It took only one evening to bind the quilt. The next evening, Jim Callaway knocked at the kitchen door and hoisted in a huge trunk Augusta had selected at Miller’s store. The quilt was carefully folded and laid at the bottom of the trunk with almost religious reverence.
Sarah closed the lid carefully and looked up at LisBeth, her eyes sparkling with joy. “I never had hope of any kind of future before we came here. Now I have a hope chest, and a dream.” She blushed and stopped talking, but her eyes sought out the retreating figure of Jim Callaway.
February 1, 1877
We believe the entire country is on the verge of a boom —in which the Braddocks would like to participate. To that end, Mother and I have planned a trip west in search of investment opportunities, in particular, the purchase of land that will no doubt rise in value as the next decade advances. We would hope to presume on the hospitality of the Hathaway House during the month of April. Adjoining rooms would be preferable. We look forward to your response and to visiting your fair city. Kindest regards to both you and Mrs. Baird.
Your servant,
David Braddock
Augusta read the letter enthusiastically the evening it arrived and immediately began making plans. “Finally, girls,” she crowed to Sarah and LisBeth, who were up to their elbows in dishwater, “someone influential has seen the promise here. Abigail Braddock and I have been writing back and forth all winter, and finally, I’ve gotten someone to listen! The Braddocks believe in the future of Lincoln. They believe that we are on the verge of a boom—and they are right!”
Sarah and LisBeth looked at one another with knowing smiles and waited for the other shoe to drop. It took only seconds.
“In fact, I think we need to move ahead with my plans for a face-lift for the Hathaway House. Girls, we are going to build a new wing—and it won’t be clapboard siding, either. I’m riding out to Yankee Hill tomorrow and put in my order for brick! When Abigail and her son arrive, they’ll see progress in action!”
The next day, Augusta had Jim drive her the few miles to the new foundry at Yankee Hill where she arranged to receive the first few firings of brick in the spring. When they pulled up to the livery door, Augusta climbed stiffly down and walked briskly through the stable to check on Joseph. He was sitting on an inverted barrel at the back of the livery, oiling a harness, his crutch leaning against a stall door. When Augusta launched into her new plans for the livery stable’s expansion, he leaned over to rub his leg and began shaking his head from side to side.
“What, Joseph?” Augusta demanded. “What’s wrong with the plan?”
“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with the plan, Miz Hathaway—just somethin’ wrong with the man, that’s all. My leg ain’t mendin’ as quick as it should, and no way am I gonna be able to handle the horseflesh you’re gonna need to serve that many new rooms full of folks.”
Augusta snorted, “Nonsense, Joseph! You’ll be fit as a fiddle by spring.”
While they talked, Jim led in the team and began rubbing them down. The horses’ breath filled their stalls with clouds of steam, and they tossed their heads and snorted appreciatively as Jim offered them buckets of hot mash and molasses.
Augusta added, “What about Jim Callaway? You said he’s a good worker. Take him on as a partner.”
“With all due respect, ma’am,” Jim broke in, hanging a curry comb on a nail and closing a stall door behind him, “I’m not fit to be a partner in a business.” He pushed his hat back on his head. “At least not in town. I’ve stayed on to see that Joseph mends well, but as soon as he’s fit, I’ll be moving on.”
Augusta wheedled, “No need to move on. Lincoln is a fine town to start a life in, and with my hotel feeding this livery business, it’ll easy support—”
Jim interrupted, “Sorry, Mrs. Hathaway, but I’m not cut out for city life. Fact is,” he said, looking earnestly at Augusta, “I’ve been trying to work up courage to ask Mrs. Baird if she’d consider selling her homestead to me. I’d have to work for it, of course. I’ve got no cash. But I could pay her a little at a time.”
Augusta countered, “Farming’s no way to make a way in the world, Jim Callaway. The city is where a man who wants to make a name for himself wants to be.”
Jim answered quietly, “I don’t care much about making a name for myself, ma’am. But I would like farming that homestead.”
“That’s not a dream—working and sweating all your days and hanging on by a thread at the mercy of the weather! It’s a hard life. You deserve better.”
