Army Letters from an Officer's Wife, 1871-1888 Part 2

FORT LYON, COLORADO TERRITORY, January, 1872.

OUR little party was a grand success, but I am still wondering how it came about that Mrs. Barker and I gave it together, for, although we are all in the same company and next-door neighbors, we have seen very little of each other. She is very quiet, and seldom goes out, even for a walk. It was an easy matter to arrange things so the two houses could, in a way, be connected, as they are under the same long roof, and the porches divided by a railing only, that was removed for the one evening.

The dancing was in our house, and the supper was served at the Barkers'.

And that supper was a marvel of culinary art, I a.s.sure you, even if it was a fraud in one or two things, We were complimented quite graciously by some of the older housekeepers, who pride themselves upon knowing how to make more delicious little dishes out of nothing than anyone else.

But this time it was North and South combined, for you will remember that Mrs. Barker is from Virginia.

The chicken salad--and it was delicious--was made of tender veal, but the celery in it was the genuine article, for we sent to Kansas City for that and a few other things. The turkey galantine was perfect, and the product of a resourceful brain from the North, and was composed almost entirely of wild goose! There was no April fool about the delicate Maryland biscuits, however, and other nice things that were set forth.

We fixed up cozily the back part of our hall with comfortable chairs and cushions, and there punch was served during the evening. Major Barker and Faye made the punch. The orchestra might have been better, but the two violins and the accordion gave us music that was inspiring, and gave us noise, too, and then Doos, who played the accordion, kept us merry by the ever-pounding down of one government-shod foot.

Everyone in the garrison came--even the chaplain was here during the supper. The officers Were in full-dress uniform, and the only man in plain evening dress was Mr. Dunn, the post trader, and in comparison to the gay uniforms of the officers he did look so sleek, from his shiny black hair down to the toes of his shiny black pumps! Mrs. Barker and I received, of course, and she was very pretty in a pink silk gown entirely covered with white net, that was caught up at many places by artificial pink roses. The color was most becoming, and made very p.r.o.nounced the rich tint of her dark skin and her big black eyes.

Well, we danced before supper and we danced after supper, and when we were beginning to feel just a wee bit tired, there suddenly appeared in our midst a colored woman--a real old-time black mammy--in a dress of faded, old-fashioned plaids, with kerchief, white ap.r.o.n, and a red-and-yellow turban tied around her head. We were dancing at the time she came in, but everyone stopped at once, completely lost in amazement, and she had the floor to herself. This was what she wanted, and she immediately commenced to dance wildly and furiously, as though she was possessed, rolling her big eyes and laughing to show the white teeth.

Gradually she quieted down to a smooth, rhythmic motion, slowly swaying from side to side, sometimes whirling around, but with feet always flat on the floor, often turning on her heels. All the time her arms were extended and her fingers snapping, and snapping also were the black eyes. She was the personification of grace, but the dance was weird--made the more so by the setting of bright evening dresses and glittering uniforms. One never sees a dance of this sort these days, even in the South, any more than one sees the bright-colored turban.

Both have pa.s.sed with the old-time darky.

Of course we recognized Mrs. Barker, more because there was no one else in our small community who could personify a darky so perfectly, than because there was any resemblance to her in looks or gesture. The make-up was artistic, and how she managed the quick transformation from ball dress to that of the plantation, with all its black paint and rouge, Mrs. Barker alone knows, and where on this earth she got that dress and turban, she alone knows. But I imagine she sent to Virginia for the whole costume. At all events, it was very bright in her to think of this unusual divertiss.e.m.e.nt for our guests when dancing was beginning to lag a little. The dance she must have learned from a mammy when a child. I forgot to say that during the time she was dancing our fine orchestra played old Southern melodies. And all this was arranged and done by the quietest woman in the garrison!

Our house was upset from one end to the other to make room for the dancing, but the putting of things in order again did not take long, as the house has so very little in it. Still, I always feel rebellious when anything comes up to interfere with my rides, no matter how pleasant it may be. There have been a great many antelope near the post of late, and we have been on ever so many hunts for them. The greyhounds have not been with us, however, for following the hounds when chasing those fleet animals not only requires the fastest kind of a horse and very good riding, but is exceedingly dangerous to both horse and rider because of the many prairie-dog holes, which are terrible death traps. And besides, the dogs invariably get their feet full of cactus needles, which cause much suffering for days.

