O Pioneers!
By Willa Cather
PART I
The Wild Land
One January day, thirty years ago, the little
Town of Hanover, anchored on a windy Ne-
Braska tableland, was trying not to be blown
Away. A mist of fine snowflakes was curling
And eddying about the cluster of low drab
Buildings huddled on the gray prairie, under a
Gray sky. The dwelling-houses were set about
Haphazard on the tough prairie sod; some of
Them looked as if they had been moved in
Overnight, and others as if they were straying
Off by themselves, headed straight for the open
Plain. None of them had any appearance of
Permanence, and the howling wind blew under
Them as well as over them. The main street
Was a deeply rutted road, now frozen hard,
Which ran from the squat red railway station
And the grain “elevator” at the north end of
The town to the lumber yard and the horse
Pond at the south end. On either side of this
Road straggled two uneven rows of wooden
Buildings; the general merchandise stores, the
Two banks, the drug store, the feed store, the
Saloon, the post-office. The board sidewalks
Were gray with trampled snow, but at two
O’clock in the afternoon the shopkeepers, hav-
Ing come back from dinner, were keeping well
Behind their frosty windows. The children were
All in school, and there was nobody abroad in
The streets but a few rough-looking country-
Men in coarse overcoats, with their long caps
Pulled down to their noses. Some of them had
Brought their wives to town, and now and then
A red or a plaid shawl flashed out of one store
Into the shelter of another. At the hitch-bars
Along the street a few heavy work-horses, har-
Nessed to farm wagons, shivered under their
Blankets. About the station everything was
Quiet, for there would not
be another train in
Until night.
On the sidewalk in front of one of the stores
Sat a little Swede boy, crying bitterly. He was
About five years old. His black cloth coat was
Much too big for him and made him look like
A little old man. His shrunken brown flannel
Dress had been washed many times and left a
Long stretch of stocking between the hem of his
Skirt and the tops of his clumsy, copper-toed
Shoes. His cap was pulled down over his ears;
His nose and his chubby cheeks were chapped
And red with cold. He cried quietly, and the
Few people who hurried by did not notice him.
He was afraid to stop any one, afraid to go into
The store and ask for help, so he sat wringing his
Long sleeves and looking up a telegraph pole
Beside him, whimpering, “My kitten, oh, my
Kitten! Her will fweeze!” At the top of the
Pole crouched a shivering gray kitten, mewing
Faintly and clinging desperately to the wood
With her claws. The boy had been left at the
Store while his sister went to the doctor’s office,
And in her absence a dog had chased his kit-
Ten up the pole. The little creature had never
Been so high before, and she was too frightened
To move. Her master was sunk in despair. He
Was a little country boy, and this village was to
Him a very strange and perplexing place, where
People wore fine clothes and had hard hearts.
He always felt shy and awkward here, and
Wanted to hide behind things for fear some one
Might laugh at him. Just now, he was too un-
Happy to care who laughed. At last he seemed
To see a ray of hope: his sister was coming, and
He got up and ran toward her in his heavy
Shoes.
His sister was a tall, strong girl, and she
Walked rapidly and resolutely, as if she knew
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