Army Letters from an Officer's Wife, 1871-1888 Part 10

CAMP BAKER, MONTANA TERRITORY, November, 1877.

IT was rather late in the afternoon yesterday when we got to this post, because of a delay on the mountains. But this did not cause inconvenience to anyone--there was a vacant set of quarters that Lieutenant Hayden took possession of at once for his family, and where with camp outfit they can be comfortable until the wagons are unloaded.

Faye and I are staying with the commanding officer and his wife. Colonel Gardner is lieutenant colonel of the --th Infantry, and has a most enviable reputation as a post commander. As an officer, we have not seen him yet, but we do know that he can be a most charming host. He has already informed Faye that he intends to appoint him adjutant and quartermaster of the post.

We are in a little valley almost surrounded by magnificent, heavily timbered mountains, and Colonel Gardner says that at any time one can find deer, mountain sheep, and bear in these forests, adding that there are also mountain lions and wild cats! The scenery on the road from Helena to Camp Baker was grand, but the roads were dreadful, most of the time along the sides of steep mountains that seemed to be one enormous pile of big boulders in some places and solid rock in others. These roads have been cut into the rock and are scarcely wider than the wagon track, and often we could look almost straight down seventy-five feet, or even more, on one side, and straight up for hundreds of feet on the other side.

And in the canons many of the grades were so steep that the wheels of the wagons had to be chained in addition to the big brakes to prevent them from running sideways, and so off the grade. I rode down one of these places, but it was the last as well as the first. Every time the big wagon jolted over a stone--and it was jolt over stones all the time--it seemed as if it must topple over the side and roll to the bottom; and then the way the driver talked to the mules to keep them straight, and the creaking and sc.r.a.ping of the wagons, was enough to frighten the most courageous.

In Confederate Gulch we crossed a ferry that was most marvelous. A heavy steel cable was stretched across the river--the Missouri--and fastened securely to each bank, and then a flat boat was chained at each end to the cable, but so it could slide along when the ferryman gripped the cable with a large hook, and gave long, hard pulls. Faye says that the very swift current of the stream a.s.sisted him much.

The river runs through a narrow, deep canon where the ferry is, and at the time we crossed everything was in dark shadow, and the water looked black, and fathoms deep, with its wonderful reflections. The grandeur of these mountains is simply beyond imagination; they have to be seen to be appreciated, and yet when seen, one can scarcely comprehend their immensity. We are five hundred miles from a railroad, with endless chains of these mountains between. All supplies of every description are brought up that distance by long ox trains--dozens of wagons in a train, and eight or ten pairs of oxen fastened to the one long chain that pulls three or four heavily loaded wagons. We pa.s.sed many of these trains on the march up, and my heart ached for the poor patient beasts.

We are to have one side of a large double house, which will give us as many rooms as we will need in this isolated place. Hal is in the house now, with Cagey, and Billie is there also, and has the exclusive run of one room. The little fellow stood the march finely, and it is all owing to that terrible old wagon that was such a comfort in some ways, but caused me so much misery in others. These houses must be quite warm; they are made of large logs placed horizontally, and the inner walls are plastered, which will keep out the bitter cold during the winter. The smallest window has an outside storm window.

CAMP BAKER, MONTANA TERRITORY, December, 1877.

THIS post is far over in the Belt Mountains and quite cut off from the outside world, and there are very few of us here, nevertheless the days pa.s.s wonderfully fast, and they are pleasant days, also. And then we have our own little excitements that are of intense interest to us, even if they are never heard of in the world across the snow and ice.

The Rae family was very much upset two days ago by the bad behavior of my horse Bettie, when she managed to throw Faye for the very first time in his life! You know that both of our horses, although raised near this place, were really range animals, and were brought in and broken for us.

The black horse has never been very satisfactory, and Faye has a battle with him almost every time he takes him out, but Bettie had been lovely and behaved wonderfully well for so young a horse, and I have been so pleased with her and her delightful gaits--a little single foot and easy canter.

