by Al Lacy
“The husband is supposed to stay ahead of his wife in learning spiritual truths. I’m…ah…just trying to be the husband I’m supposed to be.”
Hannah laughed. “Well, Mr. Know-it-all, answer me this. According to the Bible, what was Herodias’s daughter’s name? You know, the one who danced before Herod at his birthday party?”
Solomon snorted playfully. “Anybody knows that.”
“Okay. What does the Bible say her name was?”
“Salome.”
“Well, I’m about through here, and it’s getting close to bedtime. Since your Bible is upstairs in our bedroom, why don’t you go on up and find that verse.”
“All right, I’ll just do that. You want me to put out these lanterns before I go?”
“No, thank you. I’ll take care of them as soon as I’m finished. Besides, you’ll need some time to look for Salome. See you in a few minutes.”
Solomon gave her a jaunty grin and headed for the stairs.
Hannah allowed herself a smug little smile.
Nearly fifteen minutes had passed when Hannah entered the bedroom to find Solomon furiously turning from one passage to another.
Hannah flashed him a smile and said, “Okay, Mr. Theologian, read it to me.”
Solomon was stumped. “If I was a betting man, I’d have put my last dollar on this one,” he said. “The only Salome in the Bible is the one who accompanied Mary Magdalene, followed Jesus, and showed up at the Lord’s tomb on the morning of His resurrection.”
He stood up and pulled Hannah into his embrace. “I love you, Miss Smarty,” he said, giving her a kiss before releasing her.
Hannah sat down in front of the dresser mirror while Solomon began pulling off his boots. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her remove the pins from her hair. His heart leaped when the luxuriant dark-brown tresses cascaded down her graceful shoulders, and he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. He took a deep breath and said in a low tone, “I sure am glad I married you.”
Hannah looked at his reflection in the mirror and smiled. “I’ve got a little secret to tell you, darling.”
“Oh?”
“You didn’t marry me, I married you.”
“Which means?”
“You can’t ever go away from me. I own you.”
“What man in his right mind would leave you? Not this man, that’s for sure.”
While Hannah watched her husband in the mirror with a contented smile on her lips, Solomon looked at her reflection and said, “Honey, you should’ve been at the store this afternoon when those people from the wagon trains came in. I mean to tell you, just to see the excitement on their faces and hear them talk of fulfilling their dreams out west thrilled me to the bone.”
Solomon felt Hannah tense at his words. Though they had discussed it many times, and the desire was powerful within him, he would not push her to pack up everything they owned and move to the Wild West. But he had secretly prayed that the Lord would do a work in Hannah’s heart and plant the desire in her to join the westward move to the American frontier.
His heart thumped a little harder as Hannah laid down the brush and pivoted on the stool. “Darling,” she said, “I know Horace Greeley’s famed editorial in the New York Tribune has lit a fire in many a man to go west… and it sounds very exciting, but I’m concerned about how we would make a living.”
“Well, honey, we—”
“We know people who made the trip all the way to Oregon or California and came back, finding life too hard out there.”
“Hannah, darlin’, I know it wouldn’t be easy, but ever since the government put through the Homestead Act in ’62, lots of people are making a good living on their farm land.”
“A good living?”
“Yes. And the homesteaders aren’t all going to the west coast to do it. There’s plenty of land for the taking anywhere west of the Missouri River from the Canadian border to the border of Mexico. If a man uses his head, he can grow a lot of crops and graze a lot of cattle on a hundred and sixty acres.”
“And this is for anybody who wants it?”
“Well, they have to be American citizens, or have applied for citizenship. Whoever accepts the land is required to build a house, barn, and necessary outbuildings immediately after the government has officially assigned them the particular piece of land.”
“And it costs them absolutely nothing?”
“Not if they stay on the land for five years. It belongs to the government until that time period elapses, then it’s deeded to the homesteader. However, if the homesteader wants to own the land before the five-year period is up, he can buy it for $1.25 an acre after he’s been on it for six months. Pretty good deal, either way, wouldn’t you say?”
