We Were There at the Oklahoma Land Run
Copyright© 2024 by Jim Kjelgaard
Chapter 10: Hungry
Pete, Jed, and Cindy sat together at the edge of the oak grove. Arms clasped around his knees, Pete stared at the horizon. Mr. Simpson used a piece of broken stick to dig interestedly into the rich soil of this new land, and Cindy gazed hungrily at the wagon.
“They seem,” she said hopefully, “like such nice people.”
“I’m sure they are,” her father said.
“And they must have just loads of things in that big wagon.”
“They must have,” said Mr. Simpson.
“So if I went over there and sort of—”
“Cindy!” her father roared. “Food is given, not asked for!”
“I wasn’t going to ask for any.”
“No. You were just going to hint around until they gave you some.”
“Dang it, Jed,” Pete broke in, “we didn’t really give ‘em a chance to offer us any.”
“So we didn’t.”
“If all three of us go over,” Cindy suggested, “they’ll have a chance.”
Mr. Simpson said reluctantly, “We might find out.”
Side by side, they walked over to where the newcomers were setting up on the claim accidentally staked by Cindy. The man, who had built a fire with wood carried in from his wagon, did not look tired any more. He looked refreshed and ten years younger. Far from seeming worried, the woman now bloomed like a girl. The four children’s eyes were big as saucers. It was a completely happy family.
Something that couldn’t possibly happen to them had happened. They owned their own farm. The man came to meet the approaching trio.
“I was so flustered that I plumb forgot to be civil,” he said. “I’m Silas Wentworth.” He shook hands with Jed and Pete and bowed to Cindy. “Young lady, we’ll never forget you.”
“It was just luck,” Cindy murmured.
“Come meet the family,” said Silas Wentworth. “This is my Missus, Jean, and these,” he indicated the children in their turn, “are Sally, Silas, Sylvia, and Serena. Say hello, children.”
“Hello,” Sally, about eight, said bashfully. The younger children giggled.
“Had breakfast?” Silas Wentworth questioned.
“Well, now—” Mr. Simpson began.
“We ain’t got a great store of diffe’nt things,” Silas Wentworth seemed a little embarrassed. “Truth is, we’re down to beans. But they’s lots of them.”
“Then why’d you tell uth, Pa,” Silas, Jr., lisped, “that we’d have to make out with light mealth till you can get thome?”
“We’ve had breakfast,” Mr. Simpson said firmly.
“Yes, we have,” Pete seconded.
“Uh-huh,” said Cindy.
“Silas!” said his father, who had turned red as a glass of crabapple jelly. He looked apologetically at his guests. “Truth is, we are a mite short. But I’ve got money, seven whole dollars, an’ there must be a town where a body can buy vittles an’ maybe get work too.”
“Plains City is two miles east,” Pete directed. “There’ll be a grocery there soon if one hasn’t set up already.”
“I’ll ride there tomorra,” Silas Wentworth declared. “I’ll go the minute I can leave my fam’ly. But a body who can ask more than his quarter section of land like this,” he looked happily about his farm, “sure is hard to please.”
“What we really came for,” Mr. Simpson spoke up, “is to see if we can borrow a couple of spades.”
“Sure thing an’ welcome,” Silas Wentworth said. He brought a couple of good spades from his wagon. “Anything else the Wentworths got, you can have.”
“Thanks,” said Pete, “but these are all we need right now.”
They started back. Pete Brent and Mr. Simpson each carried a spade. Cindy carried her thoughts, which centered about the hard biscuits she had eaten last night. If she had one of them right now, just one, she knew she’d never ask for anything else. Her father touched her shoulder softly.
“Sorry, honey.”
“That’s all right,” Cindy said stoutly.
“You don’t take food from babies, do you?” her father asked.
“Of course not!” said Cindy.
“I knew it would be like this at first,” Mr. Simpson said. “I’m, I’m—”
“Yes?” Cindy questioned.
“I’m glad you came,” her father said firmly, though Cindy had a feeling that he had been about to say he was sorry she’d come. “Maybe I can turn up something. If I can’t, Alec will be here with the wagon tomorrow, and he’s sure to bring some food.”
“I’ll live,” said Cindy.
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