Dianne didn’t mind the delay. She was tired—weary of the constant routine—and desperate for something to break the monotony. She did take the opportunity to ride her horse and get better acquainted with the mare’s needs. Dolly was a good-tempered buckskin whose mood seemed to alter to match her rider. If Dianne was feeling sad or overwhelmed, Dolly appeared to be more sedate. If Dianne felt an exuberance that left her giddy with excitement, Dolly picked up on that as well. They were a good match, Dianne decided. She’d overheard Cole Selby say that a horse and rider needed to belong to each other. Dianne figured that’s how it was with Dolly as she fell more in love with the animal.
The delay along the Platte also allowed for overhauling the wagons and giving the animals the extra care that the trail didn’t allow for. The rains had stopped and the cool weather had passed. Only a week before they were worried about snow, as the evenings had been so very cold. Now the temperatures were on the rise and it was quite comfortable to work outdoors.
The wagon master and his men took advantage of the suspension of travel to further inform the travelers about the troubles they would encounter west of Julesburg. Namely, Indians. Rumor had it that Indians had been sighted just downriver from where the wagon train had passed earlier. The word came via a post rider, but he couldn’t tell the wagon master if they were friendlies or a war party.
To be on the safe side, Daniel Keefer set up training sessions where he taught the men how to properly take cover and fire their weapons at the same time. Dianne watched from a distance because only the men were allowed to be involved. She found the process fascinating and began to wonder at the perils they might meet in the weeks to come.
So far the Indians had been few and far between. From a distance they’d seen a few peaceful convoys—even one hunting party. It was as close as Dianne cared to come. Her mother had her positively terrified with tales of people being caught by the Indians, of their scalps being removed and kept as trophies, of unspeakable things done to women. Where her mother had heard these tales it was hard to say. Dianne guessed Griselda Showalter was probably to blame for some of the commotion, but everyone was edgy.
To Dianne’s great joy, her mother’s health appeared to return. Susannah Chadwick seemed more like her old self as she moved about the camp, fussing over Betsy’s sniffles and Ardith’s messy appearance.
“I swear you look like vagabonds,” their mother declared as she worked to rebraid Ardith’s hair. “A lady must always see to her appearance. Even on the trail in the middle of nowhere.”
Dianne had to smile at this. They all had that same look to them. There wasn’t a person traveling the plains who didn’t wear at least a pound of dirt from day to day. Reverend Hammond joked that during his daily trek he’d eat so much dirt that he rarely needed supper.
“Dianne, I’m going to take the girls and go visiting. Since the laundry is done, why don’t you start our supper? I’m sure that will keep you busy for a time.”
Dianne wasn’t sure why her mother was worried about keeping her busy, but Dianne had already seen to supper. She’d gotten rather good at planning ahead of time, and when the Hammonds offered her a small hunk of fresh venison, Dianne jumped at the chance to put together something special for supper. A fresh meat stew was already cooking and wouldn’t need her attention for hours.
She said nothing about it, however, as her mother walked away with Dianne’s sisters. Dianne wanted the time to visit with Faith. It was a defiance of her mother’s wishes, but Dianne couldn’t help it. Faith was her only real friend out here on the prairie. Besides, Faith was going to teach Dianne about making cobbler in the Dutch oven. Surely even her mother would be pleased with the results.
After washing up, Dianne filled a large jar with milk. They had more than they could use and generally they sold or traded it to keep from having to throw it away. Faith would enjoy the treat.
Dianne made small talk as she passed by other members of the wagon train. One woman asked if she’d heard when they might cross the river.
“I haven’t heard anything today, but if I get any news, I’ll let you know on my way back,” Dianne replied. The woman, who had three small children clinging to her skirts, nodded.
“I’d be much obliged.”
“Dianne,” a gentle voice called, “how’s your mother today?”
She looked to her right to see Mrs. Hammond waving. Dianne hated the delay in reaching Faith, but she liked Mrs. Hammond and appreciated the older woman’s concern.
