“Today?” Ma asked.
“Day after tomorrow,” said Pa. “It will take me that long to put up a claim shanty.”
“Sit down, Charles, and tell me what is wrong,” Ma said quietly.
Pa sat down. “There’s been a murder.”
Ma’s eyes opened wide and she caught her breath. She said, “Here?”
“South of town.” Pa got up. “A claim jumper killed Hunter. He used to work on the grade. He drove out yesterday to his homestead, he and his father. When they drove up to his claim shanty, a man opened the door and looked out at them. Hunter asked him what he was doing there, and he shot Hunter dead. He tried to shoot the old man, but he whipped up the team and got away. Neither one of them had a gun. The old man got to Mitchell and brought officers out this morning, and they arrested the fellow. Arrested him!” Pa said furiously. “Hanging’s too good for him. If we’d only known in time!”
“Charles,” Ma said.
“Well,” said Pa, “I think we’d better get onto our claim before somebody jumps it.”
“So do I,” Ma agreed. “We will move as soon as you can put up any kind of shelter.”
“Fix me up a snack to eat, and I’ll start now,” said Pa. “I’ll go get a load of lumber and a man to help and put up the shanty this afternoon. We’ll move tomorrow.”
Chapter 28
Moving Day
“Wake up, sleepyhead!” Laura sang out, and with both hands she rolled Carrie back and forth under the quilts. “It’s moving day! Get up quick, we’re moving to the homestead!”
Quickly they all ate breakfast, wasting no time in talk, and quickly Laura washed the dishes and Carrie dried them, while Ma packed the last box and Pa hitched up the team. This was the gladdest moving day that Laura had known. Ma and Mary were glad because this was the end of traveling; they were going to settle on the homestead and never move again. Carrie was glad because she was eager to see the homestead, Laura was glad because they were leaving town, Pa was glad because he always liked moving, and Grace sang and shouted in gladness because all the others were glad.
As fast as the dishes were wiped, Ma packed them in the tub so they would ride safely. Pa loaded the trunk, the packed boxes and the tub of dishes into the wagon. Then Ma helped him take down the stovepipe, and they put it and the stove into the wagon box. He laid the table and the chairs on top of all, and then he looked at the load and tugged his beard.
“I’ll have to make two trips so we can all ride,” he said. “Get the rest of the stuff ready and I’ll be back.”
“But you can’t unload the stove by yourself,” Ma objected.
“I’ll manage,” said Pa. “What goes up must come down, and I’ll rig up some skids; there’s lumber out there.”
He climbed into the wagon and drove away. Then Ma and Laura rolled the bedding into tight rolls. They took down Ma’s big bedstead and the two smaller new bedsteads that Pa had bought in town, and they packed the lamps carefully in a box, right side up so that they would not spill the kerosene. They stuffed the lamp chimneys with paper and wrapped them in towels and packed them beside the lamps. Everything was ready and waiting before Pa came back.
He put the bedstead and the boxes in the wagon, and laid the rolls of bedding on them. Then Laura handed him the fiddle box and he tucked it carefully among the quilts. On top of all he laid the whatnot, on its back so that it could not be scratched. Then he brought Ellen and tied her behind the wagon.
“Now, Caroline, up you go!” He handed Ma over the wagon wheel to the spring seat. “Catch!” and he tossed Grace into Ma’s lap. “Now, Mary,” he said gently, and he helped her to the board laid close behind the seat, while Laura and Carrie clambered to their places beside her.
“Now then,” said Pa, “we will soon be home.”
“For pity’s sake, Laura, put on your sunbonnet!” Ma exclaimed. “This spring wind will ruin your complexion.” And she pulled Grace’s little bonnet farther forward to protect her fair, soft skin. Mary’s face was far back in her bonnet, and so was Ma’s, of course.
Slowly Laura pulled up her own bonnet by its strings, from where it hung down her back, and as its slatted sides came past her cheeks they shut out the town. From the tunnel of the bonnet she saw only the green prairie and blue sky.
She kept on looking at them, while she held on to the back of the spring seat and joggled to the wagon’s jolting over the wind-dried ruts of mud. While she was looking, suddenly into the sunny green and blue came two brown horses with flowing black manes and tails, trotting side by side in harness. Their brown flanks and shoulders gleamed in the sunshine, their slen
der legs stepped daintily, their necks were arched and their ears pricked up, and they tossed their heads proudly as they went by.
“Oh, what beautiful horses!” Laura cried. “Look, Pa! Look!” She turned her head to watch them as long as she could. They drew a light wagon. A young man stood up in the wagon, driving, and a taller man stood behind him with a hand on his shoulder. In a moment the backs of the men and the wagon loomed up so that Laura could no longer see the horses.
Pa had turned around in the seat to watch them too. “Those are the Wilder boys,” he said. “Almanzo’s driving, and that’s his brother Royal with him. They’ve taken up claims north of town, and they’ve got the finest horses in this whole country. By George, you seldom see a team like that.”
With all her heart Laura wished for such horses. She supposed she never could have them.
Pa was driving south now, across the green prairie and down a gentle slope toward Big Slough. The ranker, coarse grass of the slough filled its straggling hollow, and up from a water pool flapped a heron with dangling long legs.