To the Bright Edge of the World

by Eowyn Ivey

  I was for a moment transfixed with wonder, but then I recalled all that I must do next. Quickly I rinsed the plate in water (I see now that I will need to haul many pails of water to keep on hand in the dark room) and then I placed the glass in a solution of hypo-sulfite of soda.

  I will not lie; the photograph itself is a failure and does no justice to Mother Nature. The tree has been flattened and stripped of its lovely detail. It is blurred, for I must have jostled the camera as I replaced the cover to the lens. Yet as imperfect as it is, I am still in awe of its creation.

  May 30

  Sunny and quite hot this day. I did not go far afield, but remained near the parade grounds as the men were not at their drills, and still I was drenched with sweat by the time I carried all of my heavy equipment and assembled it. Many birds were about, but I yet to see how I will ever capture one in a photograph. The camera requires focus and planning that does not take into account the quick movements of flight.

  Also, a letter from Mother today. I am most grateful for her kindness, for she simply wrote that she was saddened that I should suffer such loss and that she hoped I was healing well, with not a hint of her characteristic admonishments. “Be still and cool in thy own mind and spirit.” Words I have always found comforting, and I confess I was glad to again be wrapped in Mother’s intimate plain speech of thee and thou.

  She went on to say that she has volunteered to write a pamphlet in support of equal education, and though she is not comfortable leaving the house much, she hopes she can be an asset to the movement even from afar.

  I am reminded that for all her austerity, it was Mother who instilled in me a sense of just treatment of our fellow human beings. Without her, would I be any different than the woman who stepped on the Chinese boy, or those who would see Indian women and children locked in jails?

  June 1

  Charlotte is returned and says her mother and new infant sister are faring well. While I wish to be filled only with joy for her family, I cannot deny a certain pang of sadness, even envy.

  Mostly, however, I am surprised at how pleased I am to have the girl’s company again. As a schoolteacher, I often longed for a single afternoon to myself, and have always enjoyed solitude, but I see now how much I have come to appreciate Charlotte’s friendship. I believe she shares my sentiments. “I like your house,” she said, “cause it’s mostly quiet and we talk about interesting things.”

  I showed her the camera and handful of plates I have developed so far, and she was wonderfully delighted. She is also eager to learn more about the chemicals, so I shared with her my notebook. I had not noticed until then how much it takes on the appearance of a mad man’s ravings — formulae and chemical recipes and mathematical calculations, aperture to focal length to time of exposure. As I ventured an explanation, I at last understood the considerable task undertaken by the author of the “ABC of Photography,” and do not judge him so harshly as before.

  June 3

  Rain! Cursed, damnable rain! I am sorry to write such words, but this country tires me with its weather! One cannot hope to take a photograph with buckets of water poured over one’s head, and so we are confined to the house with little to do.

  We spent some time cleaning the dark room — I have asked Charlotte never to sweep, as that will only stir up the dust. Instead we must wipe everything down with wet rags. She also filled my water buckets.

  As Charlotte now prepares our afternoon meal, I have wrapped myself in a blanket by the front window and am finding unexpected pleasure in the catalogue that Mr Redington provided me. I doubt I would have found it so appealing a month ago, but now every page holds a new delight. Expensive lenses. Drop shutters. Even camel hair brushes for cleaning glass plates. I mentally budget, trying to determine which items I might afford.

  June 4

  A brief break in the rain this afternoon. Four photographs taken among a flock of pine siskin not far from the house. I can only hope one might appear on my plates.

  Miserable weather again this evening.

  June 5

  I offended the women, but it was not my intention, and I believe they must have some share in the blame.

  Mrs Connor and her visiting younger sister, along with Sarah Whithers and Louise Bailey, took it upon themselves to walk through the rain with their umbrellas today and present themselves unannounced at my door. I was at work in the dark room and had just finished ruining a plate by leaving it too long in solution (though the photograph was so poor, it hardly mattered). The appearance of unwanted guests was of no help to my already nettled temper. When Charlotte saw them approaching the house, I joked that perhaps now was the time to fetch her sling-shot. Not that I would want anyone injured, but only chased off my porch.