Hannah was quiet for a moment. “Yes, I have to say that it’s a good deal, but there’s so much involved in making such a move. We would have to leave most of our personal things behind—our furniture, the piano… my parents.”
“Honey, I have a feeling that if we really decided to go, your parents would break down and go with us. As for the furniture and the piano—”
“I know. Part of the adventure is building your own furniture. And as soon as we’re established on the frontier, you’ll buy me a new piano.”
“Right.”
“But I love that old piano. It belonged to my great-grandmother.”
“Tell you what. We’ll buy two wagons and two teams of oxen, and take the piano and as much of the furniture as possible in one of the wagons.”
Hannah shook her head. “No, that would be foolish. If… if the Lord shows us we are to go, there’ll just have to be some sacrifices.”
Hannah moved close to her husband and said, “Sol, you are the kindest, most wonderful man God ever made. I have watched this ‘go-west’ fever grow in you. I love you with all my heart, and I wouldn’t do anything to hinder your dream. I just want to be dead sure it’s the Lord’s will.”
“I do, too, sweetheart,” he said, hugging her close. “We’ll keep on praying about it until the Lord gives us a yes or a no.”
After a moment, Hannah said, “Just how far is it from Independence to Oregon City?”
“They tell me that in round figures it’s two thousand miles. For the California-bound wagons, it’s nineteen hundred miles to Sacramento. There are a few places along the way where travelers can stock up on food and supplies. Fort Bridger, Wyoming, is the halfway point, and from what I’m told, there’s a trading post there.”
“A trading post at an army fort?”
“Well, there’s a town springing up around the fort. They call the town Fort Bridger, too.”
Hannah nodded and looked thoughtful. “If I’ve heard right, it takes a good six months to make it to Oregon City, Sol.”
“Yes, something like that. Some of the wagon masters have told me their goal is to average between twelve and fourteen miles a day when they’re on flat land. It drops to about six or seven miles a day in the mountains. Most of the trains make it to Oregon City in about five and a half months. Two weeks shorter to Sacramento.”
Hannah shook her head. “Whew! Makes me tired just thinking about it.”
Solomon chuckled. “Tough little gal like you could handle it, all right.”
“But how about my parents if we did talk them into going with us? Could they stand the trip? I mean, they’re nearly seventy years old.”
“Older folks are doing it all the time, Hannah. There were several of them in the store today. They were like a bunch of little kids, all excited about their new venture.”
Solomon and Hannah got into bed and doused the lanterns. Moonlight filled the room as Solomon continued to tell Hannah about people from the wagon trains, and the things they said.
Hannah listened, then brought up questions about the hardships of the trail—storms, flooding rivers, people getting sick with no doctor to look after them… Indians.
Solomon countered, explaining that since the wagon trains started moving west twe
nty-seven years ago, there was only a small percentage of people who didn’t make it.
When the grandfather clock downstairs struck twelve, Hannah said, “It’s time to go to sleep, Sol.”
“All right, sweetheart. Let’s pray.”
Solomon took Hannah’s hand in his and asked the Lord to guide them in making the right decision about a move west.
When they kissed goodnight, Solomon was asleep in a minute or two, but Hannah lay awake for a long time. One thing her husband wasn’t facing—Hannah’s father. Ben and Esther would never move away from Independence.
Patty Ruth Cooper stirred awake and blinked at the silvery moonlight shining through the windows. She didn’t know what had awakened her until she noticed the covers thrown back on the unoccupied bed next to her and saw her sister carefully closing the bedroom door.
Mary Beth tiptoed toward her bed as Patty Ruth sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Where you been, Mary Beth? What time is it?”
“Shhh! It’s just past midnight,” Mary Beth whispered. “An hour ago, when the clock downstairs struck eleven, I wasn’t yet asleep, and then I heard Mama and Papa talking, first from downstairs, then when they came up to their room. I went down the hall and stood outside their door. They kept talking about it till just a few minutes ago when they decided it was time to pray and go to sleep.”
