First Dawn Page 7

  Samuel nodded. “Exactly my point.”

  A knock sounded at the front door, and Macia jumped from her chair as though she’d been projected by a tightly coiled spring. “That’s Jackson. Please promise me that you and Mother won’t make a decision until we have more time to talk. I can’t begin to tell you how distressed I am over this entire topic.”

  Her father patted her hand. “We won’t make a decision this evening, and I’ll listen to everything you have to say before coming to a final determination.”

  “Thank you. I’ve been invited to the Kincaids’ for supper, but I should be home by ten o’clock.”

  “I never did like any of those Kincaids,” Samuel muttered as she walked from the room.

  Macia turned when she reached the hallway. “I heard your remark, Father, and it wasn’t what I’d expect to hear from a kind Christian man such as you.”

  She tied her feather-trimmed straw bonnet under her chin and opened the front door, careful to block Jackson’s entrance.

  His eyebrows furrowed slightly as he took her arm and walked to the street. “I had planned to greet your parents,” he commented while helping her up into his carriage.

  “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to appear rude, but they were in the midst of a discussion.”

  He gave her a knowing look. “I understand. My parents have arguments from time to time, also.”

  “They weren’t arguing, merely discussing,” she defended. She didn’t want Jackson believing that her parents were unhappily married. However, truth be known, she doubted whether he cared one way or the other.

  Jackson ignored her reply and flicked the reins. “Mother is looking forward to your visit. I believe she’d like your opinion on a piece of needlework she’s been stitching. Or is it a dress she mentioned? I’m not certain, but there’s some item that she’s anxious to show you,” he said as they neared the edge of town. “Is that your brother?” he asked, nodding toward a carriage careening in their direction.

  “Indeed it is. Signal him to stop,” she said while frantically waving at the coach.

  Macia watched intently, uncertain whether Harvey could bring the buggy to a halt without causing it to overturn. She breathed a sigh of relief as he slowed the coach and came alongside Jackson’s carriage. Always the jokester, he waved his hat in a grand flourish.

  “Hello, Macia. How are you, Jackson? Something amiss?”

  “I thought I had best warn you that Father came home proposing that we all move to some town out west.”

  Harvey gave a hearty laugh. “Mother will soon change his mind. And if she doesn’t, I will.”

  “I’m not confident you’ll succeed. You are part of the reason he’s talking about making this move,” she disclosed. “You’d best come up with some excellent arguments, because I don’t think he’ll be easily dissuaded. When I left the house, he had Mother nearly convinced.”

  Her words appeared to shock him into sobriety. “I’ll go straight home and talk to him,” he replied.

  Jackson eyed her suspiciously as they moved onward. “You were playing a joke on him, weren’t you?”

  “No. Unfortunately, what I told him is true. My father has decided our family should move to the western frontier and become one with the savages,” she uttered dramatically.

  He guffawed and waved one hand in a dismissive gesture. “I don’t think you need worry about savages. I understand the cavalry has them under control—at least throughout most of Kansas.”

  His cavalier attitude annoyed her, and she sent him an icy glare. “This isn’t funny, Jackson. How would you feel if your father suddenly announced that he was moving to the frontier?”

  “Now, now, Macia, there’s no need to work yourself into a state of apoplexy. I’m certain this whole idea will leave your father’s mind as quickly as it arrived.”

  “Don’t speak to me in that placating tone, Jackson. I’m not a child. The fact is that if my father decides to move west, it will radically alter my future.”

  He sighed deeply as he tugged back on the reins and the carriage came to a halt in the circular driveway that fronted his parents’ white-pillared manse. He jumped down from the carriage and hurried around to assist her. “Perhaps Mother will have some words of advice for you,” he suggested as a young colored boy appeared out of nowhere and led the horses and carriage off toward the barn.

