Little Author in the Big Woods (2 page)

In 1863, Charles and Caroline followed some members of the Ingalls family to the Big Woods of Wisconsin, near the village of Pepin. Charles and his brother-in-law Henry Quiner built two rough-hewn log cabins, not too far apart from each other. It was important to have family nearby. They helped each other with the building and with other chores as well. The cabin Henry shared with his wife, Polly, was busy and noisy—they had three children. In contrast, the cabin shared by Charles and Caroline was a much calmer and quieter place.

All that changed in 1865. Just as the Civil War between the North and the South was ending, Caroline gave birth to a baby girl she named Mary. Two years later, Laura came along. Now Caroline had two little girls and a bustling, noisy cabin of her own. But no matter where she went and what hardships she endured, she never lost that special sense of grace, and she imbued her daughters with her own rare spirit.

As much as Laura loved her strong, cheerful blue-eyed father, who could play the fiddle and fix just about anything, she was deeply shaped by the women around her—her mother and her sisters, Mary, Caroline (born in 1870), and Grace (born in 1877). It was these strong, resourceful pioneer women who became her role models. And in the end, it was these same women who helped define and populate the fictional world of the Little House books, for which she became so well known and loved. Laura learned so much from her mother—lessons that lasted a lifetime. But even more important were the tender feelings she had for her mother, which she described this way: “dearer than Mother's teachings are little personal memories: Mother's face, Mother's touch, Mother's voice.”

 

ONE

Early Journeys

1870−1871

Wisconsin–Kansas–Wisconsin

The Wisconsin woods were very big. The house was very small. Laura Elizabeth Ingalls was small too, a little girl in the big, big woods. She lived in a log cabin with her Pa, Ma, and older sister, Mary Amelia. The trees surrounding the house stood proud and tall. Oak, ash, and elm. Maple, butternut, and birch. The dense woods were home to many of the animals Pa hunted and trapped for their meat and skins. He farmed, too, in the clearings where the forest opened up and the land was exposed to the sun and the wind.

To Laura, the woods around the cabin must have seemed vast and endless. There were no other houses, buildings, or streets, just the trees and the occasional sight of an owl as it flapped its great wings against the sky. In the winter, glittering white snow piled up against the sides of the cabin. In spring, the woods and fields were filled with flowers.

Laura and Mary played outside, watched by their Ma and Jack, the fiercely loyal spotted bulldog that was their family pet. They had no reason to think of leaving. Everything they ever needed or wanted was right there.

But Pa had other ideas. He had a yen to go out west. He wanted even more land, more space, and more opportunity. He'd heard that out west there were deer, antelope, prairie chickens, and wild turkeys. The land was level and the soil fertile. And best of all, it was free! In 1862, Congress had passed the Homestead Act. This meant that the United States government was offering 160 free acres of land to people willing to settle on the prairie and farm for at least five years.

Once Pa learned that, he was all set to pack up and leave Pepin behind. But in the Ingalls family, Pa and Ma made all the big decisions together. In the evenings, after the chores were done, they sat by the table and talked over the pros and cons. They would be leaving their families behind. The trip was dangerous. Ma loved their snug little cabin and saw no reason to leave it. Pa pointed out that the land cost nothing. They could farm and make money. He could afford to build a frame house, and to buy a buggy and a team of horses. He promised Caroline fine clothes and jewelry too. Long into the night they talked. And the next night, and the night after that. Soon it was decided. They would go to Kansas!

Once they made the decision, preparations for the long trip began. First Pa had to fit a white, waterproof canvas over their wagon's curved bows. The wagon would become their home while on their journey, and even after they arrived; it would take some time to build a new house and they would need shelter in the meantime.

Then Ma started on the packing. Into the wagon went their clothes, dishes, books, and bedding. Patchwork quilts and tablecloths, pots and pans. Pa's fiddle rode up front, cushioned on a pile of quilts. In late April 1870, everything was ready. Ma, Pa, Mary, and Laura said good-bye to all their relatives. Then they climbed into the wagon, with faithful Jack following alongside. Pa drove the horses to the edge of Lake Pepin. Fortunately, the lake was still covered in ice, so they could get the wagon across it. On the other side of the lake was Minnesota.

For weeks they lived in the wagon, crossing the state of Minnesota, then traveling south through Iowa and Missouri, and finally heading west into the wide-open state of Kansas. Laura was too little to remember the trip. But Ma and Pa told her so many stories about it that the stories became a part of her. Eventually, it was as if she
did
remember the covered wagon, the unfamiliar landscape filled with woods, hills, creeks, and rivers, and the little rabbits that hid in the grass and prairie chickens that fluttered in the road.

It was a long and hard journey. Sometimes it poured. Other times it was blisteringly hot. But when they stopped for the night, Pa played his fiddle and Ma cooked a good supper over the campfire. Even on the lonely, desolate prairie, Ma managed to make the girls feel at home.

The family came to the Verdigris River, and when the horse pulled the wagon across, they found themselves in the frontier town of Independence, Kansas. But Pa had not come all this way to settle in a town. He wanted the expansive spaces of the prairie. They got back in the wagon and continued on for another 13 miles southwest. He kept looking until he found a spot that seemed just right. It was near a stream. The stream played a big part in his decision because they needed to be near water. And the trees that grew along the banks could be used to build their house and provide wood for a fire.

Pa started in on the new house straight away. First he had to find the right trees—only the straightest ones would do. Next he had to cut them down and haul them to the building site in his wagon. It took several days to prepare enough logs—about 50 logs in all. Then he started to build. Day by day the walls of the new cabin grew higher, and then higher still. When it was high enough, he made a temporary skeleton roof from slender saplings. Over this he tied the canvas wagon cover. Later he would put on a more secure roof, made from wooden logs that had been split into thin slabs. But there were other, more important things to do first. He had to dig a well. And he had to build a log barn, to protect the horses from thieves and from the packs of wolves that roamed the prairie.

After the building came the backbreaking work of plowing. Although Pa often traded work with neighbors for help with building, he worked long days alone in the fields with his sod plow, breaking up the tough grasslands into fields where he could plant. He planned to grow wheat, potatoes, corn, and other crops. The tall grass was thick and not easy to cut. The underground root system was so strong that Pa had to get off the plow and hack it with his ax. But he was strong and determined. He got the job done.