Morning Sky

by Judith Miller

  Truth nodded. “We all know how much Pappy wants Jarena here at home.”

  Jarena gritted her teeth. Truth’s attempts were annoying and obvious. Besides, she was having enough trouble trying to decide about her future as it was.

  Apparently Moses had now tired of their haggling. “I’m going over to see how the roof is progressing on our house. Tell your father and Silas I look forward to visiting with them this evening.”

  Truth hurried forward to kiss him farewell. “Don’t forget to ask if there’s been any word regarding the new printing press.”

  Grace followed Jarena into the house. “You’re in a sour mood today.”

  “I’m sorry. I promise to try and do better. Tell me, how have you and Silas been getting on? From what you said earlier, it sounds as though he’s showing promise as a farmer.” Jarena wondered if having Silas begin to take over in the fields was difficult for Grace.

  “He’ll learn—he’s kind of slow at first, but once he catches on, he does good. He likes being out there working, that’s a fact. Pappy has to force him back to the house come suppertime. He’s already trying to figure out how long it’s going to take before he can afford to buy his own piece of land. I think maybe he’s hoping you’ll sell him Thomas’s land.”

  Jarena bristled as she removed her bonnet. “You can tell him Thomas’s land isn’t for sale. We’re going to farm that land ourselves when he returns.”

  “Silas didn’t mean anything bad, Jarena. He was just—” “Thinking that Thomas is dead. Like all the rest of you. But I know he isn’t, and you’ll not convince me otherwise.” Her anger continued to rise along with the heat of her words. “Not until I have more proof than a letter saying he didn’t return to the fort with his company.

  He might have survived. You don’t know that he’s dead!” She shouted and waved toward heaven like a fire-and-brimstone preacher at a tent revival. “Only God knows, and I trust that He’s going to bring Thomas back to me.”

  She fell into a chair, spent, while her sisters looked at her as though she’d gone mad. Perhaps she had. Why was she clinging to hope?Why did she suddenly believe she should trust the Lord for Thomas’s return?

  Trust—the barrier she had struggled against all her life—the adversary she had never conquered. Trust!

  So many thoughts raced through her mind that she was surprised when words from the Psalms came to the forefront: “The Lord is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; my God, my strength, in whom I will trust.”

  For now, for today, she would depend on the Lord for Thomas’s safe return.

  Jarena’s sisters quickly retreated outdoors. Truth said she needed to stretch her legs after their lengthy buggy ride, but Jarena suspected both girls wanted to escape in case she veered off into another unexpected tirade. Not that she blamed them. She’d likely frightened them out of their wits as she had ranted and flailed her arms.

  Perhaps there’d be no further mention of her peculiar behavior if she began the supper preparations before Truth and Grace returned. She retrieved a clean apron from her trunk and got started. Her father had pushed the trunk to the foot of her bed, right where it had been before she departed for her first journey to work for the Boyles. She unfastened the hasp and lifted the heavy lid. There, on top of her belongings, was the mysterious envelope from Bentley Cummings. She picked up the missive and turned it over as his words played back in her mind. “Should Lilly return to Kansas or advise you of her whereabouts, see that she receives this. And tell her I personally delivered it to you.”

  Jarena pulled Lilly’s letter from her reticule and placed both documents side-by-side on the wooden kitchen table. One bore Lilly’s precise feminine script; the other displayed Bentley’s irregular, mannish handwriting. Lilly’s envelope was rather small and thin, while the one from Bentley was much thicker. Startled by the sound of her sisters’ laughter, Jarena grabbed the letters and forced them into her skirt pocket. Ignoring the faint sound of a rip, she pushed until the envelopes were safely tucked out of sight.

  Grace poked her head in the door only long enough to say they were going to the river and would return shortly. Jarena nodded and waited only a moment before reexamining the envelopes. In her haste, she had torn the flap on the larger envelope—the one addressed to Lilly and carefully sealed by Bentley Cummings. She would need to remove the contents and place them in another envelope so Lilly wouldn’t think she’d intentionally opened her mail. Of course, she could merely explain what had actually happened, but Lilly would never believe such a story.

