Ticket to Curlew (3 page)

IT WAS NEARLY
high summer. The prairie wool was beginning to turn brown and thousands of grasshoppers jumped out of the way of the plow as Pa hurried to get the fields ready for seeding in the spring. The soil would soon be too dry and hard to plow, so he worked from early morning until dusk.

Sam was busy, too. He made sure the horses had feed and bedding in their stalls in the barn. He used Great-grandfather's files to smooth off the rough edges of boards in the house, and he drove big nails into the barn wall and hung up all the tools.

If Pa could spare him, he sometimes went over to the Martingale place and gave Adam a hand with fence building. Mr. Martingale and John were plowing like Pa, except they had oxen instead of horses.

“They're the beasts for this country,” Mr. Martingale often said. “They're strong and they live on grass. No oats needed for oxen.”

But Pa still liked horses better. “Oxen can't take the heat,” he told Sam. “You have to start plowing before daybreak and work until dark so they can rest in the heat of the day. Besides, they're too slow for me. Walking behind an ox team would put me to sleep.”

But Pa got up almost as early as the Martingales. He made the breakfast porridge before he went out to the field, but Sam was in charge of the other meals. Supplies were getting very low. He was not sorry that the crocks of sausage were nearly empty. He didn't care if he never saw sausage again in his whole life. But the canned goods and dried fruit were gone. Pretty soon they would have nothing to eat but biscuits and beans.

Luckily Sam's biscuits had improved greatly with practice. It seemed as if he and Pa would never get tired of fresh-baked biscuit.

He remembered the day he and Pa stopped to visit with a young man who was farming a claim about two miles east of their place. He was a bachelor living alone in a tiny shack. “Baching it,” Pa called it. It was late afternoon and the man brewed them some tea.

“I'd offer you some biscuit,” he said, “but mine's getting mighty stale.”

“Don't you bake it fresh every day or two?” asked Pa.

“Bake biscuit?” said the man. “Not me. I came out here to farm, not to bake. My mother baked me up a whole trunkful of dry biscuit back in Ontario. It's lasted me this long but it's running low and getting stale.” He shook his head sadly.

On the way home Pa said to Sam, “You're better equipped to take care of yourself than that young fellow is.” Sam was pleased. He knew that to Pa, being able to take care of yourself was important. He had just never thought that baking biscuits would be part of it.

“Well, Sam,” said Pa one morning not long after this, “in spite of your excellent biscuits I say we've been two bachelors long enough. I think it's time the rest of the family came. What do you think?”

Sam looked closely at Pa. He recognized the twinkle in his eye. “Are they coming soon?” he asked.

“If tomorrow is soon, then they sure are,” said Pa.

Sam walked around all day trying to imagine Mama and Josie and Matt in the new house. It was hard. He was used to the quiet and the empty rooms. Tomorrow the house would be full of furniture and boxes — and family! Suddenly Sam could hardly wait.

The next morning Pa had the team hitched up so early that Sam knew he was impatient, too.

“Well, Sam,” he said as they drove along the track toward town, “this is the day we've all been waiting for. What do you suppose they're going to think of the new place?”

Sam was surprised. Pa hardly ever seemed to wonder how anyone else would feel about what he had decided to do. He loved new things so much himself.

“I guess they'll think the house is pretty small,” he said after awhile.

“But that's just temporary,” said Pa. “As soon as we get a good wheat crop we'll build another room or two. It's the land that counts. Your mama knows that. And pretty soon you children will be in school. Then you won't have time to miss the old place.”

Just then they passed a little rise in the prairie where three men were nailing beams across the top of a small frame building. Pa waved at them.

“That's the school,” he said. “They're hurrying to get it ready by the end of August.”

“I thought it would be closer to town,” said Sam.

“There are a lot of folks settling to the south of Curlew,” said Pa. “It won't be long before the town grows out this far. Anyway, it's better for us. It cuts a mile off the distance you children will have to travel.”

“It's still too far for Matt to walk,” said Sam. “Even Josie will have a hard time.”

“Oh, I've got a plan about that,” said Pa. “I just have to talk to Clara.” Clara was Mama. She would want to know about the school right away. Before she got married she had been a school teacher herself.

As they drove into town Sam looked around with new eyes. He hadn't been to Curlew since the day they had driven out to their land with Chalkey almost two months ago. Now the street seemed to be bustling with people. Two new stores had gone up. One was a livery stable and the other was a hardware store. Pa looked as proud as if he had built them himself.

