a little inn. The house is built of logs, and the architecture is about
as queer as its owner. Mrs. Gates, wife of the proprietor, can be, and
usually is, very cross and disagreeable, and I rather dreaded stopping
there alone. But she met me pleasantly--that is, she did not snap my
head off--so I gathered courage to ask for a room that would be near
some one, as I was timid at night. That settled my standing in her
opinion, and with a "Humph!" she led the way across a hall and through
a large room where there were several beds, and opening a door on the
farther side that led to still another room, she told me I could have
that, adding that I "needn't be scared to death, as the boys will sleep
right there." I asked her how old the boys were, and she snapped, "How
old! why they's men folks," and out of the room she went. Upon looking
around I saw that my one door opened into the next room, and that as
soon as the "boys" occupied it I would be virtually a prisoner. To be
sure, the windows were not far from the ground, and I could easily jump
out, but to jump in again would require longer arms and legs than I
possessed. But just then I felt that I would much prefer to encounter
robbers, mountain lions, any gentle creatures of that kind, to asking
Mrs. Gates for another room.
When I went out to supper that night I was given a seat at one end of
a long table where were already sitting nine men, including my own
civilian driver, who, fortunately, was near the end farthest from me.
No one paid the slightest attention to me, each man attending to his
own hungry self and trying to outdo the others in talking. Finally they
commenced telling marvelous tales about horses that they had ridden and
subdued, and I said to myself that I had been told all about sheep that
day, and there it was about horses, and I wondered how far I would have
to go to hear all sorts of things about cattle! But anything about
a horse is always of interest to me, and those men were particularly
entertaining, as it was evident that most of them were professional
trainers.
There was sitting at the farther end of the table a rather young-looking
man, who had been less talkative than the others, but who after a while
said something about a horse at the fort. The mentioning of the post
was startling, and I listened to hear what further he had to say. And
he continued, "Yes, you fellers can say what yer dern please about yer
broncos, but that little horse can corral any dern piece of horseflesh
yer can show up. A lady rides him, and I guess I'd put her up with the
horse. The boys over there say that she broke the horse herself, and I
say! you fellers orter see her make him go--and he likes it, too."
By the time the man stopped talking, my excitement was great, for I was
positive that he had been speaking of Rollo, although no mention had
been made of the horse's color or gait. So I asked what gait the horse
had. He and two or three of the other men looked at me with pity in
their eyes--actual pity--that plainly said, "Poor thing--what can you
know about gaits"; but he answered civilly, "Well, lady, he is what we
call a square pacer," and having done his duty he turned again to his
friends, as though they only could understand him, and said, "No cow
swing about that horse. He is a light sorrel and has the very handsomest
mane yer ever did see--it waves, too, and I guess the lady curls it--but
don't know for sure."
The situation was most unusual and in some ways most embarrassing,
also. Those nine men were rough and unkempt, but they were splendid
horsemen--that I knew intuitively--and to have one of their number
select my very own horse above all others to speak of with unstinted
praise, was something to be proud of, but to have my own self calmly and
complacently disposed of with the horse--"put up," in fact--was quite
another thing. But not the slightest disrespect had been intended, and
to leave the table without making myself known was not to be thought of.
I wanted the pleasure, too, of telling those men that I knew the gait
of a pacer very well--that not in the least did I deserve their pity. My
face was burning and my voice unnatural when I threw the bomb!
I said, "The horse you are speaking of I know very well. He is mine, and
I ride him, and I thank you very much for the nice things you have
just said about him!" Well, there was a sudden change of scene at that
table--a dropping of knives and forks and various other things, and I
became conscious of eyes--thousands of eyes--staring straight at me, as
I watched my bronco friend at the end of the table. The man had
opened his eyes wide, and almost gasped "Gee-rew-s'lum!"--then utterly
collapsed. He sat back in his chair gazing at me in a helpless,
bewildered way that was disconcerting, so I told him a number of things
about Rollo--how Faye had taken him to Helena during race week and
Lafferty, a professional jockey of Bozeman, had tested his speed, and
had passed a 2:30 trotter with him one morning. The men knew Lafferty,
of course. There was a queer coincidence connected with him and Rollo.
