As Far As I Can See Page 3

  The cabin is a square. It has a fireplace. An oven stands in a corner. They call this corner the kitchen. Shelves on the wall serve for a pantry. A quilt hangs from the rafters. Behind it is Aunt Margaret and Uncle Aubert’s bed. George and Charlie and John sleep in the loft. And that is all there is of the cabin.

  Aunt Margaret fixed us corn cakes and bacon for supper. I offered to set the table. Then I looked around. There was no table!

  Aunt Margaret laughed. She picked up her wash-tub from where it hung on the wall. She set it upside down on the floor. That was our table. We sat around it on overturned buckets. We ate on tin plates. Aunt Margaret said that every bit of her china broke on the way to Kansas.

  Uncle Aubert said that for now, I will sleep on a bed of “prairie feathers.” He sent Charlie and John out to get a big load of hay. They piled half of it on the floor. Aunt Margaret laid two quilts on top. Then the boys piled the rest of the hay onto the quilts. I crawled between the two quilts. The hay smelled so sweet. It was as snug as a real feather bed.

  Pres scrambled up the ladder to sleep in the loft with his cousins. Charlie is eight. John is six. Pres is seven, so he fits right between them.

  I fell asleep listening to chirping crickets and to the low sounds of grown-ups talking. Uncle Aubert talked of owning land. Dr. Baer talked of voting to make Kansas a free state. Aunt Margaret said it was a great pity that women could not vote in elections.

  This morning Pres and I hugged “our dear Bear” good-bye. Then Ruby and Blanco took him off to Neosho and the vegetarians.

  Later

  I have written to Mother and Father. Uncle Aubert will take my letter to Lawrence. He says it will go out on the next wagon east. Uncle Aubert says he will see whether a letter has come from Father.

  Pres told me he was going with Charlie and John to gather “buffalo chips.” I wanted to ask what buffalo chips were, but Pres ran off too fast.

  George showed me around outside. Uncle Albert has claimed 160 acres of land. To keep it, he had to build a cabin and he must farm the land. Behind the log cabin is a small barn. It is made of prairie-soil bricks, called “sod.” An ox named Kip and a black-and-white milk cow called Mollie live in the barn. Mollie is very fat. George says she will give birth to a calf this summer.

  There is a stream nearby. And a grove of trees. George says this makes it a very good claim. He showed me his father’s cornfield. The corn is up to my shoulder now.

  George showed me Aunt Margaret’s garden near the cabin. She is growing potatoes, carrots, watermelons, pumpkins, and squash.

  The little boys came back from the prairie with six flour sacks of “buffalo chips” — also known as buffalo dung! George told me they dry it in the sacks all summer and then burn it for fuel all winter. I am very thankful that I will not be in Kansas for the winter.

  Later

  We have planted the baby apple trees beside the cabin. We spaced them apart with plenty of room to grow. I dug the holes. Aunt Margaret shook her head at me, digging in my lilac silk. She says she will soon make me a prairie dress. The boys ran down to the creek. They brought back buckets of water and watered the trees. I think Mother would be happy to see part of her garden growing in Kansas.

  Later

  Uncle Aubert came back from Lawrence. There was no letter from Father.

  June 8, 1856

  There is no church nearby, so we held our own worship this morning. We stood in a circle, holding hands. Uncle Aubert said the Twenty-third Psalm. Then we each prayed silently. I said my usual: Dear Lord, please help Mother and Grace to get well!

  Pres told me he loves Kansas. He loves running outside all day. He loves flying his kite in the wind. He even loves gathering buffalo chips! He wishes we never had to go home again.

  I said Kansas is the end of the earth.

  June 10, 1856

  I have a little room of my own! Uncle Aubert fastened an oak plank to the wall with wooden pegs. It is like a shelf, only wider. Aunt Margaret and I stuffed a mattress ticking with hay. We tied this hay mattress on top of the wide shelf. Aunt Margaret gave me a ticking stuffed with chicken feathers, too. She says I can sleep on top of the feather bed in the warm weather — and crawl under it when it gets cold. I reminded her that I am staying only for the summer. I will not be here when the weather turns cold.

