Chapter 5: April 22, 1889

There had never been, Cindy thought when she awakened and peered through the partly open wagon flaps, a more beautiful day. The air was so clear that it seemed possible to look almost to the other end of the world. The sky was cloudless, and though the bright sun held a promise of heat to come with afternoon, a gentle little breeze made the morning pleasant and cool.

Cindy was astonished to find her bed empty and a little afraid because she heard nothing. Had she slept right through the great Run? Was everybody already in Oklahoma? She dressed hurriedly and leaped out of the wagon to find her family waiting and everyone else still present.

But the mood of the whole border had changed.

Yesterday it had been noisy, boisterous, excited. But yesterday all had been at loose ends, and this morning the crowd was like a tightly wound spring. When it finally let go, nothing would be able to stop it.

Mrs. Simpson started cooking bacon for Cindy, but she tried hard not to look at anybody at all. Sensing the changed mood, Cindy attempted to rid herself of it and could not.

“Why didn’t you wake me, Mother?” she asked.

“There was no need, dear,” her mother said. “With all the shouting and screaming last night, you had little enough sleep anyway.”

“That’s right,” Mindy agreed. “I awakened several times, and you hadn’t yet gone to sleep.”

“Did you sleep?” Cindy asked her twin.

“Well, not very much, but more than you did.”

“I slept,” Alec boasted. “The last thing I remember, somebody wanted to know about a strayed mule, and somebody else said, ‘Here’s your mule, Joe!’”

“Then you didn’t sleep much either,” Cindy said. “Dawn was breaking when that happened!”

Alec said, “Aw, I don’t need sleep.”

“Sit down and eat your breakfast, dear,” said Cindy’s mother.

Cindy ate her bacon and biscuits, but though ordinarily she was hungry as a starving wolf, this morning she had no appetite. Alec, usually the friendliest of people, seemed cold and withdrawn, almost a stranger. The gentle Mindy stared into the fire. Her face drawn, Mrs. Simpson kept her own thoughts. Jed Simpson, who had been staring into Oklahoma, turned to put his family at ease.

“Come now!” he said heartily. “This isn’t a funeral! Today’s the day the Simpsons get their own farm!”

“Why, of course,” said Mrs. Simpson. “We must look at the good side.”

But, though Jed and Ann Simpson could almost always reassure their family and each other, this time both sounded very uncertain. Try as they would, neither could be relaxed and comfortable. Because they couldn’t, they could not make their children feel that way either.

“I’ll clean up,” Mrs. Simpson said.

She began to work furiously, washing each plate until it shone and then polishing it until it gleamed. She was trying to find in hard work forgetfulness of the uncertainty that lay ahead, and to some small extent she succeeded. For the third time in ten minutes, Jed Simpson looked at his watch.

“What time is it?” Alec asked.

“Twenty past nine,” his father said.