The horse that he was driving at the races was a pacer named Rolla,
while my horse, also a pacer, was named Rollo.
All talk about horses ceased at once, and the men said very little to
each other during the remainder of the time we were at the table. It was
almost pathetic, and an attention I very much appreciated, to see how
bread, pickles, cold meat, and in fact everything else on that rough
table, were quietly pushed to me, one after the other, without one word
being said. That was their way of showing their approval of me. It was
unpolished, but truly sincere.
I was not at all afraid that night, for I suspected that the horsemen at
the supper-table were the "boys" referred to by Mrs. Gates. But it was
impossible to sleep. The partition between the two rooms must have been
very thin, for the noises that came through were awful. It seemed as
though dozens of men were snoring at the same time, and that some of
them were dangerously "croupy," for they choked and gulped, and every
now and then one would have nightmare and groan and yell until some one
would tell him to "shut up," or perhaps say something funny about him
to the others. No matter how many times those men were wakened they were
always cheerful and good-natured about it. A statement that I cannot
truthfully make about myself on the same subject!
It was not necessary for me to leave my room through the window the next
morning, although my breakfast was early. The house seemed deserted,
and I had the long table all to myself. At six o'clock we started on
our ride to Helena. I sat with the driver going through the long
Prickly-Pear canon, and had a fine opportunity of seeing its magnificent
grandeur, while the early shadows were still long. The sun was on many
of the higher boulders, that made them sparkle and show brilliantly in
their high lights and shadows. The trees and bushes looked unusually
fresh and green. We hear that a railroad will soon be built through that
canon--but we hope not. It would be positively wicked to ruin anything
so grand.
We reached Helena before luncheon, and I soon found Miss Duncan, who was
expecting me. We did not start back until the second day, so she and
I visited all the shops and then drove out to Sulphur Spring. The way
everybody and everything have grown and spread out since the Northern
Pacific Railroad has been running cars through Helena is most amazing.
It was so recently a mining town, just "Last Chance Gulch," where
Chinamen were digging up the streets for gold, almost undermining the
few little buildings, and Chinamen also were raising delicious
celery, where now stand very handsome houses. Now Main street has many
pretentious shops, and pretty residences have been put up almost to the
base of Mount Helena.
The ride back was uneventful, greatly to Miss Duncan's disappointment.
It is her first visit to the West, and she wants to see cowboys and all
sorts of things. I should have said "wanted to see," for I think that
already her interest in brass buttons is so great the cowboys will
never be thought of again. There were two at Rock Creek, but they were
uninteresting--did not wear "chaps," pistols, or even big spurs. At the
Bird-Tail not one sheep was to be seen--every one had been sheared, and
the big band driven back to its range. Miss Duncan is a pretty girl, and
unaffected, and will have a delightful visit at this Western army post,
where young girls from the East do not come every day. And then we have
several charming young bachelors!
FORT SHAW, MONTANA TERRITORY, December, 1887.
THE excitement is about over. Our guests have returned to their homes,
and now we are settling down to our everyday garrison life. The wedding
was very beautiful and as perfect in every detail as adoring father and
mother and loving friends could make it. It was so strictly a military
wedding, too--at a frontier post where everything is of necessity "army
blue"--the bride a child of the regiment, her father an officer in the
regiment many years, and the groom a recent graduate from West Point,
a lieutenant in the regiment. We see all sorts of so-called military
weddings in the East--some very magnificent church affairs, others at
private houses, and informal, but there are ever lacking the real
army surroundings that made so perfect the little wedding of Wednesday
evening.
The hall was beautifully draped with the greatest number of flags of all
sizes--each one a "regulation," however--and the altar and chancel rail
were thickly covered with ropes and sprays of fragrant Western cedars
and many flowers, and from either side of the reredos hung from their
staffs the beautifully embroidered silken colors of the regiment. At the
rear end of the hall stood two companies of enlisted men--one on each
side of the aisle--in shining full-dress uniforms, helmets in hand. The
bride's father is captain of one of those companies, and the groom a
lieutenant in the other. As one entered the hall, after passing numerous
orderlies, each one in full-dress uniform, of course, and walked up
between the two companies, every man standing like a statue, one became
impressed by the rare beauty and military completeness of the whole
scene.
