Right from this wagon seat I can count seven different kinds of grass. There’s prairie dropseed over there and two kinds of broomsedge along the trail. See that patch of light green? That’s Elliott’s broomsedge. It’ll be a brown orange come fall. This other kind looks almost the same, but it’s not. The leaves on the seed stalks are broader, and they’ll turn bright orange.”
“There’s little bluestem,” Jimmy chimed in. “It’s a sort of blue green, so it is. And you see that stand of purple-stemmed grass over there, Miss Mills? That’s big bluestem. By mid-August, the seed heads will divide into three parts.”
“They look just like turkey tracks, so they do,” Will O’Toole said. “I see silverbeard bluestem, Papa. Look down, Rosie, just by the wagon wheel. Silverbeard is very short. Do you see it?”
Holding tight to her bouquet, she nodded. “I never imagined—”
“I see Indian grass!” eight-year-old Erinn piped up. “Look just over there! It’s so tall. Taller than me.”
“And there’s switchgrass!” Will said.
“I see sideoats grama,” little Colleen pointed out.
As the children began exclaiming over the grass and flowers, Sheena patted her bonnet. “Sure, you’ve not said a word to Rosie about the animals, Seth Hunter. The prairie is teeming with animals, so it is. Deer, antelope, jackrabbits, prairie chickens, wolves—”
“Don’t forget buffalo,” Will cut in. “Sometimes we see them crossing the prairie by the thousands, so we do.”
“And grizzly bears,” Colleen added, touching Rosie’s arm. “Sure, they like to follow the buffalo herds and eat up the weak shaggies. You’ll want to beware of grizzly bears.”
“She should beware of snakes, too,” Erinn said. “You’ll want to look out for copperheads, Rosie. If a copperhead bites you, well … you’re done for.”
Will squared his shoulders. “But there’s lots and lots of other good snakes. We’ve ribbon snakes and garter snakes and bull snakes, not to mention prairie ringnecks and prairie king snakes—”
“All right, all right!” Rosie exclaimed, holding up her hands in surrender. “There does seem to be more to it than I thought. Just … just give me time.”
“You’ve got six months,” Seth said. “When I take you back to Kansas City after the harvest, you can tell me then if you still think our prairie is ugly and boring.”
Rosie was smelling the bundle of wildflowers, but he could read the pain written in her eyes. She didn’t want to go back to Kansas City. As unappealing as she found the prairie, she considered her old life a far worse prospect.
Chances were good she would find herself some farmer and marry him. Then her husband could put up with her songs and whistling and chatter. It sure would be quiet when autumn rolled around. Nice and quiet.
“There’s Rippeto’s Station!” Will shouted. “I see it! I see it!” Sheena patted Rosie’s arm. “Here’s where we part ways. After a good night’s sleep—”
“Good night’s sleep?” Jimmy snorted. “With Carlotta’s brablins hollering their lungs out?”
“Tomorrow morning,” Sheena continued, “our Jimmy will put all the O’Tooles on the wagon we left at Rippeto’s. Then we’ll set off down the western bank of the Bluestem. You and Seth and the boy will travel down the eastern bank. Sure, we’ll see each other’s wagons almost the whole twelve miles, but there’s no way to cross.”
“Until Seth builds his elegant bridge,” Jimmy said, “and paves the way for Jack Cornwall and every other scoundrel from New York to California.”
“ Whisht , Jimmy,” Sheena said softly. “Aye, Rosie, you’re almost there. By tomorrow you’ll have what you’ve always dreamed of. Home. A beautiful home.”
Seth gave the reins a flick. “Six months,” he said. “And the only home she’ll have is the barn.”
CHAPTER 4
B EFORE heading east to Kansas City with Seth Hunter, the O’Toole family had
“There’s little bluestem,” Jimmy chimed in. “It’s a sort of blue green, so it is. And you see that stand of purple-stemmed grass over there, Miss Mills? That’s big bluestem. By mid-August, the seed heads will divide into three parts.”
“They look just like turkey tracks, so they do,” Will O’Toole said. “I see silverbeard bluestem, Papa. Look down, Rosie, just by the wagon wheel. Silverbeard is very short. Do you see it?”
Holding tight to her bouquet, she nodded. “I never imagined—”
“I see Indian grass!” eight-year-old Erinn piped up. “Look just over there! It’s so tall. Taller than me.”
“And there’s switchgrass!” Will said.
“I see sideoats grama,” little Colleen pointed out.
As the children began exclaiming over the grass and flowers, Sheena patted her bonnet. “Sure, you’ve not said a word to Rosie about the animals, Seth Hunter. The prairie is teeming with animals, so it is. Deer, antelope, jackrabbits, prairie chickens, wolves—”
“Don’t forget buffalo,” Will cut in. “Sometimes we see them crossing the prairie by the thousands, so we do.”
“And grizzly bears,” Colleen added, touching Rosie’s arm. “Sure, they like to follow the buffalo herds and eat up the weak shaggies. You’ll want to beware of grizzly bears.”
“She should beware of snakes, too,” Erinn said. “You’ll want to look out for copperheads, Rosie. If a copperhead bites you, well … you’re done for.”
Will squared his shoulders. “But there’s lots and lots of other good snakes. We’ve ribbon snakes and garter snakes and bull snakes, not to mention prairie ringnecks and prairie king snakes—”
“All right, all right!” Rosie exclaimed, holding up her hands in surrender. “There does seem to be more to it than I thought. Just … just give me time.”
“You’ve got six months,” Seth said. “When I take you back to Kansas City after the harvest, you can tell me then if you still think our prairie is ugly and boring.”
Rosie was smelling the bundle of wildflowers, but he could read the pain written in her eyes. She didn’t want to go back to Kansas City. As unappealing as she found the prairie, she considered her old life a far worse prospect.
Chances were good she would find herself some farmer and marry him. Then her husband could put up with her songs and whistling and chatter. It sure would be quiet when autumn rolled around. Nice and quiet.
“There’s Rippeto’s Station!” Will shouted. “I see it! I see it!” Sheena patted Rosie’s arm. “Here’s where we part ways. After a good night’s sleep—”
“Good night’s sleep?” Jimmy snorted. “With Carlotta’s brablins hollering their lungs out?”
“Tomorrow morning,” Sheena continued, “our Jimmy will put all the O’Tooles on the wagon we left at Rippeto’s. Then we’ll set off down the western bank of the Bluestem. You and Seth and the boy will travel down the eastern bank. Sure, we’ll see each other’s wagons almost the whole twelve miles, but there’s no way to cross.”
“Until Seth builds his elegant bridge,” Jimmy said, “and paves the way for Jack Cornwall and every other scoundrel from New York to California.”
“ Whisht , Jimmy,” Sheena said softly. “Aye, Rosie, you’re almost there. By tomorrow you’ll have what you’ve always dreamed of. Home. A beautiful home.”
Seth gave the reins a flick. “Six months,” he said. “And the only home she’ll have is the barn.”
CHAPTER 4
B EFORE heading east to Kansas City with Seth Hunter, the O’Toole family had
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