Our Kansas Home by Deborah Hopkinson, PATRICK FARICY Page A

crop, she has a mind to go back to Massachusetts. She claims she couldn’t live through another winter like this past one.”
    â€œIt
was
rough on all the new settlers,” Ed agreed.
    What a winter! The prairie wind had never stopped whistling and moaning. Most mornings their drinking water had been frozen solid in the pail. Little Sadie, who was just five, had been sick a lot.
    And once, Charlie had found Momma crying softly as she rocked Baby Henry.
    â€œWe came here to find a new life, and to keep the evil of slavery from spreading,” Momma had whispered, tears in her eyes. “But I never dreamed life would be so hard.”
    At least it’s spring now,
thought Charlie. The May sun felt warm on his back. But he couldn’t help worrying about what might happen next.
    If the border ruffians made trouble all summer, Papa and the other settlers wouldn’t have time to work on their new farms. If they didn’t grow enough food, some families might give up and go back to their home states. Just what the border ruffians wanted!
    I wonder if
we’ll
go back,
Charlie thought.
    Charlie hadn’t wanted to leave Massachusetts. He still missed Grandpa and his old dog, Danny. Sometimes, if he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine himself hunting bird nests in their old woods and catching polliwogs in the pond.
    Still, Charlie was growing to like Kansas. He loved the way hawks soared in the big prairie skies.
    Charlie liked the people he’d met, too. Especially his friend, Flory Morgan. Flory always made him smile. Shecalled him “Massachusetts Charlie,” and sang old river songs in her high, sweet voice.
    The truth was Charlie didn’t know where he belonged anymore.
    Massachusetts or Kansas. Which was home now?

CHAPTER TWO
 
    â€œThere’s the Free State Hotel!” cried Charlie. “I think it must be the grandest building in Kansas.”
    â€œNow families have a fine place to stay when they arrive,” Ed said proudly. “But Sheriff Jones and the proslavery folks claim it’s a fort. They say we free-state settlers might use it to overthrow the government.”
    A crowd of men had gathered in front of the hotel. Charlie stood on tiptoes to look for Papa.
    Wooden Ed squinted. “Can you spot him?”
    â€œNo. Oh, wait. There he is. Papa!” Charlie hollered. A tall, thin man with dark hair shouldered his way toward them.
    â€œGood to see you, Ed,” said Papa, shaking Mr. Dillon’s hand. “So it looks like more trouble.”
    Ed nodded. “Sheriff Jones has been coming around for weeks, trying to arrest the free-state leaders. Especially anyone who helped rescue Jacob Branson.”He gave Papa a long look and added, “They haven’t noticed me. Yet …”
    Charlie felt a wave of fear rush over him. Last fall Sheriff Jones had arrested a free-state man named Jacob Branson for no good reason. Some of Branson’s friends had rescued him because they feared the sheriff might hurt him.
    Charlie would never forget that night. He had hidden in the wagon. But Papa and Ed Dillon had stood up with the other free-state men.
    Will Sheriff Jones go after Papa, too?
Charlie wondered.
    â€œIt didn’t help that some fool shot at Jones a few weeks ago,” Ed went on.
    â€œNow, that was wrong,” said Papa. “Is Jones all right?”
    â€œHe was wounded, but he’s better,” Ed replied. “And madder than ever. He wants to punish the whole town. And destroying the hotel is one way to do it.”
    Just then a man rode up and stopped his horse right in front of them. “They’re coming!” he shouted. “Jones and his men are riding down from the top of Mount Oread.”
    At that moment the man’s horse reared. Its hoovescame down near Charlie and Lion. Papa grabbed Charlie, and pulled him to safety.
    Lion yelped. Charlie made a grab for him, but Lion was spooked. He started to