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Authors: Stephanie Grace Whitson

Tags: #Romance, #Historical, #Fiction

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BOOK: Walks the Fire
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The man bowed stiffly and left to inform his companions.

“Hmph!” Augusta blustered, “he practically wrinkled his nose when he came through the door. Doesn’t think Hathaway House is good enough for him!”

“Augusta,” Jesse chided. “That’s not fair—you don’t even know the man.”

“Know
him?” Augusta retorted, “I know him all right. That’s Jonathan Daniels from Omaha. He’s the one who threw such a fit when they secreted the state records out of Omaha in that snowstorm last winter. Would I ever like to know just what he’s got up his sleeve! Think quick, Jesse! What can we serve for supper that’s—elegant? If that fellow has one tiny excuse to put down Lincoln, he’ll do it. One of those other men is probably a reporter, and I’m sure they’d just love to write a nice little article about how impossible it is to even get a decent meal in the west! Now, Jesse, say what you will, but it’s our civic duty to feed those men the best meal they’ve ever et.”

Jesse couldn’t argue with civic duty. Joseph was requisitioned to go hunting prairie chickens.

“LisBeth, come along!” Jesse called. “Augusta, we’ll be back in a little while. I’ve got some ideas.” Grabbing their bonnets, the two were out the door before Augusta could ask too many questions. Heading away from the village, Jesse began gathering—a root here, a few leaves there.

“LisBeth, look for a bushy plant with bright orange flowers—there! Over there! That one! See how the butterflies flock to it? Dig down deep and bring up a few roots. We’ll use that to flavor the soup. Now… a few more of these,” Jesse stripped some leaves off a plant and stuffed them into the already full muslin sack she had brought along.

“Mama, where on earth did you learn about all these plants. You never cooked with these before.”

Jesse smiled. “Remember when I told you how the Lakota helped me and Pa? Well, they taught me about plants, too, and these things are all edible. And they taste wonderful. I don’t think those gentlemen from Omaha will have experienced quite the same taste ever before.”

LisBeth looked at her mother.

Jesse grinned. “I also learned how to cook dog meat stew.” LisBeth grimaced and Jesse added, “but I don’t think we’ll put
that
on the menu tonight… although, actually, it tastes quite good.”

Back in the kitchen, LisBeth plucked the birds while Jesse made a salad of wild greens and onions. The birds were roasted in the oven alongside a wild plum upside-down cake.

“We’ll make leadplant tea instead of coffee. Just tell them it’s imported.” Jesse whispered.

“Mama, you taught me never to lie,” LisBeth chided.

“Well, it
is
imported—from the prairie!”

Just as the cake came out of the oven, Jonathan Daniels, Timothy Price, and Pythias Young were seated at their table—a few feet away from the regular boarders, as requested. They conducted their important business while the kitchen help served them.

Pythias Young was the first to notice that things were not quite right. Looking down at his plate, he poked suspiciously at the greens. But hunger won out. With a sigh, he muttered, “I guess I shouldn’t have expected a proper meal out here on the frontier,” and took a bite. He took another bite. Then he tried the wild carrots. By now, Jonathan and Timothy, the less timorous members of the party, had attacked their prairie chickens with gusto.

The planned meeting was forced to wait. The three gentlemen from Omaha had forgotten that they were genteel and must set a good example for the rough-hewn pioneers of Lincoln.

Augusta and Jesse served up huge platefuls of the food to all the boarders, who acted as if they ate in such grand style every evening at Hathaway House.

Jesse could have hugged scrawny Tom Mason when he commented—just loudly enough to be overheard, “Another excellent meal, Mrs. King. I always say, ‘Hathaway House in Lincoln surely knows how to serve fine fare to one and all.’”

“Thank you, Mr. Mason,” Jesse replied matter-of-factly. Her eyes sparkled. Augusta thumped him on the back and offered him more tea.

“Tea?” Jonathan Daniels asked from across the room.

“Imported!” barked Augusta as she poured him a cup. “Goes with the dessert better than coffee. See if you don’t agree!” And she set a huge piece of cake down at his place.

The gentlemen from Omaha were softening toward Lincoln. Pythias began to think that perhaps his editorial might not be so brazenly negative, after all. Jonathan despaired of having the brilliant anecdotes he had hoped to share at the club upon his return.