So we have been flagging the antelope, that is, taking a shameful advantage of their wonderful curiosity, and enticing them within rifle range. On these hunts I usually hold the horses of the three officers and my own, and so far they have not given me much trouble, for each one is a troop-trained animal.

The antelope are shy and wary little creatures, and possess an abnormal sense of smell that makes it absolutely necessary for hunters to move cautiously to leeward the instant they discover them. It is always an easy matter to find a little hill that will partly screen them--the country is so rolling--as they creep and crawl to position, ever mindful of the dreadful cactus. When they reach the highest point the flag is put up, and this is usually made on the spot, of a red silk handkerchief, one corner run through the rammer of a Springfield rifle.

Then everyone lies down flat on the ground, resting on his elbows, with rifle in position for firing.

Antelope always graze against the wind, and even a novice can tell when they discover the flag, for they instantly stop feeding, and the entire band will whirl around to face it, with big round ears standing straight up, and in this way they will remain a second or two, constantly sniffing the air. Failing to discover anything dangerous, they will take a few steps forward, perhaps run around a little, giving quick tossings of the head, and sniffing with almost every breath, but whatever they do the stop is always in the same position--facing the flag, the strange object they cannot understand. Often they will approach very slowly, making frequent halts after little runs, and give many tossings of the head as if they were actually coquetting with death itself! Waiting for them to come within range of the rifle requires great patience, for the approach is always more or less slow, and frequently just as they are at the right distance and the finger is on the trigger, off the whole band will streak, looking like horizontal bars of brown and white! I am always so glad when they do this, for it seems so wicked to kill such graceful creatures. It is very seldom that I watch the approach, but when I do happen to see them come up, the temptation to do something to frighten them away from those murderous guns is almost irresistible.

But never once are they killed for mere pleasure! Their meat is tender and most delicious after one has learned to like the "gamey" flavor.

And a change in meat we certainly do need here, for unless we can have buffalo or antelope now and then, it is beef every day in the month--not only one month, but every month.

The prairie-dog holes are great obstacles to following hounds on the plains, for while running so fast it is impossible for a horse to see the holes in time to avoid them, and if a foot slips down in one it means a broken leg for the horse and a hard throw for the rider, and perhaps broken bones also. Following these English greyhounds--which have such wonderful speed and keenness of sight--after big game on vast plains, is very different from running after the slow hounds and foxes in the East, and requires a very much faster horse and quite superior riding. One has to learn to ride a horse--to get a perfect balance that makes it a matter of indifference which-way the horse may jump, at any speed--in fact, one must become a part of one's mount before these hunts can be attempted.

Chasing wolves and rabbits is not as dangerous, for they cannot begin to run as fast as antelope. And it is great fun to chase the big jack-rabbits. They know their own speed perfectly and have great confidence in it. When the hounds start one he will give one or two jumps high up in the air to take a look at things, and then he commences to run with great bounds, with his enormously long ears straight up like sails on a boat, and almost challenges the dogs to follow. But the poor hunted thing soon finds out that he must do better than that if he wishes to keep ahead, so down go the ears, flat along his back, and stretching himself out very straight, goes his very fastest, and then the real chase is on.

But Mr. Jack-Rabbit is cunning, and when he sees that the long-legged dogs are steadily gaining upon him and getting closer with every jump, he will invariably make a quick turn and run back on his own tracks, often going right underneath the fast-running dogs that cannot stop themselves, and can only give vicious snaps as they jump over him. Their stride--often fifteen and twenty feet--covers so much more ground than the rabbit's, it is impossible for them to make as quick turns, therefore it is generally the slow dog of the pack that catches the rabbit. And frequently a wise old rabbit will make many turns and finally reach a hole in safety.

The tail of a greyhound is his rudder and his brake, and the sight is most laughable when a whole pack of them are trying to stop, each tail whirling around like a Dutch windmill. Sometimes, in their frantic efforts to stop quickly, they will turn complete somersaults and roll over in a cloud of dust and dirt. But give up they never do, and once on their feet they start back after that rabbit with whines of disappointment and rage. Many, many times, also, I have heard the dogs howl and whine from the pain caused by the cactus spines in their feet, but not once have I ever seen any one of them lag in the chase.

