With the tears that were past controlling.
—MRS. CRAWFORD
Lauralee and Dancing Cloud had traveled for several more days. They had entered Coles County long ago, which made Lauralee realize that Mattoon could not be that far away. Roads and trails had been made by earlier red men, those paths or “tracers” easily identified by their thick cover of blue grass, and by the presence of saplings whose branches had been twisted to point the way.
The road that Lauralee and Dancing Cloud had traveled on for some time was called the Cumberland Road, often referred to by some as the National Road.
But now they were going north on a highway called The Highway of Ebenezer Noyes.
Lauralee had enjoyed her journey through Illinois. A mixture of vast sea of tall prairie grass and trees covered the land. In some places the treeless terrain seemed endless.
In other places, prairies were smaller, with islands of groves dotting their surfaces, bordered and bisected by strong stands of hardwood trees.
Lauralee gazed around her now and sighed at the pleasant sight. A mosaic of won
drous color met her eyes. Blue stem, dock, Indian grass, and Canadian rye, some as high as a horseman’s head, rippled in the summer wind. Wild vines rioted in the lower places. And across the long ridges, nodding stems of ox-eye daisies and sunflowers mingled with purple ironweed and snake root.
Dancing Cloud enjoyed the journey as well. He had seen enough to know that this land of Illinois was a hunter’s paradise. The wide fields of blue stem sheltered large numbers of deer, elk, raccoons, and foxes. Rabbits, opossum, and squirrels were also plentiful.
He had also seen a good number of wild turkeys, prairie chickens, and quail.
But what he disliked were the vicious green-headed flies and gnats that could come in swarms without notice. He was also aware of the presence of malaria-carrying mosquitoes.
The long, haunting whistle of a train a short distance away made a keen excitement flow through Lauralee’s veins. Trains. The presence of trains meant that they were most certainly nearing Mattoon. The town had been established because two railroads crossed at midpoint. The railroads had created the city. They had determined the character of its people and had brought Mattoon prosperity, and made it a major hub in Central Illinois.
Lauralee smiled when she recalled her father telling her about Mattoon and the Petersons while they had awaited Joe Dancing Cloud’s arrival. Her father had been to Mattoon only a few times, but knew that those who lived there called themselves “Mattooners.”
Boyd had told Lauralee that the city had been named after the chief construction officer of the Terre Haute and Alton Railroad, William B. Mattoon. She remembered how he had spoken with such fondness the tale of how the name Mattoon had been chosen.
As tracks drew closer to the crossing point at Mattoon, he had told her that Bill Mattoon challenged Roswell Mason, engineer-in-chief of the Illinois Central Railroad, to a track-laying contest.
Since Roswell Mason was not a gambling man he refused the wager, but agreed that the crew that crossed the point first would have the honor of naming the future train station.
Roswell Mason’s men won the race, and in gratitude of his opponent who had provided the incentive for his men’s fast work, he named the station “Mattoon.”
Lauralee sighed at the remembrance of her father, often gasping for breath, telling her so many other things about Mattoon. He had explained that mainly open prairie framed Mattoon on the east by the timbers of the Embarrass River and its tributaries, and on the west, by the Okaw and Little Wabash woodlands, with fingers or points of forest projecting into the open spaces.
Confused by the terrain now, and wondering which road she should take so that she could go directly into Mattoon, Lauralee brought her horse and buggy to a halt. She unfolded a map that her father had drawn for her. The rainstorm that had dampened her belongings in the buggy had smeared some of directions.
“Why do you stop?” Dancing Cloud asked, edging his horse closer to her buggy.
“I’m not sure which way to go.” Lauralee gazed from side to side, at a road that looked more traveled than the one that she was on. She stared at a post in the road, upon which had been painted its name.
“Old State Road,” she said, forking an eyebrow. “We are now on Old State Road.”
She cast Dancing Cloud a questioning look. “I can no longer tell by the map which way to go, though,” she said, refolding the map in fours. As several horsemen and horse-drawn wagons went past her on Old State Road, she could not help but think that this was the main artery through the city of Mattoon.
“I think we should go that way,” she finally said, nodding to the right.
“I am not familiar with these roads, so I will follow you whichever way you go,” Dancing Cloud said, giving her a shrug.
He was not at all anxious to reach Mattoon. Even though he had shown Lauralee that his love was intensely true for her, she still insisted that she must stay with the Petersons.
“At least for a while,” she had said, to be sure that her promise to her father was kept.
Then later, she had promised, she would go to him. She would be his wife.
He was afraid that should he leave her behind, something might change her mind. Namely the Petersons. Surely to the Petersons Dancing Cloud would be an outcast. And not only because his skin was not white. But also because he fought for the South during the war.