Luke grimaced. “But we live here.”
“They say we've got to be here a year or pay up.”
“That's not fair.”
“I know, but it's the law.”
“Those government agents lied to us! They said we could hunt and fish all we wanted. Now what are we gonna do?”
Will raised an eyebrow. “We can fish, but the hunting will have to wait.”
“We don't have the fifty dollars?” Luke asked.
“Nope.”
“What if I earn it? Would you let me hunt?”
“Sure.”
“All right then. I'll find a job.”
“Some of the land can be tilled and planted right away,” Will said. “Your mother is one of the best gardeners I know. The vegetables will help.”
“We don't have to wait for the house to be finished before we put in a garden?” Laurel asked.
“Nope. As soon as I can get my hands on a plow, we'll turn the soil and get seed in the ground—that is, if the equipment and seeds are here. Seems things aren't exactly what we expected.” Will stopped in front of the administration office. “I'll know soon enough what's in and what's not.”
“While you're doing that, I'll go to the store and get supplies,” Laurel said. “We'll need something for supper. Where is the store?”
“Not far. Just down that way.” Will nodded in the direction of the mercantile. “You'll find it easy enough. Just stay on this road.”
Laurel was in no hurry and strolled down the rutted road, navigating around puddles and soft mud. The sun felt good. Not exactly hot, but warm.
It was easy to find the market. It had a sign posted over the door that read Palmer Post Office and General Store. It wasn't large, and was deeper than it was wide. A few people stood out front waiting their turn to enter. Most had wagons or wheelbarrows. Realizing she had no way of carrying supplies home, Laurel wondered if she ought to get her father and Luke. Not wanting to lose her place in line, she decided to get just necessities. She could return for more tomorrow.
“I can't believe the piece of property we got,” Laurel heard a woman complain. “It's no more than a swamp. And there's no timber on it. We could have starved just as well back in Michigan.”
The woman was small and thin with dark brown hair pulled back severely and twisted into a bun. Her face looked pinched and dried-up. A little girl in a faded dress stood off to one side, and a small boy with dirt on his face and hands clung to the woman's skirt. Tears had left pale streaks on his grimy cheeks.
“So, what're you gonna do?” a plump woman wearing a plaid dress asked.
“We're filin' a complaint, that's what. They'd better give us a better piece of land, or we're packin' up and headin' home.”
The boy pulled at his mother's dress. “I'm hungry.”
Without hesitation, the tiny woman cuffed the boy up the side of the head. “Stop whinin'.”
Sticking a dirty thumb in his mouth, he leaned against his mother.
“I heard there's lots of unhappy folks,” the small woman continued. “And I s'pect there'll be a whole bunch who'll pack it in.”
“Can't say that I blame them. There's been a lot of lyin' goin' on. That bunch up in Washington D.C. don't know what they're talkin' about, and the government agents have been lyin' to us from the beginning.”
The waspish-looking woman nodded. “I s'pose you got a bad piece too.”
“No.” Her eyes flickered away. “We got good land, but we sure do sympathize with you.” She closed her coat over a heavy bosom. “Are you really thinkin' of leavin'?”
“You're darn tootin'. What do we have to stay for? If they don't give us a decent piece of ground, we'll be outta here faster than a hound can chase down a possum.” She folded her arms over her chest and tipped up her chin a notch.
Laurel thought she might be pretty if her face weren't so puckered and angry. This woman hadn't given Palmer a chance yet.
“Do you think you can get another parcel?”
“Hmm,” she sniffed. “They'd better give us one. I'll let someone spit in my eye before I pay one red cent for a worthless piece of ground. After all they put me and my family through, they ought to give me a new parcel plus let me keep the one I have.”
The line moved, and the two women disappeared through the doorway.
“Hey there, Laurel. How you doin'?” a familiar voice called.
Laurel turned to find Robert striding toward her. He carried his tall frame with ease. “Hi, Robert. I'm well. How about you?”
“Can't complain. I'm itching to get a plow in the ground. It's good soil out there.” His deep brown eyes radiated excitement. “One day I'll have a fine farm.”
“You plan on staying then?”
“Of course. Where'd you get the idea I'd leave?”
“I heard some people are heading back to the states because things aren't what they expected. I guess I just … I don't know. Of course, you wouldn't leave. I know that,” she ended lamely, embarrassed at her suggestion.
