Lee Highland sat on his horse on the rise while the troops pulled their wagons across the land and scattered over the landscape. They began to clean up the remains of the campsites. He watched Corinne kick Boomer into an easy run and she disappeared over the horizon. Even after he could no longer see her he could not look away.
Once over the rise Corinne passed a camp where she saw a thin woman hanging threadbare clothing on a makeshift clothesline, an infant on her hip. Beside the wagon a few feet away she saw a man straighten up from his work and watch her pass. Corinne was sure he was the man who had wrestled with her the day before and she tightened her grip on the reins. He had claimed land very close to the fort. It looked flat and dry and Corinne felt her throat tighten. He would need to work hard to provide for a family there. Instead of wasting his time coming after her he could have found another claim, a better plot than this. Corinne recalled what he had said about her and the lieutenant. He was wrong, she thought. She was not privileged and the lieutenant had only given her directions to find the spot her and Daniel had discussed. She hoped the man and his family would do well in the new lands. Close to the fort and railroad he still could prosper. Corinne rode on and did not look at him.
Tupper Hawkins watched the woman ride past. He was sure she’d done something underhanded to find that plot she had claimed. It was too perfect. He’d followed her believing that. He should have listened when his brother-in-law had told him where to find the best plots. Now he would have to make do with less water and no shade until he got some shelter up but that would be hard work. Instead he’d have to live in that cramped wagon until he was up to building a place. He figured he might start in a few days. He couldn’t help feeling that if it weren’t for that woman it would all be easier.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The plot of land was even more perfect than Corinne remembered. As she approached her claim she saw several deer laying in the shade of the cottonwoods and she could hear the mockingbird chirping happily in the trees. Riding across the plains she had seen many encampments. There were tents and clotheslines strung from tall poles. Freshly washed clothing blew gently in the breeze. The dogs barked and the children laughed and future farmers paced off their land. One was already setting up a plow. A new land was being settled and a community was being born. Corinne waved to nearly every pioneer who stood up to watch her pass. They would be her neighbors and maybe one day enjoy her pies. She felt alive and enthusiastic. By the time she reached her own property she was eager to begin. She’d seen many people already working hard despite the previous day’s hard ride and without the benefit of a good night’s sleep on a bed under fresh sheets or a hot bath. She saw a land filled with true pioneers and people willing to put their backs into their dreams.
In no time Corinne had unpacked her tent and set it up. Then she assembled her brick molds and laid them out near the creek in a sunny flat area. From her belongings she pulled out a pail she had picked up at the fort and a stout shovel. Corinne dug a large bowl-shaped impression in the dry clay beside the creek and began filling it with water. The job turned out to be much bigger than she anticipated as she could only haul one bucketful at a time.
When it was only partly filled she announced, “This will have to do.”
She walked over to the hill where she would build her home and pushed the shovel into the soil. As she expected it was a mix of sand and clay. She filled her bucket and dumped the contents into the wet, bowl depression she had dug.
Once she had collected a generous pile of dirt, she tossed in handfuls of dry prairie grass and poured more water over the mixture. Corinne pulled off her boots and stockings and tucked her skirt into her waistband. She stepped into the muddy mixture she had made and squished through it with her bare feet until it was a soft, gooey consistency. Then she began to fill her bucket with the clay.
Each bucketful was then dumped in a brick mold and allowed to set while she filled more molds. Once the brick had set up she quickly flipped the mold and dumped out the brick. It held its shape perfectly and Corinne smiled at her accomplishment.
She dug deeper into side of the hill and steadily the number of bricks increased, until there were a few dozen neatly laid out in the sunny clearing. Already the first bricks she had made were beginning to turn white as they hardened and Corinne flipped any that looked as if they were beginning to dry. In a few days they would be ready for building.
She sat beneath the shade of the trees, studying the hill while she ate a quick lunch. Corinne could imagine the shape she wanted for her new home. The dwelling would be dug into the side of the hill. The front would face south so that she could open the front door and let in plenty of sunlight. She would dig back about fifteen or twenty feet into the hill and the space would be approximately the same distance wide. The back wall would be the hill. There, at the back, is where she would place her big cook stove. The side and front walls would be made of her bricks. Beneath the hill the house would stay warm in winter and cool in the summer heat. It would be small, but it would be enough. Before winter she would also need to construct some shelter for Boomer and possibly a coop for some chickens. Right now though, she needed a house.
Before the first day was out, Corinne had several dozen bricks drying in the sun. At dusk she walked along the creek rinsing her feet of the drying clay and she splashed the cool water over her face and arms. Corinne stopped for a moment remembering the hot bath from the day earlier. She rinsed her pails and then found a secluded area along the creek with a deep pool and looked around. She had seen no one all day. Corinne took her soiled clothing and the dress she was wearing and stood in her bloomers and camisole in the pool washing her things in the water. She wrung them tightly and tossed them up to dry on flat rocks and paddled around in the pool for nearly an hour. When she had finished she gathered up her damp clothing, spread it over her tent and climbed inside. She screwed open a jar of beans and ate them straight from the jar. Before darkness had completely covered the land she was fast asleep.
