Sid and the Orphans

By Nancy Glenn Powell

Fifteen-year-old Sid obeys her pa and packs to leave for the Colorado Territory, but vows she will return to her mama's grave in a few years. Sid's mama taught her to dance, cook, sew, and doctor the sick and injured. He pa taught her to ride, to hunt and shoot. She takes charge of the orphans they collect along the way, and the household chores and cooking at the farm.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Oct 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9781098334499

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© Nancy Glenn Powell 2020

Print ISBN: 978-1-09-833448-2

eBook ISBN: 978-1-09-833449-9

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Dedicated

To David Powell, my husband.

CONTENTS

1 ~ Preparing to Leave

2 ~ Beginning the Journey

3 ~ Friends

4 ~ Wagons

5 ~ Indian Attack

6 ~ Horse Thieves

7 ~ Fears

8 ~ Porter and Seth

9 ~ Destination

10 ~ Pigs

11 ~ Cougar

12 ~ Rustled Cattle

13 ~ Another Orphan

14 ~ A Winter Cattle Drive

15 ~ Blizzard

16 ~ Robbers Return

17 ~ Wild Animals

18 ~ Kidnappers

19 ~ Rescue

20 ~ Devils’ Canyon

21 ~ Looking for Gold

22 ~ A Hungry Grizzly

23 ~ A Wedding and More Orphans

24 ~ Homesteads

25 ~ Measles

26 ~ Gran

27 ~ Neighbors

28 ~ Two Little Girls

1 ~ Preparing to Leave

Sidney leans on the pasture gate, petting Star, her mare. Pa told me you’ll have a colt this summer. I hope it’s as pretty as you. He said we’d have to give your baby to John because Pa can’t afford to buy a special horse for my brother, but John’s a good kid. He’ll love your colt as much as I love you.

Pa comes from the house and calls, Sid. Did you feed the horses and mules?

Yes, Pa, and the chickens. I did John’s chores.

Walking close and draping an arm around her shoulders, he says, Sid, I have some news that may trouble you, but under the circumstances we have no choice.

She catches her breath and turns with a jerk. Her brown eyes open wide with worry. What’s wrong?

Bill Wilson spits tobacco juice into the grass and looks toward the hill where his wife, Sidney’s mother, rests in a small, well-kept cemetery. Your Uncle Will broke his leg, and we have to move there and help him with his ranch.

Sid steps back, shaking her head. No, Pa. We can’t leave Mama. We can’t. And you said Star would have a colt this summer. I won’t go without her. Uncle Will can hire someone to help him.

Pa’s face wrinkles into a painful frown. Sid, we have to help Will. Colorado and the Wyoming territories suffered a bad winter, and last summer was a drought. He lost a lot of cattle and had to release most of his ranch hands.

Pa swallows and rubs the back of his hand over his eyes. If we don’t go, he’ll lose the ranch. He sighs. Your mama loved this land, and it will break my heart to leave it, but the neighbors promised to take care of her grave.

No one will take care of it the way I do.

He nods. I know that, but we have to go. You can take your mare. Star should be fine if you don’t ride her close to her time. She can graze along the way, at noon, and when we stop at night. Maybe we’ll be at the ranch before the colt is due.

But Pa, I don’t want to go, and what about John? Last week, he and Bobby Harper swore to be blood brothers. John won’t have any friends there.

Yes, he will. Mr. Harper and Bobby are going with us. We signed a contract with the wagon train that’s leaving Monday, of next week. They’ll work on the ranch with us.

Next week! Leaving Monday? That’s only five days from now. How long ago did you decide to do this? And why didn’t you tell me before now?

I decided for sure yesterday when Mr. Harper said he and Bobby could go with us. You were sleeping when I got home last night. I knew you wouldn’t want to move away from your mama—neither do I. I know that you visit her grave every day and talk to her, but her spirit will go with us.

Tears trickle across Sidney’s face until her sleeve is wet from wiping them.

Gazing toward his wife’s grave, he says, We’ll take a bucket of roots from the flowers you planted and put them in the cemetery where Will’s wife is buried. Kate loved Will’s wife—they liked being close.

