“Your partner in there is tellin’ me you think you’re goin’ to run with me.”
“I was thinkin’ about it,” he said. “It could be one of the last runs in this land. I’d hate to miss it.”
“From what I see you’ve got nothin’ to run to or from,” Corinne said.
“That’s true,” he said. “It sure sounds excitin’ though.”
“That’s what Hank was always searchin’ for, somethin’ excitin’. I doubt it’ll be all it’s expected to be.”
“Would you mind if I came along?” he asked.
“I’d love it,” Corinne said. “But it’s here you belong.”
“I’ll decide in the mornin’,” he said. “I’d like to, but I know it’s hard on Barnette bein’ alone. She’s got the baby and then all the chores.”
“You’re the best man I know, Daniel,” Corinne said. “I wish I had found me a man like you and not the one I had.”
“I’m not the only one, you know. There’s a good man out there for you. Maybe you’ll find him on the run.”
“Any man comes at me like that and there will be a run,” Corinne chuckled. “It’ll be me runnin’ away. No thanks. I’ll go it alone.”
“I’m goin’ to put you in my prayers tonight, Corinne. I’m goin’ to pray that there’s a man out there that knows just how to change your mind.”
She shoved her brother’s arm playfully. “Put your prayin’ toward somethin’ worthwhile, big brother. I’m goin’ to bed.”
Corinne whistled for Mince and he sprung from the darkness. “Is he alright in the house?” she asked.
“Sure, why not?”
Corinne checked with Barnette about the dog before calling out her good-nights and climbing the stairs. She lay a tiny blanket out on the rug for Mince and directed him onto it. The blanket was a tattered rag now. When she had laid Dustin’s tiny body in his grave he had whined through the night. Corinne offered him the baby’s blanket and he had dragged it into the corner and lay his head down upon it, his eyes pitiful and lost. Now Mince was as attached to it as a child.
In the darkness Corinne listened to the sounds of the night in the big farmhouse. She heard the stairs creak and the hushed voices of Daniel and his wife. In the morning she’d make a good pie, she thought, and prepare to be on her way. As much as she would have appreciated the company she was ready to go on alone. In a few days she’d have her land. She had to believe that. She was convinced that she could not stay with Daniel and Barnette. They belonged together and it was their home.
Chapter Eight
The morning sunlight streamed across the bed as Corinne lay quietly. She could make out Elijah’s giggles and the echoes of Daniel’s boots on the stairs. The smell of fresh bacon on the griddle and a good hardwood fire in the stove wafted up as Barnette called up the stairs.
Corinne pulled the blankets closer for a brief moment, enjoying the softness of a good feather bed, then got up and dressed quickly. She washed in the cool water from the pitcher and tied back her hair.
When she walked into the kitchen she could not help but smile. Daniel was dodging the flying bits of flapjacks Elijah was flinging towards him while half-heartedly scolding the child. Mince began to gulp down the pieces on the floor and Elijah immediately gave up his father as a food target and dropped a piece of the pancake to the floor. Mince captured the morsel mid-air, his jaws making a hollow clunk as he caught the food. Little Elijah was immediately consumed in a fit of laughter and Mince sat up expectantly and wagged his tail.
Barnette smiled broadly. “Can we keep him?” she asked, pointing to the dog with her long spatula.
Daniel shook his head and poured a cup of steaming coffee for himself and his sister.
Corinne sat through breakfast listening to Daniel and Barnette plan their day. She had heard their voices low into the night, certain that they were discussing the land run. She smiled when Barnette looked up at her, enjoying family at the table. It didn’t matter what they said, what Corinne heard was only their love for one another.
The sun shone warm on the strawberry field as Corinne directed Barnette. “Just ripe is best,” she said, pointing to a berry.
“I’ll put up the riper ones for jelly. Like this one,” Barnette said, holding up a deep, red berry that had just begun to turn soft. “You like jelly, right?”
Corinne smiled in response and gently picked several large berries. The low plants spread across the rich soil, bursting with ripe strawberries, and their pails were filled quickly. Corinne watched Barnette run her forearm across her glistening brow as she worked in the sun.
“Barnette.” Corinne stood up straight. “Tell me how you feel about Daniel goin’ with me to the land run. The truth.”
“We talked last night. I think he’s decided to pass. I’m sorry.”
“Oh!” Corinne said, relieved. “I’d love the company, most definitely. But I know how hard it is when you’ve got no help. I’m glad he’s stayin’. He’s a good man.”
“You’ve changed,” Barnette said frankly.
“I didn’t know before,” Corinne said. “All those times Hank and I came around I never thought about what it was like for you keepin’ the farm alone while we took Daniel off with us. I’m sorry for that.”
Barnette touched Corinne’s arm softly.
They continued to squat in the field beneath the warm morning sun staying ahead of Elijah who picked berries and bugs and small rocks, offering each to the dog before placing them in his tiny pail.
In the farmhouse kitchen Corinne rolled the lard between the spoon and the table until it formed a ball the size of an egg. She then dropped it into the mound of flour she had piled on the table. She cut the fat into the flour with brisk motions. The lard clumped the flour together into balls like tiny peas. She collected the mixture, mounded it into a pile, and then stirred the center gently with her finger to make an indentation. Corinne sprinkled cold water into the sunken area and folded in the flour mixture, kneading it slightly.