“Uh, just what was the delicious soup you served this evening, Mrs. King?” he asked in his smoothest voice.

Jesse could not resist. “Dog meat stew, sir. It’s a specialty of Hathaway House.”

The three men from Omaha were aghast. Pythias gripped the edge of the table with both hands and forced himself to retain his supper. Jesse pursed her lips, arched one eyebrow, and allowed a tiny smile to curve up the corners of her mouth. From the kitchen doorway, LisBeth giggled.

The gentlemen looked at Jesse, then at one another. “Ah, a joke. A frontier joke. How amusing!” They smiled broadly—laughing to cover their sighs of relief—and Jonathan, the clever one, guffawed, “Dog meat stew, specialty of the Hathaway House! Great! I love it” Jonathan had his anecdote for his next evening at the club. He warmed toward the Hathaway House and Lincoln. The little village was coming of age, after all.

Having eaten enough cake to “kill a mule” according to Augusta, the gentlemen mounted the stairs to their rooms. The other boarders joked and mimicked them while Jesse sincerely tried not to enter in, and failed. When the last boarder had left the dining room, the three women shared triumphant smiles.

The next morning, Jonathan, Pythias, and Timothy left on the 7 a.m. stage for Elkhorn and on to Omaha. The
Republican
carried a short article some days later that Tom Mason rushed over to Augusta.

The proprietors of The Hathaway House in Lincoln do nothing by halves. They serve the finest meals, making use of the bounty of the prairie to create delicacies this writer found completely palatable.

“I guess he did!” snorted Augusta when she read the article to LisBeth and Jesse. “He ate two platefuls of greens!” The article concluded:

The author is most impressed by the rapid growth of Lincoln. Thanks to citizens like those encountered at The Hathaway House, and with the development of the salt industry, it will, no doubt, develop into a fine city.

In spite of the grudging praise from Omaha, however, Lincoln still had its problems. The commissioners failed in their first attempt to raise the $50,000 needed to erect a capitol building.

Augusta went to the first land sale and hurried home, the proud owner of the lot adjacent to her claim. She boasted of the bargain price of just twenty-five cents over the appraised value of forty dollars and lamented the foolishness of those who refused to speculate. But hers was the only purchase made that day.

“It’s a well-thought-out city, Jesse,” Augusta argued. “They’ve set aside blocks and lots for schools, parks, churches, and a market square. Why, they’ve even allowed for three lodges! Folks’ll come from all over. I just don’t understand why these fool men don’t see it. Just like men—they get their own way and then they’re afraid to get on with it! Why on earth don’t you buy yourself a lot? I’ll certainly loan you the money.” Augusta was expansive in her desire to share the future of her beloved Lincoln.

“I don’t argue that someday Lincoln will be a great city, Augusta. It’s just that I’m content,” Jesse replied. “The more a person owns, the more he has to worry over. LisBeth and I have enough.”

Augusta couldn’t understand. LisBeth, who was stirring a kettle of apple butter, secretly questioned her mother’s wisdom. But Jesse would not be moved. Augusta stopped scolding and tried to empathize.

“I tend to go overboard sometimes, Jesse. So, I guess we’ll balance each other out. You don’t seem to want
anything,
and
I
want to own the whole town! You keep me from going too far—and maybe I’ll force you to think of LisBeth’s future a bit more.”

Jesse bristled visibly. “Augusta, the Lord is perfectly able to take care of LisBeth’s future. I don’t think my acquiring material wealth is the way to teach her security. I want her to put her whole faith in the Lord. He always takes care of his own.”

“The Lord helps those who help themselves, Jesse!”

Jesse smiled and quoted,
“My help cometh from the LORD, which made heaven and earth.”

“That’s the trouble with you, Jesse. You always have an answer to everything. And it’s usually from the Scriptures, which makes me sound like a heathen if I try to argue!” Augusta changed the subject abruptly, going to the door and staring across the open land. “Now where’s Joseph with that string of fish he promised me for supper? All these newcomers can’t have fished Willow Bend dry yet!”

Joseph arrived soon with the promised string of fish in hand. Twelve regular boarders now dined at Hathaway House morning and evening, with a lunch available to those who required it at a minimal extra charge. Most of the boarders were the skilled laborers recruited to help build the new capitol. Some had come from as far away as Chicago, and their opinions of the prairie city provided lively debate at most meals.