The bride is petite and very young, and looked almost a child as she and
her father slowly passed us, her gown of heavy ivory satin trailing
far back of her. The orchestra played several numbers previous to the
ceremony--the Mendelssohn March for processional, and Lohengrin for
recessional, but the really exquisite music was during the ceremony,
when there came to us softly, as if floating from afar over gold lace
and perfumed silks and satins, the enchanting strains of Moszkowski's
Serenade! Faye remained with the orchestra all the time, to see that
the music was changed at just the right instant and without mistake. The
pretty reception was in the quarters of Major and Mrs. Stokes, and there
also was the delicious supper served. Some of the presents were elegant.
A case containing sixty handsome small pieces of silver was given by the
officers of the regiment. A superb silver pitcher by the men of Major
Stokes's company, and an exquisite silver after-dinner coffee set by the
company in which the groom is a lieutenant. Several young officers came
down from Fort Assiniboine to assist as ushers, and there were at the
post four girls from Helena. An army post is always an attractive place
to girls, but it was apparent from the first that these girls came for
an extra fine time. I think they found it!
They were all at our cotillon Monday evening, and kept things moving
fast. It was refreshing to have a new element, and a little variety
in partners. We have danced with each other so much that everyone has
become more or less like a machine. Faye led, dancing with Miss Stokes,
for whom the german was given. The figures were very pretty--some of
them new--and the supper was good. To serve refreshments of any kind
at the hall means much work, for everything has to be prepared at the
house--even coffee, must be sent over hot; and every piece of china and
silver needed must be sent over also. Mrs. Hughes came from Helena on
Saturday and remained with me until yesterday.
You know something of the awful times I have had with servants since
Hulda went away! First came the lady tourist--who did us the honor to
consent to our paying her expenses from St. Paul, and who informed me
upon her arrival that she was not obliged to work out--no indeed--that
her own home was much nicer than our house--that she had come up to see
the country, and so forth. We found her presence too great a burden,
particularly as she could not prepare the simplest meal, and so invited
her to return to her elegant home. Then came the two women--the mother
to Mrs. Todd, the daughter to me--who were insulted because they
were expected to occupy servant's rooms, and could not "eat with the
family"--so Mrs. Todd and I gave them cordial invitations to depart.
Then came my Russian treasure--a splendid cook, but who could not be
taught that a breakfast or dinner an hour late mattered to a regimental
adjutant, and wondered why guard mounting could not be held back while
she prepared an early breakfast for Faye. After a struggle of two months
she was passed on. A tall, angular woman with dull red hair drawn up
tight and twisted in a knot as hard as her head, was my next trial. She
was the wife of a gambler of the lowest type, but that I did not know
while she was here.
One day I told her to do something that she objected to, and with her
hands clinched tight she came up close as if to strike me. I stood
still, of course, and quietly said, "You mustn't strike me." She looked
like a fury and screamed, "I will if I want to!" She was inches
taller than I, but I said, "If you do, I will have you locked in the
guardhouse." She became very white, and fairly hissed at me, "You can't
do that--I ain't a soldier." I told her, "No, if you were a soldier you
would soon be taught to behave yourself," and I continued, "you are in
an army post, however, and if you do me violence I will certainly call
the guard." Before I turned to go from the room I looked up at her
and said, "Now I expect you to do what I have told you to do." I fully
expected a strike on my head before I got very far, but she controlled
herself. I went out of the house hoping she would do the same and never
return, but she was there still, and we had to tell her to go, after
all. I must confess, though, that the work she had objected to doing she
did nicely while I was out. Miller told me that she had three pistols
and two large watches in her satchel when she went away.
Then came a real treasure--Scotch Ellen--who has been with us six
months, and has been very satisfactory every way. To be sure she has had
awful headaches, and often it has been necessary for some one to do her
work. She and the sergeant's wife prepared the supper for the german,
and everything was sent to the hall in a most satisfactory way--much to
my delight. Nothing wrong was noticed the next morning either, until she
carried chocolate to Mrs. Hughes, when I saw with mortification that she
looked untidy, but thinking of the confusion in her part of the house, I
said nothing about it.