But the pack here is a notoriously fine one. The leader. Magic, is a splendid dog, dark brindle in color, very swift and very plucky, also most intelligent. He is a sly rascal, too. He loves to sleep on Lieutenant Baldwin's bed above all things, and he sneaks up on it whenever he can, but the instant he hears Lieutenant Baldwin's step on the walk outside, down he jumps, and stretching himself out full length in front of the fire, he shuts his eyes tight, pretends to be fast asleep, and the personification of an innocent, well-behaved dog! But Lieutenant Baldwin knows his tricks now, and sometimes, going to the bed, he can feel the warmth from his body that is still there, and if he says, "Magic, you old villain," Magic will wag his tail a little, which in dog language means, "You are pretty smart, but I'm smart, too!"

With all this outdoor exercise, one can readily perceive that the days are not long and tiresome. Of course there are a few who yawn and complain of the monotony of frontier life, but these are the stay-at-homes who sit by their own fires day after day and let cobwebs gather in brain and lungs. And these, too, are the ones who have time to discover so many faults in others, and become our garrison gossips! If they would take brisk rides on spirited horses in this wonderful air, and learn to shoot all sorts of guns in all sorts of positions, they would soon discover that a frontier post can furnish plenty of excitement. At least, I have found that it can.

Faye was very anxious for me to become a good shot, considering it most essential in this Indian country, and to please him I commenced practicing soon after we got here. It was hard work at first, and I had many a bad headache from the noise of the guns. It was all done in a systematic way, too, as though I was a soldier at target practice. They taught me to use a pistol in various positions while standing; then I learned to use it from the saddle. After that a little four-inch bull's-eye was often tacked to a tree seventy-five paces away, and I was given a Spencer carbine to shoot (a short magazine rifle used by the cavalry), and many a time I have fired three rounds, twenty-one shots in all, at the bull's-eye, which I was expected to hit every time, too.

Well, I obligingly furnished amus.e.m.e.nt for Faye and Lieutenant Baldwin until they asked me to fire a heavy Springfield rifle--an infantry gun.

After one shot I politely refused to touch the thing again. The noise came near making me deaf for life; the big thing rudely "kicked" me over on my back, and the bullet--I expect that ball is still on its way to Mars or perhaps the moon. This earth it certainly did not hit! Faye is with the company almost every morning, but after luncheon we usually go out for two or three hours, and always come back refreshed by the exercise. And the little house looks more cozy, and the snapping of the blazing logs sounds more cheerful because of our having been away from them.

FORT LYON, COLORADO TERRITORY, April, 1872.

SOME of the most dreadful things have occurred since I wrote you last, and this letter will make you unhappy, I know. To begin with, orders have actually come from Department Headquarters at Leavenworth for two companies of infantry here--General Phillips' and Captain Giddings'--to go to Camp Supply! So that is settled, and we will probably leave this post in about ten days, and during that time we are expected to sell, give away, smash up, or burn about everything we possess, for we have already been told that very few things can be taken with us. I do not see how we can possibly do with less than we have had since we came here.

Eliza announced at once that she could not be induced to go where there are so many Indians--said she had seen enough of them while in New Mexico. I am more than sorry to lose her, but at the same time I cannot help admiring her common sense. I would not go either if I could avoid it.

You will remember that not long ago I said that Lieutenant Baldwin was urging me to ride Tom, his splendid thoroughbred, as soon as he could be quieted down a little so I could control him. Well, I was to have ridden him to-day for the first time! Yesterday morning Lieutenant Baldwin had him out for a long, hard run, but even after that the horse was nervous when he came in, and danced sideways along the officers' drive in his usual graceful way. Just as they got opposite the chaplain's house, two big St. Bernard dogs bounded over the fence and landed directly under the horse, entangling themselves with his legs so completely that when he tried to jump away from them he was thrown down on his knees with great force, and Lieutenant Baldwin was pitched over the horse's head and along the ground several feet.

He is a tall, muscular man and went down heavily, breaking three ribs and his collar bone on both sides! He is doing very well, and is as comfortable to-day as can be expected, except that he is grieving piteously over his horse, for the poor horse--beautiful Tom--is utterly ruined! Both knees have been sprung, and he is bandaged almost as much as his master.