Barnette had finished pulling the stems from the berries per Corinne’s careful instructions and now watched closely as Mince played gently with Elijah on the kitchen floor.
Corinne cut the pastry in half and began to roll out one section.
“You know,” she said. “I shoulda known right away that Hank was no good. He’s the only man I’ve ever met who didn’t like pie.”
“I mean no disrespect,” Barnette said. “The man was a bum. I wasn’t surprised to hear how he met his fate.”
“I guess what happened with us wasn’t all his fault,” Corinne looked up from her rolling. “From the beginnin’ we agreed not to marry. No commitments. I was a fool to not think about what it would mean down the road. I thought it was what I wanted too.”
“But when you were expectin’ you took responsibility. You changed. He had responsibilities too,” Barnette said.
Corinne handed her the rolling pin and showed her how to gently roll the remaining half of the dough while she began to cut her own rolled section into long strips for a woven lattice topping.
Barnette could see that, even before baking, Corinne’s crust was fragile and light.
“I surely have learned some things about makin’ promises,” Corinne said. “Maybe they’re not so bad after all.”
“A man like Hank, well, his promises are like piecrust,” Barnette said as she finished rolling.
Corinne looked up, a puzzled look on her face.
“I heard a poem once about making promises lightly. Promises Like Piecrust I think it was. That’s Hank’s kind of promise.” Barnette took a small piece of the crust she had rolled out and dropped it onto the table.
The piecrust hit the wooden tabletop and broke into flaky crumbs.
Corinne looked at the fragments thoughtfully. She knew that promises from Hank were only words. A promise had to be more than just words.
“Lousy for promises, but great for crust I suppose,” Barnette said.
Corinn
e looked at the broken flakes of unbaked crust several times as she filled the pie with the berries and rhubarb. A promise should never be like piecrust, she thought. She vowed she would never again fall for a piecrust promise.
Chapter Nine
Daniel kicked at the dust with the toe of his boot and Corinne could not help remembering him as a young man. Now he was grown with responsibilities and a family, but a part of his childhood still remained in her memories. His hair was still tousled, as it always seemed to be, golden as summer wheat in the morning sun. Corinne wondered how many adventures they had missed as children. The offspring of drinking men live in poverty while they support their addiction. Corinne knew that those children, like Daniel and herself, paid in many more ways than simply going without the things that money could buy.
“Elijah and Barnette have a good man lookin’ after them” she said to him, as they prepared for her departure.
Barnette waved from the porch, Elijah on the boards at her feet, his chubby arms around the dog’s neck.
“Thanks for leavin’ Mince with us,” the young mother called out. Corinne knew that, although she would miss the dog terribly and had come to rely on his protection and warning bark, Mince was best left behind for now. What would she do with him during the land rush? He could not be in the saddle for such a strenuous ride and if he ran alongside the horse he could easily be trampled. He watched her closely, his jaw open in an eager friendly grin. Mince loved Elijah, but she knew from his expression, that he was waiting for her whistle.
“You stay, Mince,” she called to him and he plunked down on the porch and put his head on his paws. “I’ll be back. You help with little Elijah and I’ll be back soon.”
Daniel walked out into the yard with her. “You write as soon as you get land. You understand?”
“I promise,” Corinne assured him. “I’ll wire you from the fort when I get there and as soon as I can after the run to let you know if I claim a parcel. If I get land, once I have registered with the claims office I’ll do what I can to get a place set up and then I’ll be back through. I’ll really need you when I come back for my stove and things from the cabin. And I’ll be good and ready for some of Barnette’s canned goods, I’m sure.”
“Use your common sense and find good land,” Daniel said. “This time next year I want to come up with the family and see you in a real home.”
“I’ll be pleased to have you,” Corinne said. Again she felt the nagging fear. So much was riding on her getting a place of her own. She wrapped her arms around her brother’s shoulders and swallowed hard when he hugged her warmly. Turning to look back to the house, she saw Barnette in her white apron tied neatly over her wide skirts and Elijah now standing and holding her hand. He held up his chubby arm and turned his palm in a wave, Mince sitting obediently beside him. Corinne mounted her horse and turned him to face the house. This was Daniel’s home and his family and Corinne knew she needed a place of her own.
“I love you, Daniel,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”
Corinne kicked the young stallion to a steady trot and turned northwest at the road. She had clear directions to Fort Reno, plenty of food and a good tent.
“Here we go, Boomer,” she said aloud. “New life, we are comin’.”
Chapter Ten
The late afternoon sun grew warm on Corinne’s back as she rode at an easy trot. The buzz of a fly as it flew across her ear distracted her from her reverie. Again she’d found herself thinking about Hank and their time together. She searched her memories, recalling a time before she saw him as others did. A time when he made her giggle and she felt free. A time when his kiss and touch excited her. Her musing seemed entirely in vain. Now the thought of his hands on her bare flesh made her hair follicles rise in disgust, yet she’d let him touch her that way a hundred times. Despite the memory being fraught with loathing, she also remembered that there was a time when he had made her feel beautiful and fulfilled and he had once showered her with his attention. That, Corinne decided, was what had worked so well in his favor. All that and he had promised her the world.