  Uncle Aubert hung a quilt from the rafters. That is my “wall.” We put my trunk beside my bed for a table. I put a candle and my diary on it. It is a cozy little room.

  June 11, 1856

  I awoke in the night to yellow eyes staring at me! I screamed. The eyes vanished. Aunt Margaret came running. “A wolf was here!” I cried. Aunt Margaret reached under my bed. She picked up a gray cat. “Here is your wolf,” she said. The cat’s name is Mouser. I stroked her, and she purred like the engine of The Kansas Hopeful.

  Pres, Charlie, and John followed me around all day today, howling like wolves. At last George made them stop their teasing. George is serious and a good help to his father. But Charlie and John are as wild as Pres.

  June 12, 1856

  Aunt Margaret hitched Kip to the oxcart this morning. She put the wash-tub in the cart, and all the dirty clothes. I went with her down to the stream. We walked through the prairie grass that goes on and on, as far as I can see.

  Mouser came, too. She was hidden in the tall grass. We could see only the grass tops parting as she ran.

  At the stream, we took off our shoes and stockings. Then Aunt Margaret took off her skirt. I gasped! She wore only her bodice and pantalettes! Aunt Margaret laughed. She said she favored the new style, started by Amelia Bloomer. Mrs. Bloomer believes that women should not have to wear heavy skirts and many petticoats. She believes women need clothes that make it easy for them to move when they work. So Mrs. Bloomer has invented “bloomers.” They look like men’s wide-legged trousers, gathered at the ankles.

  Aunt Margaret working in her pantalettes! Mother would say she is a disgrace.

  But Mother is not in Kansas.

  I took off my skirt.

  Aunt Margaret and I waded into the cold, clear water. We filled up the wash-tub. Aunt Margaret poured in a thick, strong-smelling soap that she had made herself. Then she put in the white clothing. She scrubbed and kneaded them in the suds. (No wonder her hands are red!) I helped her wring out the soapy water from the clothes. While she washed the dark clothing, I rinsed the white clothes in the stream. I waded up to my knees. How good it was to have a cool job on such a hot day!

  When the clothes were rinsed, we wrung them out and spread them on the grass to dry.

  While the clothes dried, Aunt Margaret and I lay on our backs and watched the clouds. They were white and fleecy, like lambs blowing across the sky. Far away we saw a dark cloud. In no time, the wind blew it over our heads. With a clap of thunder, that cloud let loose a flood of rain. Aunt Margaret and I ran around picking up the clothes from the grass. But we could not run fast enough. When the storm was over, all the clothes were streaked with mud. We had to start wash day all over again.

  Mouser appeared after the storm. There was not a drop of water on her.

  June 13, 1856

  Aunt Margaret was stirring up corn cakes for lunch. She asked me to season the batter. I put in a pinch of salt. Then I reached for a shaker labeled PEPPER. Aunt Margaret quickly took the shaker from my hand. She unscrewed the lid. She showed me that this pepper is bright red. This is Aunt Margaret’s just-in-case pepper. Just in case a Border Ruffian or an unfriendly Indian or a bear ever comes into the cabin, she will give him a face full of fiery red-hot pepper.

  Later

  Something terrible has happened! We saw what looked like a rain cloud coming. But it was a cloud of grasshoppers. They settled in Uncle Aubert’s cornfield. In no time, they stripped the leaves off every plant. The whole crop is ruined.

  Uncle Aubert has gone off on a walk by himself. George tried to run after him. But Aunt Margaret held him back. She said that Uncle Aubert needs time alone bef
ore he will be fit company.

  June 15, 1856

  I have a friend! Her name is Lily Vanbeek. She is eleven. But she is small for her age, so we are the same size. Lily has brown braids and freckled cheeks. I did not realize how lonely I have been for a friend.

  Lily’s family lives on the claim nearest this one. It is one mile away. Last night the Vanbeeks came for a “potluck” supper. Aunt Margaret says whatever we are lucky enough to have, we throw into the pot.