  The front door swung open as they approached. A regal-looking colored woman attired in a black dress with white collar and cuffs greeted them and took their wraps. The servant smiled when Macia expressed her thanks, but the woman’s smile quickly faded when Jackson rebuffed her friendly behavior. As they walked down the hallway, Jackson chided Macia for thanking the servant. In a condescending tone he stated her conduct was unacceptable and would only serve to send mixed messages to the servants regarding their proper place within the household. Not wanting to argue, Macia nodded as she took his arm.

  They’d barely crossed the threshold into the sitting room when Jackson smugly announced to his parents that the entire Boyle family would likely be moving to the western frontier. He ignored her pleading looks to cease his diatribe, seemingly taking great delight in relating every detail—including their earlier discussion with Harvey along the roadside. Had they not been sitting in clear view of his parents, she would have kicked his shin.

  To make matters worse, when Jackson finally completed his tale, Mr. Kincaid took up the attack against her father. Macia wanted to run from the room. She had expected a fine supper and an evening of pleasant conversation. Instead, she was being forced to listen as her father was relentlessly insulted. She longed to tell all of them she found their behavior boorish and that she wasn’t at all interested in their opinions. However, she forced her lips into a pleasant expression and said neither.

  Booth Kincaid was only too happy to expound upon Samuel Boyle’s many faults and failures—primary among them, the fact that he was a Northerner who sided with the coloreds and looked down his nose at the southern gentry. Mrs. Kincaid was exceedingly pleased to add her disdain over the fact that Carlisle, Macia’s older brother, was attending theological seminary in Maine rather than at one of the fine schools located in the South. Then there was a discussion between Mr. and Mrs. Kincaid concerning the many trials and tribulations Macia’s poor mother had been forced to bear because she’d married an outsider. They spoke as though her father had been reared in some foreign land rather than the northern United States.

  When they finally were seated around the dining room table, the conversation turned to the weather, and as Mr. Kincaid began expressing his deep concerns over the lack of rain and crop yields, Macia sighed with relief. However, her reprieve was short-lived. The moment the conversation lagged, Mrs. Kincaid began to inquire about Harvey and his future plans.

  Before Macia could reply, Jackson laughed boisterously and said, “Seems his indecisive behavior is one of the primary reasons Dr. Boyle is looking to move out west.”

  “Is that so? Samuel having trouble getting the boy to take hold and assume responsibility?”

  “I think my father is hoping to give Harvey the same opportunity you’ve given Jackson,” Macia astutely replied.

  Mr. Kincaid gave her a quizzical look. “And what opportunity is that?”

  “Why, to become a farmer.”

  Jackson sputtered, and several drops of coffee dribbled down his chin. “I am not a farmer.” He absently wiped his face with one of the starched linen napkins. “The coloreds do the farming.”

  “Oh, I momentarily forgot. We wouldn’t have any coloreds to farm our land, so I suppose Harvey would actually be required to perform the work—get his hands dirty. Besides, I suppose the coloreds will be busy enough farming their own land.”

  Mrs. Kincaid appeared puzzled. “Whatever are you talking about, Macia?”

  “Why, didn’t you know? Mr. Hill and his friends have been recruiting Negroes from Georgetown for their new all-colored town in Kansas. Some have already
settled out there.”

  Mrs. Kincaid began to fan herself. “Have you ever heard tell of such a thing, Booth? Coloreds starting up their own towns? Do you think our sharecroppers might consider leaving?”

  “Our Negroes aren’t about to go anywhere.” Mr. Kincaid stabbed a piece of pork roast. “They know they’re better off sharecropping on the land they’ve lived on all their lives. Besides, there’s not one of them that would have the means to leave. It takes money to move west and buy land.”

  Macia tilted her head to one side and met Mr. Kincaid’s pompous gaze with a sweet smile. “My father says the small farms cost only five dollars. Do you truly believe it would be impossible for your sharecroppers to save that amount?”

  “Not long ago you mentioned a couple of families had pulled up stakes and disappeared.” There was a note of panic in Mrs. Kincaid’s voice. “Do you suppose they’re among some of the settlers this Mr. Hill has recruited?”

