The Homesteader: A Novel

by Oscar Micheaux

  CHAPTER III

  AT THE SOD HOUSE

  She enjoyed the horseback ride to Gregory. Although she trembled attimes from the sting of the intense cold, the exercise the riding gaveher body kept the blood circulating freely, and she made the trip to thelittle town without event.

  Once there, after thawing the cold out of her face and eyes, sheproceeded to do her trading, filling the saddlebags to their fullest.

  "Which way do you live from town?" inquired the elderly man who waitedupon her at the general store where she was doing her trading.

  "Seven miles southeast," she replied.

  "Indeed!" he cried as if surprised. "But you didn't come from theretoday--this afternoon? That would be directly against this storm!"

  She nodded.

  "Well, now, who would have thought you could have made it! 'Tis an awfulday without," he cried as he regarded her in wonder.

  "It _wasn't_ warm, I admit," she agreed; "but I didn't seem to mind itso much!"

  "You will not go back today--rather tonight?"

  "Oh, yes."

  "But it would be very risky. Look! It's grown dark already!" She lookedout and observed that it had really grown almost pitch dark during thefew minutes she had lingered inside. She was for a moment at a loss fora reply, then, conscious that the wind would be to her back, she laughedlightly as she said:

  "Oh, I shan't mind. It will take me less than forty minutes, and thenit'll all be over," and she laughed low and easily again. The manfrowned as he pursued:

  "I don't like to see you start, a stranger in such a night as this.Since settlement following a trail is rather treacherous. One may leavetown on one, but be on some other before they have gone two miles. Andwhile the wind will be to your back, the uncertainty of direction,should you happen to look back or even around, is confusing. One losessense of the way they are going. I'd suggest that you stick over untilmorning. It would be safer," he concluded, shaking his head dubiously.

  "Oh, I am not afraid," she cried cheerfully. She was ready then, andwith her usual dash, she crossed the short board walk, vaulted into thesaddle, and a few minutes later the dull clatter of her horse's hoofsdied in the distance.

  With the wind to her back she rode easily. She enjoyed the exercise theriding gave her, and was thrilled instead of being frightened over whatwas before her. She followed quite easily the trail that had taken herinto the village. In due time she passed a house that she had observedwhen going in that stood to one side of the trail, and then suddenly themare came to an abrupt halt. She peered into the darkness before her. Abarbwire fence was across the trail. She could not seem to recall itbeing there on her way in. Yet she argued with herself that she mighthave come around and not noticed it. For a moment she was in doubt as towhich way to go to get around it. As she viewed it, it did not extendperhaps more than a quarter mile or a half at the most, after which shecould come around to the other side and strike the trail again. She gavethe ever faithful mare rein and they sailed down the fence line to whereshe estimated it must shortly end.

  She did not know that this was the old U-Cross fence, and that becauseit stood on Indian land, it had not been taken up when the great ranchhad been moved into the next county when giving up to the settler. Intruth only a few steps to her right she had left the trail she hadfollowed into town. The old trail had been cut off when The Homesteaderin whose house she had seen the light, had laid out his claim, and itwas this which caused the confusion. She did not know that one could goto town, or to the railroad today and returning on the morrow, find theroute changed. Homesteaders were without scruples very often in suchmatters. The law of the state was that before a followed trail was cutoff, it should be advertised for five weeks in advance to that effect;but not one in twenty of the settlers knew that such a law existed.

  So Agnes Stewart had ridden fully two miles before she becameapprehensive of the fact that she had lost her way. Now the mostpractical plan for her would been to have turned directly about and goneback to where she had started down the fence. But, charged withimpatient youth, she sought what she felt to be the quickest way about.Now upon looking closely she could see that wires hung down in placesand that a post here and there had sagged. She urged the mare over aplace and then, once over, went in the direction she felt was home. Thestiff, zero night air had somewhat dulled her, and she made the mistakeof looking back, thereby confusing her direction to the point whereafter a few minutes she could not have sworn in what direction she wasgoing, except that the wind was still at her back.