Corinne sat up in the tent listening, certain she had heard the sound of hooves. She pulled the thin blanket around herself and crawled from the tent.
Boomer’s piercing neigh echoed in the night and Corinne stood quickly upright in front of the tent peering out into the darkness. She could hear the thunder of hooves riding away and ran to Boomer’s side. His heart beat rapidly until she had finally quieted him. Corinne led him closer to the tent and tethered him to a tent peg. Even though she was exhausted it took her a while to fall back to sleep.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The day seemed to drag on forever as Lieutenant Highland monitored the troops cleaning up after the settlers. The sun was bright and scorched the landscape and the young soldiers moved slowly in the heat. Several times during the day he had dismounted, tossed his jacket over Chief and rolled up his shirtsleeves to help. They seemed to move a little faster with his help, but there were acres and acres of land still to be cleared. They worked until darkness fell and the lieutenant dismissed them to go to the dining hall.
The captain looked down over the effort with interest. He’d never seen his lieutenant jump into work alongside his men and he was not sure he liked it. A position of command was best maintained from above, he thought.
Before the sun rose the following morning Corinne had risen eager to resume her work. She checked the area for prints and saw that a lone horseman had ridden up in the night. One print showed that the horse had a shoe that was loose and bent. She tried to shake off her apprehension and wondered if having the lieutenant around might not have been such a bad idea after all.
Her bricks had dried so well she moved most of them alongside the east side of the hill and stacked them neatly. Should it rain she could cover them all easily that way and they would be ready for building. She was anxious and excited to begin the house but she knew she had much more dirt to move and many bricks yet to make. By noon she had doubled the number of bricks and by nightfall th
e ground was completely covered with stacks of them. Corinne was proud of her speed and accomplishment, even if Hank would have called it fool’s work.
Corinne sat in the approaching darkness and realized that she had not thought of Hank in days. He’d not invaded her dreams in two nights or distracted her from her work once. She was thankful. If she never thought of Hank Fisher again she’d be thrilled. But, though her memories of him no longer haunted her, she realized that she had not thought about her lost child either. However painful her memories were, Dustin was someone she did not want to forget. Corinne looked out over the day’s accomplishments and thought back to her time with her son.
There had been several months when Hank had not come around. Corinne recalled now that it had been a most wonderful time. He was not there to demand her attention or to expect that his clothing was washed and his meals prepared. He’d not been there to lecture her about how much “good money” she had spent on her “big ol’ cook stove” and how foolish her pie making was. Ironically, she thought, selling her pies was the only thing that had kept them fed. She got up each morning not having to meet his demands and could focus on her pies and her son.
“Why can’t there be somethin’ in between,” she said aloud. “I don’t want to be lonely. I just want to be alone.” Corinne sat down on a boulder she had rolled into the clearing in front of the hill and stared off into the distance. She did feel lonely, she thought. She’d imagined several times that it would be nice to have someone working beside her. She’d thought of the lieutenant several times and his offer to help. He’d never come.
Corinne looked out into the approaching night. “I can do this alone,” she said aloud.
She gathered her bucket and shovel and put them beside her tent and paced around in agitation until she was completely exhausted, cursing Hank Fisher and Lee Highland. Soon, she thought, she’d have her house built, she’d be safe inside and she’d have her things and bake her pies and never be lonely. Never.
Corinne climbed into her tent and lay down, trying to rest. It would be hours before she slumbered, but it would be restless sleep and she called out in her sleep several times in the night.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Highland strolled along the rows of tents, the new town growing before his very eyes. Signs indicated pharmacies and hardware, cookware and clothing. Some had already begun to construct buildings behind their merchant tents, others simply spread their wares out on tables or sheets laid out in the dust. Lee had purchased several good tools and plenty of food. If he had to work every day until the campsites were cleaned up at least when he was ready to ride out he’d have plenty to bring that Corinne might need. He considered getting a wagon to carry it all, he’d gotten so many things. He wasn’t sure if she needed lumber or furniture and regretted that he had not discussed her plans in greater detail. He decided she’d like some good food and a bedroll that was softer than the one she owned. He also bought himself a small tent. If he planned on spending any time at her site he knew he had better have sleeping arrangements for himself.
He expected that, if the troops moved well, he might be able to leave on the morrow before the day was out. His hopes were dashed however, when he heard the rumble of thunder on the horizon at dawn.
Corinne sat upright in the tent and heard the roar in the distance. She dressed hurriedly and rushed from her tent. She needed to cover all the bricks. The stacks she had arranged were on high ground and she was certain they would survive a good downpour, as long as it didn’t last too long. But the ones she had left drying in the field would need to be moved before the rain began.
