I haven’t been able to get to. Could you help me unpack them?” She laid an arm across the boy’s shoulders and together they headed out back. As soon as they were gone, Caroline crossed the store to where Linney was dusting—and sniffing.

“You know Jackson didn’t mean to yell. Not really.”

“I know. It’s just—everyone talks about how much my father
adores
me. And I know he loves me, but—” Tears began to slide down her cheeks in earnest. She moved to the front window and stared out at the sodden landscape. “Never mind. I’ll be fine. I get moody when it rains. You don’t have to worry about me. Really.” She looked over at the checkerboard and forced a smile. “I was just being . . . sulky.”

“We all get sulky now and then.”

Linney’s dusting slowed. “I know he couldn’t have managed when I was little,” she said. “But he keeps promising we’ll have a home again.” Her voice quavered. “And then he just goes and sells it and doesn’t even tell me.” She sniffed. “Mr. Gray said I remind him of my mother. Pa still has nightmares about her. He talks about her in his sleep. He talks
to
her.” She paused. “I know he loves me, but Pa can only take so much of me, and now I know why. It’s because I remind him of her. I just wish he’d quit lying about our having a home.”

She touched the feather duster again, tracing its handle as she murmured, “I’m not really angry with Jackson.” She sniffed. “I’m glad he’s going to get a home, even if I’m not. At least not until I grow up and get one of my own.” She gazed toward the storeroom. “I’ve been asking God for a special friend for a long time. I didn’t think it would be a boy. From the city.”

Caroline chuckled. “You know what Mrs. Romano would say about that?”

Linney shook her head.

“She’d say that God answers our prayers with what we need, not necessarily what we ask for.”

Linney pondered that. Finally, she smiled. “Well, I don’t quite understand why God would think I need a friend who can play checkers better than me . . . but I’m glad he finally sent me a friend.”

“Jackson is thankful for you, too. He may not say it in so many words, but—”

“Oh, he’ll never say it ‘in so many words.’ ” Linney rolled her eyes. “That’s okay. Martha says a woman has to let a man keep his pride. She says they don’t usually talk about their feelings, but we can see how they feel about us if we pay attention. She says Pa shows how much he loves me when he takes the time away from hunting and trapping to spend time with me.”

“Martha’s a wise woman,” Caroline said.

Linney nodded. “I know. I just wish—” She broke off. Forced a smile. Shrugged. “He’s not like that, you know. He doesn’t hit. I’ve never seen him hit anyone before. Ever.” She frowned. “I don’t know what made him do that. Mr. Gray was being nice. Why would that make Pa angry?”

Caroline’s heart raced as she tried to come up with an explanation. “Well, what you said about men and pride and all? Maybe your pa was a little jealous. I mean, you’re growing up and maybe—”

“Mr. Gray is old enough to be my pa!” Linney shuddered.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Caroline said quickly. “I mean that maybe he realizes that you’re growin’ up and he’s gonna lose you—and maybe he regrets not spending more time with you.”

Linney thought about that for a moment. “I still wish he could just see
Linney
when he looks at me. And I wish he didn’t get so sad when he thinks about my mother. And I wish we could have a real home.”

Not knowing what else to say, Caroline opted for a hug. It seemed to have a good effect, for a few minutes later Linney hollered into the storeroom, “All right, Jackson Dow, get back out here and give me a chance to beat you!”

“So,” Caroline said, settling next to Jackson on the front stoop of the Immigrant House Saturday afternoon, “did you let her win at least once?”

Jackson grinned. “Of course. I’m not
completely
stupid.” He sighed. “Besides, that wasn’t really about checkers anyway. For either of us. Linney’s upset about her pa. And I—” He shrugged. Shook his head. “I don’t know how to do any of the things people out here need to know. I don’t know how to drive a team or harness them or saddle a horse or anything. I don’t even know how to dig a
hole.
And we’re going to need at least a thousand holes to put up the fence Ella says we’re going to need to keep Mr. Gray’s cattle out of our fields.” He stood up and kicked at an imaginary rock. “I’m a dud.”

“Jackson Dow . . .” Caroline rose and grasped him by the shoulders. “That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. I don’t know the first thing about gardenin’ or cookin’, and to tell you the truth I’ve always been a little afraid of cows, but I don’t consider myself any kind of dud. I’m gonna earn my keep. But I’m just plain scairt sometimes. Some of the stories I’ve heard this week about how snakes and mice like to live in the walls of soddies . . .” She shuddered.

“Aw, snakes and mice won’t hurt you. Unless they have rattles.” Jackson grinned.

