possessed many things that they cared to move East with them, and as we
did not desire to turn our houses into second-hand shops, where people
could handle and make remarks about things we had treasured, it was
decided that everything to be sold should be moved to the large
hall, where enlisted men could attend to the shop business. Our only
purchasers were people from Sun River Crossing, and a few ranches
that are some distance from the post, and it was soon discovered that
anything at all nice was passed by them, so we became sharp--bunching
the worthless with the good--and that worked beautifully and things sold
fast.
These moves are of the greatest importance to army officers, and many
times the change of station is a mere nothing in comparison to the
refitting of a house, something that is never taken into consideration
when the pay of the Army is under discussion. The regiment has been on
the frontier ten years, and everything that we had that was at all nice
had been sent up from St. Paul at great expense, or purchased in Helena
at an exorbitant price. All those things have been disposed of for
almost nothing, and when the regiment reaches Fort Snelling, where
larger quarters have to be furnished for an almost city life, the
officers will be at great expense. Why I am bothering about Snelling
I fail to see, as we are not going there, and I certainly have enough
troubles of my Own to think about.
This very morning, Mrs. Ames, of Sun River Crossing, who now owns dear
Rollo, came up to ask me to show her how to drive him! Just think of
that! She talked as though she had been deceived--that it was my duty
to show her the trick by which I had managed to control the horse, and,
naturally, it would be a delightful pleasure to me to be allowed to
drive him once more, and so on. Mrs. Ames said that yesterday she
started out with him, intending to come to the post to let me see
him--fancy the delicate feeling expressed in that--but the horse went so
fast she became frightened, for it seemed as though the telegraph poles
were only a foot apart. She finally got the horse turned around and
drove back home, when her husband got in and undertook to drive him, but
with no better success; but he, too, started the horse toward his old
home.
Mr. Ames then told her to have Rollo put back in the stable until she
could get me to show her how to drive him. I almost cried out from pure
pity for the poor dumb beast that I knew was suffering so in his longing
for his old home and friends who understood him. But for the horse's
sake I tried not to break down. I told her that first of all she must
teach the horse to love her. That was an awfully hard thing to say, I
assure you, and I doubt if the woman understood my meaning after all.
When I told her not to pull on his mouth she looked amazed, and said,
"Why, he would run away with me if I didn't!" But I assured her that he
would not--that he had been taught differently--that he was very nervous
and spirited--that the harder she pulled the more excited he would
become--that I had simply held him steady, no more. I saw that Mrs. Ames
did not believe one word that I had said, but I tried to convince her,
for the sake of the unhappy animal that had been placed at her mercy.
I have often met and passed her out on the road, and the horse she
drives is a large, handsome animal, and we had supposed that she was a
good whip; so, when Mr. Ames appeared the other day and said his wife
had asked him to come up and buy the sorrel horse for her we were
delighted that such a good home had been found for him--and for Fannie
too. Mr. Ames bought the entire outfit. Fannie is beautiful, but wholly
lacking in affection, and can take care of herself any place.
All sorts of people have been here for the horses--some wanted both,
others only one--but Faye would not let them go to any of them, as he
was afraid they would not have the best of care. Rollo had been gone
only an hour or so when a young man--a typical bronco breaker--came to
buy him, and seemed really distressed because he had been sold. He said
that he had broken him when a colt at Mr. Vaughn's. It so happened that
Faye was at the adjutant's office, and the man asked for me. I was very
glad, for I had always wanted to meet the person who had slammed
the saddle first on Rollo's back. I told him that it was generally
considered at the post that I had broken the horse! I said that he had
been made cruelly afraid of a saddle, and for a long time after we
had bought him, he objected to it and to being mounted, and I did not
consider a horse broken that would do those things. I said also,
that the horse had not been gaited. He interrupted with, "Why, he's
a pacer"--just as though that settled everything; but I told him that
Rollo had three perfectly trained grades of speed, each one of which I
had taught him.
