“Well, when they came up here, they didn't have any help. They did it on their own and figure the colonists are freeloaders taking a government handout.”
Luke looked outraged. “That's not true.”
“No, but that doesn't change how they feel.” Tom leaned his forearms on his thighs. “I figure we'd do a lot better to work together. It's not easy making a go of it up here.” He gazed at the mountains. “I s'pect it's in God's hands though.”
The wagon dropped into a deep rut, and Tom flicked the reins. “Come on there, boys,” he said affectionately. The wagon bounced out of the hole, mud clinging to the wheels. “The pieces I was thinkin' about are just around this bend.” He pointed toward a cabin with a wisp of smoke rising from its chimney. “That's my place.” A large barn sat west of the house, and black and white cows grazed in a fenced pasture.
Laurel studied the house. It was small but had two stories and a porch that ran across the entire front. Rows of orange nasturtiums mixed with pink and lavender pansies and pink hyacinths grew in well-tended beds bordering the home, and the grass growing around the house was deep green and clipped short. Except that the house was made of logs, the place reminded Laurel of the farms in Wisconsin before the drought. Hope bloomed.
The horses clomped across a wooden bridge. A small stream washed beneath it, then gushed out the other side, swirling over rocks and tufts of grass. Willows, berry bushes, and horsetail clung to the banks.
Tom Jenkins guided the horses to the side of the road. “Whoa.” He pulled on the reins, and the horses stopped. After pushing in the brake, he tied off the reins and climbed down. “This is it. There are four parcels along this stretch.”
Laurel stood. Hands pressed against the small of her back, she stared at the land. A meadow of lush grasses and long-stemmed white and yellow flowers stretched out before her. Beyond stood a forest of spruce, alder, and birch, where ferns, berry bushes, and other greenery sheltered. Rising behind the forest were mountains, rugged and strong. Like a fortress they hemmed in the valley. Laurel felt uneasy. She was used to wide open prairies.
Will jumped from the wagon and walked through the field, leaving a trail in the grass. Luke followed. Slowing his steps, Will stopped occasionally to pull up clumps of grass and dig in the soil. He lifted dark, damp loam in his hands, and breaking it up, sifted it through his fingers. He turned around and around, gazing at the fields and mountains. “This is it! This is what God had waiting for us. Your mother will love it.”
Laurel climbed out of the wagon and walked through the lush grass, the stalks slapping her legs. Fine particles of dust and pollen filled the air. She stopped beside her father, and he sifted the dark, musky-smelling earth into her hands. Crumbling the soil between her fingers, she let it filter to the ground, then looked at her father. “Grandpa would like it here. He'd plant an orchard.”
“This is it then,” Will said with a smile. “This is where we belong.”
“But what if we don't get this piece?” Luke asked.
“We will. I know it,” Will said.
Chapter Thirteen
MOMENTARILY CONFUSED, LAUREL ROLLED TO HER SIDE. WHERE AM I? SHE wondered. Staring at the dreary canvas wall, she remembered—the docking in Seward, a hurried trip by train to Palmer, and a visit to a plot of land. Today is the day!
Yawning, she stretched her arms over her head. It had been a long night. Her busy mind kept her tossing and turning, and sunlight had intruded long before it should have. Adjusting to the lengthy daylight hours would take some time.
Laurel fluffed her pillow, resettled her cheek against the cool cotton, and closed her eyes. Still, her mind would not rest. In frustration, she opened her eyes and studied the nearly bare room. Her father and Luke were both still sleeping. She smiled. What is it about men? They can sleep anywhere, anytime.
She closed her eyes again, but her mind immediately turned to thoughts about the day. We'll be drawing for land. I wonder if we'll get the piece across from Mr. Jenkins? Remembering the fertile acreage, she thought about the farm they would have one day; then college and a career swept the image away. A sense of emptiness settled over Laurel. Her family would be here and she'd be in Wisconsin.
“Well, I guess there's no sleep for me,” she finally said and sat up. Will and Luke didn't stir. She peered out the tent window. Although the sun was up, there was no activity outdoors. Of course not, she told herself. Reasonable people are still sleeping. She dropped back onto the mattress and pulled the blankets over her face, hoping she might fall asleep if she closed out the light. Instead, the air became stale and warm.
With a sigh, she threw back the covers and dropped her feet over the side of the bed. The coolness of the room raised goose bumps on her arms and legs. Certain the fire needed tending, she stood on the chilled wood floor, and cold pierced her bare feet. Walking quickly and promising herself she'd wear socks after this, she crossed to the stove, poked in two pieces of wood, then returned to bed, hoping the rest of the world would wake up soon.
Today would be the beginning of their new life. They already had experienced milestones—the day they'd decided to leave, the morning they left the farm, their departure from Seattle, the landing in Seward, and their ultimate arrival in Palmer, but today was the true beginning— the day they claimed their land. Today they would know what piece belonged to them—their new home.
Laurel's mind drifted back to Wisconsin and the home she'd known there. Dust would be piled on the windowsills, the floors, and the porch. Wind would sweep over the dried-up prairie, lifting dirt and carrying it into the empty house. It would moan under the eaves and lift dried paint from the shingles.
She felt the desperation that had driven them from that place and shivered and also wondered how David and his family were. She missed him and their casual, comfortable relationship. Unshed tears burned her eyes. That's enough of that, she told herself and sat up. There was no use staying in bed. She pushed back the blankets and sat on the edge of the mattress. Although the fire crackled, the room was cold, so she dressed quickly.
Luke rolled over and mumbled something. His eyes were still closed, so Laurel guessed he was dreaming. She pushed her feet into her shoes.
“What you doing?” he asked.
“Getting dressed.”
Luke stretched and yawned. “What time is it?”
“I don't know. Early. No one's up and about yet.”
“Boy, I slept like a log,” Luke said, stretching again. He climbed out from under his blankets. He was still wearing his clothing from the day before. Looking at the floor, he asked, “Hey, where are my shoes?”
“Look under the bed,” Laurel said, retrieving her brush from her bag and pulling it through her long hair.
Getting down on hands and knees, Luke peered under the bed. He dropped to his stomach, reached under, and came up with the shoes. Sitting right where he was, he pulled them on, then tied them and stood.
Laurel stared at her brother. “You know, your clothes look slept in.”
“That's because I slept in them,” he said with a grin.
“You should have hung them up. Everyone's going to think you're a tramp.” She tugged on the brush as it caught on a tangle. “I don't suppose you really care though.”
“I'm not trying to impress anyone.” He smirked. “I don't think Adam Dunnavant or Robert Lundeen care how I look.” He picked up his belt off the floor and passed it through the loops on his pants.
“What's that supposed to mean?”
Luke cinched the belt and smiled. “Nothin'.”
“I don't care a thing about either one of them.” Laurel pulled her hair back and braided it, then let the thick plait hang straight down her back.
“Well, they sure seem to care about you. Everywhere you are, they are. It's sickening—reminds me of the moths we used to have flitting around the front porch light during the summer.” He grinned. “And it don't look like you mind. I think you like the attention. You're probably sweet on both of them.”
“I'm not! Absolutely not! They're just friends.” She threw her brush back in the bag, then pulled up the bed sheets and blankets.