  The Vanbeeks brought potatoes and pork for the pot and fried apples for dessert. They moved to Kansas from Minnesota. Lily has three older brothers and three younger brothers. She and I are both so happy to have another girl to talk to.

  I wore my cream silk dress to dinner. Lily said she has never had a silk dress. She has only the blue-and-brown checked gingham dress she had on. And a green-and-brown checkered gingham for Sunday. I told her that I lacked prairie clothes. And Lily came up with the best plan!

  We ran into my little room. We slipped out of our own dresses. We put on each other’s clothes. Lily’s gingham dress felt so soft and comfortable. We ran out. Uncle Aubert pretended he could not tell which of us was Lily and which was Meg.

  Mr. Vanbeek took up his fiddle then. Aunt Margaret got out her tambourine. They played and the rest of us danced. We hooked elbows with partner after partner and swung around and around. (I think George liked having Lily for his partner.) Pres and John swung so wildly they felt sick to their stomachs and had to go outside. We danced until we collapsed onto the rug.

  Then Mrs. Vanbeek began singing. She sang “Call to Kansas!” It made me miss our “old Bear.”

  At last Mrs. Vanbeek said they had best be getting home. Lily and I had to trade back our dresses. By the door, the grown-ups grew serious. They whispered about someone named Del. Mr. Vanbeek said the marshall had his eye on their cabin, and that he was looking for any sign of a runaway — Del would not be safe there much longer. Mrs. Vanbeek said something about the Underground Railroad and Canada.

  Aunt Margaret is calling me to worship. I wonder who Del is?

  Later

  My prayer has not changed. After worship, I took out the pictures of Mother and Father and Grace and Nellie. I miss them all so much it makes my head ache.

  Later

  Uncle Aubert is worried about Mollie. She has lain down on the floor of the barn. She will not get up, even to graze. Charlie and John must take grass and water to her. I heard Aunt Margaret say that if they lost the cow, it would be a hard winter.

  June 17, 1856

  Aunt Margaret is making my prairie dress. She says she will show me how to stitch hems. It is made from tan cotton cloth with small blue flowers. It is not at all fashionable. But it is just right for Kansas.

  June 18, 1856

  Pres crawled into the shelf bed with me early this morning. He shook and said he was cold. But his head was burning hot.

  Aunt Margaret put a wet cloth on his forehead. She told me not to worry — her own boys have come down with the shakes before. “And look at them now,” she said.

  June 19, 1856

  I sit by my brother on my bed. I sponge his hot, red face and his skinny little arms. It is frightening to see him lie so still. Pres is never still.

  How could I ever have wished that Pres would come down sick? I never meant it in my heart.

  June 29, 1856

  Pres has not eaten in three days. If only Dr. Baer were here. He would know what to do.

  Pres sleeps in my shelf bed. So Charlie and John made me a prairie feather bed on the floor of my room. Aunt Margaret tells me to get some sleep, or I shall get sick, too. But how can I close my eyes? I must watch over Pres.

  June 21, 1856

  Uncle Aubert brought home a letter from Father. But it was the letter he wrote a month ago, before Pres and I left St. Louis. Uncle Aubert says the fighting around Lawrence makes the mail service unpredictable.

  Later

  Preston thrashes around so. The bed ticking is soaking wet. He says crazy things about riverboat gamblers. Aunt Margaret says it is the fever talking.

  Later

  Preston’s fever has broken! This afternoon he sat up in bed. He hollered, “Four feet, five feet, no bottom!” And he sank back down. I feared that the fever had made him lose his mind. Then I felt his head. It was cool! Aunt Margaret says Pres will soon start to feel better.

  June 22, 1856

  Preston is pale and thin. But he is kicking off the covers. He badly wants to get out of bed. Aunt Margaret says I mustn’t let him. I am so thankful he is better.

  More good news! Mollie has given birth to twins! Both calves are healthy and drinking Mollie’s milk.

  We worshiped longer than usual today. We have much to be thankful for.