  She peered into the darkness before her. She thought there would belights of homesteaders about, and while there was, the storm made itimpossible for her to see them. After a time she became alarmed, andrecalled her father's warning, also the store-keeper's. But her naturaldetermination was to go on, that she would get her bearings, presently.So, with a jerking of her body as if to stimulate circulation of theblood, she bent in the saddle and rode another mile or more. She hadcrossed draws, ascended hills, had stumbled over trails that alwaysappeared to lead in the wrong direction, and at last gave up for lost ata summit where the wind and fine snow chilled her to the marrow. She wasthoroughly frightened now. She thought to return to Gregory, but whenshe turned her eyes against the wind, she could catch no sight ofanything. She was sure then that she could not make it back there hadshe wished to. Not knowing what to do she allowed the mare to trot aheadwithout any effort to direct her. She had not gone far before sherealized that they were following a level stretch. And because sheseemed to keep warm when the horse moved, she allowed the mare tocontinue. A half mile she estimated had been covered when out of thedarkness some dark shape took outline. She peered ahead; the mare wasambling gently toward it, and she saw after a time that it was a quaint,oblong structure, a sod house apparently, many of which she had observedsince coming West into the new country. She was relieved. At least shewas not to freeze to death upon the prairie, a fact that she had begunto regard as a possibility a few minutes before. The mare fell into awalk and presently came up to a low, square house, built of sod, withits odd hip roof reposing darkly in the outline. She called, "Hello,"and was patient. The wind bit into her, and she was conscious of thebitter cold, and that she was beginning to feel its severe effects.There was no response, and she called again, dismounting in themeantime. When she saw no one she went around to where she observed alow door at which she knocked vigorously. From all appearances the placewas occupied, but no one was at home. She tried the knob. It gave, andshe pushed the door open cautiously. All was darkness within. Then,dropping the bridle reins she ventured inside. She could not understandwhy her feet made no sound upon the floor, but in truth there was nofloor except the earth. She felt in her coat pocket and presentlyproduced a match. When the flaring light illuminated the surroundings,she gazed about. It was, she quickly observed, a one room house. Therewas at her side a monkey stove with an oven on the pipe; while at herleft stood a table with dishes piled thereupon. There was also a lanternon the table and this she adjusted and lighted before the blaze died.She swung this about, and saw there was a bed with dirty bed clothing,also a trunk, some boxes and what nots.

  "A bachelor, I'd wager," she muttered, and then blushed when sheconsidered her position. She looked about further, and upon seeing fuel,proceeded to build a fire. This done, she passed outside, found a paththat extended northwest, and, leading the horse, soon came to a smallbarn. Here she saw two stalls with a manger filled with hay. She had topush the mare back to keep her from entering and making herself at home.She passed around the barn and entered the door of a small shed, forcattle obviously, but empty. Hay was in the manger, and, taking the bitsfrom the mare's mouth, she tied the reins to the manger, unsaddled, and,leaving the shed after fastening the door, she carried the saddle withher to the house.

  The little stove was roaring from the fire she had started, and she wassurprised to find the room becoming warm. She placed the saddle in aconvenient position and lifted her cap, whereupon her
heavy hair fellover her shoulders. She caught it up and wound it into a braid quickly,guiltily.... She unbuttoned her coat then, and took a seat.

  "There is no one here," she muttered to herself. "So since I don't knowthe way home, and there's no one here to tell me, guess I'll have togive it up until morning." She was thoughtful then. This _was_ somethingof an adventure. Lost upon the prairie: a bachelor's homestead: therealone. Then suddenly she started. From the storm swept outside shethought she caught a sound, and thereupon became quickly alert, but thenext moment her tension relaxed. It was only the wind at the corner ofthe house. The room had become warm, she was uncomfortable with theheavy coat about her. She was conscious, moreover, that her eyes wereheavy, sleep was knocking at her door. She shook off the depression andfell again to thinking. She wondered who could live there and shecontinued in her random thinking until shortly, unconsciously, she fellinto a doze.

