by Alison Hart
They’d made it!
Ida collapsed in her mother’s arms. John Jacob fell to his knees. Miss Simmons blinked as if in a daze.
“We made it, Miss Simmons.” Anna took the teacher’s arm and led her to the doorway. Then she went back to help John Jacob, who was still kneeling on the hard-packed snow.
She grasped his elbow.
With frosty mittens, he tugged his scarf away from his mouth. “I can get up myself, thank you. I was trying to kiss the good earth, but my lips are too froze. I’ll just have to thank the Lord instead.”
A giggle bubbled in Anna’s chest. “I was worried I’d lost you in a drift somewhere, John Jacob. Like we’d been playing Crack the Whip and you’d been flung off!”
“Why, I’ve never been flung off,” he retorted as he struggled to his feet. Then his blue lips tipped up in a grin. “When the snow quits tomorrow, I bet we can find some frozen prairie chickens.”
“And dig a snow fort.”
“And go sledding.” John Jacob grinned wider at Anna. She grinned back, wincing as the skin on her chapped lips cracked. “Well, I gotta get out of these boots,” he said, “and inspect my toes. Might be this time I got frostbite.”
Still smiling, Anna watched him limp into the house.
Papa passed him in the doorway. “You gave us a scare, Miss Anna,” he said.
“I gave myself a scare,” she replied. “Rattlers, coyotes, grasshoppers, drought. Why, they’re nothing compared to this blizzard. Are Mama and Little Seth all right?”
“Snug as those bedbugs your mama hates.”
“And what about the sheep?”
“Mama saw the clouds and drove them home. Now quit fretting and come inside.” He pulled off her wool cap. It had frozen into the shape of a bowl. “Missus Friesen can pour you some soup in this,” he joked, then he pulled her tight against his heavy coat. “Mister Friesen and I tried to get through to the school earlier, but the wind beat us back. When there was a slight letup, we decided to try again. We were so afraid …” His words lodged in his throat.
“I know, Papa,” Anna whispered into his buttons. “I know.”
“Come on, let’s get you in where it’s warm.” Arm around her shoulder, Papa led her toward the open door.
“Wait.” Anna looked around. “Where’s Top? I ain’t leaving him out in this storm.”
He chuckled. “Come on inside.” Gently he steered her into the house.
The Friesens’ two-room soddy was bursting with children and wet clothes. Top stood in the middle of it all, munching a forkful of hay.
Anna’s jaw dropped. John Jacob’s mama was not one to invite a pony inside.
“Miss Simmons led Top in,” Papa explained. “When Missus Friesen ordered the pony outside, your teacher wouldn’t hear of it.”
Anna’s gaze went to Miss Simmons. She was bent over, helping Carolina and Sally Lil take off their boots. William, George, and Karl were telling all the little Friesens about the roof blowing off. Mrs. Friesen was stirring something on the stove. Ida had changed into a dry shift. Now she was helping Eloise and Ruth out of their wet outer clothes.
“Everyone’s all right?” Anna asked, amazed.
“A few cases of frostnip,” Mr. Friesen said. He was holding an armful of stiff coats. “Thank the Lord we found you when we did. You weren’t more than three rods from the house. But in this weather …” He shuddered. “The children tell me you led them from the school, Anna. You did a fine job.”
“Not me. Top. Top knew where to go. He led us to the house.” Unknotting the shawl, she hurried over to the pony. His coat was matted and wet, snow clung to his feathers, and his mane hung in icy strings.
“You are a sight.” She hugged him hard. “When we get home, I promise to give you a good brushing.” She lowered her voice. “And a measure of corn. Only don’t tell Papa.”
“Anna?”
Anna turned to see Miss Simmons coming around the stove toward her.
“Is your pony all right?”
“Yes’m. Thank you for inviting him inside. Though I doubt Missus Friesen’s too happy.”
“It’s the least I could do.” Reaching out, Miss Simmons gingerly patted the pony. “You and Top saved our lives.”
Anna flushed. She took off her shawl and draped it over a kitchen chair. “Not me, ma’am. It was Top. He led us through the storm. I just hung on.”