The whole occurrence is most deplorable and distressing. It seems so dreadful that a strong man should be almost killed and a grand horse completely ruined by two clumsy, ill-mannered dogs. One belongs to the chaplain, too, who is expected to set a model example for the rest of us. Many, many times during the winter I have ridden by the side of Tom, and had learned to love every one of his pretty ways, from the working of his expressive ears to the graceful movement of his slender legs. He was a horse for anyone to be proud of, not only for his beauty but as a hunter, too, and he was Lieutenant Baldwin's delight and joy.

It does seem as if everything horrible had come all at once. The order we have been expecting, of course, as so many rumors have reached us that we were to go, but all the time there has been hidden away a little hope that we might be left here another year.

I shall take the greyhound puppy, of course. He is with Blue, his mother, at Captain Richardson's quarters, but he is brought over every day for me to see. His coat is brindled, dark brown and black--just like Magic's--and fine as the softest satin. One foot is white, and there is a little white tip to his tail, which, it seems, is considered a mark of great beauty in a greyhound. We have named him Harold.

Nothing has been done about packing yet, as the orders have just been received. The carpenters in the company will not be permitted to do one thing for us until the captain and first lieutenant have had made every box and crate they want for the move. I am beginning to think that it must be nice to be even a first lieutenant. But never mind, perhaps Faye will get his captaincy in twenty years or so, and then it will be all "fair and square."

FORT LYON, COLORADO TERRITORY, May, 1872.

EVERYTHING is packed or disposed of, and we are ready to start to-morrow on the long march to Camp Supply. Two large army wagons have been allowed to each company for the officers' baggage, but as all three officers are present with the company Faye is in, and the captain has taken one of the wagons for his own use, we can have just one half of one of those wagons to take our household goods to a country where it is absolutely impossible to purchase one thing! We have given away almost all of our furniture, and were glad that we had bought so little when we came here. Our trunks and several boxes are to be sent by freight to Hays City at our own expense, and from there down to the post by wagon, and if we ever see them again I will be surprised, as Camp Supply is about one hundred and fifty miles from the railroad. We are taking only one barrel of china--just a few pieces we considered the most necessary--and this morning Faye discovered that the first lieutenant had ordered that one barrel to be taken from the wagon to make more room for his own things. Faye ordered it to be put back at once, and says it will stay there, too, and I fancy it will! Surely we are ent.i.tled to all of our one half of the wagon--second choice at that.

I am to ride in an ambulance with Mrs. Phillips, her little son and her cook, Mrs. Barker and her small son. There will be seats for only four, as the middle seat has been taken out to make room for a comfortable rocking-chair that will be for Mrs. Phillips's exclusive use! The dear little greyhound puppy I have to leave here. Faye says I must not take him with so many in the ambulance, as he would undoubtedly be in the way. But I am sure the puppy would not be as troublesome as one small boy, and there will be two small boys with us. It would be quite bad enough to be sent to such a terrible place as Camp Supply has been represented to us, without having all this misery and mortification added, and all because Faye happens to be a second lieutenant!

I have cried and cried over all these things until I am simply hideous, but I have to go just the same, and I have made up my mind never again to make myself so wholly disagreeable about a move, no matter where we may have to go. I happened to recall yesterday what grandmother said to me when saying good-by: "It is a dreadful thing not to become a woman when one ceases to be a girl!" I am no longer a girl, I suppose, so I must try to be a woman, as there seems to be nothing in between. One can find a little comfort, too, in the thought that there is no worse place possible for us to be sent to, and when once there we can look forward to better things sometime in the future. I do not mind the move as much as the unpleasant experiences connected with it.

But I shall miss the kind friends, the grand hunts and delightful rides, and shall long for dear old John, who has carried me safely so many, many miles.

Lieutenant Baldwin is still ill and very depressed, and Doctor Wilder is becoming anxious about him. It is so dreadful for such a powerful man as he has been to be so really broken in pieces. He insists upon being up and around, which is bad, very bad, for the many broken bones.

I will write whenever I find an opportunity.

OLD FORT ZARAH, KANSAS, April, 1872.

