|
Robert was the last one into bed and the first
one up next morning. He shivered as he hastily filled the cook
stove with wood kindling and got the fire started. When it was
warm he awakened Mary so she could prepare breakfast. Robert
went to the barn to feed the stock and then got the bits and
bridles ready for the team so Lawrence could take the children
to school.
When he returned to the now cozy shed which was to be their home
for the next few months, Mary had the little girls dressed and
was feeding them light bread and molasses and steaming hot cocoa.
Margaret was dressing herself and joined them when she finally
decided she could do no more to look better under the circumstances.
Lawrence was content to throw his overalls on over the same shirt
he had worn yesterday, but Mary intervened saying, "Here,
put on a clean shirt. You can't go to school in dirty clothes.
And get a move on, so you will have time to eat. How many eggs
do you want this morning?"
"Three, fried hard," Lawrence answered as he buttoned
the clean shirt.
"Three for me, too," Robert chimed in, "but make
mine soft fried."
"The way you two put away those eggs it's a wonder you don't
wear those poor hens out," Mary said as she set about to
fry the eggs.
"I'm going to empty the slop-jar. If you need to go again
before school you can use the new privy," Robert said as
he carried the urine filled porcelain pot outside.
Returning, Robert washed his hands and then sat down to the breakfast
Mary had prepared. He ate heartily as Mary moved on to fill the
little molasses buckets that would carry lunches she prepared
for the children. Everything was incredibly unhandy in her make-shift
kitchen, but she managed well, and soon all four had full stomachs,
clean faces and hands, and with lunches and books in tow as they
climbed into the buggy to head for school at Calumet.
Mary breathed a sigh of relief as her little group departed.
Robert returned to the barn to finish his chores and she could
now sit down and enjoy a cup of coffee and bread and butter,
while she wondered how many workmen she would have for dinner
and supper today.
When her breakfast was finished Mary immediately cleared away
the dishes and washed them promptly and again covered them carefully
so no creatures would crawl on them before time to use them again.
When the kitchen was clean she took the remaining hot water and
washed herself up and combed her hair. As she caught her view
in the mirror Robert had hung on the wall of the granary she
was, as always, astonished to see how thin she was. "For
the first time in my life, I am glad my mother can't see me.
She would be worried sick to see me looking so frail," she
said to herself as she rubbed the wash cloth over her pale face.
She closed her big prominent blue eyes and half-prayed, half-thought
aloud, "I do so hope I was right to believe it was the dampness
along that river bottom that kept me sick with ----- all the
time." She brushed her soft brown hair and pulled it back
into a bun at the nape of her neck.
Finished with her toiletries, she made up the beds, fluffing
the feather mattresses and pillows so they would be comfortable
for tonight. Mary then washed the lamp globe and set about emptying
some more of the boxes to be sure she had everything she needed
for the days ahead. When her inside work was done, she went out
to feed her chickens. She breathed deeply of the crisp February
morning air and felt a pang of loneliness for Nebraska and the
family she had left behind. I guess I'll never get over missing
Mama and Dad, she thought as she continued her chores.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Cliff and Ed Thompson drove
up in their wagon, which was laden with building supplies. "Good
morning, Mrs. Higdon, looks like we got a great day to set the
foundation."
"Good morning, Cliff. Yes, it sure does. I'm anxious to
get started," she responded cheerfully. "Will you be
the only ones working here today?" she asked, still wondering
how many to cook for.
"Probably, unless one of the drivers gets here today with
a load of wood," Cliff Thompson said as he and his brother
Ed pulled their wagon on around to unload.
Robert came in from the barn the and immediately started to help
them. When the wagon was empty he unhitched the horses and took
them to the new barn the Thompson men had built a month before.
Lucky the animal owned by Robert Higdon, for though they worked
long and steady to keep up with this industrious man, they were
always rubbed down, fed and watered with great care. He extended
the same care to the animals of the men who worked for him.
Mary set about to prepare a big noon-day dinner for the three
men, adding enough for a couple more so she wouldn't be caught
short if the delivery man showed up. She was glad she had the
foresight to plan a little extra when indeed a wagon load of
timber came pulling in just before time to eat.
"Something sure smells good around here," the small
black man said as he nimbly jumped down from the wagon seat.
"You're just in time. Go ahead and wash up and I'll see
to your team. We can unload after dinner," Robert said.
