Page 10 of Shoshone Sun

But she loved Peter with a fierce devotion, and she loved their little boy even more. She had no doubt that they would succeed, that they would carve out a place for themselves here. She imagined Peter, strong and determined, working the land with hands worn from labor, but filled with the quiet satisfaction of their accomplishments. She saw her son growing up strong in this new world, a child of the earth, rooted in a land they had fought for.

Still, the weight of it all pressed down on her. The unknowns loomed large—how long before they had enough crops to feed themselves, before they could build a cabin sturdy enough to keep out the cold? How would she manage on her own with Peter working in the fields all day, and the baby needing her attention? She had no answers, only the hope that each day would bring them a little closer to their dream.

The sound of boots on the creaky floorboards downstairs startled her from her thoughts. Peter would be beside her soon, and they would face the world together, just as they always had. Susan waited for him, relaxed, holding onto the quiet comfort of the moment, knowing that tomorrow would bring its own struggles and triumphs. Together, they would build their life, one stone, one log, and one small victory at a time.

Chapter Six: Clearing and Building

- Peter Jacobs Land Claim, 1866

Ninety miles west of Fort Laramie –

The day dawned crisp and clear, the sun rising in a burst of fire that cast long shadows across the open plains. Peter Jacobs stood outside his uncle’s cabin, his hands on his hips, surveying the stretch of land ahead of him. In front of him lay vegetable gardens, fenced pastures, a sturdy new barn flanked by a work shed, a stone well, several chicken coops, pig pens, and rabbit hutches. Beyond those, a vast expanse of meadow spread out, eventually giving way to forest, then to mountains rising majestic in the background.

Peter admired what his uncle had built, and had claimed his own piece of this glorious wilderness. With his uncle’s assistance and the help of his family, Peter would create a homestead of his own.

The morning was still young, but the air already carried the promise of hard labor. The wind relayed with it the scent of pine from the hills in the distance, and the occasional call of a hawk above. The land seemed to breathe with an ancient rhythm, and Peter could feel it in his bones.

Paul came out of the cabin, his boots scraping on the dirt as he walked toward his nephew. He was dressed in worn, sturdy clothes—sleeves rolled up and gloves tucked into his belt. The hard work ahead of him was nothing new. He had worked alongside his father in England, though that had been a different kind of work. There, the land had been farmed for generations. Here, they were starting from scratch. Every tree felled and every fence post driven into the earth carried with it a sense of ownership, a testament to resilience.

Peter turned toward his uncle. “Morning, Uncle Paul,” he said. Then his eyes swept back to the land as he squinted into the sunlight. “What’s the plan today?”

“First thing’s first, we clear the brush along your river today,” Paul said, referring to a strip of trees that bordered Peter’s land. “Once we have that cleared, we can start physically mapping out where the cabin’s going.”

Peter nodded, his senses buzzing with excitement. “Clearing the land ... that sounds exciting, and it should be fairly simple.”

Paul chuckled, the sound deep and rich. “It’s simple in theory, but it’ll take every bit of muscle we have to get through it. The undergrowth is thick, and we’ll need to bring down a lion’s share of trees to get the site clear. You ready for that?”

Peter grinned, lifting the axe he’d taken from the shed. “More than ready.”

Mary, Susan, and Jane came out of Paul’s cabin together, Jane carrying Petey. Mary and Susan carried baskets of food that would sustain them and the men for the day’s work at Peter’s land claim.

Paul turned to Peter. “Harness the horses to the wagon while I gather up the tools we’ll all need.”

Two hours later the family arrived at Peter’s land. The men had previously cleared a patch of earth about an acre in size that would mark the location of the cabin and outbuildings. Today they would be clearing a path from there to the nearby river and as much brush and timber as they could from the river banks.

The women hopped off the wagon and immediately began their own tasks. While the men felled trees and cleared land, the women were setting up the foundation for the homestead’s more domestic needs. Mary was in the newly plowed garden with Susan, breaking up any clods left by the plow into fine soil so the ground would be ready for seeding. The cool morning air filled the garden with the earthy fragrance of damp soil, and the steady rhythm of their work brought a quiet peace to Susan’s mind.

“How’s the garden looking, Mary?” Susan asked about the portion they had previously planted, wiping her brow as she bent over to break up a particularly stubborn clod.

“It’s coming along,” Mary replied, her voice warm. “With what we can still plant here, supplemented by our crops back home, you’ll have plenty of vegetables to last you through the winter, so no worries on that end. And it’s a blessing that the soil isn’t as rocky as it was back home in England.”

Susan nodded. “Yes, it’s a bonus not to have to haul rocks out of the fields non-stop. But, in the end, they did make lovely stone walls!”

Mary agreed. “The look of green fields bordered by neat stone walls is indeed a sight I miss.

“The timber will make good strong fences though. The stones were a lovely touch, but backbreaking labor and not needed here.”

“They were a good use of the stones from the fields though,” Mary observed.

“That they were. Waste not, want not. The ones we do find here will help build the cabin’s foundation. And there are more in the river!”

“Yes, nature offers us everything we need.”

“Do you think there’s much we can plant this late that we can harvest before freeze-up,” Susan asked.

“Lots. For one, your favorite … radishes!”

Susan smiled. She did love a good radish sandwich. “Yes. They mature so fast. With the winter coming, we’ll need all the food we can grow.”

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