The other morning Faye was in a hurry to get out to a lumber camp and, as I did not care to go, he decided to ride my horse rather than waste time by arguing with the black as to which road they should go. Ben always thinks he knows more about such things than his rider. Well, Kelly led Bettie up from the corral and saddled and bridled her, and when Faye was ready to start I went out with him to give the horse a few lumps of sugar. She is a beautiful animal--a bright bay in color--with perfect head and dainty, expressive ears, and remarkably slender legs.

Faye immediately prepared to mount; in fact, bridle in hand, had his left foot in the stirrup and the right was over the horse, when up went Miss Bet's back, arched precisely like a mad cat's, and down in between her fore legs went her pretty nose, and high up in the air went everything--man and beast--the horse coming down on legs as rigid and unbending as bars of steel, and then--something happened to Faye!

Nothing could have been more unexpected, and it was all over in a second.

Kelly caught the bridle reins in time to prevent the horse from running away, and Faye got up on his feet, and throwing back his best West Point shoulders, faced the excited horse, and for two long seconds he and Miss Bet looked each other square in the eye. Just what the horse thought no one knows, but Kelly and I remember what Faye said! All desire to laugh, however, was quickly crushed when I heard Kelly ordered to lead the horse to the sutler's store, and fit a Spanish bit to her mouth, and to take the saddle off and strap a blanket on tight with a surcingle, for I knew that a hard and dangerous fight between man and horse was about to commence. Faye told Cagey to chain Hal and then went in the house, soon returning, however, without a blouse, and with moccasins on his feet and with leggings.

When Kelly returned he looked most unhappy, for he loves horses and has been so proud of Bettie. But Faye was not thinking of Kelly and proceeded at once to mount, having as much fire in his eyes as the horse had in hers, for she had already discovered that the bit was not to her liking. As soon as she felt Faye's weight, up went her back again, but down she could not get her head, and the more she pushed down, the harder the spoon of the bit pressed against the roof of her mouth. This made her furious, and as wild as when first brought from the range.

She lunged and lunged--forward and sideways--reared, and of course tried to run away, but with all the vicious things her little brain could think of, she could not get the bit from her mouth or Faye from her back. So she started to rub him off--doing it with thought and in the most scientific way. She first went to the corner of our house, then tried the other corner of that end, and so she went on, rubbing up against every object she saw--house, tree, and fence--even going up the steps at the post trader's. That I thought very smart, for the bit was put in her mouth there, and she might have hoped to find some kind friend who would take it out.

It required almost two hours of the hardest kind of riding to conquer the horse, and to teach her that just as long as she held her head up and behaved herself generally, the bit would not hurt her. She finally gave in, and is once more a tractable beast, and I have ridden her twice, but with the Spanish bit. She is a nervous animal and will always be frisky. It has leaked out that the morning she bucked so viciously, a cat had been thrown upon her back at the corral by a playful soldier, just before she had been led up. Kelly did not like to tell this of a comrade. It was most fortunate that I had decided not to ride at that time, for a pitch over a horse's head with a skirt to catch on the pommel is a performance I am not seeking. And Bettie had been such a dear horse all the time, her single foot and run both so swift and easy. Kelly says, "Yer cawn't feel yerse'f on her, mum." Faye is quartermaster, adjutant, commissary, signal officer, and has other positions that I cannot remember just now, that compel him to be at his own office for an hour every morning before breakfast, in addition to the regular office hours during the day. The post commander is up and out at half past six every workday, and Sundays I am sure he is a most unhappy man. But Faye gets away for a hunt now and then, and the other day he started off, much to my regret, all alone and with only a rifle.

I worry when he goes alone up in these dense forests, and when an officer goes with him I am so afraid of an accident, that one may shoot the other. It is impossible to take a wagon, or even ride a horse among the rocks and big boulders. There are panthers and wild cats and wolves and all sorts of fearful things up there. The coyotes often come down to the post at night, and their terrible, unearthly howls drive the dogs almost crazy--and some of the people, too.