Miss Simmons frowned, and Anna fidgeted, wondering what she’d done wrong this time.
“Now you listen to me, young lady,” Miss Simmons said firmly. “You and Top led us through the storm. You and Top saved our lives.” Her frown softened. “You, Anna Vail, are one of the bravest girls I know.”
Anna blinked at her teacher, not sure why all the praise. “Thank you, Miss Simmons. Only there wasn’t nothing brave about it. It’s like tending sheep. Top and I knew we had to get the flock to safety.”
Miss Simmons smiled. “You did that. And I thank you.”
Embarrassed, Anna flushed harder. She’d never heard so many thank-yous in all her life. She nodded to the other side of the room. “Don’t forget to thank Ida and John Jacob and, well, everybody. They were all brave. Even Carolina and Eloise.”
Anna looked at Eloise, who was inspecting one of Ida’s dry sweaters like it might have lice. “Well, maybe not Eloise,” she added under her breath. Just then Sally Lil ran over and flung her arms around Anna’s waist. She held tightly, not saying a word, until finally Anna had to pry away her arms. “Goodness, Sally Lil. What’s that all about?”
“That’s for saving us,” Sally Lil replied, her cropped hair sticking up in wet spikes. “Even Eloise said you’re a hero.”
Anna’s brows rose in doubtful surprise and then she shook her head. “You were just as brave, Sally Lil, for holding onto Carolina so she wouldn’t fall off Top.”
Sally Lil’s lips parted in a gasp. “I was brave, wasn’t I?” she exclaimed before skipping back to the other girls.
Anna turned to her teacher, who’d slumped on to the kitchen chair. “And you were brave, too, Miss Simmons! Especially for a schoolmarm from back East.”
“Thank you. I hold your opinion in fine regard.”
Anna ran her hand down Top’s mane, plucking off icicles. “Um, I hope this blizzard won’t chase you back to Boston,” she added quietly. “Folks round here will rebuild the school in no time. And we’ll still need a fine teacher like you.”
Miss Simmons sighed. Anna peeked over at her. The teacher’s cheeks were streaked with soot. Her skirt was stained from the melting snow. Her hair looked like a tangled skein of wool.
Absently, Miss Simmons tucked a strand back into her bun. “I must say, today was a trying one. Snakes, spiders, storms. That’s a lot for a lady from Boston to handle.”
Anna’s shoulders fell.
“So if I stay, I’ll need help.”
“If you stay?” Anna repeated, her eyes widening.
Miss Simmons nodded. “Despite today’s hardships, I think we learned many important lessons. And isn’t that what school’s all about? So how about we make a promise to each other, Anna.”
“What kind of promise?”
“If you promise to keep coming to learn, I’ll promise to keep coming to teach.”
Anna scrunched her face as she pondered Miss Simmons’s promise.
The teacher crossed her arms. “It’s the only way, Anna. I can’t handle rattlers and blizzards without Top’s and your help.”
“Well, in that case, I guess I have no choice,” Anna said. “Me and Top promise to keep coming. I know the others would hate to see the school close down.” She patted the pony. “Is that all right with you, Top?” she asked, but he was too busy crunching hay to reply.
“At least I’ll come on days the sheep don’t need tending,” Anna added quickly.
“Then it’s a deal.” Miss Simmons tilted her head. “I can learn a lot about the prairie from you, Anna Vail. And you know, a little book learning could help a shee
pherder like you.”
Anna shrugged. “Yeah, I reckon it couldn’t hurt. I can use arithmetic to keep track of my flock.” Then she grinned. “And who knows, one day knowing all the names of the presidents of Nebraska might just come in handy.”
LIKE ANNA, ALISON HART grew up on horseback and rode her first pony, Ted, bareback. But she’s never tried to herd sheep or ride in a snowstorm! Hart says she loves to write historical fiction because of the way history has shaped our lives today. She is the author of many books for young readers, including the three exciting titles of the Racing to Freedom Trilogy—GABRIEL’S HORSES, GABRIEL’S TRIUMPH, and GABRIEL’S JOURNEY—all Junior Library Guild Selections.