  “Absolutely not. There’s no way our field hands could accumulate enough funds to purchase land and outfit themselves for a journey west. Except for the Negroes working in town as tradesmen, I don’t think Mr. Hill is going to have much luck finding coloreds who have the necessary funds to settle their town. Takes a good deal of money to join such a venture—and we’ll be certain to let our coloreds know that, won’t we, Jackson?”

  CHAPTER

  7

  Ellis, Kansas • August 1877

  The hot August sun was unrelenting. Beads of perspiration trickled down the sides of Thomas’s head and formed a wet band inside his wide-brimmed hat. He wiped his forehead with an already damp kerchief and settled back against the wagon seat. Though he would have enjoyed having a companion on his journey to Ellis, he hadn’t forced the issue. Ezekiel had said they needed the men to remain in case of trouble with Indians or claim robbers.

  Thomas slapped the reins and clucked at the horses. “Come on, now, you can move a little faster,” he urged, anxious to arrive in Ellis before nightfall.

  Even if he pushed the team, the stores would likely be closed when he got to town, but he’d make his purchases first thing in the morning. Surely he could be back in Nicodemus with only one final night on the trail. Shoving one hand into his pants pocket, he wrapped his fingers around the leather pouch that contained the settlers’ money. Right now, Thomas wanted nothing more than to be relieved of the cash that filled his pocket. Instead of his worries ending when he’d entered Kansas, they’d been increased. Once this task was completed, he would not accept another undertaking for the settlers—at least not one that could bear devastating consequences. The entire settlement was relying on him, hoping he could bargain with the storekeepers for unrealistic prices and return with their wagon loaded with goods. What if he couldn’t fulfill their expectations?

  He passed only one rider along the way, and that man had merely waved his hat overhead as he continued onward. After hours of journeying through brush and empty prairie, the sun descended beneath the western horizon in a blaze of glowing magenta and orange, but Thomas continued onward. When he finally located the livery in Ellis, it was well past dark.

  Pleased he had reached his destination without incident, Thomas pulled on the reins and brought the horses to a halt. With any luck, there would be someone sleeping inside who could assist him with his horses and rig. He banged on the heavy wooden door several times, but when his knocking failed to rouse anyone, he yanked the rope attached to an iron bell hanging over the door. The noisy clapper gonged several times. Thomas glanced about and hoped the noise wouldn’t awaken the whole town. When he finally heard the door latch being raised, he sighed in relief. A young towheaded fellow rubbed his eyes as the door creaked open.

  “I’s sorry to break up your sleep, but I’m needin’ to board my horses. I been travelin’ since early yesterday mornin’ and—”

  The young man waved him forward. “No need to apologize. Caring for horses is what I get paid for, no matter the time of day or night. If you’d like to leave the wagon alongside the barn, we can unhitch your team over there.” He pointed at the far side of the building.

  Thomas nodded. “That’d be fine.”

  “Will Southard’s my name,” the young man said as he adeptly unhitched the team from the wagon and led them to the livery doors.

  “Thomas Grayson.”

  “Grain or hay?”

  Thomas hesitated for a moment. The money in his pocket was needed for supplies, yet if they didn’t have horses, they couldn’t possibly survive. He watched Will run his hand down one of the horses’ flanks.

  “Looks like they could use some grain,” the young man offered. “Where’d you come from?”

  “Thirty miles north. A new townsite named Nicodemus.”

  “That the town William Hill started up for colored folks?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Odd name, Nicodemus. You choose that name from the Bible?”

  Thomas chuckled. “No. Nicodemus was an African prince brought to dis country in chains back in the days when slave ships was makin’ their voyages back and forth across the ocean. Nicodemus is s’posed to be the first slave to ever buy his freedom; it’s him the town’s named fer.”

  A look of admiration crossed Will’s face. “He must have been quite a man.”

  “I don’ know for certain if the story’s a true account, but dere’s plenty of folks who say it is.”

  Will raked his fingers through his rumpled blond hair. “So what brings you to Ellis?”

  Thomas picked up a cloth and began to wipe down one of the animals. “We need supplies—of just about ever’ kind you can imagine.”