I worried about Faye the other morning as usual, and thought of all the dreadful things that could so easily happen. And then I tried to forget my anxiety by taking a brisk ride on Bettie, but when I returned I found that Faye had not come, so I worried all the more. The hours pa.s.sed and still he was away, and I was becoming really alarmed. At last there was a shout at a side door, and running out I found Faye standing up very tall and with a broad smile on his face, and on the ground at his feet was an immense white-tail deer! He said that he had walked miles on the mountain but had failed to find one living thing, and had finally come down and was just starting to cross the valley on his way home, when he saw the deer, which he fortunately killed with one shot at very long range. He did not want to leave it to be devoured by wolves while he came to the corral for a wagon, so he dragged the heavy thing all the way in. And that was why he was gone so long, for of course he was obliged to rest every now and then. I was immensely proud of the splendid deer, but it did not convince me in the least that it was safe for Faye to go up in that forest alone. Of course Faye has shot other deer, and mountain sheep also, since we have been here, but this was the first he had killed when alone.

Of all the large game we have ever had--buffalo, antelope, black-tail deer, white-tail deer--the mountain sheep is the most delicious. The meat is very tender and juicy and exceedingly rich in flavor. It is very "gamey," of course, and is better after having been frozen or hung for a few days. These wary animals are most difficult to get, for they are seldom found except on the peaks of high mountains, where the many big rocks screen them, so when one is brought in, it is always with great pride and rejoicing. There are antelope in the lowlands about here, but none have been brought in since we came to the post. The ruffed grouse and the tule hens are plentiful, and of course nothing can be more delicious.

And the trout are perfect, too, but the manner in which we get them this frozen-up weather is not sportsmanlike. There is a fine trout stream just outside the post which is frozen over now, but when we wish a few nice trout for dinner or breakfast. Cagey and I go down, and with a hatchet he will cut a hole in the ice through which I fish, and usually catch all we want in a few minutes. The fish seem to be hungry and rise quickly to almost any kind of bait except flies. They seem to know that this is not the fly season. The trout are not very large, about eight and ten inches long, but they are delicate in flavor and very delicious.

Cagey is not a wonderful cook, but he does very well, and I think that I would much prefer him to a Chinaman, judging from what I have seen of them here. Mrs. Conrad, wife of Captain Conrad, of the --th Infantry, had one who was an excellent servant in every way except in the manner of doing the laundry work. He persisted in putting the soiled linen in the boiler right from the basket, and no amount of talk on the part of Mrs. Conrad could induce him to do otherwise. Monday morning Mrs. Conrad went to the kitchen and told him once more that he must look the linen over, and rub it with plenty of water and soap before boiling it. The heathen looked at her with a grin and said, "Allee light, you no likee my washee, you washee yousel'," and lifting the boiler from the stove he emptied its entire steaming contents out upon the floor! He then went to his own room, gathered up his few clothes and bedding, and started off.

He knew full well that if he did not leave the reservation at once he would be put off after such a performance.

CAMP BAKER, MONTANA TERRITORY, February, 1878.

HOME seems very cozy and attractive after the mountains of snow and ice we crossed and re-crossed on our little trip to Helena. The bitter cold of those canons will long be remembered. But it was a delightful change from the monotonous life in this out-of-the-way garrison, even if we did almost freeze on the road, and it was more than pleasant to be with old friends again.

The ball at the hall Friday evening was most enjoyable, and it was simply enchanting to dance once more to the perfect music of the dear old orchestra. And the young people in Helena are showing their appreciation of the good music by dancing themselves positively thin this winter. The band leader brought from New Orleans the Creole music that was so popular there, and at the ball we danced Les Varietes four times; the last was at the request of Lieutenant Joyce, with whom I always danced it in the South. It is thoroughly French, bringing in the waltz, polka, schottische, mazurka, and redowa. Some of those Creole girls were the personification of grace in that dance.

We knew of the ball before leaving home, and went prepared for it, but had not heard one word about the bal masque to be given by "The Army Social Club" at Mrs. Gordon's Tuesday evening. We did not have one thing with us to a.s.sist in the make-up of a fancy dress; nevertheless we decided to attend it. Faye said for me not to give him a thought, that he could manage his own costume. How I did envy his confidence in man and things, particularly things, for just then I felt far from equal to managing my own dress.