  She could not recall whether she had dozed an hour or a minute, but shewas awakened suddenly and jumped to her feet; for, from the storm shehad caught the sound of horses and wagons passing the house at only ashort distance. She stood terrified. Her eyes were wide, her lips wereapart as she listened to the grinding of the wagon wheels--and they wentdirectly toward the barn. Then all was silent, and she placed her handto her heart, to still the frightened beating there. She heard thehorses shake in their harness, and came to herself. The man of the placehad returned; she had taken charge of his house, he a bachelor and she amaid. She felt embarrassed. She got into her coat and buttoned it abouther hurriedly; and then drawing the cap over her head, she waited,expectantly, although she was sure that time sufficient had expired,whoever drove the teams had not come toward the house. She could hearthe horses, but she could not ascertain that they were being unhitched.She was undecided for a moment, then, catching up the lantern, shequickly went outside. Two wagons loaded heavily with coal greeted her.She passed to the front and found four horses, white with the frost fromperspiration, standing hitched to the loads. She passed to their heads.No one was about, and she was puzzled. She passed around to the otherside, and as she did so, stumbled over something. With the lanternraised, she peered down and then suddenly screamed when she discoveredit was a man. Then, on second thought, fearing he had fallen from thewagon and become injured, she put her arm through the bail of thelantern, reached down, caught him by the shoulders and shook him. He wasnot injured, she was relieved to see; but _what was_ the matter? In thenext moment she gave a quick start. She realized in a twinkling then,that the man was freezing--perhaps already frozen!

  From a painting by W.M. Farrow.

  HE RAISED ON AN ELBOW AND LOOKED INTO HER FACE WHILE SHE STAGGERED INGREAT SURPRISE.]

  With quick intuition she reached and caught him beneath the arms, andturning, dragged him to the house. She opened the door, and lifting hisbody, carried him in her arms across the room and laid him upon the bed.Then, realizing that the night was severely cold, she rushed out,closing the door behind her, and a half hour later had the horsesunhitched, unharnessed and tied in their stalls. This done she returnedhurriedly to the house to find the man still unconscious, but breathingheavily. She did not know at once what to do, but going to his feet,took off his shoes. This was rather difficult, and she feared that fromthe way they felt, his feet were frozen. She rubbed them vigorously,and was relieved after a time to feel the blood circulating and the samegiving forth warmth. She sighed with relief and then pulling off theheavy gloves, she exercised the same proceeding with the hands, and wascheered to feel them give forth warmth after a time. She unbuttoned thecoat at his throat, and rolling him over, managed to get it off of him.Next she unbuttoned the collar, drew off the cap, and for the first timesaw his face. It was swollen and very dark, she thought. She brought thelantern closer and looked again. She gave a start then and opened hermouth in surprise. Then she fell to thinking. She went back to the chairbeside the fire and reflected.

  "It is all the same, of course," she said to herself. "But I was justsurprised. It all seems rather singular," she mused, and tried tocompose herself. The surprise she had just experienced, had,notwithstanding her effort at self possession, disconcerted her. Sheturned suddenly, for she had caught the sound of a noise from the bed.She got up quickly and went to him. He had turned from his side to hisback. She stood over him with the lantern raised. To see him better sheleaned over, holding the lantern so that her face was full in the light.She had unbuttoned her coat at the throat, and seeking more comfort, hadalso removed the cap she wore. She had, however, forgotten her hairwhich had been held about her head by the cap and it now fell in braidsover her slender shoulders. On the instant the man's eyes opened. Heraised on an elbow, looked into her face, smiled wanly, and murmured:

  "It is you, Agnes. You have come and oh, I am glad, for I have waitedfor you so long." In the next breath he had fallen back upon the bed andwas sleeping again, while she staggered in great surprise. _Who was thisman_ that he should call her name and say that _he_ had waited?

  But with Jean Baptiste, he snored in peace. His dream had come true; theone of his vision had come as he had hoped she would. But Jean Baptistewas not aware of the debt he owed her; that through strange providencein getting lost she had come into his sod house and saved his life. Butwhat he was yet to know, and which is the great problem of our story,the girl, his dream girl, Agnes Stewart, happened to be white, while he,Jean Baptiste, The Homesteader, was a Negro.