  Jarena pulled the contents from the torn envelope. Her jaw went slack as she unfolded the outer page. In the center of the paper was a picture of Lilly with her name clearly printed beneath the likeness. A reward of five hundred dollars was being offered for her return to New Orleans. The poster stated she was wanted for the murder of Sephra Rigilou and the kidnapping of her son, William. The paper shook between Jarena’s fingers. A five-hundred-dollar reward! Had Mr. Cummings continued traveling after leaving Nicodemus, handing out these posters along the way? If so, Lilly wouldn’t be safe anywhere!

  Jarena slumped into a chair and unfolded the letter that had been tucked inside the poster. Jarena scanned the page and then dropped it on top of the poster. The letter was clear. Even though there was no proof, Mr. Cummings had convinced the authorities in New Orleans that Lilly was responsible for Sephra’s death. However, if Lilly would return his son unharmed, he could assure her safety from the law and would willingly give her the reward money.

  Jarena attempted to weigh the information she’d just learned. Bentley wouldn’t absolve Lilly if he truly believed she had killed Sephra and kidnapped his son. And if Lilly had been involved, did he actually think she would believe him and produce his son? Was this purely an attempt to gain information from Lilly—determining her guilt or innocence? Two things were certain: Bentley wanted revenge and, guilty or not, Lilly was his target. Lilly would understand this was nothing more than a ruse . . . wouldn’t she? After all, she was a worldly woman.

  Surely a woman of Lilly’s age and experience also would realize Leadville wasn’t a safe hiding place. Too many itinerant men who had possibly seen that wanted poster. Men who wouldn’t care if they claimed their fortune from a mountain stream or from the bounty on a woman’s life. Truth could put her worries to rest. Jarena would not be heading off to Leadville.

  She gathered the papers together and placed them in her trunk. She would write to Lilly in the morning—after the others were gone from the house—when she could think clearly.

  Her sisters returned a short time later. Truth came in while Grace stood outside the door holding a line with two large fish. “Look what was on the lines I set this morning. I’ll clean them if you’re willing to fry them for supper.”

  Jarena laughed at her sister. “I think I’m getting the better part of that bargain. Truth, why don’t you get me some potatoes from the root cellar and I’ll fry some to go along with that fish.”

  Grace peeked back in the doorway, the fish still dangling from her line. “Best plan on some corn, too. Pappy’s sure to bring enough ears for supper.”

  As Jarena began to clear the dishes from the table, she heard her father ask, “How’d you find things in town, Moses? I took a look-see after church on Sunday and it appeared like the men was makin’ good progress on the newspaper office.”

  “I agree. If the printing press arrived tomorrow, it could be set up. They’ve done a fine job. Unfortunately, the house isn’t coming along so well. I don’t think they’ve done much on the roof since the last time I was over here.”

  Ezekiel wiped his mouth with his checkered napkin and placed it on the table. “I reckon that’d be true. The men’s been helping with a barn raisin’ over near Millbrook. Fire took the old barn. Jest finished gettin’ it up yesterday.”

  He didn’t need to say more. When a family was in need, all those who could help turned out to lend a hand. The new construction of a
fancy house didn’t take precedence over a man needing a barn to store his crops for the winter. It was the way of things on the prairie.

  “Just so long as they have it completed before the snow begins to fly. Harvey Boyle wrote to tell me that he’ll finish his schooling and return to Hill City by the end of November. Once he’s home, Truth and I will be moving to Nicodemus. Truth wants to spend Christmas in her new home.”

  Jarena tried to suppress her jealousy as she watched Truth beam at her husband. Everything seemed to be falling into place exactly according to their desires. Why was her own life so different?

  But then came the still, small voice in her head: Trust—continue to trust.

  The next morning Truth and Moses left to return to Hill City. Jarena waited until Grace and the men departed for the fields before penning her note to Lilly. Finally satisfied with the contents, she carefully tucked the letter into an envelope along with the letter and poster from Bentley and headed off for town. Once she’d delivered the letter to the post office, her duty to Lilly would be done. She only hoped the woman would be careful, for Jarena feared Bentley Cummings was not a man easily discouraged.