I had been told of some of the costumes that were to be worn by friends, and they were beautiful, and the more I heard of these things, the more determined I became that I would not appear in a domino! So Monday morning I started out for an idea, and this I found almost immediately in a little shop window. It was only a common pasteboard mask, but nevertheless it was a work of art. The face was fat and silly, and droll beyond description, and to look at the thing and not laugh was impossible. It had a heavy bang of fiery red hair. I bought it without delay, and was wondering where I could find something to go with it in that little town, when I met a friend--a friend indeed--who offered me some widths of silk that had been dyed a most hideous shade of green.

I gladly accepted the offer, particularly as this friend is in deep mourning and would not be at the ball to recognize me. Well, I made this really awful silk into a very full skirt that just covered my ankles, and near the bottom I put a broad band of orange-colored cambric--the stiff and s.h.i.+ny kind. Then I made a Mother Hubbard ap.r.o.n of white paper-cambric, also very stiff and s.h.i.+ny, putting a big full ruche of the cambric around neck, yoke, and bottom of sleeves. For my head I made a large cap of the white cambric with ruche all around, and fastened it on tight with wide strings that were tied in a large stiff bow under the chin. We drew my evening dress up underneath both skirt and ap.r.o.n and pinned it securely on my shoulders, and this made me stout and shapeless. Around this immense waist and over the ap.r.o.n was drawn a wide sash of bright pink, glossy cambric that was tied in a huge bow at the back. But by far the best of all, a real crown of glory, was a pigtail of red, red hair that hung down my back and showed conspicuously on the white ap.r.o.n. This was a loan by Mrs. Joyce, another friend in mourning, and who a.s.sisted me in dressing.

We wanted the benefit of the long mirror in the little parlor of the hotel, so we carried everything there and locked the door. And then the fun commenced! I am afraid that Mrs. Joyce's fingers must have been badly bruised by the dozens of pins she used, and how she laughed at me!

But if I looked half as dreadful as my reflection in the mirror I must have been a sight to provoke laughter. We had been requested to give names to our characters, and Mrs. Joyce said I must be "A Country Girl," but it still seems to me that "An Idiot" would have been more appropriate.

I drove over with Major and Mrs. Carleton. The dressing rooms were crowded at Mrs. Gordon's, so it was an easy matter to slip away, give my long cloak and thick veil to a maid, and return to Mrs. Carleton before she had missed me, and it was most laughable to see the dear lady go in search for me, peering in everyone's face. But she did not find me, although we went down the stairs and in the drawing-room together, and neither did one person in those rooms recognize me during the evening.

Lieutenant Joyce said he knew to whom the hair belonged, but beyond that it was all a mystery.

That evening will never be forgotten, for, as soon as I saw that no one knew me, I became a child once more, and the more the maskers laughed the more I ran around. When I first appeared in the rooms there was a general giggle and that was exhilarating, so off I went. After a time Colonel Fitz-James adopted me and tagged around after me every place; I simply could not get rid of the man. I knew him, of course, and I also knew that he was mistaking me for some one else, which made his attentions anything but complimentary. I told him ever so many times that he did not know me, but he always insisted that it was impossible for him to be deceived, that he would always know me, and so on. He was acting in a very silly manner--quite too silly for a man of his years and a colonel of a regiment, and he was keeping me from some very nice dances, too, so I decided to lead him a dance, and commenced a rare flirtation in cozy corners and out-of-the-way places. I must admit, though, that all the pleasure I derived from it was when I heard the smothered giggles of those who saw us. The colonel was in a domino and had not tried to disguise himself.

We went in to supper together, and I managed to be almost the last one to unmask, and all the time Colonel Fitz-James, domino removed, was standing in front of me, and looking down with a smile of serene expectancy. The colonel of a regiment is a person of prominence, therefore many people in the room were watching us, not one suspecting, however, who I was. So when I did take off the mask there was a shout: "Why, it is Mrs. Rae," and "Oh, look at Mrs. Rae," and several friends came up to us. Well, I wish you could have seen the colonel's face--the mingled surprise and almost horror that was expressed upon it. Of course the vain man had placed himself in a ridiculous position, chasing around and flirting with the wife of one of his very own officers--a second lieutenant at that! It came out later that he, and others also, had thought that I was a Helena girl whom the colonel admires very much.

