J. M. Brown... Jacob... had traveled to what was to become Prairie Cross with his family - mother and father, two brothers, a married sister and her husband and their baby, and a younger sister who was about ten years old.  There was nothing out here at the time, no stores, hardly any neighbors other than the other five families who had traveled with the Browns.  Houses were made of sod, and all the clothes were made by hand as much from what was available as could be done because it took months to send an order to an Eastern store and to receive it.

Mrs. Brown was kept busy sewing and cooking for her large family.  Her daughter, Mrs. Thompkins, was busy with her own husband and her baby.  But she helped with as much as she could for her brothers and her father.  The youngest child, Millie, was just learning to do handiwork, but even her meager contributions were welcomed.

One day, Jacob came in with his nice buckskin shirt torn down the side.  His mother and older sister were over at one of the neighbors' houses helping with a birth.  Only Millie was home.

Jacob changed shirts and gave his torn shirt to Millie.  "I need this right away,"  he said.  "I spotted a herd of deer near here and I'm going to get one for us.  Now, you work on it while I'm gone.  I'm going to tell the others about the herd."

Millie didn't like working on buckskin.  It was hard to get the needle through the skin and pushing at it hurt her fingers.  But some nice, fresh deer meat would be good after weeks of dried meat and vegetables and what they could forage off the prairie, and she knew that her brother needed a nice, warm shirt to keep the cold away.  So she took her needle and thread and started working.

If her mother had been there, she would have insisted that Millie make neat, small stitches.  If her sister had been there, she would have insisted on taking her time.  But Millie was alone and she rushed through the job, making large stitches that were almost basting.  But, she was done by the time Jacob came back, and he was satisfied.

Jacob and some of the other men went out and found the herd, still grazing on the good prairie grass near the settlement.  They had to be careful because an Indian tribe had recently come back into the area for the hunting that was beginning to be more abundant.  They didn't know these Indians and were afraid that perhaps the Indians would want them out bad enough to kill everyone.  So they put one of the men to watching for the Indians, and began to sneak up on the herd.

Jacob was waiting in some bushes, his arrow trained on a buck, when the alarm was passed around that a group of hunters from the Indian settlement was on its way, having heard about the deer as well.  Slowly, the men began to slip away from the herd, being quiet so they wouldn't alarm the deer and give their presence away to the Indians.  Jacob regretted losing this buck, but he lowered his bow and put his arrow back into his quiver and prepared to back away.

But, the bush began to move with him.  As he slipped back, a branch bent, caught on one of the oversized stitches Millie had mended his shirt with.

Jacob couldn't move or he'd alert both the herd and the Indians.  But he couldn't stay there, or the Indians would find him and maybe kill him.  He watched helplessly as the other men regained the shelter of a stand of trees, wishing he could tell them what the trouble was.

With his head turned back away from the herd, he could see the Indians heading his direction.  There were seven of them, strong young men with bows in hand and quivers slung over their backs.  He waited, praying that they'd pass him by.

But, no such luck.  The Indians made their way low into the tall grass, just as Jacob and his friends had done, and one of the men came upon Jacob, squatting in the grass with his shirt straining a small branch, a sickly grin on his face.  The Indian realized the problem and reached out, lifting the errant stitch from the bush.

Jacob smiled then and held his hands out so the other could see he was not armed with anything other than his bow.  The other man also smiled, and picked at the shirt, saying something which turned out to mean that he hoped Jacob hadn't married the woman who made such a poor job of sewing.  Then sighting the buck Jacob had wanted, he sized it up, fitted an arrow, and let it fly.

The other settlers sheltering in the trees saw what had happened and breathed a sigh of relief.  They had been sure Jacob would be killed and their village raided.  But now, Jacob also found a mark and shot it clean.  It was all right.

The Indians and the Whites have had their problems around here, as people do.  But their first meeting was peaceful, almost comical, all because of a torn shirt and a little girl who didn't take her time.