“Talkin’ about it? You mean, movin’ west?”
“Yes!”
“So what did they say?”
“Lots of things. Most of what I heard was about people from the wagon trains who were in the store today. Papa told Mama about a man named Drake, who is taking his family all the way to Oregon. Papa told Mama that Mr. Drake described Oregon as a paradise. It has lots of mountains and valleys, rich soil, and lots of rivers and creeks.”
Patty Ruth cocked her head to one side and crinkled her nose. “Rich soil? I thought only people could get rich. How does dirt have money?”
Mary Beth had to suppress the giggle struggling to come out, and she shook all over.
“What’s so funny?”
“Patty Ruth, rich soil means it grows crops and fruit trees real good.”
“Oh.”
“Anyway, Papa said Mr. Drake told him cattle grow good out there, too. They’re always real fat. Papa was really impressed.”
“Sounds like Papa’s ready to go.”
“I think so. But Mama brought up the dangers. Storms, rivers flooding, people getting sick, and the Indians killing wagon train people and taking their scalps.”
Patty Ruth’s face paled in the moonlight. “In’ians takin’ their what?”
“Their scalps.”
“That’s awful!” Patty Ruth said with a gasp. Then she cocked her head again and said, “Mary Beth…”
“Mm-hmm?”
“What’s a scalp?”
“Your hair, honey.”
“What do they want people’s hair for?”
“It’s their way of showing they’ve conquered their enemy when they take his scalp.”
“Oh. That’s dumb.”
“When they were talking about the Indian danger, Mama reminded Papa that last year they read in the paper about a massacre in Kansas. The Pawnees killed and scalped a family who was traveling west all by themselves. They had five wagons. I guess there were grandmas and grandpas, and aunts and uncles and cousins…all in the same family. About thirty of them.”
“Why do the In’ians do that? Don’t they like us?”
“Well… tell you what. We can talk about this later. It’s time for you to get back to sleep.” Mary Beth yawned. “And it’s time for me to get to sleep, too.”
CHAPTER FOUR
The next morning at breakfast, Patty Ruth was slipping morsels of pancake under the table to a grateful Biggie. “Patty Ruth…”
“Yes, Papa?”
“Are you feeding Biggie under the table?”
“No, sir.”
“What’s your hand doing under the table?”
“I was jis’ restin’ it.”
“Let’s see it.”
Her chubby little hand came into view covered with syrup and dog saliva.
“Looks to me like somebody’s been licking your hand.”
“Oh, jis’ me.” Patty Ruth proceeded to lick her fingers, syrup, dog saliva, and all.
Solomon’s frown deepened. “Patty Ruth, you lied to me, didn’t you?”
Patty Ruth’s face lost color as she said, “Well, not exactly, Papa. I wasn’t feedin’ Biggie when you asked. He already had the pancake in his mouth.”
“Patty Ruth, you knew what I meant, didn’t you?”
“Y-yes, sir.”
“You know Papa loves you, Patty Ruth. Right?”
Hannah bit her lip and tried not to look at the tears in Patty Ruth’s eyes. The other children sat in silence, knowing what was coming.
“Yes, Papa,” Patty Ruth said.
“And the Bible says if I love you I will spank you, doesn’t it?”
Her lower lip began to quiver. “Yes, sir.”
“And I will do this so you will grow up to be a good girl and a lady. Do you understand?”
“I… I think I could do that even if you didn’t spank me, Papa.”
“God loves you more than I do, and He says if I don’t discipline you when you’re naughty, you will be spoiled and turn out bad. Now let’s go out on the back porch.”
Patty Ruth began sobbing pitifully. Biggie followed a few steps, then decided to stay where he was.
The last words the others heard were, “This is going to hurt me as much as it does you, Patty Ruth,” and a quivering reply, “Then, why aren’t you cryin’?”