It was rather embarra.s.sing, too, to be told that the girl was sitting directly opposite on the other side of the room, where she was watching us with two big, black eyes. And then farther down I saw Faye also looking at us--but then, a man never can see things from a woman's view point.

The heat and weight of the two dresses had been awful, and as soon as I could get away, I ran to a dressing room and removed the cambric. But the pins! There seemed to be thousands of them. Some of the costumes were beautiful and costly, also. Mrs. Manson, a lovely little woman of Helena, was "A Comet." Her short dress of blue silk was studded with gold stars, and to each shoulder was fastened a long, pointed train of yellow gauze sprinkled with diamond dust. An immense gold star with a diamond sunburst in the center was above her forehead, and around her neck was a diamond necklace. Mrs. Palmer, wife of Colonel Palmer, was "King of Hearts," the foundation a handsome red silk. Mrs. Spencer advertised the New York Herald; the whole dress, which was flounced to the waist, was made of the headings of that paper. Major Blair was recognized by no one as "An American citizen," in plain evening dress. I could not find Faye at all, and he was in a simple red domino, too.

I cannot begin to tell you of the many lovely costumes that seemed most wonderful to me, for you must remember that we were far up in the Rocky Mountains, five hundred miles from a railroad! I will send you a copy of the Helena paper that gives an account of the ball, in which you will read that "Mrs. Rae was inimitable--the best sustained character in the rooms." I have thought this over some, and I consider the compliment doubtful.

We remained one day longer in Helena than we had expected for the bal masque; consequently we were obliged to start back the very next morning, directly after breakfast, and that was not pleasant, for we were very tired. The weather had been bitter cold, but during the night a chinook had blown up, and the air was warm and balmy as we came across the valley. When we reached the mountains, however, it was freezing again, and there was gla.s.sy ice every place, which made driving over the grades more dangerous than usual. In many places the ambulance wheels had to be "blocked," and the back and front wheels of one side chained together so they could not turn, in addition to the heavy brake, and then the driver would send the four sharp-shod mules down at a swinging trot that kept the ambulance straight, and did not give it time to slip around and roll us down to eternity.

There is one grade on this road that is notoriously dangerous, and dreaded by every driver around here because of the many accidents that have occurred there. It is cut in the side of a high mountain and has three sharp turns back and forth, and the mountain is so steep, it is impossible to see from the upper grade all of the lower that leads down into the canon called White's Gulch. This one mountain grade is a mile and a half long. But the really dangerous place is near the middle turn, where a warm spring trickles out of the rocks and in winter forms thick ice over the road; and if this ice cannot be broken up, neither man nor beast can walk over, as it is always thicker on the inner side.

I was so stiffened from the overheating and try-to-fool dancing at Mrs.

Gordon's, it was with the greatest difficulty I could walk at all on the slippery hills, and was constantly falling down, much to the amus.e.m.e.nt of Faye and the driver. But ride down some of them I would not. At Canon Ferry, where we remained over night, the ice in the Missouri was cracked, and there were ominous reports like pistol shots down in the canon below. At first Faye thought it would be impossible to come over, but the driver said he could get everything across, if he could come at once. Faye walked over with me, and then went back to a.s.sist the driver with the mules that were still on the bank refusing to step upon the ice. But Faye led one leader, and the driver lashed and yelled at all of them, and in this way they crossed, each mule snorting at every step.

There were the most dreadful groans and creakings and loud reports during the entire night, and in the morning the river was clear, except for a few pieces of ice that were still floating down from above. The Missouri is narrow at Canon Ferry, deep and very swift, and it is a dreadful place to cross at any time, on the ice, or on the cable ferryboat. They catch a queer fish there called the "ling." It has three sides, is long and slender, and is perfectly blind. They gave us some for supper and it was really delicious.

We found everything in fine order upon our return, and it was very evident that Cagey had taken good care of the house and Hal, but Billie grayback had taken care of himself. He was given the run of my room, but I had expected, of course, that he would sleep in his own box, as usual.