The hungry middle aged man smiled his appreciation, revealing
a missing front tooth. He went eagerly to where Robert directed
him wash up.
Robert soon joined the three other men waiting at the table.
He said Grace and then Mary served them the hearty, delicious
meal she had spent the larger part of the morning preparing.
She accepted their compliments graciously when the meal was finished
and set about again to clean up. She looked out eagerly all day
to see how much they had gotten done. This part of building always
seemed so incredibly slow.
When the men were gone for the day the children, Mary and Robert
surveyed the work they had done. "Are you sure that foundation
is big enough for the plans we have, Robert?" Mary asked.
"Yes, Mary, they are building exactly according to the specifications.
You always worry when you see a foundation. They never look big
enough to you," he said, laughing as he spoke.
"It sure does look small," she continued to worry.
"Don't fret, Mary. Remember, it is going to have two floors,"
Robert said to reassure her.
"I still wish we had some trees around here," Lawrence
added.
"We're going to have trees--lots of trees," Robert
added, "but you are all going to have to give me a little
time."
"Yes, you're daddy's right," Mary said. "Come
now, let's get on with our evening chores so we can get a good
night's sleep. Tomorrow will be another busy day. So everyone
pitched in, bringing in the wood for the stove, milking the cows,
straining the milk through clean rags and churning butter from
the cream that had been skimmed from the top of yesterday's milk.
By the time the sun was set the days work was finished, and the
family ate by the light of the lamp and then sat close to the
same lamp to study their lessons for tomorrow. They were all
exhausted when the day came to a close, but in this house you
were never to tired to say your night prayers. When they had
asked God to bless everyone they loved, and even those they didn't
love too much, they crawled into their comfortable beds.
The days ahead grew busier and busier for the Higdons. More men
were added daily to the building crew and Mary dutifully turned
out meal after meal for them. Monday was by far the hardest day,
for that day she filled the old black pot with the hard water
Robert pumped from the well, added lye to soften it and when
it came to a boil, she skimmed the excess lye from the top. Mary
then used it, along with the lye soap she had made earlier, rubbing
grimy clothes on a rub board. When the last pair of overalls
were hung on the clothesline, Mary brushed the hair back from
her face with her shriveled hands and gratefully sighed with
relief as she sat down for a short rest.
Robert was feeling the burden too, as he added getting his spring
crops into an already bulging schedule. As soon as the children
were delivered to school, he took his team to the field and prepared
them for planting cotton. As more and more demands were put on
his time he hired a man to help him and he came to live with
the Higdons.
There was no way they could manage without the extra help, but
now Mary not only had dinner to prepare but also had an extra
mouth to feed at breakfast and supper. The thought of complaining
never entered her mind, and she worked joyfully as she saw her
dream house taking shape.
One evening at dusk she was setting supper on the table for her
family and the hired man when the black man came rolling in with
another wagon-load of timber from the South Canadian River. He
jumped down off the wagon seat and when he reached the door his
mouth was watering from the aromas of fried potatoes and peach
pies that drifted through the evening breezes and he called out,
"Have you et yet?"
"No, you're just in time," the empathetic Mary answered
as she saw the tired man stretching and rubbing his aching back.
"Get washed up and come on in."
When the toothless, black, middle-aged man entered and started
for the table, the hired man, who was already seated, rose in
indignation. "You surely don't expect me to eat with no
nigger, do you?"
"Well, I never thought it---," Mary started to protest.
"I don't want to cause you no trouble, Mrs. Higdon,"
the tired delivery man said as he went immediately outside. "I
don't mind eatin' out here."
Mary's face flushed with anger at the situation, but she didn't
know what to do.
"Let it be, Mary," Robert cautioned his wife. "Fix
up a nice plate for Ned and I'll see to a stool and make-shift
table for him.
Mary bit her lip to control her Irish temper and shot angry glances
at the hired man as he sat smugly at the table eating the food
she had prepared. She loaded the plate for Ned with double portions
of everything and gave him an extra piece of peach pie to compensate
for the indignity. As Mary handed the meal to Ned tears rolled
down her face and she hurried back to busy herself at the stove
instead of joining the family at the table.
Only after the children were asleep did she speak about it to
Robert. "Oh Robert, what kind of Christians are we to let
that hired man humiliate a man like that in our home?"
"Mary, Mary, dear, kind Mary. That's just the way it is
down here. Ned understands. I'm sure it didn't bother him as
much as it did you. I don't like it any better than you do, but
if I fired this hired man, the next one would be the same,"
Robert held his wife close to him and tried in vain to console
her.