“Know what, Miz Hathaway,” Tom Mason would begin, delighting in stirring up trouble, “I heard today that the railroad is headed clean around the salt flats—won’t come near Lincoln for fear some Sioux on the warpath will scalp the crews.”

Whatever the device used to “rile Miz Hathaway,” it always worked. Augusta bristled. “Tom Mason, you and I both know there hasn’t been an Indian scare in these parts in years. And tell your ‘source’ that around here all we have are Pawnee, and they’ve been peaceful for a long, long time!”

A sod dormitory was erected on the capitol grounds. Boarders from the east grumbled about living in dirt houses, and Augusta defended again. “I suppose you easterners would have just laid down on the prairie and died before now. Got no gumption! Well, Nebraskans know how to make do, and if the Good Lord don’t provide trees, Nebraskans just look around and use what he
has
provided. Our sod houses will still be standing when your children have children!”

All the while Augusta argued and defended, she moved around the table, taking up plates, refilling coffee cups. Jesse worked just as hard, but very quietly. Both women kept LisBeth busy in the kitchen, out of sight and sound of the men. “For your own good, dearie,” insisted Augusta. LisBeth was fast becoming a young woman, and neither Jesse nor Augusta wanted it noticed.

Augusta was wrong about Jesse’s lack of ambition for LisBeth. When Jesse saw Hortense Griswall’s ad in the
Commonwealth,
she was one of the first to respond.

Miss Griswall’s select school will open October 1 on 10th Street. Come to the first door south of Dr. Patton’s Drug Store. Tuition per term of 12 weeks: Primary Grades, $4, High English and Latin, $7, French and Music extra. Tuition to be paid half in advance.

“LisBeth, look at this,” Jesse called out, the first night the ad appeared.

LisBeth laid her knitting down and peered over her mother’s shoulder at the ad. “Oh, Mother… I’m too
old
for
school!”

“Nonsense, LisBeth. ‘High English and Latin.’ We have enough for that. Now I wonder how much extra music and French are.”

LisBeth wrinkled up her nose and returned to her knitting. “I don’t
need
to go to school. I know all I need to know to do sums for Aunt Augusta’s bookkeeping. I know how to cook and clean…”

Jesse interrupted her, “And you don’t know how to do a thing else.”

“But, Mother, I don’t
want
to do anything else. All I want out of life is a home and a family.” Seeing that her pleading was making no headway with her mother, LisBeth changed her attack. “Mother, you’ve said that God’s highest calling is to be a wife and mother. Did you suddenly change your mind?”

“Of course not, dear. It’s just that…”

“It’s just that you’re afraid I won’t be able to meet the
highest
calling, so I’d better get busy and prepare for something else. That’s it, right?”

“That is
not
it
,”
Jesse retorted, feeling defensive.

LisBeth changed her strategy again. “Mother, if we trust that the Lord will do what’s best for me, then why should I need a secondary plan to his
best
plan?
Why not just be patient for him to work it all out? That’s what you’ve always told me to do. Be patient. He makes all things beautiful in his time…”

Jesse’s mind whirled for an answer. She went to retrieve her sewing basket from her room, buying time to concoct a reasonable answer. By the time she returned, God had provided it. “LisBeth, of course we wait for God to answer our prayers. However, that doesn’t mean we do
nothing
while
we wait. Do you remember when Joseph shared about the brick wall with us? He said, ‘There’s a brick wall, and the Lord says, “Joseph, now I want you to go through that.” I ain’t going to say, “Lord, I can’t. I’ve got nothing to do with that.” All I have to do is push against the wall, and it’s the Lord’s business to put me through.’

“LisBeth, the future is a brick wall. Only God can put you through the wall into a happy marriage. But you have to step up to the brick wall and push against it. You have to put yourself into society. And to be in society, there are certain things a young woman needs to know… things I’ve never had a chance to learn. Things Augusta never learned. We’ve both been too busy surviving to worry about them. But you don’t have to worry about surviving, LisBeth. I’ll provide for you. You
can
learn all those things, and I want you to. God has provided the opportunity. We must not neglect to push against the brick wall!”

“All
right,
Mother,” LisBeth sighed. “I’ll go to Miss Griswall’s school,” she added, “but she’d better be
nice!”

BOOK: Walks the Fire
6.03Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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