When both Vickie and Nicholas were clean, Mother stood looking at the mess by the chair. She shook her head. “I never thought I’d say this, but I now see a definite advantage to a dirt floor. Eliza, see if you can find the spade in John’s wagon.”
When Eliza returned, Mother took the spade and cut through the tough grass roots. She turned vomit and grass neatly upside down in the shallow hole she dug. Cora’s knife poised over the meat she’d been cutting as her dignified mother calmly smoothed the fresh dirt in the middle of their home. Then she packed it into place with her high-topped shoes.
How could she adjust to these primitive conditions? Mother had never been a stranger to cleaning. She’d always insisted on helping the hired lady, just as she’d insisted on her daughters doing their part. But digging in the floor was not normal cleaning. This was barbaric. No woman should be required to live like this.
Cora turned from the dark scar on the floor to Nicholas lying on the bed. Vickie sat beside him stroking his head by gently brushing his hair back from his white face. Something was terribly wrong with him, and there was no doctor within a hundred miles in any direction. What if he didn’t get better?
Mother sat on the other side of her grandson, but she watched Vickie. “Maybe you should stay in the shelter with us tonight.”
Vickie looked up. “Why, Mother?”
“In case you need help.” Mother stood. “Perhaps this happened for a reason.”
“What do you mean?” Vickie frowned.
“God is showing us we need each other. What would you have done if you and John were off by yourselves? The girls said Lenny was with Nichols when he fell. What if no one had been there? What if you hadn’t found him right away?”
Tears glistened in Vickie’s eyes. “He’ll be all right. They did find him and brought him right in.”
“Yes, this time. But Vickie, if you move away from here, out by yourself, there will be no one to help you in case something happens. Surely you realize we need to stay together.”
“But John . . .”
“There’s land right here that John can have.” Mother moved off the wooden platform to the stove. Her straight back indicated the conversation was closed.
Cora handed Mother the venison she’d cut then took a bowl and the pecans Aaron had given her and slipped outside to shell them. If Father could work in the woods on Sunday, surely she could pick out a few pecans. The trail the wagon had made through the tall grass was empty. Why didn’t the men come home? Aaron had been working with them, but in the two weeks he helped her father she’d seen little of him. Not that it mattered. He almost never spoke to her. He was good-looking, though, and he intrigued her, drew her in a way she’d never felt before with any other young man. She sighed. He had the most interesting dimple in his chin.
Ralph’s friendliness made Aaron seem even more reticent. Cora picked the halves from a pecan and dropped them in the bowl. Ralph was so open he probably didn’t know how to hide his emotions. For brothers, they were sure different. She cracked another pecan. That day in the woods, when she first met Aaron, she thought he was gruff and unfeeling. But he’d noticed her spilled pecans and cared enough to replace them. When he gave them to her, he seemed kind and a little shy.
Ralph hadn’t bothered to bring pecans. George wouldn’t have even thought of such a kindness. Only Aaron had gone out of his way for her. For two weeks, he’d worked hard in the woods for her family, expecting nothing in return. He was much nicer than she first thought.
The image of Nicholas lying so still and white kept intruding into Cora’s mind. Maybe Mother was right. They needed to stay together. What of Father’s disregard for the day set aside to worship God? They hadn’t been to church since they left Saint Louis. Of course, there was no church to attend, but did that mean they could work on Sunday as if it were any other day? Mother said Grandfather Melville would turn over in his grave. Maybe Nicholas getting hurt was a punishment. Again, a gentle nudge for her own shortcomings touched her. She shivered and turned back to her pecans.
Cora’s bowl was almost full when the wagon bounced over the trail toward home. She met the wagon and told the men what had happened. John rushed to Nicholas and lifted him carefully into his arms. Father shook his head, his normally pleasant face sober. “I was afraid something like this would happen.”
“We tried to keep them away from the logs, Father.” Cora still thought part of the blame belonged to him. “Maybe if you hadn’t worked today . . .”
He looked at her. “What difference would that have made?”
She studied her hands. Her voice lowered. “It’s Sunday.”