The young man's face became very red and he looked angry, but I had a
beautiful time. It was such a relief to express my opinion to the man
just at that time, too, when I was grieving so for the horse. I saw at
once that he was a bronco breaker from his style of dress. He had on
boots of very fine leather with enormously high heels, and strapped
to them were large, sharp-pointed Mexican spurs. His trousers were of
leather and very broad at the bottom, and all down the front and outside
was some kind of gray fur--"chaps" this article of dress is called--and
in one hand he held a closely plaited, stinging black "quirt." He wore a
plaid shirt and cotton handkerchief around his neck. That describes the
man who rode Rollo first--and no wonder the spirited, high-strung colt
was suspicious of saddles, men, and things. I watched the man as he rode
away. His horse was going at a furious gallop, with ears turned back, as
if expecting whip or spur any instant, and the man sat far over on one
side, that leg quite straight as though he was standing in the long
stirrup, and the other was resting far up on the saddle--which was of
the heavy Mexican make, with enormous flaps, and high, round pommel in
front. I am most thankful that Rollo has gone beyond that man's reach,
as everything about him told of cruelty to horses.
Yet, Mrs. Ames seemed such a cold woman--so incapable of understanding
or appreciating the affection of a dumb animal. During the years we
owned Rollo he was struck with the whip only once--the time I wanted him
to run down a wolf up the river.
The Great Northern Railroad runs very near Fort Shaw now--about twenty
miles, I think--and, that will make it convenient for the moving of the
regiment, and all of us, in fact. We will go to St. Paul on the special
train with the regiment, for Faye will not be relieved as adjutant until
he reaches Fort Snelling, where we will remain for a day or two. It will
be a sad trip for me, for I love the West and life at a Western post,
and the vanities of city life do not seem attractive to me--and I shall
miss my army friends, too!
Perhaps it is a small matter to mention, but since I have been with the
Army I have ridden twenty-two horses that had never been ridden by a
woman before! As I still recollect the gait and disposition of each
horse, it seems of some consequence to me, for unbroken as some were, I
was never unseated--not once!
THE PAXTON HOTEL, OMAHA, NEBRASKA, August, 1888.
ALMOST five weeks have passed since we left dear Fort Shaw! During that
time we have become more or less accustomed to the restrictions of a
small city, but I fancy that I am not the only one of the party from
Montana who sometimes sighs for the Rocky Mountains and the old garrison
life. Here we are not of the Army--neither are we citizens. General and
Mrs. Bourke are still dazzled by the brilliancy of the new silver star
on the general's shoulder straps, and can still smile. Faye says very
little, but I know that he often frets over his present monotonous
duties and yearns for the regiment, his duties as adjutant of the
regiment, the parades, drills, and outdoor life generally, that make
life so pleasant at a frontier post.
Department Headquarters is in a government building down by the river,
and the offices are most cheerless. All the officers wear civilian
clothes, and there is not one scrap of uniform to be seen any
place--nothing whatever to tell one "who is who," from the department
commander down to Delaney, the old Irish messenger! Each one sits at his
desk and busies himself over the many neatly tied packages of official
papers upon it, and tries to make the world believe that he is
happy--but there are confidential talks, when it is admitted that life
is dreary--the regiment the only place for an energetic officer, and
so on. Yet not one of those officers could be induced to give up his
detail, for it is always such a compliment to be selected from the
many for duty at headquarters. Faye and Lieutenant Travis are on the
general's personal staff, the others belong to the department. Just now,
Faye is away with the department commander, who is making an official
tour of inspection through his new department, which is large, and
includes some fine posts. It is known as "The Department of the Platte."
Everyone has been most hospitable--particularly the army people at Fort
Omaha--a post just beyond the city limits. Mrs. Wheeler, wife of the
colonel in command, gave a dancing reception very soon after we
got here, and an elegant dinner a little later on--both for the new
brigadier general and his staff. Mrs. Foster, the handsome wife of the
lieutenant colonel, gave a beautiful luncheon, and the officers of the
regiment gave a dance that was pleasant. But their orchestra is far from
being as fine as ours. In the city there have been afternoon and evening
receptions, and several luncheons, the most charming luncheon of all
having been the one given by my friend, Mrs. Schuyler, at the Union
Club. One afternoon each week the club rooms are at the disposal of the
wives of its members, and so popular is this way of entertaining,
the rooms are usually engaged weeks in advance. The service is really
perfect, and the rooms airy and delightfully cool--and cool rooms are
great treasures in this hot place.