“Like piecrust,” Corinne said aloud. “A promise as flaky as piecrust.” She decided that flaky was a very good description of Hank Fisher. Flaky as all hell.
She let her hand rest easily on the horn of her saddle, the place where Mince usually sat upright, looking ahead expectantly. He’d be vigilant today, riding in unfamiliar territory and intuitively sensing her apprehension. Corinne missed him terribly. Besides fear, there was another feeling she didn’t care for and that was loneliness. If she kept busy enough with her mind and her hands she’d never notice the feeling, but there were times she could not deny she felt it. Corinne wished she was a better liar, at least to herself.
As twilight approached, Corinne saw riders far in the distance, towards the north. Men on horseback and dozens of white, covered wagons kicked up a haze of dust on the horizon. There were only a couple of days left until the land run. Corinne knew she would not be alone on the trail very much longer. She pulled her hat down low over her forehead. It did no good to be recognized too easily as a woman out alone.
The sun showed its true nature as it neared the horizon, a glowing ball of flaming fire, bright orange against a vivid red sky. She directed Boomer to a stand of honey mesquite, the trees’ lacy leaves moving easy in the light breeze. She built a small fire and dined on a simple meal of salted pork and canned peaches. The fruit was firm and sweet. Corinne decided she’d make more of an effort to see her brother and his wife once she had settled. She leaned her back against the trunk of a twisted tree and looked out over the land. Her mind was so filled with plans and preparations that she struggled to remain focused on any one thing. Soon exhaustion overcame her and she crawled into the bed roll she had unfurled beneath the stars. If she imagined it hard enough she hoped just a few acres would soon be hers.
Corinne woke several times during the night. Once she thought she had heard a shout off in the distance and later the persistent buzz of an insect had her swatting her face while trying to sleep. Corinne remembered how many times she and Hank had slept out together under the stars. She had never felt afraid or worried about anything in the night. Now she slept fitfully, half listening to every sound. Fear again, Corinne thought. It was creeping up inside of her. She grumbled to herself and rolled over in the darkness.
Chapter Eleven
In the morning light Corinne could see the throngs of people that had gathered and she knew she’d need to ride at a quicker pace if she wanted to find a good campsite near the border of the Unassigned Lands. She gathered her belongings and ate a quick breakfast in the saddle.
However, the main trail was clogged with a steady stream of travelers and she was forced to move at a slower pace with the mix of men, women and families. Most were men riding alone on horseback or alongside a wagon. Some people traveled on foot, walking with the solid line of Conestogas filled with household goods and treasured belongings. Their faces were weathered and dust covered, with the look of hope and anticipation.
Corinne could see that some folks would make the run with everything they owned. Many of them had work horses, strong but not suitable for riding or racing. Others had oxen teams pulling their wagons and did not have a horse at all. Corinne could not even imagine trying to race a full wagon over the uneven terrain. Inside many wagons were children, elderly and even small livestock. She hoped there was land enough for all of them like the papers had publicized.
Corinne had only herself to worry about. As she rode along she imagined what it would be like if she were to move in with Daniel and Barnette. They might have welcomed her with open arms and never told her aloud that she was an imposition in their lives. She’d always feel beholden to them. Corrine wanted to stand on her own two feet.
Corrine looked around trying to find a way through the crowds. She saw open wagons filled with supplies. Some were filled with milled lumber, others with long expanses of logs and building materials
. They were not only people who came to claim land, but those who would build businesses. The new life meant new towns and plenty of new people.
As the crowds became thicker Corinne was more impatient to get ahead. She kicked Boomer to a quick trot and pulled off the main trail. She could see other riders on the uneven flatlands maneuvering through the brush and dry riverbeds. Free of the carts and wagons, they were all making better time.
In the evening she made camp. She considered setting up the tent, but decided she could get an earlier start without having to break it down in the morning. Voices from surrounding campsites filled the air. Children ran though the encampments chasing one another happily. They were dirty and most wore ragged clothing.
Corinne’s sense of smell was assaulted by a hundred smells in the cool of the evening air. One moment brought frying pork grease and burning wood and the next the odor of urine and sweat. After that it was the aroma of sweet baked beans quickly replaced by the fragrance of a strong coffee perking pungently over an open fire. In the little makeshift village she could sense the expectation and excitement beginning to grow.
Along with the smells came the sounds. Children were called and dogs scolded. There would be the laugh of a woman and the wail of an infant. Horses neighed and oxen snorted. Here a wagon creaked loudly and there someone chopped wood. Corinne listened past the sounds of the people and animals and the life in the camp and heard something else far off in the distance. Less a sound than a feeling, a rumbling in her chest. Boomer heard it too, bowed his head and snorted softly, confirming her suspicions. Thunder. From the north. Corinne began to unpack the tent and pulled the stakes from her packs as well. She’d need the shelter after all. She felt the pressure in the air as the thunder rumbled again and knew a hard rain would soon come.
Piecrust Promise Page 3