Sniffing, she steps back. Are you sure that Star will stay healthy enough while traveling that far with a colt in her belly?

He pats Sid’s back with a big rough hand. Yes, I’m sure. Walking will be healthy for Star, and we’ll make sure she eats plenty. Some people work a mare until the day a colt is born. I don’t think that’s a good idea, but Star will be fine. We’ll take extra grain for her, and you and John can ride one of the workhorses. I’ll hitch the mules to the wagon. Jackson Harper has a horse for Bobby to ride. He sighs again and wipes his face with a big blue handkerchief. You and I will take turns driving.

Pa takes hold of Sid’s arm. I’m not only concerned for Will—I’m worried about the war. Missouri has not joined, but a lot of problems have happened near Arkansas. If fighting comes farther north, I could be drafted. I want to get you and John away from here before that happens. His Adam’s apple goes up and down as he swallows, and the hairs on his arms lift as he shivers.

If I had to go, I might not make it back to take care of you and John. War is a terrible thing.

She stares at him for a moment, thinking over his words before looking across the farm. What about our farm, the cows and chickens?

That new family, the ones who came into town last month, want to buy the land, cows, chickens, and our farm equipment. Will has all the tools we’ll need for gardening and ranching.

I don’t like that new boy. He’s a bully.

I don’t care for the man either, but after next week we’ll never have to see them again.

Pa, this is our farm, and that ranch belongs to Uncle Will. Can you buy a ranch there so that we have our own?

After Will’s wife died, he put my name on the ranch title with his, so when he dies, it will belong to us.

Mama didn’t want to go farther west because of Indian wars. Are they still fighting settlers?

Turning his head to the side, he clears his throat, and spits again. Not as much anymore. Many of them moved to reservations. We’re traveling in a large wagon train with scouts and armed men to help care for the horses and other cattle. I don’t think we’ll be in danger—not nearly as much as if war breaks out here. You can wear your gun unless you’re ready to put on a dress and give up your tomboy habits.

She stands straighter, tilting her chin up, There’s no reason why I should. You know I can shoot better than any boy around—and equal to most men, with a gun and a bow, and do riding tricks as you did in the circus.

He nods. I know. You are talented, but you need to learn things that girls and women do.

What? Her face wrinkles into a determined frown. I can cook anything you can name, and I sewed all the curtains for our house. She twirls around on the toe of her boot and kicks the top fence rail. And I can still do the kicks and twirls Mama taught me.

Removing his hat, he dusts the brim. You have a variety of skills, and you’re as pretty and spirited as your mama when she worked under the big top. Still, you’re almost sixteen-years-old, and you can’t hide the fact that you’re a girl much longer.

It doesn’t matter how old I am. I like wearing boy’s clothes and keeping my hair short.

He looks at her and shakes his head at the replica of her mama with brown hair and big dark eyes. Your mama was beautiful on the dance floor in a dress, but she liked to wear pants around the farm. He grins. She shouldn’t have started you out wearing boots and blue-jeans.

Sid kicks the fence post. Pa, if I decide to wear a dress, I’ll ask for one, but that may never be.

Okay, Sid. You are a big help to John and me. You can ride, hunt, and take care of the animals as well as any man I know. Your mama taught you to cook and do women’s work, and your teacher told me you were her best student in English and arithmetic, although she thought you should wear a dress.

Sid purses her lips and frowns, Pa …

With a deep sigh, he hugs her tight. Wear your blue jeans as long as you want. This trip will be difficult for all of us, and the one thing I don’t like is arguing.

Turning her face away, she sniffs and rubs her sleeve across her eyes. Okay, Pa.

I did a little scouting in my younger days before joining the circus and meeting your mama. I’ll try to teach you and John to read signs as we go.

Sid turns her sad face toward the hill where her mama is buried. Pa, I don’t like this at all. I’ll go because you say so, but someday I’ll come back to Mama. In less than three years, I’ll be eighteen. Maybe the war won’t last that long.

