Every night before retiring to his trundle-bed, he would ask his
mother if "father would come next day."
At last the joyous shout of the older children announced the approach of
the wagon. They ran down the road to meet it. The horses jogged along
with the wagon, which rolled and jolted over the ground to the house.
The wagon was unloaded. There were bags of meal and flour, coffee and
tea, and then came the calico and cotton goods, jugs of molasses and a
barrel of sugar. The shoes were in a box and finally brought out.
A great disappointment was in store for Fernando. His shoes were too
small. The father had lost the string and purchased the shoes "by
guess." Fernando tried hard to squeeze his foot into the little green
coverings; but they were so small and there was danger of bursting them.
Father had to go back to the land office in a day or two and would
exchange them. He rode off on the white mare, "old Betts," and on his
return had a pair of shoes large enough for Fernando.
They were awkward at first and cramped, pinched and galled his feet. His
mother made him a suit of clothes of "blue drilling" and next Sabbath
the whole family got into the wagon and drove off eight miles to Bear
Creek to "meeting."
The people of the west were as thorough a combination and mixture of all
nations, characters, languages, conditions and opinions as can well be
imagined.
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