Frank Greerson figured his words would clear his parents’ dining room that morning, and they did. The family scattered like a nest of mice found by a fox in a field. His mother herded her grandchildren and their dishes into the kitchen. His sister-in-law cleared the adults’ dishes and escorted his sister out of the room. All it took was a glare from his dad for Frank’s brother to take the other two adult men with him.

The War Between the States was over. Frank had fought on the Union side, but there was one more fight to win before he could go west. As Gregory Young stood up, he glanced across the table at Frank. He nodded to indicate it was all right for Gregory to leave the room with everybody else. Frank had to fight this battle on his own.

Frank’s father, Paul, took a deep breath before he spoke. “Son, I know I can’t stop you from leaving, but I am going to do everything in my power to talk you out of this.”

Frank didn’t look up from his plate. “Sir, I’m going to Kansas, and you can’t stop me. I am twenty-three years old, and there’s nothing you can say that will change my mind. We’re going to take two claims side-by-side and help each other out.” He stopped short of saying that they planned to live in one house and sleep in one bed.

“I know you know what you’re doing—I taught you how to manage a farm myself—but I don’t think you really know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Of course I do. I know it won’t be easy, but I’ve got to try. There’s nothing for me around here.”

“Won’t be easy? Frank, listen. The weather is bad enough around here, and we’ve been here for fifteen years. Do you know what you’re up against out on the open prairie?”

“I’ve considered all the options, Pa,” Frank replied with just a bit of school-aged irritation in his voice. “That’s why I’m going with Young and not on my own.” He still hadn’t looked his father in the eye since the rest of the family had exited. Frank gazed around the room. Besides the new dining room table, the room appeared the same as it had when he was growing up. Frank remembered being kept after breakfast as a child and receiving warnings about acting up during the busy day of work ahead. He pictured his ten-year-old self sitting there, this time being lectured about going to Kansas.

“How well do you know this boy? I asked about his folks. They say his old man was a son of a bitch.”

Frank took a deep breath. It was true. Gregory had told him some awful stories about his growing up.

“We fought together in the Ninth Iowa the entire time, Pa,” Frank answered with the same frustration as before. “You get to know a comrade pretty well after training, fighting, sleeping, eating, and bathing together.”

Greerson lifted one eyebrow when his son mentioned sleeping and bathing together. “Frank, the plains are no place for a young man like yourself. One bad season could destroy everything you have. There are Indians and wild animals like you’ve never seen before. There are more tornadoes out there than here, where things are civilized. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Frank had expected some protest at his idea of going west, but not this. He inhaled slowly and still avoided looking at his father when he spoke. “Pa, there’s nothing for me around here. This farm can’t support you, Paul Junior’s family, and me at the same time.”

“I know that. But what if you stayed around here and worked for us? We’d pay you, of course. And then, when a farm around here comes up for sale, you could buy it and we’d be around to help you.”

“That’s why I’m going west with Young, so we can help each other. I’ll take the money in my account and use that to turn the claims into a farm.”

“The reason I started you on stock raising was because I knew this farm wouldn’t support three families. That’s why I allowed you to buy, raise, and sell stock, but not Paul Junior,” the elder Greerson explained. “But I’m not about to see you throw all that money away on a gamble.”

Frank’s pa used the same argument, just reworded, again, just like when Frank was younger. This time it wasn’t going to work. Frank tried a different approach.

“But it’s free land, Pa.”

“Free? Sure, the land might be free, but you’ve got to put a building on it and at least show you’ve made some sort of improvements. And you think supplies come free? You’ll use all those greenbacks to pay for food, clothing, and farming supplies until the farm turns a profit. You’ve got a good stock of cash, son, but not enough to support yourself that long.”

“That’s why we’re going together,” Frank said softly. “To help each other.”

Paul Greerson took another bite and chewed it in the following silence. Frank swirled his fork around in the leftover syrup and gravy on his plate.