Chcka, chcka, chcka, chcka, chcka, chcka. The train screeched to a stop throwing its passengers from their seats. Ethel, with her small baby in her arms, stepped from the Home Seekers Excursion Train out into the muggy July day. The train was stuffy, and her long dress was covered in dust and cinder ashes. She shook the skirt of her dress to remove the layer of dirt and gently wiped 7-week old Esther’s face clean of the black ashes. Ethel took a deep breath of the fresh air. When she had gotten on the train she was in Indiana, and now she was in Texas. The heavy wind scraped against her. The sun was blistering, and the glare hurt her eyes. This was Texas. This was Texas? It wasn’t what F.W. had described when he and his father had returned from purchasing the land a couple of years before. No, F.W. used words like paradise and “the land of milk and honey.” No, this couldn’t be it. All Ethel saw was flat, dusty, dry land. For miles and miles, that was it. No trees, no rivers, no nothing! This was what she had brought her child to? This was what she had left her family for? For this she had given up her precious piano? She wanted to get back on the train, but F. W. and the others were pushing her forward. “You must calm thyself,” Ethel murmured under her breath and took enough steps forward to allow the others room to escape the train and see the land, the promised land.
Quickly Ethel was guided to a waiting horse and buggy. Their journey still lacked nine miles to the home of F.W.’s relatives where they were to stay until their own home could be built. The two carpenters that had traveled with them on the train were to build their new four-bedroom house. Amidst the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves and squeak and rattle of the buggy wheels, Ethel began thinking of their new home and of the buggy ride. It reminded Ethel of her and F.W.’s wedding day. It had not been much more than a year ago, and they had taken a buggy much like this one to their first home in Friendswood, Indiana. And now they were here in Texas. It was hard for Ethel to appear content, much less happy, but she knew it was her duty to do her best.
They did not have to stay with their kinfolk. In the middle of a field, several miles from the town of Friona, their house was quickly built. It wasn’t an extravagant house, but it was sturdy. Ethel especially loved the front porch. In the cool evenings, she could sit outside and watch the sun set.
Their house was soon filled with the sounds of growing children. All together there were six children: Esther, Mary, Hadley, Glenn, Charles, and Ruth. A constant din leaked from the house’s cracks. Ethel enjoyed the noise; it was her won symphony. In fact, it made the open plains seem less threatening, less quiet.
Life was hard on the plains of the Texas panhandle. Ethel often leaned on her husband’s undying optimism. “There are two sources of wealth,” F.W. told her, “natural resources and human resourcefulness.” Ethel spent her time doing the chores required of pioneer women. Cows to milk, butter to churn, bread to knead, and babies to feed. Ethel spent most of her time bringing in water to the house. Several times a day, Ethel walked the well-worn path from the windmill to the kitchen. Any leisure time was spent reading the Bible and singing to her children. Ethel was considered a prodigy as a child and was trained as a concert pianist. But without her piano, Ethel filled her love for music by singing to her children.
Ethel came to truly understand the words her mother and father had written when she and F.W. wished to be married. They were right when they said, “The dark days of disappointment will come and does come to us all.” Ethel had felt it when she had left her piano and when she had left Indiana. She knew the dark times in 1915 when she and F.W. chose to have their names removed from the Quaker Monthly Meeting in Fairfield, Indiana. They joined the Union Congregational Church, the only established church in Friona. This difficult decision resulted in the loss of their Quaker birthright. But Ethel had reasoned, “The children need to know God. Whether he is Quaker is not an option we are offered.” It didn’t take long for the family to form their place in the church. It was here that Ethel found true solace by playing the piano.
Continued next week.
Jeri Lynn White is a direct descendant of Glen and Ruth Stevick. She is related by marriage to the White and Reeve families. She and her husband Bill are the parents of two children, Hadley Glen and Adaline Ruth.
|  Esther Reeve
 Floyd Reeve |