John comes outside, and Sid goes into the house while Pa tells John about the trip. Yesterday, she did the family wash, today she starts packing clothes, not needed this week, into the two washtubs. The tubs go, near the front, one on each side of the big wagon that Pa brought home. I thought that wagon was one that Pa took to repair for someone else.

She takes the oak cradle Mama’s pa made for Sid before she was born. It was also used for John but was returned to Sid for safekeeping when he outgrew it. It fits in the wagon beside one of the tubs, with the legs stored underneath. Into it, she packs dried fruit, beans, peas, and garden seed for next spring. Inside a small oak chest, she places Mama’s dishes wrapped in towels, sheets, pillowcases, tablecloths, pot holders, and dresser scarves. In a pine box, she packs every jar of canned food left in the pantry; on one edge are her treasured books and a picture album folded inside an oilcloth patterned with ripe fruit.

With a silent prayer for safety, she packs medicine, bandages, tweezers, scissors, and a sharp knife wrapped in boiled white feed sacks inside grandma’s stone churn. Mama taught her how to use the medicine and medical supplies. I hope I don’t have to remove bullets and deliver a baby, except for Star’s colt.

Near the back of the wagon, Pa will pack salted and smoked meat in another pine box, beside one holding flour, cornmeal, sugar, salt, soda, and a few spices. Mama’s feather beds, pillows, and quilts will cover it all, leaving only a narrow path through the center.

When Pa and John come inside for supper, they seem shocked at the empty look of the house. A pan of cornbread and a pot of deer stew sits on the bare wood table, set with tin plates and cups from Pa’s camping gear. All the dishes are packed. We’ll have to use these until we get to Uncle Will’s.

Thursday morning, Sid mixes enough bread dough to last for two weeks and lets it rise while she bakes sugar cookies. After lunch, while the bread bakes, Sid shells pecans. Friday, she will mix the nutmeats with chopped apples, candied cherries canned last year, and raisins pa bought, into muffin size fruit cakes. A cast-iron pot over a campfire will be the only way to bake on the trip, but after traveling all day, she will want to do as little as possible in the evening. Each loaf of bread is wrapped in a flour sack and stacked in a basket. She stores the cookies and fruit cakes in large crocks with heavy lids.

Saturday morning, with a rake, hoe, shovel, and a small tub, Sid goes to the cemetery and scrapes away all the grass from around her mama’s grave as well as that around Mrs. Harper’s. John, and Bobby Harper come up the hill with hands full of flowers they have picked from flower beds around the community. Sid laughs when she sees the long-stemmed lilacs that are identical to those she noticed in Miss Jones’ yard. That woman will come after you with a broom if she discovers you took those from her yard.

They shake their heads, and John says, She gave them to us. Bobby told her we wanted to get some pretty flowers for our mama’s graves and that her flowers were the most beautiful in town, and he asked if she would sell us some. She looked as if she wanted to cry and then started cutting flowers with a pair of big scissors. Almost all of these came from her yard.

Sid’s mouth drops open. I’m surprised by her kindness.

When we told her we were moving west to take care of my sick uncle, she wished us luck and said she’d leave flowers on our mama’s graves when she has plenty. Reaching into his back pocket, John removes a paper with her address. She asked us to write and tell her about our trip and how we like the west. I told her we’d write when we have time, but you’ll need to help us. We don’t write very pretty.

Sure, I’ll help you. That was nice of Miss Jones.

From a mound of dirt at the edge of the field, Sid takes two shovels of fertile soil for the bottom of her tub. Boys, take this tub to the well in the churchyard and draw a bucket of water and drizzle it over this dirt to make a thick mud for me to bury some flower bulbs. While you are gone, I’ll choose some healthy roots.

White and purple iris are budding in profusion. Sid chooses rhizomes from each color, and bulbs from the yellow jonquils. She pushes the jonquil bulbs into the mud, but the iris rhizomes lay flat and are forced half-way into the dirt with the top half exposed. Sid remembers her mama planting them that way on a neighbor’s grave.

John, will you and Bobby carry this tub back to the house? It’s too heavy for me to take with all these tools.

Sure, we can do that.