Jim looked at Augusta soberly. “Time was when I didn’t think I deserved to live, ma’am. Guess I’ve come a long way to have any dream at all. It’s a small dream, but it suits me.” He paused for a moment before adding, “Do you think Mrs. Baird will sell?”
Augusta didn’t hesitate. “She’ll sell, all right. When I read her that letter from David Braddock, she mentioned it right away—selling the homestead.”
Jim frowned. “David Braddock?”
“The hosteler we met at the Centennial. He and his mother are coming to Lincoln, looking for investment property.”
“She’s already decided to sell to Braddock, then?”
Augusta shivered, “Land sakes, no, young man! She hasn’t decided a thing. She just mentioned it, that’s all. If you want the place, just speak your mind. I’m freezing to death out here. You two coming in for dinner or not?”
She hurried off muttering to herself, “Just like a man—can’t make up his mind and when he does can’t speak it.” From the doorway she almost shouted back to Jim, “Well, are you coming or not? You’d better get LisBeth’s ear today before she sells that homestead out from under you, young man!”
She closed the door firmly. As the sound of her footsteps retreated along the board sidewalk, Joseph chuckled. “Guess she told you, Jim Callaway! Speak your mind or lose your dream!”
Jim grinned sheepishly. “I’ve been walking around in a fog for so long, Joseph. I half surprised myself, talking to her like that about buying the homestead.” He took a deep breath and whistled low, “But I’ve been wanting it for a long time. I’ve been praying on it for a long time too. Talked to some folks. Made some plans. Guess it’s time to go find out if my dream for me and the Lord’s plan for me agree.”
LisBeth stared in amazement at Jim and stammered, “Why, of course, Mr. Callaway, I’d be happy to have you walk me to the sewing circle.” She pushed away from the table and added, “Just let me get my cape.”
Augusta grinned at Joseph and nodded her head knowingly while Jim offered his arm to LisBeth and led her out the door and up the street toward the church. Neither Augusta nor Joseph noticed Sarah frown and take an almost frantic interest in clearing the table.
Jim walked beside LisBeth easily. He appeared relaxed, but he didn’t say anything for the first few moments of their walk. LisBeth held his arm lightly and prayed that Agnes Bond was nowhere in sight. It was far too soon for a widow to be escorted by a man, even on a walk to the sewing circle.
Finally Jim began. “I know I’m a stranger to you, Mrs. Baird.”
LisBeth interrupted him. “Hardly a stranger, Mr. Callaway. You’ve been our guest for meals for weeks now, and please, call me LisBeth. Every time I hear someone say ‘Mrs. Baird,’ I feel like I should reach for a cane!” LisBeth smiled brightly and looked up into Jim’s gray-green eyes.
“Then you call me Jim.”
“Fair enough, Jim.”
They were almost at the church steps, but Jim found that he could not muster the courage to speak his mind. They had walked up the narrow steps and he reached to help LisBeth off with her cape before he could begin his carefully prepared speech. “Mrs. Baird—uh—LisBeth.” She turned and looked up at him.
“Yes, Jim?”
Jim hesitated. “I’d like to buy the homestead. On shares. I’ve got no cash, but I’m a hard worker and I’d take good care of the place. The soil’s rich. It’ll give a good crop. I could make the first payment as soon
as a crop came in. The equipment’s already there. Joseph said he’d loan me a good team if I’d break a few yearlings for him. All I’d need would be enough to live on—and seed. I talked to Mr. Miller over at the general store last week. He’s not much for granting credit, but when I offered to paint his store for him this spring, he said it’d be a fair trade—seed for the painting job. At fifteen dollars an acre, I figure I could have you paid in a few years. If you could see your way to wait, ma’am. I’d do my best by you.”
Jim had spent weeks praying for the Lord’s will, but as he stood sharing his dream with the woman who could either make it come true or kill it, he couldn’t help clenching his hands nervously as he waited for her answer.
LisBeth asked innocently, “Fifteen dollars an acre. Is that a fair price?”
Jim looked confused. “I talked to the land agent, ma’am. He said—”
LisBeth interrupted him. “He said the place is only worth ten dollars an acre. You’re not the only one who’s been talking to the land agents.”