Hart lives in Virginia with her husband, two kids, two dogs, three horses, and one spoiled guinea pig. She teaches English and creative writing at Blue Ridge Community College in the Shenandoah Valley.
MORE ABOUT LIFE ON THE PRAIRIE IN THE 1880S
SURVIVING THE CHILDREN’S BLIZZARD
On January 12, 1888, a storm struck the Great Plains. Homesteaders and ranchers were used to snowstorms, but they were not prepared for this. The weather that morning was mild and sunny. Many children, like Anna and John Jacob, had gone to school as usual. Then, without warning, clouds covered the sun and it began to snow. The warm air turned icy. Bitter winds whipped the snow and soil into a blinding fury, making it impossible to see. During the day, the temperature dropped quickly. In some places it dropped over 70 degrees. By evening it was 40 degrees below zero!
Nebraskans named this terrible storm “The Schoolchildren’s Blizzard.” Like Anna and her friends, many children were trapped at school when the storm hit. Some children and teachers tried to get home. They found their way through the blinding snow by following rows of cornstalks and fence lines. Others survived by tunneling in haystacks or hiding beneath overturned sleds. Tragically, hundreds of settlers died during the blizzard.
Schoolchildren on the prairie
Anna and her pony Top Hat are fictional heroes of the great blizzard. But there were many stories of real survivors and their brave deeds. One well-known story is about Minnie May Freeman. Like Anna’s teacher Miss Simmons, Miss Freeman taught in a sod schoolhouse. When the storm ripped the tarpaper roof off the school, Minnie tied her pupils together with rope. She led them through the snow to a nearby farmhouse. She became so famous that a song was written about her called “Thirteen Were Saved, or Nebraska’s Fearless Maid.”
ENDURING EVERYDAY HARDSHIPS
Homesteaders on the prairie braved more than storms. Most homesteaders were poor, and everyday life was hard.
All year long the wind blew constantly. In the summer, the sun scorched the land and grasshoppers ate the crops. In the bitter winter temperatures, settlers often suffered frozen fingers and toes. Livestock ranging on the prairie froze to death during the severe snowstorms.
“Prairie coal”
Wood was scarce on the plains. Yet homesteaders needed fires in their stoves to cook and keep warm. They had to find other forms of fuel. They learned to burn corncobs, sunflower stalks, and weeds. They discovered that buffalo and cow chips made good fires. The homesteaders called these dried patties of animal dung “prairie coal.”
BUILDING SOD HOUSES
Because the prairie lacked trees and lumber was expensive to transport, most homesteaders could not build houses of wood. They adopted the local Native American custom of building with sod, the thick top layer of the grass-covered soil. To construct houses and schools, the settlers cut the sod into fifty-pound blocks one foot wide, two feet long, and four inches thick. The tough roots of the prairie grass held the soil in the blocks tightly together. Settlers made walls by laying the blocks grassy side down and stacking them like bricks. It took about an acre of land to cut enough blocks for a small sod house. Then the homesteaders added roofs by placing a row of cottonwood poles across the top of the walls and laying tarpaper or sod over the poles.
Sod house
Soddies were warm in winter and cool in summer, and they wouldn’t burn in a prairie fire. But they leaked when it rained and dirt fell from the walls and ceilings. The floors were hard-packed dirt, so nothing ever stayed clean. Soddies were also homes to mice, reptiles, bedbugs, fleas, flies, and lice. “We all took baths with plenty of sheep dip in the water,” Sarah Olds, a Nevada homesteader wrote about rooting out fleas and lice. “I boiled all our clothes in sheep dip and kerosene.”
Prairie girl
LIVING ON A PRAIRIE FARM
Chores on a farm were never ending. Children as young as six years old milked cows, collected eggs, hauled water, tended sheep, and fed the stove. Five-year-old Grace McCance herded cattle all day, alone on the prairie. In the spring and summer, crops needed to be planted and harvested, weeded and watered. That meant children only attended school from October to May. Like Eugene, many only attended school when it was an “off day” on the family farm.