Saturday afternoon, Sid completes all the mending and asks Pa to help load her mama’s Singer sewing machine.

Sid, I’m afraid we won’t have room for that machine. I still have to load grain for the horses.

Frowning, she rushes to the wagon and stares at its contents. Pa, I’ll remove the tub that holds our clean clothes and put the machine there and pack the clothes in sacks on top and over the treadle. The washtub we can hang with wire under the center of the wagon, and we’ll pack grain in it. When crossing streams, we can unhook it and set it inside so it can’t get wet.

What about our skillets and cooking pots? You have to pack those somewhere.

You have water barrels hanging on each side between the wheels, but nothing else. If you buy some sturdy hooks at the hardware store, I’ll hang the pots and pans around the outside of the wagon. They need to be handy for daily use, and I’ll hang bags of potatoes, onions, cabbage, and carrots between them.

Pa laughs. I think we’ll eat well, at least for the first few weeks. Soon the carrots and cabbage will wither in the heat if we don’t eat them. Have you already packed those things from the garden?

No. I told John to start on that, but he took off somewhere. Pa, if you are not going to stay around all the time, you need to tell John and Bobby to mind me. Otherwise, I can’t keep up with them.

Pa lifts his hands to his mouth and yells, John, get yourself home.

Sid jumps at the unexpected loud noise. Pa, if you’ll get me some sacks for the vegetables, I’ll get a knife to cut the cabbage.

The boys come running from the creek. Pa, did you call?

John, how come you are not in the garden, working as Sid told you?

Aw, she’s been trying to boss me all day. We were fishing at the blue hole.

Pa frowns, and lays a hand on his belt buckle. Young man, from now on, you have to mind Sid, just like you do me, or else I’ll take a belt to you. And Bobby, I’ll have a talk with your pa about you listening to her. Now, you run home and help your pa. John has to work in the garden. We’re leaving at dawn tomorrow.

Sid bathes at the spring behind the house. Wondering when she will have a chance to get another good bath, she puts on clean clothes and combs fingers through her short, wet hair. Before going to the spring, she cut her hair in a bowl shape with the sewing shears—it has no part and is too short for dragging in her eyes, but a slight curl causes it to lay in loose, uneven waves.

Entering the house, she notices John in a corner rolled in a quilt. Pa sits in his big oak rocker, with the deep cushions Mama made for it. Removing his pipe from his mouth, he looks at Sid and says, I’d like to take this chair. It holds a lot of memories. Your mama and I rocked both of our babies in it, and she sat here mending and sewing at night while I read the Bible. Will told me not to bring furniture, but I’d take this if we could find room in the wagon.

Sid’s forehead wrinkles as she compresses her lips. Pa, let’s tie it on the back of the wagon and force the cushions under the wagon seat. You can sleep on them in the center path at night, and maybe your back won’t hurt so much. John and I will sleep on the quilts and feather beds on each side.

Nodding, he stands, rubbing his back and smiling. They tie the rocker on the wagon—Sid wants the chair as much as Pa.

Waking to the clanging of Pa’s alarm clock, Sid rolls from her quilt. After a quick run to the outhouse, she washes her hands and face at the well and rushes to light the fire and drop slabs of bacon in a frying pan. Pa prepared the coffee pot and laid the wood in the cook-stove last night. The bacon sizzles while she slices and butters bread, and fries four eggs—two for Pa.

Pa pours and pushes a glass of milk across the table. John, drink this milk and eat that egg. It’s the last you’ll get until we arrive at Will’s ranch. I sold our cows and chickens.

Bobby’s dad’s taking a cow and five hens. He said they’d share with us if Sid shares her cookies and cakes.

I made enough to share. Hurry and eat. I have to wash these dishes and pack them in the wagon before that man and his family get here to take over the farm. Get moving. I want everything out of here and ready to roll. I don’t want to talk to that hateful boy. He’s a vulgar bully. Sid rubs the skillet with her fingertips, dries it on a ragged cloth, and grabs John’s plate as he chews his bacon.

The new owner, with his wife and son, pull into the yard and stop close to the house.