Jim felt the back of his neck grow hot. With dismay he realized that he was blushing. He looked down at his boots uncomfortably. “Well, ma’am—I guess it’s worth more to someone like me.”
LisBeth put her hand on his arm impulsively and asked, “What’s someone like you see in an abandoned homestead that makes you willing to pay five dollars an acre more than it’s worth?”
Jim gathered his thoughts and looked at her squarely. “Well, ma’am, it’s like this. Time was I didn’t think life had anything left for me. But then I started working on the place, fixing things. Then Joseph taught me some things. He showed me how the Lord loves us even when we don’t think we deserve to be loved.” Jim heard himself talking, opening up to LisBeth, and he felt his neck heat up again. She must think me a fool, he thought, blabbering all over the place about myself.
But LisBeth didn’t give any hint of thinking Jim Callaway a fool. She stood in the vestibule of the church and listened attentively to every word he said, her dark eyes soft with understanding and friendship. Jim noticed for the first time that LisBeth King Baird was a mighty attractive woman. Then he cleared his throat and continued talking, suddenly very aware of her hand on his arm.
“So, ma’am, I’d like to stay on the place, if you’ll sell it to me. I can make something of it. Make things grow. That would be worth more than I can say, ma’am. Worth more than I can say.”
LisBeth listened carefully to the earnest voice, and when he had finished, she didn’t hesitate an instant. Smiling warmly, she removed her hand from his sleeve as she said the words that handed Jim Callaway his dream. “Jim, I can’t think of a man that I would rather have taking on Mac’s homestead than you.” She lowered her voice and added. “The homestead has seen a lot of unhappiness. It holds bitter memories for me. Make some new memories out there. Make it a happy place.”
She stood back and shook her finger at him, breaking the seriousness of the moment with a laugh. “And you’ll not pay one cent more than ten dollars an acre, either. Now let’s shake on it.”
LisBeth held out her gloved hand, and Jim clasped it in his own as he offered his thanks. Just then the door opened and Agnes Bond came in. LisBeth backed away from Jim as she said quietly, “Don’t thank me, Jim. You’ve taken a great weight off my shoulders. I was hoping to talk David Braddock into buying the place. I’m glad not to have to wait two months to have the matter settled.”
Jim Callaway barely nodded at Agnes Bond before going outside. He bounded down the steps to the church and ran to Miller’s where he ordered seed on credit and arranged to paint the store as soon as the weather broke. LisBeth followed Agnes downstairs to the sewing circle where she took her usual place at the quilting frame in an unusual state of mind.
Agnes Bond was ready. She picked up a needle and thread and settled herself directly across from LisBeth at the quilting frame. Then she carefully steered the conversation of the small group of women to her advantage so that she could ask the question innocently, “Now tell us all about that nice young man who walked you to circle today, LisBeth. Isn’t he the young vagabond who’s been taking such good care of our dear Joseph Freeman since that horrible accident?”
LisBeth studied her quilting and took a bit too long formulating an answer for the women who raised their eyebrows and exchanged telling glances.
Charity Bond was not nearly as tactful as her mother. “LisBeth!” she exclaimed, “are you giving up your mourning—
already? ”
LisBeth looked up from the quilt with fire in her eyes. She silenced Charity with one look and then lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders as she looked around the quilting frame at each pair of eyes. She ignored Charity’s remark in her crisp answer. “Mr. James Callaway is the man Joseph hired for me to take care of Mac’s homestead.” When Joseph was nearly trampled to death, Mr. Callaway showed himself to be a true and faithful friend. He has given up his own interests to care for Joseph, and he has assured us that he will continue to put his own interests aside until Joseph is able to resume his work. However, Mr. Callaway requested a chance to speak with me about a business arrangement. To that end, I suggested he walk with me to the sewing circle. Mr. Callaway has suggested very generous terms for buying my husband’s homestead. I’m very grateful to him for taking the burden of the homestead off of my mind.