“Mother is doing much better. I think this rest has done her a lot of good.” Dianne smiled and nodded as Levi came to stand beside Mrs. Hammond.
“Hello, Miss Dianne.”
“Hello,” Dianne said softly. She suddenly felt ill at ease in his presence.
“Levi has been a tremendous help to Mr. Hammond and me. I don’t know what we’d have done without him when the wagon got stuck.” Levi blushed furiously.
“It’s always good to have an extra hand,” Dianne replied, not knowing what else to say.
“I’m sorry he had to be orphaned but grateful the good Lord put us all together. Levi wants to settle in the West—maybe even in Virginia City, where you’re headed. Wouldn’t it be nice if you two were to get to know each other better?”
Dianne felt her own cheeks grow hot at this comment. “Ah, yes. I think that would be nice.”
Mrs. Hammond seemed to understand their discomfort and dismissed Levi to return to his work. “He’s not much older than you. Seventeen, to be exact. You never know, you might find yourselves courting before the trip is over.”
“Courting?” Dianne shook her head. “No, I’m much too young according to my mother.”
“Oh, nonsense—you’re sixteen. I was married to Mr. Hammond when I was but fourteen. That was the way things were done in Kentucky, where I grew up. Mr. Hammond was only sixteen and green as grass. He had no idea yet that the Lord was calling him.”
Dianne wasn’t exactly sure what she meant by the Lord calling Mr. Hammond but decided questions would only delay her visit with Faith.
“I don’t think Ma would smile on my courting—not just yet. She married at sixteen and has always told me it was far too much responsibility to take on at that age,” Dianne said, hoping that would be the end of it. She held up her jar of milk. “I probably should be moving on. I need to deliver this.”
“By all means, child. I didn’t mean to keep you. Come back and visit when you’re ready for another quilting lesson. I’m sure we can find loads to talk about.”
Dianne realized she would very much enjoy getting to better know Charity Hammond. “I’ll do that. My sewing still needs work, and with what I’ve heard of the cold weather up north, we’ll be needing extra quilts.”
“Come any time. If we’re still waiting on the river, why don’t you come tomorrow?”
Dianne nodded. “I’ll do that if Ma can spare me.” She bid Mrs. Hammond good-bye, then hurried off to where Faith and Malachi’s wagon was positioned with the other handful of former slaves who had chosen to go west. Dianne thought it quite wrong that the Negroes were forced to keep to themselves but said nothing. Who would listen?
“Faith!” she called, waving. “I’ve brought you some milk.”
Faith waved back and motioned Dianne into the camp. “I’ve soaked some dried peaches and they’re ready for our cobbler lesson.”
Dianne nodded. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”
She spent the rest of the morning with Faith, laughing and learning. Dianne found herself telling Faith about her friends back in New Madrid and was fascinated by Faith’s stories of her life before the war.
“Was it really against the law for you to learn to read?” Dianne asked as Faith handed her a wooden bowl of beans for lunch.
“Oh, it sure was. But I was Miss Deborah’s companion. Where she went, I went. So when the tutor came to teach her and her brothers their lessons, I sat at Miss Deborah’s feet and learned right along with
them. They didn’t know it. The whites figured we weren’t able to learn such things anyway.”
Dianne shook her head. “I never wanted to go to school. I was never that good at book learning. I mean, I can read and write. I can cipher math problems, but I don’t enjoy any of it. Especially history. I hated that boring old stuff.”
Faith laughed. “My history lessons came at the knee of an old house worker we called Granny. When the master and his family were entertaining, I was sent to be with Granny and the other house slaves. It was there that Granny would remind me who I was and who my people were. See, Granny remembered being stolen away as a girl in Africa. She was brought here and sold and sorely abused by first one master and then another, but she never forgot the old ways or her people.” Faith’s expression took on a faraway look. “Granny gave birth to fifteen children over the course of her life. She didn’t know where a single one was because they’d all been sold off as they’d gotten older. That’s the way things were done, depending on the master’s need.”