Five minutes later, father and daughter came through the door. Patty Ruth was in her father’s arms, leaning her head against his.
“Everything all right, now?” Hannah asked.
“Yes, Mama,” Patty Ruth said. “I got spanked because I broke the rules, and even more because I lied to Papa. Lyin’ is a sin. But I won’ do it no more.”
Breakfast resumed with Biggie beside Patty Ruth’s chair. This time she looked down at him and said, “Even if you starve to death, Biggie, I’m not feedin’ you at the table ever again.”
Everyone ate quietly until Patty Ruth said, “Mama, are you still gonna take me to the Square today, even if I was bad?”
“Of course, honey. You’ve paid for being bad. Mama’s promise still holds true.”
“That’s how God does it, huh, Mama,” B. J. said. “When He forgives us, He doesn’t keep on punishing us, does He?”
“That’s right. When we confess our sins and ask His forgiveness, He forgives us and cleanses us. He doesn’t hold it over our heads.”
Before breakfast, Mary Beth had told her brothers about their parents’ conversation the previous night. Now they looked toward their father eagerly when Mary Beth said, “Papa…Mama…I overheard some of your conversation last night. Are we going to move west?”
“Well, dear,” Hannah replied, “let’s just say that Papa and I are seriously praying about it. We want the Lord’s will in our lives… and by ‘our,’ I include you children, too.”
“Papa,” Patty Ruth said, “how come In’ians masker white people?”
“How come they what?”
“Masker ’em. You know, kill ’em. Lots of ’em.”
“Oh, massacre them. Where did you hear about Indians massacring white people?”
“From me, Papa,” Mary Beth said. “After I heard you and Mama talking about the Indian problems out west, I went back to our room and found Patty Ruth awake, and we talked about it.”
“I’ll explain about the Indians later, sweetheart,” Solomon said.
“So what about it, Papa?” Christopher asked. “Do you think we’ll buy a covered wagon and move to Oregon? Or California?”
“Or Colorado?” B. J. asked.
The head of the Cooper household finished off a gravy-drenched biscuit before replying. “Like your mother said, Chri
s, we’re praying about it. It’s a big step. It would mean selling the farm and the store. Might be pretty hard to do.”
“We won’t have any problem selling the farm and the store if the Lord wants us to move west, Papa,” Mary Beth said. “If that’s what He wants, He will provide the buyers.”
Patty Ruth chewed a mouthful of scrambled eggs and waited to see her father’s reaction to Mary Beth’s wise words.
Solomon deeply appreciated his oldest daughter’s faith in the Lord. He loved each of his children the same, but he had a different relationship with each one. Mary Beth was his “buddy.” She often came to the store to spend time with him, and sometimes they would take walks together and talk about spiritual things. He smiled at her and said, “The Lord certainly can supply the buyers, Mary Beth.”
Christopher, who was lanky and tall for his age, spoke up. “I think we’d better pray a whole lot before we get serious about moving from Independence, Papa. We’ve had the store since I was two years old. And we’ve got our church here, and all of our friends.”
Patty Ruth didn’t even wait to swallow the mouthful of eggs before she said, “I know why you don’t want to move west, Chris. You don’t want to leave Lula Mae!”
Chris’s face went pink, and he looked at his father.
“Young lady, that’s enough,” Solomon said. “What did I tell you last night about teasing Chris?”
“Well, I was jis—”
“I know what you were doing. Now, there’s nothing wrong with Chris liking Lula Mae. She’s a fine Christian girl. Her parents are both good Christian people.”
Patty Ruth knew she was walking on dangerous ground, but she gambled a little further. “But he likes Lula Mae because she brags on how good he rides Buster.”
Solomon’s eyes were stern as he spoke. “I said that’s enough.”
Patty Ruth wilted under her father’s eyes, and Chris smiled at B. J., who smiled back.
“Patty Ruth,” Hannah said, “what have I told you about talking with food in your mouth?”
“I’m s’posed to swallow it ’fore I talk.”