The heat has been almost unbearable to us from the mountains, and one
morning I nearly collapsed while having things "fitted" in the stuffy
rooms of a dressmaker. Many of these nouveaux riches dress elegantly,
and their jewels are splendid. All the women here have such white skins,
and by comparison I must look like a Mexican, my face is so brown from
years of exposure to dry, burning winds. Of course there has been much
shopping to do, and for a time it was so confusing--to have to select
things from a counter, with a shop girl staring at me, or perhaps
insisting upon my purchasing articles I did not want. For years we had
shopped from catalogues, and it was a nice quiet way, too. Parasols
have bothered me. I would forget to open them in the street, and would
invariably leave them in the stores when shopping, and then have to go
about looking them up. But this is the first summer I have been East in
nine years, and it is not surprising that parasols and things mix me up
at times.
Faye has a beautiful saddle horse--his gait a natural single foot--and
I sometimes ride him, but most of my outings are on the electric cars. I
might as well be on them, since I have to hear their buzz and clang both
day and night from our rooms here in the hotel. The other morning, as
I was returning from a ride across the river to Council Bluffs, I heard
the shrill notes of a calliope that reminded me that Forepaugh's
circus was to be in town that day, and that I had promised to go to the
afternoon performance with a party of friends. But soon there were other
sounds and other thoughts. Above the noise of the car I heard a brass
band--and there could be no mistake--it was playing strong and full one
of Sousa's marches, "The March Past of the Rifle Regiment"--a march
that was written for Faye while he was adjutant of the regiment, and
"Dedicated to the officers and enlisted men" of the regiment. For almost
three years that one particular march had been the review march of the
regiment--that is, it had been played always whenever the regiment
had passed in review before the colonel, inspector general of the
department, or any official of sufficient rank and authority to review
the troops.
The car seemed to go miles before it came to a place where I could get
off. Every second was most precious and I jumped down while it was still
in motion, receiving a scathing rebuke from the conductor for doing so.
I almost ran until I got to the walk nearest the band, where I tagged
along with boys, both big and small. The march was played for some time,
and no one could possibly imagine, how those familiar strains thrilled
me. But there was an ever-increasing feeling of indignation that a
tawdry coated circus band, sitting in a gilded wagon, should presume to
play that march, which seemed to belong exclusively to the regiment, and
to be associated only with scenes of ceremony and great dignity.
The circus men played the piece remarkably well, however, and when it
was stopped I came back to the hotel to think matters over and have a
heart-to-heart talk with myself. Of course I am more than proud that
Faye is an aide-de-camp, and would not have things different from what
they are, but the detail is for four years, and the thought of living in
this unattractive place that length of time is crushing. But Faye will
undoubtedly have his captaincy by the expiration of the four years, and
the anticipation of that is comforting. It is the feeling of loneliness
I mind here--of being lost and no one to search for me. I miss the
cheery garrison life--the delightful rides, and it may sound funny, but
I miss also the little church choir that finally became a joy to me.
Sergeant Graves is now leader of the regimental band at Fort Snelling,
and Matijicek is in New York, a member of the Damrosch orchestra. It is
still something to wonder over that I should have been on a street car
that carried me to a circus parade at the precise time the Review March
was being played! It seems quite as marvelous as my having been seated
at a supper table in a far-away ranch in Montana, the very night a
number of horse breakers were there, also at the table, and one of them
"put up" Rollo and me to his friends. I shall never forget how queer
I felt when I heard myself discussed by perfect strangers in my very
presence--not one of whom knew in the least who I was. It made me think
that perhaps I was shadowy--invisible--although to myself I did not feel
at all that way.