“How awful. I can’t imagine having my children taken away.”
Faith nodded. “I don’t remember much about my mama. She wasn’t sold off, though. She died of yellow fever when I was three. I never even knew my pa. But listening to Granny talk about her family, well, I liked to pretend they were mine too. I told her I’d be one of her daughters if she’d have me.” Faith shook herself out of the sorrowful thoughts and added, “Granny taught me about Jesus too.”
Dianne sampled her beans and didn’t know when she’d ever tasted anything so good. “These are wonderful. What are they?”
“Black-eyed peas and a piece of salted pork,” Faith said, checking the cobbler. “I think this is just about ready. We can have dessert with our lunch.”
Dianne nodded. “I wish I could share this with my family. The flavor is just so different. It’s always nice to have a change.”
“I’ll put the milk you brought into something else and send some black-eyed peas back in the jar.”
“Oh, Faith, thank you. That would be wonderful!”
They finished their lunch and sampled the cobbler. Dianne was delighted with the simplicity of the recipe and knew beyond a doubt that she could make the dessert for her own family.
“I’ve had so much fun talking and cooking with you, Faith.” Dianne took up the jar of beans and smiled. “I’ll come again when I can.”
“You do that. Next time I’ll teach you how to make a rag rug.”
Dianne stood amazed at the knowledge that Faith held. I can learn so much from this woman, she thought. So much that will make our lives easier, especially when we reach Uncle Bram’s house. “Thank you again, Faith. I know my family will love these black-eyed peas.”
But her family never had the chance to sample them. As Dianne put the finishing touches on supper and made certain that the venison stew had cooked to perfection, her mother appeared to oversee matters.
“What is this?” she asked, gazing into the small iron kettle Dianne had put the beans in to warm.
“Those are black-eyed peas. The flavor is so good. I just know you’ll love it.”
“That’s darkie food. You got these from that woman, didn’t you?”
Dianne had been squatting beside the fire but stood rather quickly. “I got them from Faith, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Her mother, mindless of the fire, kicked the pot over and spilled the contents onto the ground. “My family won’t be fed such things. We’re too good for the likes of that slop.”
Dianne struggled with her emotions. “But it tasted wonderful. I thought you’d enjoy the change.”
Her mother crossed to where Dianne stood. “You’ve been spending time with that slave woman, haven’t you? Even after I told you not to. Even after I reminded you that they’re responsible for killing your pa.”
“But Pa’s death was an accident,” Dianne protested. “Besides, Faith and Malachi aren’t slaves. They’re free.”
Her mother slapped her hard across the face, then stared at Dianne for a moment as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just done. It was the first time her gentle-spirited mother had ever done such a thing. Getting over her initial shock, her mother stepped back.
“Get supper dished up. I’ll call the boys.” She turned to go, then stopped and faced Dianne again. This time her voice was gentle, almost loving. “Dianne, there are reasons why society has separated the races. It’s not wise to dabble in things you know nothing about. I insist you have nothing more to do with that woman.”
She didn’t wait for a reply and for this Dianne was grateful. She could never have promised her mother that she wouldn’t see Faith—wouldn’t speak to her and learn from her. Her mother might not realize it, but she was benefiting as much as the rest of the family from Faith’s lessons.
Supper was a somber affair. The venison stew brought praise from her brothers, but her mother said nothing throughout the entire meal. Dianne felt her sense of isolation grow. Her mother had never been one to share the thoughts of her heart, but at least she’d been willing to converse. Now it seemed she was struggling with something—something more than her earlier anger with Dianne. But what could it be?
As supper concluded, Dianne started to clear away the dishes, but her mother waved her off.
“Sit back down, Dianne. I want to talk to all of you.”