OUR camp to-night is near the ruins of a very old fort, and ever since we got here, the men have been hunting rattlesnakes that have undoubtedly been holding possession of the tumble-down buildings, many snake generations. Dozens and dozens have been killed, of all sizes, some of them being very large. The old quarters were evidently made of sods and dirt, and must have been dreadful places to live in even when new.

I must tell you at once that I have the little greyhound. I simply took matters in my own hands and got him! We came only five miles our first day out, and after the tents had been pitched that night and the various dinners commenced, it was discovered that many little things had been left behind, so General Phillips decided to send an ambulance and two or three men back to the post for them, and to get the mail at the same time. It so happened that Burt, our own striker, was one of the men detailed to go, and when I heard this I at once thought of the puppy I wanted so much. I managed to see Burt before he started, and when asked if he could bring the little dog to me he answered so heartily, "That I can, mum," I felt that the battle was half won, for I knew that if I could once get the dog in camp he would take care of him, even if I could not.

Burt brought him and kept him in his tent that night, and the little fellow seemed to know that he should be good, for Burt told me that he did not whimper once, notwithstanding it was his first night from his mother and little companions. The next morning, when he was brought to me, Faye's face was funny, and after one look of astonishment at the puppy he hurried out of the tent--so I could not see him laugh, I think.

He is quite as pleased as I am, now, to have the dog, for he gives no trouble whatever. He is fed condensed milk, and I take care of him during the day and Burt has him at night. He is certainly much better behaved in the ambulance than either of the small boys who step upon our feet, get into fierce fights, and keep up a racket generally. The mothers have been called upon to settle so many quarrels between their sons, that the atmosphere in the ambulance has become quite frigid.

The day we came from the post, while I was grieving for the little greyhound and many other things I had not been permitted to bring with me, and the rocking-chair was bruising my ankles, I felt that it was not dignified in me to submit to the treatment I was being subjected to, and I decided to rebel. Mrs. Barker and her small son had been riding on the back seat, and I felt that I was as much ent.i.tled to a seat here as the boy, nevertheless I had been sitting on the seat with Mrs. Phillips's servant and riding backward. This was the only place that had been left for me at the post that morning. After thinking it all over I made up my mind to take the small boy's seat, but just where he would sit I did not know.

When I returned to the ambulance after the next rest--I was careful to get there first--I sat down on the back seat and made myself comfortable, but I must admit that my heart was giving awful thumps, for Mrs. Barker's sharp tongue and spitfire temper are well known. My head was aching because of my having ridden backward, and I was really cross, and this Mrs. Barker may have noticed, for not one word did she say directly to me, but she said much to her son--much that I might have resented had I felt inclined. The small boy sat on his mother's lap and expressed his disapproval by giving me vicious kicks every few minutes.

Not one word was said the next morning when I boldly carried the puppy to that seat. Mrs. Barker looked at the dog, then at me, with great scorn, but she knew that if she said anything disagreeable Mrs. Phillips would side with me, so she wisely kept still. I think that even Faye has come to the conclusion that I might as well have the dog--who lies so quietly in my lap--now that he sees how I am sandwiched in with rocking-chairs, small boys, and servants. The men march fifty minutes and halt ten, each hour, and during every ten minutes' rest Harold and I take a little run, and this makes him ready for a nap when we return to the ambulance. From this place on I am to ride with Mrs. Cole, who has her own ambulance. This will be most agreeable, and I am so delighted that she should have thought of inviting me.

Camping out is really very nice when the weather is pleasant, but the long marches are tiresome for everybody. The ambulances and wagons are driven directly back of the troops, consequently the mules can never go faster than a slow walk, and sometimes the dust is enough to choke us.

We have to keep together, for we are in an Indian country, of course.

I feel sorry for the men, but they always march "rout" step and seem to have a good time, for we often hear them laughing and joking with each other.

We are following the Arkansas River, and so far the scenery has been monotonous--just the same rolling plains day after day. Leaving our first army home was distressing, and I doubt if other homes and other friends will ever be quite the same to me. Lieutenant Baldwin was a.s.sisted to the porch by his faithful Mexican boy, so he could see us start, and he looked white and pitifully helpless, with both arms bandaged tight to his sides. One of those dreadful dogs is in camp and going to Camp Supply with us, and is as frisky as though he had done something to be proud of.