She moved the bricks, several at a time until the muscles in her arms burned from the effort. She had nearly moved the entire collection when fat raindrops began to fall. Working quickly, she covered the piles she had made and used the last of the bricks to weigh down her canvas coverings. Before she could get back to the tent the ground turned to a muddy mass beneath her bare feet and she struggled through the now torrential downpour to Boomer who stood drenched and hanging his head in the rain. She led him to a stand of cottonwood and tied him there and stood with him beneath the branches looking out over the landscape.
The rain washed in waves across the land, rolling walls of water across the plains. Corinne watched the tiny creek quickly swell and run over its shallow banks. It filled her clay depression until it too overflowed. The swiftness of the water rushing by nearly panicked her. Being close to the water meant survival and convenience but, in the wrong place, it could also mean death. A flash flood on the open plains was deadly and Corinne was suddenly terrified. She watched in fear as the water kept rising and tried to figure out how she might get herself and Boomer to higher ground. It occurred to her that even the simplest things she had with her would be lost. Corinne wrapped her arms around her horse’s neck and helplessly watched the water rise. Then, as suddenly as it had started, the rain stopped. The water remained high in the creek but it was no longer raining. She stood there for over an hour until the water began to recede. The sun broke through the clouds and she heard the mockingbird call. Corinne led Boomer back towards her site.
Her clay-making hollow was now filled with mud, a thick creamy mixture and the air had cooled several degrees. Corinne took her bucket, plunged her shovel into the hill until she hit dry soil and hauled buckets quickly to the mixing spot. She filled the hollow with fresh soil and stomped into it enthusiastically. While the indentation was filled with rainwater she could make dozens of bricks. She laughed in the mud, nearly covered in the thick clay and tramped excitedly.
Before nightfall Corinne had made scores of bricks and she began to think she may have enough to start building. She would leave them stacked and covered and return to Texas before long. She wondered now and again about the lieutenant. It bothered her that he had asked to join her and then had never come. Just like a man, she thought. Another piecrust promise. Corinne counted the bricks and tried to figure exactly the number she would need by drawing a plan in the dirt with a stick. She was certain that she had figured wrong several times and ultimately she gave up. Instead she began to smooth the area where she would build the structure.
As she leveled out the floor she decided to make it several inches higher than the surrounding area to keep the rain from coming inside. Before sunset she moved her tent into the leveled area and that night she imagined she was sleeping inside her future home.
Although she had slept through the night and not heard a sound, in the morning those same hoof prints were clear in the mud. The cracked horseshoe was unmistakable. Corinne pulled Hank’s gun from her bag in the soft light.
Chapter Thirty-Six
The downpour washed clean much of what had remained of the settlers’ campsites near the fort. In the afternoon Highland and his soldiers finished the cleanup and at the end of the day he reported to his captain. In the morning he would take his leave.
Lee packed carefully, loading his big stallion with supplies in the hours before dawn. When the bugler signaled to wake the camp, Lee rode out across the plains. He had left his blue uniform neatly folded in his quarters to be pressed and cleaned while he was away, although there was a part of him that wished never to return. In the morning light he wore the plain dark trousers of a civilian, wide suspenders and a clean white shirt. His shirtsleeves were rolled to the elbow and his big gun was strapped to his hip. His hat was simple with a wide brim. He had also shaved off his long sideburns that morning. It was the first time in years Highland had been out of uniform and he felt comfortable and ordinary. He thought he could easily pass for any of the pioneers he saw on the plains.
Although his dress was not uncommon, the lieutenant was unusual among men. He carried himself with dignity and stood apart to everyone who saw him.
Lee’s obvious physical strength caught the attention of a couple crossing the plains on their way back to the land registrar’s office. They stood beside their crippled wagon helplessly, waving their arms
towards him. Highland rode over to them and assessed their situation. He lifted the wagon while the husband slipped on the wheel they had repaired. The couple waved as Lee resumed his journey, more eager than ever to reach Corinne.
A few miles later, Highland saw a young man plowing a section of land and he knew immediately, as the plow scraped the dusty soil, the furrows would run downhill. When the rain came everything that he planted would be washed away. Lee could not teach the young pioneer to farm, but he could not pass without at least saying something.
“If you plow across the incline the rainwater will collect in the furrows. A much better idea.”
Lee kicked Chief into a run. If he had a mind to, he could easily roam the prairie for months helping the newcomers get settled on their land. He knew that the one settler he really wanted to help was the one most likely to refuse him. She was also the one he wanted to share the experiences with the most.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Corinne had risen at dawn and tried again to calculate how many bricks she needed. Again and again her figuring suggested that she had already made far too many so she decided to stop production. Instead she spent the morning digging out the hill to prepare for her building. Later she began packing for her return trip to Texas.
Piecrust Promise Page 9