Dianne sat down between Morgan and Ardith and waited. Perhaps her mother intended to talk about the earlier incident regarding Faith and the black-eyed peas. Dianne lowered her gaze to the fire and sincerely prayed that would not be the case. Her mother had a history, however, of using one child to make an object lesson with another. Please just leave Faith out of this, Mama. She’s a good woman and she’s not to blame.
“I have news to share. I know this has been a hard trip on all of us. I know you’ve had to work hard, and I appreciate it. I know you don’t always agree with my opinions, but with your father now gone, I ask that you respect my wishes. Just as Mr. Keefer gave us the list of rules to help us keep safe, my opinions are often given for the same reason. You may not like them, but I expect you to follow them.” Dianne looked up as her mother looked directly into her eyes.
“Now it’s more important than ever. As we push west there will be the threat of Indian attacks. We’ve been blessed not to have encountered such things thus far, but you can never tell who might be the enemy. There’s talk that Southern sympathizers have joined forces with Indians to attack Northerners. Personally, I do not believe this, but there are plenty of problems for us even without such alliances. Races do not mix. Indians do not live in peace with whites and neither do freed slaves. If it appears such things are possible, you must ask yourself what is motivating their actions.” She paused and set aside her bowl, and Dianne wondered if this was why her mother held such bitterness toward Faith and Malachi. Maybe she believed the former slaves would rise up to kill them as well. But what would have prompted such fears? Had her mother been told things like this as a child?
“But the real reason I wanted to talk with you is to share something entirely different. I’ve known about this since we left New Madrid, but I didn’t want to tell you until we were well on our way west,” she began. “It will help explain why I’ve been so sick.”
Ardith shifted and leaned over to rest her head against Dianne’s shoulder. No doubt she was tired. Dianne knew their mother had kept the girls busy all day. Even Betsy was yawning.
“I’m going to have a baby,” their mother suddenly confessed. At least it seemed sudden to Dianne. She jerked her head up, as did Ardith. “The baby will come in December, so we’ll be long settled with Uncle Bram.”
“A baby will be so much fun!” Betsy declared, clapping her hands.
“No it won’t,” Ardith grumbled. “Babies are a lot of work and they just get into your stuff and make messes.”
Betsy frowned as if she’d been personally insulted, and in truth she had, for Ardith had no experience
with babies other than with Betsy. Dianne reached out to soothe her sister.
“I didn’t think you were a bother at all. I loved playing with you. You’ll probably love playing with this new baby.”
“No I won’t.” Ardith jerked away from Dianne and crossed her arms against her chest. With a frown on her face, she pouted as their mother continued.
“I didn’t tell you right away because I was worried that Mr. Keefer would refuse to allow us to travel. It won’t be much longer, however, that I’ll be able to hide this condition from anyone, so I figured I’d better let you know.”
“I don’t want another baby around,” Ardith said, getting to her feet. “I want you to send it away.”
“Ardith Chadwick!” their mother exclaimed. “What a selfish child you are! How dare you suggest such a thing.”
Ardith’s lower lip quivered and Dianne saw her eyes fill with tears. “I don’t want another baby around. You won’t love us anymore—you’ll only love the baby.” She ran off across the camp and disappeared.
“I’ll go after her,” Dianne said, getting to her feet. She felt she should say something more to her mother. “Ma, I’m happy about the baby. It’s like a special gift from God—since Pa can’t be with us anymore.”
Her mother nodded and for the first time since the tragedy in New Madrid, Dianne felt as though she’d reached her mother’s heart with her words.
With that small moment warming Dianne inside, she hurried off to find Ardith. The poor girl was probably remembering how much less attention she had received when Betsy came along. To Ardith, it must have seemed that Betsy usurped her position as baby of the family. Another child would push her even farther from that place.
“Ardith! Ardith! Where are you?” she called, moving around the circled gathering of the wagons. But there was no reply. A couple of people mentioned having seen Ardith, but no one noticed which direction the child had gone. The sun was sinking toward the horizon, leaving streaks of red and lavender in the sky. Dianne knew the light would soon be gone altogether.
Land of My Heart Page 11