Faye wrote to Mr. Ames about Rollo, thinking that possibly he might buy
him back, but Mr. Ames wrote in reply that Rollo had already been sold,
because Mrs. Ames had found it impossible to manage him. Also that he
was owned by the post trader at Fort Maginnis, who was making a pet of
him. So, as the horse had a good home and gentle treatment, it was once
more decided to leave him up in his native mountains. It might have
been cruel to have brought him here to suffer from the heat, and to be
frightened and ever fretted by the many strange sights and sounds. But I
am not satisfied, for the horse had an awful fear of men when ridden or
driven by them, and I know that he is so unhappy and wonders why I no
longer come to him, and why I do not take him from the strange people
who do not understand him. He was a wonderfully playful animal, and
sometimes when Miller would be leading the two horses from our yard to
the corral, he would turn Rollo loose for a run. That always brought
out a number of soldiers to see him rear, lunge, and snort; his turns
so quick, his beautiful tawny mane would be tossed from side to side
and over his face until he looked like a wild horse. The more the men
laughed the wilder he seemed to get. He never forgot Miller, however,
but would be at the corral by the time he got there, and would go to his
own stall quietly and without guidance. Poor Rollo!
CAMP NEAR UINTAH MOUNTAINS, WYOMING TERRITORY, August, 1888.
TO be back in the mountains and in camp is simply glorious! And to see
soldiers walking around, wearing the dear old uniform, just as we used
to see them, makes one feel as though old days had returned. The two
colored men--chef and butler--rather destroy the technique of a military
camp, but they seem to be necessary adjuncts; and besides, we are not
striving for harmony and effect, but for a fine outing, each day to be
complete with its own pleasures. It was a novel experience to come to
the mountains in a private car! The camp is very complete, as the camp
of a department commander should be, and we have everything for our
comfort. We are fourteen miles from the Union Pacific Railroad and six
from Fort Bridger, from which post our tents and supplies came. Our ice
is sent from there, also, and of course the enlisted men are from that
garrison.
The party consists of General and Mrs. Bourke, Mrs. Hall, Mrs. Bourke's
sister, Mrs. Ord of Omaha, General Stanley, paymaster, Captain Rives,
judge advocate--both of the department staff--Lieutenant Travis, junior
aide-de-camp, Faye, and myself. Mrs. Ord is a pretty woman, always wears
dainty gowns, and is a favorite with Omaha society people. I know her
very well, still I hesitated about wearing my short-skirted outing suit,
fearing it would shock her. But a day or two after we got here she said
to me, "What are we to do about those fish, Mrs. Rae? I always catch the
most fish wherever I go, but I hear that you are successful also!"
So with high spirits we started out by ourselves that very morning,
everyone laughing and betting on our number of fish as we left camp. I
wore the short skirt, but Mrs. Ord had her skirts pinned so high I
felt that a tuck or two should be taken in mine, to save her from
embarrassment. The fishing is excellent here and each one had every
confidence in her own good luck, for the morning was perfect for trout
fishing. Once I missed Mrs. Ord, and pushing some bushes back where
I thought she might be, I saw a most comical sight. Lying flat on the
ground, hat pushed back, and eyes peering over the bank of the stream,
was Mrs. Ord, the society woman! I could not help laughing--she was so
ridiculous in that position, which the pinned-up dress made even more
funny--but she did not like it, and looking at me most reproachfully
said, "You have frightened him away, and I almost had him." She had been
in that position a long time, she said, waiting for a large trout to
take her hook. The race for honors was about even that day, and there
was no cause for envy on either side, for neither Mrs. Ord nor I caught
one fish!
Our camp is near Smith's fork of Snake River, and not far from the camp
is another fork that never has fish in it--so everyone tells us. That
seemed so strange, for both streams have the same water from the stream
above, and the same rocky beds. One day I thought I would try the
stream, as Smith's fork was so muddy we could not fish in that. There
had been a storm up in the mountains that had caused both streams
to rise, so I caught some grasshoppers to bait with, as it would be
useless, of course, to try flies. I walked along the banks of the
swollen stream until I saw a place where I thought there should be a
trout, and to that little place the grasshopper was cast, when snap!
went my leader. I put on another hook and another grasshopper, but
the result was precisely the same, so I concluded there must be a snag
there, although I had supposed that I knew a fish from a snag! I tried
one or two other places, but there was no variation--and each time I
lost a leader and hook.