“So?” Father combed his fingers through the thin blond hair on top of his head. “Cora, you’re not making any sense.”
A special bond had always existed between Cora and her father. As a small child, she’d been his shadow. The candle shop was her second home. Often when Father started a sentence, she knew how it would end. The dreams and thoughts they shared had been the same. Until now. Until he decided there was something wrong with civilization.
“Thou shalt remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy.” She met Father’s gaze.
He stared at her, a frown on his face. Without warning, he grinned. “So we’re quoting Scripture. How about the one that says if your ox gets in the ditch on Sunday it’s all right to get him out?”
Was he joking? Cora frowned. She looked at Nicholas and back at Father. “Nicholas could have been killed, Father.”
The grin left his face. “Two little boys disobeyed. Do you somehow think I caused this by trying to use every spare moment of daylight to get a house built for my family before winter sets in?”
He patted her shoulder and walked away with a sad smile.
Cora stared after him. That made sense. What kind of God would hurt a little boy for something his grandfather did? Was God an unbending, unloving, forceful God who frightened people into serving Him? If so, what good was there in being a Christian, anyway? She wouldn’t bother worrying about such things when there was so much else to think about. Only one more week until their house raising when they’d meet all the neighbors. She could hardly wait.
Chapter 6
Cora woke to the morning sun shining across her face. Her feet barely touched the dirt floor before her mother called to her. “Cora, will you please set the table?”
Eliza came in from outside and spoke before Cora could. “I’ll do it, Mother. Cora probably needs to go out first.”
“Oh, of course. Run on, Cora.” Mother glanced up. “Hurry back in. As soon as breakfast is over, we’ll have to start on the noon meal. The beds need to be made up. I wonder how many there’ll be to feed.”
“The Starks will be here.” Eliza smiled as she moved to the stove. “And didn’t they say there were a couple of other families nearby that might help?”
Cora pulled the blanket of the shelter back and stepped outdoors. Low clouds covered the sky, but the temperature wasn’t too cold. At least they’d get a real house before winter. Eliza seemed in a good mood. Knowing her, she hoped to see Ralph Stark. Cora went down the faint path to the hastily constructed outhouse. Father and Ben were already working at the building site.
As Cora returned to the shelter, a man’s voice called out. The Starks had arrived early. She ducked inside. “Mother, the Starks are already here. We haven’t even had breakfast.”
Mother frowned. “We’ll have the men eat first so they can get right to work. That’ll leave room for the rest of us when they’re finished.”
“I’ll go see if the Starks have eaten.” Eliza headed toward the door.
Mother sighed. “I supposed we’ll have to ask, although I don’t know what we’ll feed them. Eliza, if their women folk came, too, invite them in.”
Cora carried the everyday dishes to the table. She finished just as Vickie stepped in and held the blanket back as one after another began filing in until there was scarcely room for another person. Father came
in last.
“We just come in to say howdy.” Mr. Stark’s friendly voice boomed in the crowded room. “We done et, ma’am, but sure do thank ye for the invite. Guess you city folks lay abed a mite longer than we’re used to. Me and the boys’ll step back out and get some of them bottom boards laid out for ya.”
He nodded toward Mother and stepped out the door. Aaron followed him while Father, John, and Ben sat down to eat.
Ralph grinned at the girls. “Sure couldn’t cuss a cat in here without gettin’ hair in your mouth, could ya?
Cora looked into Ralph’s laughing blue eyes. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“I said ya sure couldn’t—”
“She heard you. Now say it proper-like so’s she can understand.” A girl near Cora’s age stood beside Ralph. Her large blue eyes looked from Ralph to Cora.
“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with the way I talk.” Ralph glared at the girl.
She glared back. “Not if you don’t never plan to better yourself.” Her expression softened as she turned it on Cora. “He meant it’s crowded in here.”
“I see.” Cora couldn’t stop looking at Ralph’s sister. At least she assumed that’s who she was. A feminine version of her brothers, her long, thick black hair had been done up in two braids, then coiled together at the back of her head. A creamy complexion covered perfect features on her unsmiling face. Sooty, long lashes framed large eyes as remarkably blue as her brothers’.
