Chapter Eighteen

Homeward Bound

The flickering lamp in the center of the wooden table gave enough light for Hannah to cut the biscuits and shove them into the oven. Through the open door she could see that the sun was shining. Yet no matter what the weather looked like, the day would be fine, Hannah thought happily. In the distance she could hear Carl’s joyous whistle. This was the day they had waited for since the announcement had been posted in Willow Creek weeks ago. Today they would get a child!

Hannah brushed the flour from her hands and surveyed the room. The door admitted the only outside light, and she could see just dim outlines of the furniture, but Hannah knew every inch of her home without looking. Large, smooth stones shored up the dirt walls. Hard clay sealed the cracks and covered the slightly uneven floor. The two back corners were separated from the rest of the room by long, bright-red cretonne curtains.

Hannah smiled as she looked at them. They were certainly the brightest spot in the room. A wave of homesickness washed over her as she pictured her mother folding that heavy material into a box for the trip west.

“There’s a lot here,” Mama had said. “You can curtain every window in your new house and upholster the chairs with what’s left over.”

Hannah had never suspected, any more than Mama had, that her new house wouldn’t even have windows to curtain! So the cretonne wasn’t cut up but became walls for two small bedrooms. There were other splashes of color too. Bright patchwork quilts covered the beds. Rags of every hue had been used to braid the rugs that made the vivid islands on the dirt floor. As she looked at them, Hannah recalled the day she had entertained her first visitor in her new home …

“Hello-o-o! Anyone here?”

Startled, Hannah wiped her hands on her bright-yellow apron and ran to the door of the soddy. She and Carl had been here nearly two months, and this was the first voice she had heard besides their own.

“Yes, yes!” she had called and hurried out into the brilliant sunlight.

Jumping down from her wagon was a woman who looked about Hannah’s age, although she could have been older. The hot prairie wind whipped her long skirt around her legs. Under a gray poke bonnet, Hannah could see a sun-browned, friendly-looking face.

Hannah had hastened to greet the stranger. “Come in! Oh, I’m so glad to see you. Would you like some cold buttermilk?”

“I can’t think of anything I’d like better,” the woman replied. “Buck told me you folks were here, so I thought I’d better come and check you out.”

She followed Hannah down the steps into the cool interior of the room. Hannah pulled a chair to the table and seated her guest, then hurried to dip buttermilk from a heavy metal container. A plate of cookies completed the preparations, and Hannah settled down to enjoy her visitor.

The woman had said nothing since she’d entered, and now she regarded Hannah with interest. “Let me guess. You’ve come from somewhere in the South.”

“Why, yes,” Hannah replied. “But how can you tell?”

“The accent, for one thing. And the New England girls tend to be more practical than Southerners. I know. I came from Boston. Southern belles are flighty.”

Hannah had been stunned. “I’m practical,” she protested. “Carl and I planned carefully for this move. I think we’ve done well.”

“Now don’t get your temper up. I don’t even know your name yet. And you don’t know mine. I’m Ruth Buck. And I already told you that Buck and I came from Boston.”

“I’m Hannah Boncoeur.” Hannah was still a bit annoyed, but she would be civil. “We came from Louisiana.”

“Boncoeur. ‘Good heart.’ That’s a lovely name. Takes some living up to, doesn’t it?”

Hannah warmed a bit to her visitor. Ruth was blunt, but perhaps she could be a good friend.

“May I ask why you call your husband by his last name?” Hannah had inquired politely.

Ruth threw her head back and laughed heartily. “Yes, but you must never let on that I told you. His given name is Aloysius, and he hates it! Can’t say as I blame him. He said he wouldn’t have married me if I’d been called Hepzibah or some other impossible New England name. He likes things plain and simple.”

The women had laughed together over this, and from there on, conversation came easily. When it was time for Ruth to leave, they were good friends and promised to see each other as often as possible.

Hannah walked with Ruth to the wagon, and before her guest left, she asked the question that had been bothering her. “Why do you think I’m impractical?”