“As to telling you anything more about him, I haven’t been so rude as to ask him questions of a personal nature over the dinner table at the hotel, which is the only opportunity I’ve had to see him. He is very devoted to Joseph and spends nearly every waking hour attending to the duties required to keep the livery stable operating. I have no reason to think anything but good of him. In fact, I’m proud to call him a friend. Just today—as I’m sure you heard, Agnes—we began addressing one another by our Christian names. I’ll be sure and keep you all informed of every little detail of Jim’s life that I’m able to pry out of him, now that I’ve won his confidence.”
LisBeth’s final sentence dripped with sarcasm and not only silenced Agnes Bond, but also prevented her next fishing expedition, which was to be to discover the identity of the David Braddock LisBeth had mentioned, for Agnes Bond had been standing outside the church door listening closely to every bit of the conversation between LisBeth and Jim.
LisBeth’s biting reply put a damper on conversation for the rest of the afternoon. The women all wished heartily that LisBeth would have been angry enough to leave so that they could talk. When she did not, Charity retrieved her copy of Mr. Dickens’s Great Expectations and read aloud while the women stitched. LisBeth paid little heed to the book, for while Pip was enjoying life as a gentleman, LisBeth was wondering why social standing held no allure for Jim Callaway.
Chapter 14
Now my days are swifter than a runner: they flee away, they see no good. They pass by like swift ships: like an eagle swooping on its prey.
Job 9:25–26 (NKJV)
S oaring Eagle was wrong about the winter of 1876. It was not a starving time for his tiny band. Although the winter was hard, with more than the usual snow and many days of bitter cold, thanks to the generosity of John Thundercloud, they had plenty to eat. Huddled about their fires, they wondered what spring would bring. One family at a time they came to Soaring Eagle, dejected but firm in their resolve to turn themselves in to the agency. They went, a few at a time, until there was only one lonely tepee tended by an aging woman and a small group of fine ponies tended by a confused, bitter young man.
As they watched the last of their band leave, Soaring Eagle turned to Prairie Flower. “If you want to go with them, I will understand.”
She put a wrinkled hand on his shoulder and shook her head firmly. “I go where you go, Soaring Eagle.”
When the winds howled around their lone tepee, they stayed indoors, huddled about a small fire, waiting. Soaring Eagle retold the story of his strange encounter with John Thundercloud until Prairie Flower had it memorized. They
discussed going to the Santee Agency, but they did nothing. They wandered the prairie in indecision, enduring the winter and telling stories of the past.
The years had been kind to Prairie Flower. She had aged gracefully and remained healthy, but as winter wore on, a persistent cough grew worse until she began to lose strength. She grumbled against it but finally had to rest each afternoon.
Soaring Eagle sought out the fruits and leaves of cedar trees, boiled them, and fed her the resulting liquid. The time-honored remedy did little good. Prairie Flower continued to cough and to lose strength until Soaring Eagle cared for her full time. She managed to sit up and eat with great effort, then finally lost her appetite.
“You must fight,” Soaring Eagle demanded. “The spring will come soon. Think of how the land comes alive then! The sun will warm your bones, and I will set you on my finest pony, and we will find a new band and return to the old ways.”
With shaking hands, Prairie Flower pointed to the cross and chain that she had given him years ago. She pressed his hand and said, “Go. Remember that you have known a good white. Remember that I have loved you as a son. Leave me. I am old. I have had a good life. Go. I will die here and be at peace knowing that you have gone to meet tomorrow like the brave man you are.”
Soaring Eagle insisted, “I will take you with me, my mother.”
“I am not strong enough to make the journey,” Prairie Flower softly replied. “I am not strong enough to learn the new ways. I am part of the old ways. I am part of what you must leave behind in order to have a life.”
Prairie Flower’s eyes filled with tears. “There is a new enemy in our land, Soaring Eagle. But this enemy cannot be beaten back. The white man is here, and he will stay. He is too powerful for us to fight if we wish to live. There will be many among our people who will not be able to stand what is happening, but there will be some who run to meet this new enemy bravely—just as our bravest warriors always ran to be the first to meet the enemy in the old battles.” She patted Soaring Eagle’s hand. “I want you to be one who runs to meet this new enemy.”
Soaring Eagle (Prairie Winds Book 3) Page 11
