By Jeremy Dunn (Book Cover)
Amy glanced around her at the sea of humanity gathered on the grassy plains. Quivering horses jostled back and forth sensing the nervous energy of their riders. She reached over and gently touched the team hitched to the wagon. So this was it. This was the day when their new life would begin.
Ben and Amy Parker grew up in Indiana. She was the daughter of a Presbyterian minister and he was the son of a local banker. Ben was supposed to be sitting behind a desk at the First National Bank of Terre Haute. One day he decided he wanted more and he joined the army. He became a cavalryman and his first trip to the territory had been in pursuit of a band of Cheyenne who chose freedom over life on the reservation. He fell in love with the endless sky and the waves of grass. When the time came to re-enlist, Ben instead chose to return to Indiana. He knew Amy from church and they had kept a friendly correspondence. Over the next few months he sat on the porch of the parsonage regaling her with stories of bison and clouds that seemed to stretch into space.
Ben glanced at his watch and the hands seemed to slow to a crawl. It had to be close now. He could barely make out the figure of a uniformed officer raising his hand. Suddenly it fell, a deafening roar filling the air. The crowd surged and the race was on. It was all so surreal. A man on a comical bicycle struggled for yards before abandoning the unwieldy contraption. Fleet footed horses carried their riders, way ahead of the pack. One entire family just sat down right where they were, oblivious to the danger of being trampled. A slow moving train, overflowing with passengers moved across the vista like a centipede with legs that disgorged themselves when the moment was ripe.
Amy patiently guided the team with a firm hand as the wagon bucked and rocked across the uneven terrain. Her eyes were set on a bluff to the west, where a copse of cottonwood trees guarded the approaches to a cool spring. As she came close to the oasis, she smiled as a familiar figure stepped out from behind the tree where he was hiding. Ben, his hands clutching the survey stakes that would mark their claim, swept her into his arms.
It was late in the day as they made their way back from the claim office. Ben helped Amy down from the wagon and they walked hand in hand toward the makeshift lean-to Ben had built a week earlier. The setting sun cast shadows of the cottonwood trees that seemed to dance as they moved with the wind. Amy nestled close to Ben as she caught the whiff of wildflowers on the breeze. “We’re a long way from home, Ame,” Ben said. “No Ben,” she replied, “we just got home.”
Amy glanced around her at the sea of humanity gathered on the grassy plains. Quivering horses jostled back and forth sensing the nervous energy of their riders. She reached over and gently touched the team hitched to the wagon. So this was it. This was the day when their new life would begin.
Ben and Amy Parker grew up in Indiana. She was the daughter of a Presbyterian minister and he was the son of a local banker. Ben was supposed to be sitting behind a desk at the First National Bank of Terre Haute. One day he decided he wanted more and he joined the army. He became a cavalryman and his first trip to the territory had been in pursuit of a band of Cheyenne who chose freedom over life on the reservation. He fell in love with the endless sky and the waves of grass. When the time came to re-enlist, Ben instead chose to return to Indiana. He knew Amy from church and they had kept a friendly correspondence. Over the next few months he sat on the porch of the parsonage regaling her with stories of bison and clouds that seemed to stretch into space.
Ben glanced at his watch and the hands seemed to slow to a crawl. It had to be close now. He could barely make out the figure of a uniformed officer raising his hand. Suddenly it fell, a deafening roar filling the air. The crowd surged and the race was on. It was all so surreal. A man on a comical bicycle struggled for yards before abandoning the unwieldy contraption. Fleet footed horses carried their riders, way ahead of the pack. One entire family just sat down right where they were, oblivious to the danger of being trampled. A slow moving train, overflowing with passengers moved across the vista like a centipede with legs that disgorged themselves when the moment was ripe.
Amy patiently guided the team with a firm hand as the wagon bucked and rocked across the uneven terrain. Her eyes were set on a bluff to the west, where a copse of cottonwood trees guarded the approaches to a cool spring. As she came close to the oasis, she smiled as a familiar figure stepped out from behind the tree where he was hiding. Ben, his hands clutching the survey stakes that would mark their claim, swept her into his arms.
It was late in the day as they made their way back from the claim office. Ben helped Amy down from the wagon and they walked hand in hand toward the makeshift lean-to Ben had built a week earlier. The setting sun cast shadows of the cottonwood trees that seemed to dance as they moved with the wind. Amy nestled close to Ben as she caught the whiff of wildflowers on the breeze. “We’re a long way from home, Ame,” Ben said. “No Ben,” she replied, “we just got home.”