“It's a growing town,” he said. “I hear there will be a hotel ready for customers before the snow flies.”

As they drove up to the station they could see the smoke of the train far off to the east. Pa stopped the team at the edge of the platform. Sam jumped out of the wagon and ran to lean out over the track. He could just see the gleam of the headlight in the distance.

Maybe Matt and Josie were standing on the platform between the cars waiting for their first sight of Curlew. Sam leaned a little farther.

Pa came and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Better step back from the edge, son,” he said. “That train will be here before you know it.” Sam could tell he was excited, too.

Suddenly Sam heard the chuffing and hissing of the train as the engineer threw on the brakes, and then the loud bell that told everyone in Curlew that the train had arrived. Sam watched the conductor swing down from the train and let down the steps. Matt would come first, he was sure, then Josie, then Mama.

But first came a family with many boys, all wearing wide-brimmed hats, and just as many girls with kerchiefs tied under their chins. Next came several young men laughing and joking with each other.

Then a small boy jumped from the top step.

“Pa!” he yelled. “Sam! We're here!”

The next minute Pa was swinging Matt over his head and giving Josie a big hug. Mama had her hands on Sam's shoulders. She was smiling at him.

“You've surely grown,” she said and hugged him.

Sam thought that Matt and Josie were both taller than he remembered, and they looked a little unfamiliar. But Mama was just the same, with her curly brown hair escaping from its bun and her brown eyes smiling and looking a bit anxious at the same time.

Then they all turned and looked at the little station and the dusty main street of Curlew. There was a silence. Sam knew that Josie was comparing Curlew with Jericho, just the way he had.

Before she could open her mouth to speak, he found himself saying quickly, “It's a pretty good town. There's a dry goods store and a livery stable and they're building a school. We saw them this morning.” I sound like Pa, he thought. He saw his father grinning at him and he grinned back.

“Yes,” said Pa. “Sam and I are settlers now. This is good country. We think you're going to like it, too.”

Josie sniffed. Sam knew it was no use telling her what she would like. He reached out and gave one of her braids a tug. He guessed he was glad to see her.

Matt kept asking questions. “Are those our horses? How long will it take to get to our house? Is there a boy my size down the road?” He didn't stop long for answers and he kept running down to the baggage car to see whether their trunk had been unloaded yet.

Mama stood quietly with one hand holding Pa's arm and the other on Sam's shoulder. “I'm glad there's a school and a church,” she said, “but I can't wait to see the house. Sam you're looking so brown. Has your father kept you busy every minute?”

“Without Sam the house and the barn wouldn't have gone up nearly so fast,” said Pa. “He's also the best biscuit maker in the territory. I was mighty glad Sam came with me, Clara, especially when I saw how lonesome the bachelors out here get.”

There was a long silence. Mama and Pa were both smiling at Sam, and he thought his face must be red. “I'm glad I was here before anything was built,” he said at last. “It was something to see, Mama. It really was.”

Then Matt came running up and saved him from having to say more. “There's our trunk,” he said. “Can we go see our own house now?”

“First we have to collect our livestock and all the rest of our Settler's Effects,” said Pa. “It all arrived yesterday. Chalkey is going to help us load up. Sam, you'll be in charge of the cows.”

“Me, too!” said Matt. Sam could just see his legs itching to run.

“You, too,” said Pa. “Sam will need plenty of help.”

It took hours to get everything loaded. Sam was glad to see their own two horses again. Rabbit was a dappled gray horse with extra-long ears and Lady was a patient bay mare. Pa had decided to buy Pete and Goldie, so there would be four horses in their barn. And the two cows and the calf.

Sam and Matt walked along behind the cattle. The beasts were restless from their long journey in the box car. They kept bolting off the track to one side or the other. The boys had to hustle to chase them back. Sam felt good running and shouting with Matt. He had missed his little brother more than he thought.

They were well past the schoolhouse and over halfway home when Sam noticed that the western sky was filling up with dark clouds. Pa saw it, too. He stopped the wagon and came back to say, “We're going to have to hurry, boys. There's a thunderstorm coming up.”

The animals seemed to feel the storm coming. They lifted their heads, snorted nervously and trotted faster. The sky was now pale yellow beneath the line of black clouds. The rays of the setting sun cast a slanting golden light that made every blade of grass stand out. Lightning flickered. The wind was blowing more and more fiercely, and it had a cool edge to it.