  The young man nodded as he filled a bucket with oats. “Well, the shopkeepers will be mighty happy to hear the news. They’re always pleased to make a sale—especially a large one. How many folks you got settled up there?”

  He snorted. “There’s about thirty of us, but ain’t nobody settled. I joined up with the group in Topeka, but most of the folks that’s up there came from Kentucky. Mr. Hill told ’em the town would be ready and waitin’ for ’em, but when we arrived, there wasn’t one thing ready for us. Not a house or a school or even a place to buy supplies.”

  “How long you been there?”

  “Not exactly certain. Nigh on to a month not countin’ our travel time from Topeka,” Thomas replied. “Hill promised he’d be back and the town would be ready by September. I reckon September’s gonna be here long afore Hill ever returns. He said he’d come back with supplies, but he still ain’t returned. And now we done used up all our food.”

  Will’s jaw went slack as he looked at Thomas with incredulity. “No disrespect, but folks moving west generally come loaded with tools and supplies, even a couple cows and maybe some pigs and chickens. Didn’t Hill warn ya to bring more provisions?”

  Thomas shook his head. “Most of dese folks wouldn’ta had much to bring anyway.”

  Will nodded. “You’re welcome to bed down in here for the night if you don’t mind sleeping in a barn.”

  “That’s the best offer I’ve had since leavin’ Topeka. Believe I’ll take you up on it.” Thomas thanked the man for his generosity.

  Will’s freckled face shone in the flickering lantern light. “Find yourself a spot before I blow out the lantern. Gets mighty dark in here.”

  Finding a corner that was well padded with hay, Thomas threw his blanket on top and instantly dropped off into a sound sleep. Sunlight was flooding the livery when he awakened the next morning, and Will was up and moving among the stalls.

  “General store should be opening in another hour. The restaurant down the street is open and serving breakfast. I’m going down to get some bacon and eggs. Care to join me?”

  Thomas placed his hand over the lump of coins in his pocket. He was tempted. The taste of bacon and eggs would be mighty fine right now. He hadn’t eaten anything but cold cornpone since leaving Nicodemus. Surely they realized he’d have to purchase some food for himself,
he reasoned. Of course, they wouldn’t expect him to eat anything so costly as bacon and eggs while they were making due on hoecakes and mush.

  “Naw, I’ll get me somethin’ later,” he finally replied.

  “Anybody comes by, tell ’em I’m down at Millie’s having breakfast, would ya?”

  “I’ll do that.” Thomas walked out the door into the bright morning sunlight. A warm squall of wind stirred the dusty street, and he wondered how long it had been since rain had last fallen in western Kansas. They hadn’t encountered even a drop since leaving Topeka, though Will hadn’t complained of drought, and they hadn’t seen any dry creeks along the way.

  Poking a piece of straw between his teeth, Thomas stood just outside the livery until he saw a short bald man and a middle-aged woman pause in front of the general store. The man withdrew a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. Apparently the general store was now open for business. With any luck, Will would soon return so Thomas could go make his purchases. No doubt the residents of Nicodemus would be concerned about his whereabouts if he was gone for much more than two nights.

  Thomas was pacing in front of the doorway when Will eventually returned. “Sorry I was gone so long. Started talking and forgot the time,” he said. “I brought you some of Millie’s buttered biscuits for your trouble.”

  The smell of the warm biscuits seeped from the napkin-wrapped bundle, and all thoughts of the general store escaped Thomas’s mind. He cradled the warm bread in his hands, enjoying the buttery aroma for a moment longer. When he could wait no more, he opened the napkin, lifted a biscuit to his mouth, and greedily sank his teeth into the flaky creation. With forced restraint, he chewed slowly and savored each delectable morsel.

  “Believe I’ll save this other one for later. Appreciate your kindness,” he said while retrieving a tiny piece of biscuit from his shirtfront and popping it into his mouth. He gave his fingers a final lick and then grinned at Will. “I best get over to the general store and see how many supplies I’m gonna be able to afford.”