Thoughts of injustice filled her mind as she went about her work
the next day, but she knew in her heart Robert was right, and
it was not in her power to change the whole social structure
of the world, but she would often tell her children, "In
this world the only real thing a person has is his dignity. Be
careful that you never take that from him."
**** **** ****
"I've got to go into town tonight to a school-board meeting,"
Robert said to his wife.
"Oh, Robert, as tired as you are, can't they get along one
night without you?"
"I suppose they could, but I wouldn't feel right. Of all
the things we do, next to religion nothing is more important
than the education of these children, Mary. I especially want
to be there tonight because they are thinking of ordering some
new textbooks. I want to do what I can to insure that these children
get a good education."
"Of course, I know you're right. I'll lay out a clean shirt
for you while you get washed up." Mary knew from experience
that Robert was not about to shirk his responsibility in the
community no matter how tired he was and it would be futile to
argue.
Soon Robert was mounting his horse and saying to Lawrence, "Don't
forget to bring in the kindling before it gets too dark."
"I won't," Lawrence responded as he watched his dad
leave for town. He felt proud that his dad had such an important
job as picking out books for the school. He thought his dad must
be a pretty important man in the community. He kicked a few rocks
around and then set about the boring task of picking up the kindling,
dreaming of the day when he was old enough to do important things.
His dreams were interrupted when he saw two young Indians driving
a team that was pulling a wagon into their drive. He quickly
ran into the shed and threw the kindling into the wood box behind
the stove. "Mama, Mama, Indians are coming," he shouted
to his mother who sat darning socks.
"Oh no! Why do they always come when your father is gone?"
she responded, hurriedly laying her mending aside. "Quick,
girls, come with me and don't any of you leave my side until
they are gone."
The admonishment was unnecessary for the little ones and they
took their posts on either side of their mother, clinging tightly
to her skirt. Margaret took Loretta's hand and Lawrence held
Mildred's as the nervous family greeted the wagon pulling up
to their door.
The two young Indian men who sat smugly on the driver's seat
of the wagon seemed to relish the vulnerability displayed by
Mary and her little skirt-hangers. An older woman, probably their
mother, was sitting on the floor in back of the uncovered wagon.
She was surrounded by a variety of blue and white porcelain pots
and pans.
"You like trade?" one of the young bucks asked in broken
English as he pointed to the pans.
"Maybe," Mary answered feebly. "What do you want?"
"Chickens for these," he continued as he took two of
the blue pie plates the older woman handed him.
When Mary asked if she could examine the pans he indicated he
could not understand what she was saying. After laboriously negotiating
the exchange of two pie plates for two chickens, Mary directed
Lawrence to get the long wire hook and catch the chickens that
had already gone to roost. She was not about to leave the girls.
She did not like the way the young men were looking at Margaret.
She could not understand what they said as they snickered but
she suspected they were up to no good.
After what seemed hours Lawrence returned with the two squawking
hens and the exchange was complete. Mary breathed a sigh of relief
as she herded her little brood back into the shed and anxiously
looked at her pans.
"I sure got stung on that deal. These pans are almost as
badly chipped as the ones I already have. And I gave two of my
best layers for them," she grumbled, mostly to herself.
Robert returned shortly and asked what the Crow family had been
doing here. He had passed them on his way home and thought he
had seen them coming out of their drive.
"They wanted chickens, which I stupidly gave them for these
old chipped pie plates. I couldn't understand them well enough
to trade with them even if I hadn't been scared to death all
the time they were here."
"That's strange. Mrs. Crow speaks perfect English,"
Robert mused.
"Well, she didn't do anything but grunt a little while she
was here. And I got a good stinging," Mary continued.
"Don't let it upset you so. They were probably hungry, Mary.
If I know you, you would have given them the hens if they had
asked.
"I'm sure I would, but I hate this language barrier game."
Then softening a little she asked, "Do you really think
they might be hungry?"
"There's a good chance. The hunting just isn't what it used
to be around here, and most of their corn burned up in last summers
heat. And you must remember, Mary, they don't can the variety
of things all summer the way you do. They are too proud to ask
for charity, so they barter away the useless things the government
issues them. I know you wouldn't want to take their dignity.
Forget the chipped pans and just consider it charity," Robert
consoled his wife as he put his arms around her
|