“Well, you just keep that attitude handy, because I’ll be callin’ on
you
if any kind of critter decides to come to my side of the house for a visit.”

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Jackson gazed up the street toward the livery.

“We never did go see if Mr. Ermisch has any horses I could learn to ride.”

“You’re right. I turned my ankle and then we got all caught up in other things.” She looped her arm through Jackson’s, and together they headed toward the livery at the opposite end of the street. “While we’re up there, we can see if that horse trader brought in anything new. Ella’s impatient about gettin’ our own team, and I can’t say that I blame her.”

“Howdy.”

Caroline looked up to where Otto Ermisch stood peering down at them, pitchfork in hand. At the sight of Caroline, he tipped his cap. “I’ll be right down.” And with that, Ermisch virtually dropped through the hole in the haymow floor to the earth nearby. “Sorry to say the horse trader hasn’t been through yet. Maybe he’ll show on Monday.” He frowned. “Although I guess that’ll be a mite late, won’t it?” He scratched his beard. “Wish I knew what to tell you.”

“Well, there’s more to this visit than the search for a good team. Jackson needs to learn to ride.” Caroline summoned her most charming smile. “Now, I realize a businessman can’t just turn his horseflesh over to anyone. Horses are valuable commodities, and you can’t have just anyone taking them out. I remember a time when my daddy let some fool ride his Pacer—” She shook her head. “Of course I never rode such a monstrous creature as that. My little mare was a Morgan. Shiloh had the sweetest canter a lady could wish for. Of course, with a Morgan a person doesn’t exactly try to clear fences, but Shiloh had the heart of a steeplechaser. Whatever I asked, that li’l mare tried to give.”

Having let Mr. Ermisch know that while Jackson might be a novice around saddle horses, she was not, Caroline continued, “Now, I told Jackson we’d have to ask permission to see what the livery has to offer. You don’t just stroll into a barn and make yourself t’home. Not if you know what’s good for you.” She shrugged. “I guess it was mighty clear I don’t know much about work horses the other day. Saddle horses, on the other hand—”

Ermisch grinned. “Tell you what, Jackson. As long as you’re with this little lady you are welcome in my livery anytime.” He gave Jackson a friendly slap on the shoulder even as he spoke to Caroline. “Watch the big bay with the white here.” He tapped his forehead. “He bites. And of course watch where you’re stepping. I’ve been running behind all day and haven’t mucked the place out as well as I should.”

Together, Caroline and Jackson headed toward the double row of stalls stretching between them and the back doors. As they walked, Ermisch opened those doors and the aroma of warm horseflesh and hay wafted their way. Caroline inhaled. “I
love
that smell.” The next aroma wasn’t quite as pleasant, and she chuckled. “I don’t even mind that one so much.” They paused at the first stall when a sorrel mare whickered and thrust her head over the door.

“That’s Maude,” Mr. Ermisch called from the back. “She’s mine and she’s an unrepentant beggar. She’ll nibble on your pockets, but she doesn’t bite. She’s just hoping for a treat. And she doesn’t really care what it is, as long as it’s people food.”

Jackson shied away as the horse thrust her head against his chest, but presently he was laughing as she snuffled his pockets. “Hey,” he said when she lipped his jacket. “It only smells like horehound. I ate it.” The horse sighed as if she understood him. “Well, I’m
sorry
,” he said. “I’ll bring you some directly.” He called out to Mr. Ermisch. “Is it all right if I bring Maude a treat?”

“Sure. But be warned. She never forgets a treat-bearer. She’ll hound you for the rest of your born days every time she sees you.”

“Go ahead,” Caroline said, nodding toward the mercantile. “Bribery isn’t a bad way to get to know a horse.” She smiled. “I’ll wait here.” She meandered down the stalls alone after Jackson left, looking over the individual horses. One was swaybacked, another shied away from the human hand, one ignored her, and another nibbled at her coat playfully. True to form, the bay Ermisch had warned her about bared his teeth the minute she got near his stall. Sadly, there didn’t seem to be a good prospect for a greenhorn boy wanting to learn to ride.

The cadence of an approaching horse sounded from the direction of the street. Caroline turned around just in time to see Matthew Ransom astride a paint pony, a big-boned pack mule in tow. Jackson came trotting into the livery just as Mr. Ransom dismounted. Stammering a hello, Jackson unwrapped a peppermint and shared it with the mare.

Matthew fumbled with both his hat and his words. “I . . . uh . . . thank you for being a good friend to Linney. Martha said you’ve been a good listener since—” He broke off. “Since her pa behaved like a raving idiot.”