Our breakfast hour is twelve o'clock, and about eleven Mrs. Hughes and
I went out for a little walk. In a short time Faye joined us, and just
before twelve I came in to see if everything was in its proper place on
the table. As I went down the hall I saw a sight in the dining room that
sent shivers down my back. On the table were one or two doilies, and
one or two of various other things, and at one side stood the Scotch
treasure with a plate in one hand upon which were a few butter balls,
and in the other she held a butter pick. The doors leading through
pantry into the kitchen were open and all along the floor I could see
here and there a little golden ball that had evidently rolled off
the plate. I could also see the range--that looked black and cold and
without one spark of fire!
Going to the side of the table opposite Ellen I said, "Ellen, what is
the matter with you?"--and looking at me with dull, heavy eyes, she
said, "And what is the matter wit' you?" Then I saw that she was drunk,
horribly drunk, and told her so, but she could only say, "I'm drunk,
am I?" I ran outside for Faye, but he and Mrs. Hughes had walked to the
farther end of the officers' line, and I was compelled to go all that
distance before I could overtake them and tell of my woes. I wanted the
woman out of the house as quickly as possible, so that Miller--who is a
very good cook--and I could prepare some sort of a breakfast. Faye went
to the house with his longest strides and told the woman to go at once,
and I saw no more of her. Mrs. Hughes was most lovely about the whole
affair--said that not long ago she had tried a different cook each week
for six in succession. That was comforting, but did not go far toward
providing a breakfast for us. Miller proved to be a genuine treasure,
however, and the sergeant's wife--who is ever "a friend indeed"--came to
our assistance so soon we scarcely missed the Scotch creature. Still, it
was most exasperating to have such an unnecessary upheaval, just at
the very time we had a guest in the house--a dainty, fastidious little
woman, too--and wanted things to move along smoothly. I wonder of what
nationality the next trial will be! If one gets a good maid out here the
chances are that she will soon marry a soldier or quarrel with one, as
was the Case with Hulda. For some unaccountable reason a Chinese laundry
at Sun River has been the cause of all the Chinamen leaving the post.
Now I must tell of something funny that happened to me.
The morning before Mrs. Hughes arrived I went out for a little ride, and
about two miles up the river I left the road to follow a narrow trail
that leads to a bluff called Crown Butte. I had to go through a large
field of wild rosebushes, then across an alkali bed, and then through
more bushes. I had passed the first bushes and was more than half way
across the alkali, Rollo's feet sinking down in the sticky mud at every
step, when there appeared from the bushes in front of me, and right in
the path, two immense gray wolves. If they had studied to surprise me in
the worst place possible they could not have succeeded better. Rollo saw
them, of course, and stopped instantly, giving deep sighs, preparing
to snort, I knew. To give myself courage I talked to the horse, slowly
turning him around, so as to not excite him, or let the timber wolves
see that I was running from them.
But the horse I could not deceive, for as soon as his back was toward
them, head and tail went up, and there was snort after snort. He could
not run, as we were still in the alkali lick. I looked back and saw that
the big gray beasts were slowly moving toward us, and I recognized the
fact that the mud would not stop them, if they chose to cross it. Once
free of the awful stickiness, I knew that we would be out of danger, as
the swiftest wolf could never overtake the horse--but it seemed as if it
were miles across that white mud. But at last we got up on solid ground,
and were starting off at Rollo's best pace, when from out of the bushes
in front of us, there came a third wolf! The horse stopped so suddenly
it is a wonder I was not pitched over his head, but I did not think of
that at the time.
The poor horse was terribly frightened, and I could feel him tremble,
which made me all the more afraid. The situation was not pleasant, and
without stopping to think, I said, "Rollo, we must run him down--now do
your best!" and taking a firm hold of the bridle, and bracing myself
in the saddle, I struck the horse hard with my whip and gave an awful
scream. I never use a whip on him, so the sting on his side and yell in
his ears frightened him more than the wolf had, and he started on again
with a rush. But the wolf stood still--so did my heart--for the beast
looked savage. When it seemed as though we were actually upon him I
struck the horse again and gave scream after scream as fast as my lungs
would allow me. The big gray thing must have thought something evil was
coming, for he sprang back, and then jumped over in the bushes and did
not show himself again. Rollo came home at an awful pace; but I looked
back once and saw, standing in the road near the bushes, five timber
wolves, evidently watching us. Just where the other two had been I will
never know, of course.