Sam could see the house now. It seemed that they were racing the storm to see which would get there first. He wondered whether Mama was frightened, but she was sitting up straight on the wagon seat beside Pa with wisps of her hair blowing in all directions. She didn't look frightened at all.

As they all crowded up to the barn, the last brilliant rays of the sun fell on the buffalo skulls. For a moment those empty eyes seemed to be looking at them. Josie moved closer to Pa.

Mama said, “They are interesting, Sam.” Matt's eyes opened wide. He was just opening his mouth to ask a question when the sun disappeared and big drops of rain began to fall. The skulls were just a pile of white bones again.

Pa said quickly, “Clara, catch up anything you really need and take Matt and Josie into the house. Sam, you help me unhitch and get the horses into the barn. I'll make sure the canvas on the wagon is secure.

Sam and Pa hurried as much as they could, but by the time the animals were settled, it was nearly dark. Sam followed Pa across the farmyard. Scattered raindrops were still making splotches in the dust, but as Sam stepped through the front door of the house there was a terrific crack of thunder. He shut the door quickly and rain began to pour from the sky onto their new roof.

Pa spread out his arms and said, “Welcome to the prairies.”

Mama laughed. “You didn't have to put on such a big show, James. But I promise, this is a homecoming I will never forget.”

PA AND SAM
spent the next two days putting furniture together and arranging it the way Mama wanted. Most important was the stove. It stood right in the middle of the kitchen where it would be used for cooking and for heat. Nearby under one of the windows was the round walnut table Great-grandfather had made.

“I didn't bring the sideboard,” Mama said. “I knew it would be too big for this house. Edward will look after it and someday, when we have space, he'll send it to us.”

“I've built plenty of shelves,” said Pa. “They'll hold our dishes just fine for now.”

Mama's rocking chair and the blue settee filled up the other end of the room. Pa set Josie's bed against the wall. Josie looked at it and set her mouth in a stubborn line.

“I won't sleep there,” she said. “At home I had my own room with a windowseat. I won't sleep in the kitchen.”

Pa tried to be stern, but Sam could see that he didn't like the look of that bed, either.

“Josie,” Pa said, “we all have to do the best we can. You'll have a room of your own when we can buy the lumber. But not now…”

“We can rig up a curtain,” said Mama. “James, it will just take two posts here near the corners of the bed and Josie will have her own little space. I couldn't bear to leave behind those blue plush curtains from the parlor. Josie shall have them to curtain off her bed.”

Pa put up the curtain and, while he was at it, he built three shelves above the bed. Josie unpacked her books and her china cats and the music box Grandma had given her last Christmas. She arranged them carefully on the shelves.

“When I go to bed, everyone will have to go to bed,” she told Sam and Matt. “And I will have the only warm bed when winter comes.”

For once Sam didn't argue with her snippy remarks. The room he and Matt shared was barely big enough for their two beds. They had hooks on the wall for their clothes and Sam's old wooden toy box for their treasures. That was all, but it was their room and they could shut the door.

In the Settler's Effects had come all the pickles and preserves Mama had put up over the summer. To Sam they made every meal a feast. Matt and Josie couldn't understand why he relished a spoonful of apple butter or a sweet pickle so much, but Sam knew the rows of jars on the shelves would barely last till spring. He didn't look forward to eating plain biscuits and beans again.

Mr. Martingale came over to welcome Mama to the district. “My sons and I are delighted to have you as neighbors,” he said. “I confess that I didn't anticipate how far we might be from other settlers. We are fortunate that we live close enough to be of help to each other.”

“I was very glad to see a house just across the wagon track,” said Mama. “It seems that the prairie can be a lonely place.”

“In addition to your arrival I was cheered by the arrival of my books,” said Mr. Martingale.

“Books?” said Sam. “Do you have a lot of books?”

“Several crates. I couldn't bear to leave them behind. Most are in Latin, I'm afraid. Remnants of my university days. I don't suppose the Curlew school will be up to Latin for a while, but if you want Shakespeare or translations of the Greek tragedies, you are welcome to borrow what you need.”

Sam was a little disappointed. He had hoped for adventure stories or books about birds. But Mama looked pleased that they had such a well-educated neighbor.

“I've heard that a new family has settled about three miles farther west,” Mr. Martingale told them. “I believe they have several children.”

“We'll have to pay a call,” said Mama. “When I've had time to do a baking we'll take them some cinnamon buns.”

“Several children,” said Josie thoughtfully. “Maybe there's a girl my age who can be my best friend. We can go to school together.”