In the meantime a party had come over from camp, Faye among them, and
there had been much good advice given me--and each one had told me that
there were no fish ever in that stream; then they went on up and sat
down on the bank under some trees. I was very cross, for it was not
pleasant to be laughed at, particularly by women who had probably never
had a rod in their hands. And I felt positive that it had been fish that
had carried off my hooks, and I was determined to ascertain what was the
matter. So I went back to our tent and got a very long leader, which I
doubled a number of times. I knew that the thickness would not frighten
the fish, as the water was so cloudy. I fixed a strong hook to that,
upon which was a fine grasshopper, and going to one of the places where
my friends said I had been "snagged," I cast it over, and away it all
went, which proved that I had caught something that could at least act
like a fish. I reeled it in, and in time landed the thing--a splendid
large trout! My very first thought was of those disagreeable people who
had laughed at me--Faye first of all. So after them I went, carrying the
fish, which gained in weight with every step. Their surprise was great,
and I could see that Faye was delighted. He carried the trout to camp
for me, and I went with him, for I was very tired.
The next morning I went to that stream again, taking with me a book of
all sorts of flies and some grasshoppers. The department commander went
over also. He asked me to show him where I had lost the hooks, but I
said, "If you fish in those places you will be laughed at more than I
was yesterday." He understood, and went farther down. The water was much
more clear, but still flies could not be seen, so I used the scorned
grasshopper. In about two hours I caught sixteen beautiful trout, which
weighed, en masse, a little over twenty-five pounds! I cast in the very
places where I had lost hooks, and almost every time caught a fish. I
left them in the shade in various places along the stream, and Faye and
a soldier brought them to camp. A fine display they made, spread out on
the grass, for they seemed precisely the same size.
The general caught two large and several small trout--those were all
that day. It was most remarkable that I should have found the only good
places in the stream at a time when the water was not clear. Not only
the right places, but the one right day, for not one trout has been
caught there since. Perhaps with the high water the fish came up from
Snake River, although trout are supposed to live in clear water. We can
dispose of any number of birds and fish here, for those that are not
needed for our own large mess can be given to the soldiers, and we often
send chicken and trout to our friends at Fort Bridger. The farther one
goes up the stream the better the fishing is--that is, the fish are more
plentiful, but not as large as they are here.
About sixteen miles up--almost in the mountains--was General Crook's
favorite fishing ground, and when he was in command of the department
he and General Stanley, who also is an expert fisherman, came here many
times, consequently General Stanley is familiar with the country about
here. The evening after my splendid catch, General Stanley said that
he would like to have Mrs. Ord and me go with him up the stream several
miles, and asked if I would be willing to give Mrs. Ord the stream, as
she had never used a fly, adding that she seemed a little piqued because
I had caught such fine fish. I said at once that I would be delighted to
give her the lead, although I knew, of course, that whoever goes second
in a trout stream has very poor sport. But the request was a compliment,
and besides, I had caught enough fish for a while.
The next day we made preparations, and early on the morning of the
second we started. The department commander had gone to Omaha on
official business, so he was not with us, and Faye did not go; but the
rest of the party went twelve miles and then established a little camp
for the day, and there we left them. Mrs. Ord and I and General Stanley,
with a driver, got on a buckboard drawn by two mules, and went five
miles farther up the stream, until, in fact, it was impossible for even
a buckboard to go along the rocky trail. There we were expected to take
the stream, and as soon as we left the wagon, Mrs. Ord and I retired
to some bushes to prepare for the water. I had taken the "tuck" in my
outing skirt, so there was not much for me to do; but Mrs. Ord pulled up
and pinned up her serge skirt in a way that would have brought a small
fortune to a cartoonist. When we came from the bushes, rods in hand, the
soldier driver gave one bewildered stare, and then almost fell from
his seat. He was too respectful to laugh outright and thus relieve his
spasms, but he would look at us from the side of his eye, turn his face
from us and fairly double over--then another quick look, and another
double down again. Mrs. Ord laughed, and so did I. She is quite stout
and I am very thin, and I suppose the soldier did see funny things about
us. We saw them ourselves.