We have ridden and driven up that road many, many times, and I have
often ridden through those rosebushes, but have never seen wolves or
coyotes. Down in the lowland on the other side of the post we frequently
see a coyote that will greet us with the most unearthly howls, and will
sometimes follow carriages, howling all the time. But everyone looks
upon him as a pet. Those big, gray timber wolves are quite another
animal, fierce and savage. Some one asked me why I screamed, but I could
not tell why. Perhaps it was to urge the horse--perhaps to frighten the
wolf--perhaps to relieve the strain on my nerves. Possibly it was just
because I was frightened and could not help it!
FORT SHAW, MONTANA TERRITORY, May, 1888.
SUCH upheaval orders have been coming to the post the past few days,
some of us wonder if there has not been an earthquake, and can only sit
around and wait in a numb sort of way for whatever may come next.
General Bourke, who has been colonel of the regiment, you know, has been
appointed a brigadier general and is to command the Department of the
Platte, with headquarters at Omaha, Nebraska. This might have affected
Faye under any circumstances, as a new colonel has the privilege of
selecting his own staff officers, but General Bourke, as soon as he
received the telegram telling of his appointment, told Faye that he
should ask for him as aide-de-camp. This will take us to Omaha, also,
and I am almost heartbroken over it, as it will be a wretched life for
me--cooped up in a noisy city! At the same time I am delighted that Faye
will have for four years the fine staff position. These appointments are
complimentary, and considered most desirable.
The real stir-up, however, came with orders for the regiment to go to
Fort Snelling, Minnesota, for that affects about everyone here. Colonel
Munson, who relieves General Bourke as colonel of the regiment, is in
St. Paul, and is well known as inspector general of this department,
which perhaps is not the most flattering introduction he could have
had to his new regiment. He telegraphed, as soon as promoted, that he
desired Faye to continue as adjutant, but of course to be on the staff
of a general is far in advance of being on the staff of a colonel. The
colonel commands only his own regiment--sometimes not all of that, as
when companies are stationed at other posts than headquarters--whereas
a brigadier general has command of a department consisting of many army
posts and many regiments.
The one thing that distresses me most of all is, that I have to part
from my horse! This is what makes me so rebellious, for aside from my
own personal loss, I have great sorrow for the poor dumb animal that
will suffer so much with strangers who will not understand him. No
one has ridden or driven him for two years but myself, and he has been
tractable and lovable always. During very cold weather, when perhaps he
would be too frisky, I have allowed him to play in the yard back of the
house, until all superfluous spirits had been kicked and snorted off,
after which I could have a ride in peace and safety. Faye thinks that
he is entirely too nervous ever to take kindly to city sights and
sounds--that the fretting and the heat might kill him.
So it has been decided that once again we will sell everything--both
horses and all things pertaining to them, reserving our saddles only.
Every piece of furniture will be sold, also, as we do not purpose to
keep house at all while in Omaha. How I envy our friends who will go
to Fort Snelling! We have always been told that it is such a beautiful
post, and the people of St. Paul and Minneapolis are most charming.
It seems so funny that the regiment should be sent to Snelling just as
Colonel Munson was promoted to it. He will have to move six miles only!
We know that when we leave Fort Shaw we will go from the old army life
of the West--that if we ever come back, it will be to unfamiliar scenes
and a new condition of things. We have seen the passing of the buffalo
and other game, and the Indian seems to be passing also. But I must
confess that I have no regret for the Indians--there are still too many
of them!
FORT SHAW, MONTANA TERRITORY, May, 1888.
THERE can be only two more days at this dear old post, where we have
been so happy, and I want those to pass as quickly as possible, and have
some of the misery over. Our house is perfectly forlorn, with just a few
absolute necessaries in it for our use while here. Everything has been
sold or given away, and all that is left to us are our trunks and army
chests. Some fine china and a few pieces of cut glass I kept, and even
those are packed in small boxes and in the chests.