Ruth had looked down at Hannah’s apron. “The bright colors. Most women coming west brought grays or browns because they tend not to show the soil so badly. I can see, though, that you’d die out here without color. It’s right for you.”

If Ruth thought I was being impractical, she’ll think Carl is impossible, Hannah reflected and chuckled to herself. She hurried to get the biscuits from the oven as she heard her handsome, irrepressible husband heading toward the doorway singing at the top of his voice.

“I dream of Hannah, with the light-brown hair—”

Carl bounded down the stairs, grabbed Hannah around the waist, and whirled her about the room in time with his music.

“Carl! Behave yourself! I’m all ready for the trip to town, and you’re going to make me have to comb my hair again!”

“Oh, you love it. You know you do. Isn’t this a glorious day? Let’s thank the Lord for it.”

They sat down at the table and bowed their heads.

“Lord, this day is ours only by Your mercy. It is Yours to guide and direct. It may be one of the most important days of our lives, because we’re going to bring a child into our home. We trust You have the one for us coming this way right now. Prepare us to accept this child, and the child to accept us. We want to bring this little one up in Your love and favor. Thank You for this day and for this food. Amen.”

Carl’s eyes sparkled as he ladled sausage gravy over his biscuits and poured cream into his coffee. “If the train is on time, we shouldn’t have long to wait when we get to town. Adopting a child is like having one of your own, except we know he or she is coming at a decent time. Boy or a girl? Brown eyes or blue? I can hardly wait to see!”

Hannah smiled, but she was troubled. “I hope we’re doing the right thing, Carl. Is it fair to take a child from a big city to this desolate spot where all you can see is prairie grass and sky? Won’t a little one be terribly lonely?”

“I brought you from a big city to this desolate spot,” Carl reminded her. “Aren’t you happy?”

“You know I am. I love the open spaces and our home. And I have you.”

“The child will have us. You know we thought and prayed about this before we agreed to take an orphan. The Lord has the right one for us, I’ve no doubt.”

Any child would be fortunate to have you for a father, Hannah thought as she watched Carl finish his breakfast. She had no reason to worry.

The sky was clear with morning light as they followed the North Loup River south toward Willow Creek and the next milestone in their lives.

Ethan awoke in the night to hear the lonesome whoo, whoo as the Orphan Train apparently passed some little town or a road that crossed the tracks. Somehow the sound echoed louder and stayed in the air longer out here on the prairie.

On the seat facing his, Bert slept soundly. Across the aisle, Simon and Will didn’t move. Ethan wasn’t sure why he had awakened, but he remembered immediately that Riley was no longer there in the front of the car. He felt sad. The boys had depended on Riley to know just what to do and how to get around in strange places. They had talked it over the night before.

“I wonder if Riley will be able to sleep tonight in a railroad car that isn’t moving,” Bert had said. “I think I’m going to figure that something’s wrong if I wake up and my bed is still.”

“Me too,” Ethan agreed. “It seems like we’ve been on this train forever.” He scanned the nearly empty coach. “Remember when this place was full? Do you suppose all those guys are enjoying their new homes?”

Bert had looked out the window at the bright stars. “They can see the same stars we can. Makes you think maybe we didn’t leave them so far behind. When we get lonesome for each other, we can look at the sky.” He was silent for a moment, then answered Ethan’s question. “Yeah, they’ll enjoy them. Every place is about the same. You just have to get used to the people.”

“If we both get left in Willow Creek, maybe we’ll go to the same school,” Ethan had said. “That way we’ll see each other every day. Do you suppose our folks will be acquainted?”

Charles Glover must have awakened at the boys’ questions, for his voice broke in. “Willow Creek is the only place to come for mail and supplies, so chances are they will. Of course, for some homesteaders it can be a half-day’s trip to get to town, so they may not go often. Some children out on the prairie are taught at home.”

It was hard to imagine what the future held. Ethan, thinking it over in the night, couldn’t picture what lay ahead for himself and the others. He believed what Matron said, though, about the Lord going with them. Very soon he was asleep again.