My Ántonia

by Willa Cather

  I

  I HAD been living with my grandfather for nearly three years when hedecided to move to Black Hawk. He and grandmother were getting old for theheavy work of a farm, and as I was now thirteen they thought I ought to begoing to school. Accordingly our homestead was rented to "that good woman,the Widow Steavens," and her bachelor brother, and we bought PreacherWhite's house, at the north end of Black Hawk. This was the first townhouse one passed driving in from the farm, a landmark which told countrypeople their long ride was over.

  We were to move to Black Hawk in March, and as soon as grandfather hadfixed the date he let Jake and Otto know of his intention. Otto said hewould not be likely to find another place that suited him so well; that hewas tired of farming and thought he would go back to what he called the"wild West." Jake Marpole, lured by Otto's stories of adventure, decidedto go with him. We did our best to dissuade Jake. He was so handicapped byilliteracy and by his trusting disposition that he would be an easy preyto sharpers. Grandmother begged him to stay among kindly, Christianpeople, where he was known; but there was no reasoning with him. He wantedto be a prospector. He thought a silver mine was waiting for him inColorado.

  Jake and Otto served us to the last. They moved us into town, put down thecarpets in our new house, made shelves and cupboards for grandmother'skitchen, and seemed loath to leave us. But at last they went, withoutwarning. Those two fellows had been faithful to us through sun and storm,had given us things that cannot be bought in any market in the world. Withme they had been like older brothers; had restrained their speech andmanners out of care for me, and given me so much good comradeship. Nowthey got on the west-bound train one morning, in their Sunday clothes,with their oilcloth valises--and I never saw them again. Months afterwardwe got a card from Otto, saying that Jake had been down with mountainfever, but now they were both working in the Yankee Girl mine, and weredoing well. I wrote to them at that address, but my letter was returned tome, "unclaimed." After that we never heard from them.

  Black Hawk, the new world in which we had come to live, was a clean,well-planted little prairie town, with white fences and good green yardsabout the dwellings, wide, dusty streets, and shapely little trees growingalong the wooden sidewalks. In the center of the town there were two rowsof new brick "store" buildings, a brick schoolhouse, the courthouse, andfour white churches. Our own house looked down over the town, and from ourupstairs windows we could see the winding line of the river bluffs, twomiles south of us. That river was to be my compensation for the lostfreedom of the farming country.

  We came to Black Hawk in March, and by the end of April we felt like townpeople. Grandfather was a deacon in the new Baptist Church, grandmotherwas busy with church suppers and missionary societies, and I was quiteanother boy, or thought I was. Suddenly put down among boys of my own age,I found I had a great deal to learn. Before the spring term of school wasover I could fight, play "keeps," tease the little girls, and useforbidden words as well as any boy in my class. I was restrained fromutter savagery only by the fact that Mrs. Harling, our nearest neighbor,kept an eye on me, and if my behavior went beyond certain bounds I was notpermitted to come into her yard or to play with her jolly children.

  We saw more of our country neighbors now than when we lived on the farm.Our house was a convenient stopping-place for them. We had a big barnwhere the farmers could put up their teams, and their women-folk moreoften accompanied them, now that they could stay with us for dinner, andrest and set their bonnets right before they went shopping. The more ourhouse was like a country hotel, the better I liked it. I was glad, when Icame home from school at noon, to see a farm wagon standing in the backyard, and I was always ready to run downtown to get beefsteak or baker'sbread for unexpected company. All through that first spring and summer Ikept hoping that Ambrosch would bring Antonia and Yulka to see our newhouse. I wanted to show them our red plush furniture, and thetrumpet-blowing cherubs the German paper-hanger had put on our parlorceiling.

  When Ambrosch came to town, however, he came alone, and though he put hishorses in our barn, he would never stay for dinner, or tell us anythingabout his mother and sisters. If we ran out and questioned him as he wasslipping through the yard, he would merely work his shoulders about in hiscoat and say, "They all right, I guess."

  Mrs. Steavens, who now lived on our farm, grew as fond of Antonia as wehad been, and always brought us news of her. All through the wheat season,she told us, Ambrosch hired his sister out like a man, and she went fromfarm to farm, binding sheaves or working with the thrashers. The farmersliked her and were kind to her; said they would rather have her for a handthan Ambrosch. When fall came she was to husk corn for the neighbors untilChristmas, as she had done the year before; but grandmother saved her fromthis by getting her a place to work with our neighbors, the Harlings.