  The horse clopped along the familiar road into town, and though Jarena held the reins, the animal didn’t need her assistance to find its way. As the wagon rolled into Nicodemus, Jarena scrutinized the little community with fresh eyes. The town was coming into its own and beginning to take on its own unique personality. Somehow Jarena had developed a fondness for this place that she had, at one time, never wanted to inhabit. It was good to be home.

  She stopped in front of Mr. Wilson’s two-story general store, a limestone building he had lovingly constructed. The structure also housed the local post office, a fact that greatly pleased the proprietor. After posting her letter to Lilly, Jarena retrieved a list from her pocket. A tow-headed young man stepped forward. “I can help you fill your order, if you like.”

  Jarena smiled but held onto the paper. “Thank you, but I’m checking your prices and quality. I want to see what Mr. Green has available in his store and compare his prices before I make my final selections.”

  The boy sighed. “We’ll fill your order for a nickel less than Mr. Green. You go and write down his prices on your list and come back. I’ll figure ’em up, and we’ll give you a better price. I promise.”

  Jarena nodded and exited the store, happy to learn the competition between the two general stores was keeping prices low. She slowly made her way through Mr. Green’s store, her shoes clicking quietly on the wood floor as she moved from shelf to shelf, marking down prices on the sheet of paper.

  “He’s at it again, isn’t he?”

  Jarena startled and turned around. Mr. Green’s round face drooped, with the fleshy folds nearly covering the collar of his white shirt. He was pointing at Jarena’s piece of paper. “Wilson! He’s told you he’ll sell to you for less than my prices, hasn’t he?”

  She wanted to flee from the store, but Mr. Green’s rotund body was blocking her only line of escape. “You go back over there and tell him I will not be undersold. If he lowers your bill by . . . by—well, whatever he offered . . .”

  “A nickel.”

  Mr. Green glowered as he rubbed a beefy hand across his bald head. “Then I’ll lower the total price another seven cents. You tell him I can go on as long as he can. He’ll not steal another customer from me with his conniving ways.” He marched down the aisle and waved Jarena forward. She was the soldier, and Mr. Green was the officer sending her into battle. “And for your information, I carry a higher quality of goods than Mr. Wilson does. And you can tell him I said so. And a better selection, too!” Mr. Green stood in the doorway of his store, continuing to holler after Jarena as she hastened across the street.

  If the two men did this for long, they’d end up filling her order for free. She smiled at the thought as she entered Mr.Wilson’s mercantile. Unfortunately, Mr. Wilson nullified his son’s earlier agreement, conceded defeat, and sent Jarena back across the street to Mr. Green. Jarena managed to complete her shopping at Mr. Green’s mercantile with a nice discount—once she convinced him he should honor his word. The savings paid for both an extra cone of sugar and the postage on Aunt Lilly’s letter. It had been a most satisfying morning!

  Mr. Green placed her purchases in the back of the wagon while Jarena excused herself. The sound of banging hammers mixed with the jovial shouts of workmen beckoned her. She wanted to see the newspaper office before heading home.

  Moses was correct: The limestone building was nearly complete. She wiped a thin layer of dust from one corner of the recently installed windows and peeked inside. The workmen were mounting the new cabinets that would hold all of the wooden type. The highly polished multidrawer cabinets had been handcrafted by John Willbanks, one of the Exodusters the town had sponsored after Grace’s impassioned speech on Emancipation Day. She smiled as she inspected the office— no cottonwood in this building. Instead, special-ordered soft pine grooved and tongued floors had been fitted tight by the carpenters.

  She returned to the wagon, pleased and impressed by what she’d seen. Her articles for the newspaper would actually be printed in that very office—if she decided to write them.

  Strangely, she no longer harbored a desire to leave this place and move to Topeka. Living with her father might prove difficult, but living in Topeka, she decided, wasn’t the answer she was looking for, either. There was no reason she couldn’t remain on the farm and write for the newspaper.