GOING TO SCHOOL
To most children, school was a welcome relief from chores. The school was often miles away, and children arrived on foot, on horseback, and in buggies. Laura Ingalls Wilder’s daughter Rose rode her donkey, Spookendyke, to school. Some students brought their own slates and writing tablets. Some also brought Bibles, magazines, and McGuffey’s Readers carefully covered with oilcloth wrappers to share with their classmates. All students brought their lunches. Rose Wilder brought an apple and slices of brown bread spread with bacon grease because “we were too poor to have butter.”
A McGuffey’s Reader
Anna and her friends were lucky to get a kind, educated teacher like Miss Simmons. Many teachers were as young as sixteen and seventeen years old. Many had no experience. They worked for little pay: thirty-five dollars a month or ten dollars with room and board. Anna and her friends were also lucky to have a blackboard, ink, and pens. Many teachers and students had to write on old packing papers or in the dirt floor of the school.
Inside a sod schoolhouse
PLAYTIME ON THE PRAIRIE
Despite the chores and hardships, children living on the prairie did have fun. At school, they played baseball or entertained themselves with group games called Snap the Whip, Red Rover, and Run Sheep Run. When it snowed, they built forts, made snowmen, and skated on the frozen river.
Indoors, they played checkers, chess, dominoes, and card games like Old Maid and Our Birds. Adults encouraged kids to play board games such as Errand Boy and Mansion of Happiness because they taught “lessons,” for example, the importance of working hard and being honest.
A popular board game of the time
Children used their imaginations to have fun as well. Grace McCance tells about tying strings to tumbleweeds and riding them like horses. Other playful activities included swimming in water troughs, making dolls from cornhusks, building playhouses from buffalo bones, and weaving flowers into necklaces.
Prairie children also loved their pets. Eliza McAuley had a pet antelope named Jennie who “came bounding to me and followed me home.” Like Anna, Virginia Reed loved her pony, Billy. “How I enjoyed riding my pony, galloping over the plain gathering wildflowers!” Grace McCance adored her red heifer calf. “She was an odd-looking beast, I know, but to me she was beautiful. I named her Bess and loved her all my life.”
A doll made from corn husks
Most children growing up on the prairie did not feel that their lives were tough. Rattlesnakes, grasshopper plagues, and thunderstorms were adventures, not hardships. Like Anna, they loved their sod homes on the wild, grassy plains.
IN 1888 …
Women could not vote! It would be thirty-one more years (1919) before women could vote for the President of the United States.
There were two terrible blizzards. From March 11 to March 14, forty to fifty inches of snow fell on the East Coast from Maryland to Maine. Winds blew up to 48 miles per hour, causing snowdrifts forty to fifty feet high. More than 400 deaths were attributed to the “Great White Hurricane,” as it was later named
.
Alcott
Twain
Kids were reading Little Women by Louisa May Alcott and The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain—books that are still popular today.
Christmas was also an important celebration. Even homesteaders living in the poorest of soddies made the most of the day. A wild plum bush or tumbleweed might be decorated with paper chains and strings of popcorn. A stocking might hold an orange and some nuts. “Mother made our Christmas gifts,” a child recalls. “A matchbox covered with pretty paper and decorated with pictures from the seed catalog was one of my treasured gifts.”
Folks were drinking Coca-Cola! The syrup for the drink was invented in 1886 and sold for five cents a glass as a soda fountain drink. Its popularity increased when “bubbles” (carbonated water) were added to make it “delicious and refreshing.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE
The quote about living in a sod home came from Twenty Miles from a Match: Homesteading in Western Nevada by Sarah E. Olds (University of Nevada Press, 1978). The quote from Grace McCance came from Andrea Warren’s book Pioneer Girl: Growing up on the Prairie. The quote from Virginia Reed came from Words West. The quote from Eliza McAuley came from Settler’s Children: Growing up on the Great Plains by Elizabeth Hampsten (University of Oklahoma Press). The quote from Rose Wilder came from Growing Up in Pioneer America by Judith Pinkerton Josephson.