Cora smiled at her. “I’m Cora Jackson. I assume you’re Ralph’s sister?”
“Afraid so.”
Cora’s smile froze. “I hope we can be friends.”
The other girl smiled then, although her smile looked anything but friendly. “I’m sure we will be. We don’t have much choice, do we?”
“Aw, don’t mind Ivy.” Ralph grinned at Cora. “She’s got her back up ‘cause there’s no one much around these parts.”
“Oh, hush up, Ralph. You got no more ambition than a hound dog layin’ by the fire on a rainy day.” Ivy frowned. “You’d better go outside with Pa afore Aaron gets all the work done.”
Eliza picked that moment to squeeze between Cora and Ralph. She smiled at Ralph. “Hi.”
“Hi, yourself, little one.” Ralph grinned and backed away. “Guess I’ll be seeing you all later. Right now I gotta go prove I got more ambition than a hound dog.”
“Girls, come and meet Mrs. Stark.” Mother motioned them forward. “Mrs. Stark, these are my daughters. Vickie is the oldest. Cora, and then Eliza.”
Cora barely managed a respectable greeting. Never had she seen a woman so careworn and dirty as Mrs. Stark. Her face, crisscrossed with wrinkles, was brown and leathery. How old was the woman? When she smiled, her discolored teeth showed black spots of decay. But her eyes were large and brilliantly blue. Long, curling black lashes framed them, giving the only clue that Mrs. Stark had once been a beautiful girl.
Cora’s gaze swept past the black hair streaked with gray and met Ivy’s challenging stare. She looked away. Did Ivy see the repulsion Cora felt at the sight of her mother? No word was spoken, yet the hostility in the other girl’s expression said everything. She loved her mother and would tolerate no criticism.
Mrs. Stark crossed the room to the wood cook stove. She looked at it then shook her head. “I ain’t never seen such a contraption as that afore.”
“Do you mean the cook stove?” Mother sounded unsure.
“Cook stove.” Mrs. Stark dragged out the words. She walked back to the rocking chair. “Don’t know as I’d want a thing like that takin’ up the whole side of my house. Been cookin’ in the hearth all my life and ‘spect to keep right on adoin’ it.”
She sat down and rubbed the smooth varnish on the chair arm. “You’uns got some mighty purty things. Looky there, Ivy, if that ain’t real china on that table.”
She pointed with a graceful, slender finger. She clucked her tongue, shaking her head. “Purty as it is, won’t be long till that’s nothin’ but chips and scratches. Tin’s what ya need. Somethin’ practical that’ll last.”
Mother stood. “I’m sure you’re right. Well, girls, we’d better have our breakfast. It won’t be any time before we’ll have to start cooking again. Would you and Ivy care to join us, Mrs. Stark?”
“Shucks. Jist call me Jennett. T’ain’t much need to stand on ceremony around these parts.” She grinned at Mother. “What’s your given name?”
“Opal.”
“Well, I thank ye, Opal.” Mrs. Stark’s snaggle-toothed grin was wide and friendly. “You’uns go right on ahead. Me and Ivy’s still full as a tick from our breakfast. We’ll be fine right here.”
“All right, we will.” Mother motioned for the girls to sit.
Mrs. Stark called out as they started eating. “Don’t s-pose you all would mind if I take a smoke?”
Cora stared at her plate, afraid to look up for fear her expression would give away her shock. From the corner of her eye, she saw the woman lift her skirt and reach into a pocket in her petticoat. She pulled out a clay pipe, followed by a muslin bag of tobacco.
“I . . . I suppose not.” Mother never stuttered. “Do…do you n-need anything?”
“Why, thanky kindly. I’ve got all I need right here ’ceptin’ the light, but I can git that off’n your fire.” Mrs. Stark filled her pipe, stood, and crossed the room to the cook stove. She tore a large splinter from a piece of firewood and held it out toward the stove.
Mother shoved her chair back and hurried around the table to grab up the grate handle. “Here, let me help you.”