But no, the little rascal in some way discovered the warmth of the blankets on my bed, and in between these he had undoubtedly spent most of the time during our absence, and there we found him after a long search, and there he wants to stay all the time now, and if anyone happens to go near the bed they are greeted with the fiercest kind of smothered growls.

The black horse has been sold, and Faye has bought another, a sorrel, that seems to be a very satisfactory animal. He is not as handsome as Ben, nor as fractious, either. Bettie is behaving very well, but is still nervous, and keeps her forefeet down just long enough to get herself over the ground. She is beautiful, and Kelly simply adores her and keeps her bright-red coat like satin. Faye can seldom ride with me because of his numerous duties, and not one of the ladies rides here, so I have Kelly go, for one never knows what one may come across on the roads around here. They are so seldom traveled, and are little more than trails.

CAMP BAKER, MONTANA TERRITORY, March, 1878.

THE mail goes out in the morning, and in it a letter must be sent to you, but it is hard--hard for me to write--to have to tell you that my dear dog, my beautiful greyhound, is dead--dead and buried! It seems so cruel that he should have died now, so soon after getting back to his old home, friends, and freedom. On Tuesday, Faye and Lieutenant Lomax went out for a little hunt, letting Hal go with them, which was unusual, and to which I objected, for Lieutenant Lomax is a notoriously poor shot and hunter, and I was afraid he might accidentally kill Hal--mistake him for a wild animal. So, as they went down our steps I said, "Please do not shoot my dog!" much more in earnest than in jest, for I felt that he would really be in danger, as it would be impossible to keep him with them all the time.

As they went across the parade ground, rifles over their shoulders, Hal jumped up on Faye and played around him, expressing his delight at being allowed to go on a hunt. He knew what a gun was made for just as well as the oldest hunter. That was the last I saw of my dog! Faye returned long before I had expected him, and one quick glance at his troubled face told me that something terrible had happened. I saw that he was unhurt and apparently well, but--where was Hal? With an awful pain in my heart I asked, "Did Lieutenant Lomax shoot Hal?" After a second's hesitation Faye said "No; but Hal is dead!" It seemed too dreadful to be true, and at first I could not believe it, for it had been only such a short time since I had seen him bounding and leaping, evidently in perfect health, and oh, so happy!

No one in the house even thought of dinner that night, and poor black Cagey sobbed and moaned so loud and long Faye was obliged to ask him to be quiet. For hours I could not listen to the particulars. Faye says that they had not gone out so very far when he saw a wild cat some distance away, and taking careful aim, he shot it, but the cat, instead of falling, started on a fast run. Hal was in another direction, but when he heard the report of the rifle and saw the cat running, he started after it with terrific speed and struck it just as the cat fell, and then the two rolled over and over together.

He got up and stood by Faye and Lieutenant Lomax while they examined the cat, and if there was anything wrong with him it was not noticed. But when they turned to come to the post, dragging the dead cat after them, Faye heard a peculiar sound, and looking back saw dear Hal on the ground in a fit much like vertigo. He talked to him and petted him, thinking he would soon be over it--and the plucky dog did get up and try to follow, but went down again and for the last time The swift run and excitement caused by encountering an animal wholly different from anything he had ever seen before was too great a strain upon the weak heart.

Before coming to the house Faye had ordered a detail out to bury him, with instructions to cover the grave with pieces of gla.s.s to keep the wolves away. The skin and head of the cat, which was really a lynx, are being prepared for a rug, but I do not see how I can have the thing in the house, although the black spots and stripes with the white make the fur very beautiful. The ball pa.s.sed straight through the body.

The loneliness of the house is awful, and at night I imagine that I hear him outside whining to come in. Many a cold night have I been up two and three times to straighten his bed and cover him up. His bed was the skin of a young buffalo, and he knew just when it was smooth and nice, and then he would almost throw himself down, with a sigh of perfect content.

If I did not cover him at once, he would get up and drop down again, and there he would stay hours at a time with the fur underneath and over him, with just his nose sticking out. He suffered keenly from the intense cold here because his hair was so short and fine. And then he was just from the South, too, where he was too warm most of the time.