Artemis and Ophelia’s gazes aimed at Atlas held strong doses of skepticism. Ophelia’s eyes drifted to the framed certificate on the wall behind Atlas.
Atlas linked his fingers together on the desk and leaned forward. “In Independence, we look out for each other. ” He opened the top drawer of his desk and slid a hand in. He could select from two circulars sitting side by side. One circular advertised, for a fee, his service of procuring a guaranteed unclaimed homestead or town lot for a willing buyer. Atlas picked up the other circular, which simply outlined the procedures for willing homesteaders to make their own effort during the upcoming land run to secure a homestead. No fee.
“The good news is,” Atlas said, sliding the circular across the desk to Artemis. “You can still get a homestead free and clear. All you have to do is be ready to run like hell come September twenty-first. I did it myself, just more than two years ago now.”
Artemis’s eyes held Atlas’ for a moment, then drifted down to the circular.
Atlas always considered March 23, 1889, about two and a half years earlier, as the day that revealed the true path of his life. He was sitting on the front steps of his small rented cottage in Mexia in the dying light of the day, reading T. Thomas Fortune’s Black and White, when one of his law clients brought a newspaper to him to read out loud. As other students and parents gathered around, they learned that President Benjamin Harrison had proclaimed that the Unassigned Lands would be open to settlement. Thirty days later, on April twenty-second, Atlas was one of the thousands who lined up. He ran successfully for a town lot in what later that very day would become Destry, the Territorial capital of Oklahoma Territory. A year later, he sold the rights to that lot at a profit and moved to Independence.
Ophelia kept her eyes on Atlas. “That’s still two weeks away,” she said. “We thought we was coming to a home, Mr. Reed. We got nowhere to go, and precious little money to get there.”
“Precious little,” Artemis said.
“Once again,” Atlas said as he stood, “the people of Independence are here for you.” When he first moved to town last year, Atlas bought a town lot at the far west end of Main Street, but he kept his eye on the center of town. The McManns were one of the first families of Independence, and their restaurant often served as the gathering place for town meetings. Edward McMann was a co-founder of the town, after all, and he still spent many of his days promoting the town and its opportunities to Negroes throughout the south.
Atlas felt it was in his best interest, and, of course, his best opportunity to help grow the town if he cultivated as close and supportive a relationship with Edward as he could. So, when the Mullers, who owned the shoemaker’s shop directly across from McMann’s, announced they were selling the two-story building and moving on to New Mexico, Atlas pounced. The front part of the lower level of the building now served as his law office. What had been the shoemaker’s workshop at the back was now where Atlas and Edward printed their newspaper, the Independence Tribune. Atlas lived in the three small rooms on the second level.
“First,” Atlas said. I publish the city’s newspaper, and I hire on boys to sell it around the city and in Destry. So, if your older son is capable, I would be happy to hire him.”
“Samuel is very capable,” Artemis said.
“Of course.” Atlas walked to the window, which provided an excellent view of Main Street and the entrance to McMann’s Restaurant and Rooming House. The sign above his office — Atlas Reed, Attorney At Law, Specializing in Homestead Claims — kept a steady flow of patrons through his doors. But Atlas also used the office’s visibility, his law background, and his public friendship with Edward McMann and Hale Alcorn to get himself elected mayor just three months after he arrived.
“But, as mayor of Independence, I feel it is my duty to provide help however else I can. Our people know that we will rise together in freedom, but some forget that freedom also means the freedom to prey on our own, and the freedom to forget our struggles.”
“The struggles ain’t over, sir,” Ophelia said with a shake of her head. “These struggles ain’t over.”
“But we have more weapons now, Mrs. Timmins,” Atlas said. Through the front window, he watched Augustus “Gus” Whitlock and Sarah McMann walk up the boardwalk steps into the restaurant. Atlas kept his eyes on Sarah. Although they were sisters, Sarah and Abigail did not favor each other very much in looks. Abigail took after Edward, wiry and almost vibrating with energy. She believed as wholeheartedly in the promise of Independence as Atlas. Sarah favored her mother, softer, gentler. It was not Atlas's opinion alone that Sarah was the acknowledged beauty of Independence. Only her impending marriage to Gus kept many of Independence's bachelors from calling on her. Both of the women would make excellent wives to any man interested in the future of Independence.
Atlas said to the Timmins as Sarah disappeared into the restaurant, “And one of those weapons is the Independence Ladies Benevolent Society.”