  CHAPTER

  35

  Nicodemus , Kansas • December 1880

  Anew carpet of snow covered the prairie in a thick white wrapper that brightened the countryside appreciably. Jarena’s father had welcomed the fleecy coverlet that would protect the winter wheat he had planted for the first time this fall. It was an experiment of sorts.When the farmers in Nicodemus Township had discovered other farmers were having good success with Turkey Red, a hard winter wheat introduced by the Russian Mennonites who had settled in the state, many decided to try the crop. In September, Ezekiel, with Silas’s help, had sown several acres, and he now rejoiced each time the skies released a snowy cloak of protection for his fields.

  Jarena was busy preparing a savory rabbit stew when Silas and her father returned from the barn. Snowflakes followed them into the house and skittered across the floor, melting as they approached Jarena’s feet. “Close the door!” she called. “We’re quickly losing what little heat this stove is putting out.”

  Ezekiel stomped his feet on the rag rug and winked at Silas. “She won’t mind leavin’ that door open when she sees Truth and Moses is right behind us.”

  Jarena smiled broadly. “Truly?” Her smile soon faded to concern.

  “What brings them out in this weather?”

  “Why shouldn’ they come visit? The snow’s stopped.”

  “For the moment, but look at the sky. Those are snow clouds.”

  Ezekiel shook his head. “You worry too much. This ain’t no blizzard, gal, so don’t go frettin’ when there ain’t no cause.”

  She knew her father’s admonition was sound, but whenever the snow began, she remembered the blizzard years ago when Thomas had headed off for Hill City to fetch the doctor and nearly frozen to death.

  Better if folks stayed home in bad weather. There was no need borrowing trouble.

  Before she could reply to her father’s comment, Truth and Moses entered the house, both of them stomping and shaking off the snow.

  “Sorry for the mess,” Truth called to her sister. “Where’s Grace?”

  “She’s on her way in from the barn,” Jarena answered. “What brings you two out on a day like this?”

  “A day like this? Why, it’s wonderful outdoors—especially snuggled under blankets in the sleigh.” Truth held up a pair of ice skates and waved them as Grace came into the house. “I brought my ice skates along in case you want to go skating later.”

  Jarena frowned and shook her head. “I doub
t the river is frozen enough for skating. Best you both stay indoors.”

  Moses pulled a chair close to the stove. “That sounds like an excellent suggestion to me.” He rubbed his hands together. “We have a bit of news to share with you.”

  Truth hurried to his side while Jarena held her breath. Were they going to announce that Truth was expecting a baby? If so, Jarena knew that envy would besiege her like a hungry wolf stalking its next meal.

  Moses retrieved an envelope from his jacket pocket and held it up. “I received a letter from the newspaper in New York. They assigned a reporter to investigate Rutledge Academy. I shared this news with Dr. Boyle only yesterday; and now we want to tell the rest of you—especially you, Silas.”

  Jarena slowly exhaled and sat down. Guilt quickly laid claim to her thoughts. How could she begrudge her own sister the joy of a child? How selfish! Yet the truth was there to face her. She was relieved and, yes, even a little pleased that the news was about Macia’s school.

  “Isn’t that astonishing, Jarena?” Truth was staring at her wide-eyed.

  “What? I’m sorry, I didn’t hear . . .”

  Truth tapped her fingers on the table. “And you accuse me of daydreaming!” She giggled and gave Jarena a fleeting embrace. “The newspaper reporter from New York, Mr. Campbell, discovered the owners of the school had been purchasing life insurance policies on some of the girls without their knowledge. They had purchased one for Macia Boyle.”

  “What? Why would they do such a thing?”

  Truth sighed. “Because if the girls die, they collect the money on their lives.”

  Silas shook his head. “And there was several girls that died while I was at dat school. Reckon Macia woulda been next iffen Truth hadn’t been watchin’ out for her.”

  “Not just me, Silas. If you hadn’t helped, I never could have gotten her safely back to Kansas. We would have remained there, and likely we both would have died.”