She lifted a grate and stepped back while Mrs. Stark stuck one end of the splinter into the firebox.
“Now ain’t that handy?” Mrs. Stark lit her pipe, puffing on it until smoke came out around the stem. Seemingly oblivious to their shocked stares, she settled back into the rocker and sighed.
The creaking of a wagon and voices calling out alerted them to another family arriving. Cora pushed her plate back. She’d eaten all she could. She followed the others outside. A man and woman climbed down from the seat. Children had already started emptying from the wagon.
“Hello.” Mother held out her hand to the woman. “I’m Opal Jackson. It’s so nice of you to come and help.”
The woman gave Mother a quick hug. “You don’t know how glad we are to have close neighbors. I’m Agnes Newkirk and this is my brood.”
The younger children ran from the wagon toward Lenny and Nicholas. Agnes called out the names as they hurried past. “Gilbert, Margaret, Arthur, Gerard, and Joan.” She yelled after the departing children. “Stay away from the workers. Margaret, keep an eye on Joan.”
At the back of the wagon, a girl in her teens climbed down and lifted her hands to her baby sister. The little one fell into the girl’s arms. She brought her around the wagon and handed her to her mother. Mrs. Newkirk smiled as she took the baby. “This is Ellen, our youngest.”
“That was Rebekah. She’s gone back to help our oldest daughter, Esther.” She indicated the two girls at the back of the wagon struggling with a large box.
Cora only half listened. She couldn’t help staring at Esther, a girl close to her age. If an angel came to earth and took on human form, she’d look like Esther. Her hair, the color of ripe wheat, shone in the sunlight that peeked through the clouds. A gentle wave dipped across her forehead from a low side part. Her hair fell loose and full around her face, while a braid at the back of her neck held it in place.
“Here, let me get that box.” Cora shifted her gaze to her older brother as he stepped to the wagon. He lifted his hands toward Esther and smiled. “May I help you down?”
Esther’s eyes sparkled as she placed her hands lightly on his shoulders. “Thank you.” Her voice had a soft Southern accent like her mother’s.
Ben lifted her from the wagon and set her on the soft dirt. Cora covered her smirk. Ben was smitten.
He took his time looking at Esther but finally turned to the box and carried it around
the wagon. “Mother, where do you want this? It smells good.”
“Take it to the shelter. Vickie will show you where to put it.” Mother turned back to Mrs. Newkirk. “How thoughtful of you to bring something for the meal.”
Mrs. Newkirk laughed. “Anywhere I go with my bunch, I always carry extra. I wouldn’t dream of expecting you to provide for all of us.”
Mother looked toward the building site where the men had started work. “I’d cook all day and all night, too, if I had to for a real house.”
“I know what you mean, but about now you’re probably running short on supplies.” Mrs. Newkirk looked at the small shelter. “We didn’t even have that good a place when we first came last year. We arrived in the spring and camped outdoors.”
Cora rounded the corner of the wagon with Eliza and Ivy following. She smiled at Esther. “Hi, I’m Cora Jackson.” She turned to indicate the two girls with her. “This is my little sister, Eliza, and our neighbor, Ivy Stark.”
“I’m so glad to meet you.” Esther gave them all a welcoming smile. “I’m Esther Newkirk and this is my little sister, Rebekah. We’ve met Ivy but don’t get to visit often.” She turned to Ivy. “It’s nice seeing you again.”
Ivy turned away.
“I hope you’ll like it here.” Esther looked at Cora then turned toward the cedar trees and the creek in the distance. “It’s beautiful country.”
“Beautiful!” Ivy swung around. “You can’t live on beauty. You can’t eat it. You can’t wear it or keep warm by it.” She looked back at the men and tossed her head. “First chance I get, I’m gettin’ married, but it won’t be to just anybody.” Her eyes shifted to Ben. “The man I marry will have money, and he’ll take me away from this place. Then I won’t have to work like a horse ‘til I’m old and ugly.”
“Life is hard here.” Esther’s rich southern tones soothed. “But I remember what Paul said in the Bible. ‘I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.’ That always helps me.”
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