Saturday, August 15, 1863

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They always say Kansas is flat as a pancake. Ten-year-old Millicent McLendon would have laughed at that, but she had to stop and catch her breath after her climb. Clutching the stitch in her side as she reached the top of Hogback Ridge, she collapsed onto an outcropping of rock and dropped her basket at her feet. She looked around her in all directions and took a deep gulp of air. From up here, she could see for miles and miles. The two rivers wound below her, and the farms and fields stretched out across the prairie like a patchwork quilt. The little town of Lawrence nestled at the bottom of the ridge and a short way east.

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Somewhere nearby, honeybees were buzzing over a crop of tall sunflowers and a western meadowlark trilled its high, up-and-down song. It was late summer, and Kansas was hot, hot, hot. Millicent pushed her bonnet back over her dark brown braids and wiped her sweaty face with the hem of her pinafore. It was better up here on the ridge than at home.

“Millie!” came a call. Footsteps thumped up the path to the top of the hill. Millie snatched her basket and jumped up.

“Good grief, Jem,” she said. “It’s you.” She sank back down onto the rock.

 

 “Your ma’s calling for you, is all,” said her friend. He was a tall, thin boy with a shaggy head of dirty blond hair, pale blue eyes, and overalls that barely reached to his ankles.

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“She’s not my ma!” Millie shot back. Her moment of peace was shattered now that thoughts of her stepmother Alice had intruded.

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Jem shrugged. “As good as. She’s your step-ma, and it isn’t her fault your real ma died. And—”

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“And what?” Millie was getting angry, and she didn’t want to be angry.

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“Well, she’s nice, Millie!” Jem said. “What is it you have against her, anyway?”

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Millie hmph’ed. “Pa could’ve married someone prettier,” she said.

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“That’s a terrible thing to say, Millie. She can’t help what she looks like anymore’n you can. Or anyone else. And like I said, she’s nice.”

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“Nice. You’d think it was nice if you got saddled with a crying baby all day long, Jem.”

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“I got young’uns I have to look after sometimes, too,” he said. He sat down next to her on the rock, long legs stretched out in front of him. He pondered his exposed ankles and bare feet for a few moments.

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Millie spoke. “He cries all the time, Jem. All day, all night. I can’t make him stop, no matter what. I can’t stand it sometimes.”

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“Colicky,” came Jem’s voice of wisdom. “Imagine how Alice feels.”

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“Alice hands him off to me,” said Millie, who wouldn’t be consoled. “She’s the one who had the baby in the first place.”

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Jem snorted. Millie gave him an indignant look, but his laughter was contagious. She punched him in the arm.

“Besides,” Millie started. Then she stopped.

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“What?”

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She sighed. “I don’t think she likes me very much,” she said. “I bet she wishes she had Pa and the baby and could put me on an orphan train and ship me out west!”

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Jem laughed again. Millie punched him again. “I’m serious!” she said.

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One pale blond eyebrow raised her direction.

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“Well, maybe not that, but Alice definitely doesn’t like me. She doesn’t approve of anything I say or do. She never says anything nice to me. She bosses me around and gives me chores and—”

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“Makes you look after the baby. I heard you,” Jem said.

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“So, what did she want me for?” Millie asked.

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Jem sat up straight. “Oh, yeah. I came by your place looking to see if you wanted to go fishing, but you weren’t there. Alice asked if I’d seen you, and I said no.”

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“Get to the point, Jem! What did she want?”

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“Hold your horses. She said she had sent you to town for some butter, and that she needed it for supper.”

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“The butter!” cried Millie. She grabbed the basket and started down the hill. “C’mon, Jem. Maybe she won’t yell at me if you’re there.”

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“You came up here instead of going straight home with butter? In this heat? Millie, what were you thinking?”

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“I wasn’t, obviously! Oh, I’m going to be in so much trouble,” she said.

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The two children ran as fast as they could down the hill and towards the farmstead where Millie lived. Millie’s stepmother Alice was standing on the front porch with both hands on her  hips. When she saw them run into the yard, she set her mouth in a firm line, turned on her heel, and went back into the house. They followed her into the sparsely furnished house and straight back to the kitchen. Millie set the basket on the table and waited for the inevitable tongue-lashing.