Читать книгу Key City on the River - Greta Gorsuch - Страница 7

Chapter Five

Iowa Territory,

November 22, 1833

Mr. Butterman brought two turkeys from his hunting trip. He was smiling. “What luck!” he said. “This is good land. I saw five or six turkeys!” He put the turkeys on the cold ground. Then he sat down and ate his breakfast. He was done in less than two minutes. Like everything else, he did it fast. He drank some hot, strong coffee and walked over to Harv. He looked at Harv’s legs. He called over to Nate, “Did you try your special medicine?”

“Yes sir,” said Nate. It sounded like Yassuh.

“Hmm,” said Mr. Butterman. “That looks good. You’re good with Harv.”

Nate’s teeth flashed in a smile. “I learned to take care of horses when I was a boy.”

“Where are you from?” asked Mr. Butterman. “I never asked.”

“From Virginia, sir. The same place as Aunt Sunday,” said Nate.

“Hmmm,” said Mr. Butterman again. He said that when he was thinking about something. “Well,” he said, “Let’s get out of here. I want to find that land we bought. It might be a few hours away, still. My, it gets so dark so fast in Iowa!”

Penny woke Aunt Sunday up. She got the old lady a little breakfast. Then she and Mrs. Butterman quickly put out the fire. They got ready to leave. Penny could see the Mississippi River from the camp. But this side of the river seemed quieter. She couldn’t hear the water as much. It was still a lot of water. But from here, in Iowa Territory, it seemed different. The sun coming up behind it turned the river into a huge golden rope. The biggest rope you ever saw.

Mr. Butterman tied Harv behind his wagon. He wanted to ride Harv, but Harv’s legs had cuts on them. After a few days, Nate’s medicine would begin to work. The two wagons drove north toward Key City.

They drove through thick trees. Sometimes the trees were so thick that it was dark under them. There was no road. It looked like a small path through the trees. At one place, a rocky bluff and the river came very close to each other. Penny thought her wagon would fall into the river. “Not again,” she thought. But Mrs. Butterman was good with the wagon. They didn’t have any trouble.

After an hour, they left the steep bluffs behind and they came to a flat area. It was very wet and muddy. Then they saw a small house. It was just a one-room log cabin. It didn’t have any windows. Smoke came from the stone chimney. Then the single door of the cabin opened. A white woman looked at them. Mr. Butterman spoke to her. She answered, pointing to a path that went between two steep hills, off to the left. Then she went back into her house.

Nate turned around from the first wagon and looked back at Penny. Then Penny and Aunt Sunday looked at each other.

“That is one small house,” said Aunt Sunday.

“It sure is,” said Penny.