“They are probably boys,” said Sam wickedly. “A whole row of boys from Matt's age to mine.”

“I don't mind all boys,” said Josie haughtily. “Just some I could mention.”

Secretly Sam hoped there would be a boy near his age. Now that life was more normal he missed his cousin Zach who had spent a lot of time out on the farm in Iowa. It would be good to start school knowing he already had a friend or at least an acquaintance among the pupils.

Pa, of course, wanted to meet any new neighbors. So a few mornings later when the chores were done they all piled into the wagon. Mama held a pan of buns in her lap.

As they drove west the land seemed to rise a little in long gradual waves. Sam was surprised. When he walked he had the feeling it was perfectly flat. Probably because I'm going so slowly, he thought.

Pa had just said, “We must be getting pretty close,” when they all heard a loud barking, and three shaggy black dogs with plumey tails came bounding toward them. In spite of all the noise the dogs seemed friendly as they leaped around the wagon.

“They're saying hello,” said Matt, nearly falling out of the wagon as he tried to pat them.

Pa drove slowly on. The dogs raced ahead, barking to announce the arrival of visitors. Then they dashed back as if they were making sure the visitors were really coming. After they had all gone about half a mile this way, three children suddenly appeared. They came running after the dogs, leaping and shouting. Two were small girls, holding up their long skirts as they ran. The biggest was a boy not much older than Matt.

Sam slumped a little. There was no friend for him here. Matt waved at the children and they all waved back.

By now they could see the house. It was small like their own, but it was built of blocks of sod cut right out of the prairie soil. The roof was flat.

“It's a soddy,” Pa said. “I've heard of them but this is the first one I've seen.”

“Why would anyone build a house out of earth?” asked Josie. “It must be as dark as a hole in the ground.”

“You know why,” said Mama. “Lumber is costly. Some people spend all they have just to get here. They have to build with what's around them. I do imagine that housekeeping in a soddy is hard work.”

Pa stopped the horses and the children stopped, too. They stood in a row staring at the Ferriers with round eyes.

“Hello,” said Pa. “We're neighbors and we came by to welcome you to the district. Are your folks at home?”

The three children looked at each other and the boy stepped forward and said something Sam couldn't understand at all. The boy shrugged and smiled. Then he beckoned as if to say, Follow me and started toward the house. The girls and the dogs turned and raced after him.

“I don't know what language that was,” said Mama. “I don't think I've ever heard it before.”

“You never know who you're going to meet out here,” said Pa. “They'll be good neighbors, I'm sure.” But Sam could tell he was disappointed that he couldn't swap stories with them.

A man and a woman came out of the sod house and walked toward the wagon. The woman wore a shawl over her hair and the man had a beard, but Sam didn't really look at them. Standing in the doorway was a boy who must be close to his own age. The boy had dark hair and level eyebrows that made him look as if he was frowning a little.

“He's shy,” Sam said to himself. “No wonder. A whole wagon-load of us and we don't speak his language.” He tried lifting a hand in greeting. After a minute the boy lifted one of his hands. Then he disappeared inside the house.

Pa and Mama were doing their best to talk to the man and woman. They were serious but friendly. They accepted the gift of cinnamon buns with many words that Sam knew were thanks. Mama tried to find out whether the children would be going to school, but the man shook his head and gestured to the land around him.

As they drove home Pa said, “I think he meant that their children will be needed to work on the land. It's too bad. It's the school that will bring all these different people together.”

“They have another problem, James,” said Mama. “We're four miles from the school. That family must be eight miles. They might as well be forty. We're scattered out here like families of gophers.”

“We're not a family of gophers,” said Pa. “We're lucky because we can talk to most of our neighbors. We'll find a way to talk to those folks back there, too. As long as we can talk and have a team of horses, there's no reason we can't be as sociable as we want to be.”

“Yes,” said Josie. “I'm going to go to Sunday School and Mrs. Pratt at the store told me that a piano teacher is coming to Curlew. Can I take lessons?”

“How are you going to get to Sunday School and lessons, Short Legs?” asked Sam. “You won't even walk out to see where I found the buffalo skulls.”

“Who cares about old bones,” said Josie.

“That's enough,” said Pa. “Where there's a will there's a way.” He smiled at Josie. “You and I will always find a way to be sociable.”

Sam thought again of the boy in the doorway of the soddy. He might be sociable, but no matter what Pa said, if they couldn't talk to each other, how could they get to be friends?