  June 25, 1856

  Late last night there was a knock on the door. It was Theo Vanbeek, Lily’s oldest brother. Theo said now the marshall has a posse with him. The men ride by their cabin. They speak loudly, so the Vanbeeks can hear them. They talk about a man who wants his “property” back.

  Theo said he made sure he was not seen coming to our cabin. He asked if Del might stay with us until the Underground Railroad comes for her.

  Aunt Margaret and Uncle Aubert both said yes.

  Theo asked if they knew the punishment for hiding a runaway slave.

  Uncle Aubert nodded. If caught, he would have to pay one thousand dollars and spend six months in prison.

  One thousand dollars! Uncle Aubert does not have that much money. And what if he went to prison? What would become of his family?

  But Aunt Margaret said, “It is the right thing to do.”

  Uncle Aubert said, “The only thing.”

  Theo said his family would come over tonight for supper. And that Del would be with them. Then he slipped out of our cabin and disappeared into the night.

  My heart beats like a drum. A runaway slave, coming here. To this tiny cabin! Wherever can we hide her?

  Later

  No one says much now. Everyone walks around the cabin. We all hope to discover some small hiding space we never noticed before.

  Pres is so pale. His poor arms are as skinny as twigs. But he is wild again. Aunt Margaret says he may not get out of bed. So he stands on his head in bed. He puts his feet against the wall. He stays there until his face turns purple. We all scold him. But he cannot hold still.

  We have a bigger worry. Del is coming tonight, and there is still no place to hide her.

  Later

  Pres has given us an idea. I came into my room with soup for him. But he was not in bed. When I called his name, there was no answer. Suddenly Pres sprang up from under the feather bed, shouting, “No bottom!” I was so startled! I nearly spilled the soup. Then I thought, If Pres can disappear under the feather bed …

  Later

  The Vanbeeks came for supper in the pouring rain. There are so many of them, they knew the marshall would not notice one extra passenger in the wagon. They were all bundled up against the rain. The whole family came into our cabin together in a bunch. Then they stepped apart. And there was Del. She wore a man’s hat. A scarf was wound around her throat and covered half of her face. She had on a long-sleeved man’s shirt, gloves, trousers, and boots. She took off her hat and unwound her scarf. I saw that she was not very big. And that she had a deep scar on her forehead.

  Quickly, Aunt Margaret took Del into my little room. She explained the plan. How, if the marshall came, Del could hide between the straw mattress and the feather bed. How Pres would play sick. How he would lie on top of the feather bed, covered in quilts.

  Del nodded. She smiled at Pres. She said she hoped he would not mind a lump in his bed. Pres bounced on the bed. He said he liked lumps.

  I scolded Pres for bouncing. I said that this was not a game. This was the most important thing he would ever do. That if the marshall came, he must pretend to be asleep and not move a muscle. Pres said he understood. But he bounced as he said it.

  Th
en Del sat down on my trunk. She said if the marshall came, she knew Pres would do just fine.

  Pres nodded. But he kept on bouncing.

  We had our potluck supper. Del said she wanted to stay in my room and keep Pres company. So Lily and I took a plate to her. Then the rest of us ate and sang and danced. If the marshall and his posse looked in through the windows, they would have seen only two families, having fun.

  One by one, the Vanbeeks slipped into my room to say good-bye to Del. Lily cried when she hugged her. Then the Vanbeeks left our cabin, all in a bunch again.

  Now the house is quiet. The dishes are done. I have split my prairie feather bed in two. I am sleeping on one half. Del is next to me on the other. Uncle Aubert says he and George will take turns keeping watch through the night.

  I am about to blow out my candle.

  What will this night bring?

  June 26, 1856

  Nothing happened in the night.

  This morning, Aunt Margaret and I loaded the tub and the wash onto Kip’s oxcart as usual. We went down to the stream as usual. We washed the clothes as usual. We are all doing everything as usual. If any riders come by, they will not guess that anything is unusual at all.

  Here is the hardest part: Pres must stay inside. He is supposed to be sick. If the marshall rides by, he must not see Pres outside playing. Staying inside is hard for Pres. And I am very worried that if the marshall comes, Pres will not be able to hold still.