  From the dark room, I heard Charlotte welcome the women into the sitting room, put water on for tea, and say that I would be out in a minute. And then came Mrs Connor’s commentary — “Mrs Forrester has been about with her camera a great deal. It cannot leave her much time to tend the household, such as it is.”

  What desire could I possibly have to venture into this conversation? It was wrong of me, but I began to develop another plate, with hopes that they might leave out of boredom, but then I heard Charlotte.

  “Oh no, miss. Leave that be, miss.”

  And with that, Mrs Connor’s insolent younger sister began to pull back the curtain of my dark room. It is not an easy task, for it is made of several layers of heavy wool and quilts, so as to completely block out the light, but the young woman was tugging and fighting her way through the fabric.

  “What is back here?”

  “Oh miss! She won’t be happy at all!”

  And with that, a cascade of natural light was let into my dark room, and the image in my hands dissolved away into a smoky blackness.

  “What is this place?” Soon, all the women were gathered about to gawk into the red glow.

  Mrs Forrester, what have you done to your pantry? I really don’t know think the General would approve. Why is the lamp red? Oh, but it has the look of hell to it. For this, you have given up all polite society?

  The rest of the visit went no better. After Charlotte had ushered them all to the table and I joined them, my eyes eventually adjusted to the daylight, and I began to notice certain things I hadn’t before. For one, it had not occurred to me how inconvenient it is to have all of one’s dry goods piled on the table, if one happens to have guests. There was little room for the teacups.

  Mrs Connor began to sniff and wrinkle her nose, as if struck by an unpleasant odor. Mrs Whithers, who was sitting closest to me, stared wide-eyed at my arms, and then I remembered that my dress sleeves were rolled above the elbow like a laundry woman. As I began to unroll them and try to right myself, I saw that all my fingers were stained and dirty from the solutions, but there was nothing to be done about that. I asked Charlotte if she would please pour the tea so I would not smudge the porcelain.

  “You have been missed at croquet and literature club,” said Mrs Bailey as she took up her cup of tea.

  “Let us be forthright — we have all become concerned about you, Mrs Forrester,” said Mrs Connor. “Do you ever sleep? The watchmen says the lamps are lit at your house well after midnight, so that they can see it all the way down at the barracks.”

  I felt no need to respond to the inquiries and so sat silent, but then Mrs Whithers leaned in close to me and whispered, “Might I ask, what are those devices?”

  She referred to several printing frames I had propped on windowsills. I began to explain that I was curious to see how prolonged exposure to indoor light, versus brief and bright direct sunlight, might affect the printing of photographs onto paper. Just then I overheard Mrs Connor’s younger sister ask if there weren’t any biscuits or cakes.

  I apologized and said I was afraid we had not had much time for baking. (In truth I have had to skimp at the grocers in order to purchase the printing frames and paper. As best I can, I aim to keep t
he ledger balanced in Allen’s absence.)

  Mrs Connor sniffed again and again, and then finally, a handkerchief to her face, said, “I apologize, Mrs Forrester, but there is a most disagreeable odor in your house.”

  “Oh? I’m afraid I have gotten quite used to it. It’s the chemicals. I have very poor ventilation in the pantry. I nearly fainted for lack of air yesterday, but it won’t do you any harm out here.”

  All conversation seemed to dwindle then, and after a few minutes, when I could see that everyone had quite finished with their tea, I begged their forgiveness but said I must get back to my work. I meant no unfriendliness as I handed them their umbrellas and hurried them out into the rain; I only wanted my house back to myself. I could see by her long, angry stride, that Mrs Connor was put out, but in truth, I do not believe I behaved any more rudely than they did, appearing at my door without invitation.

  Of the pine siskin, not a single fixed image, yet there is one photograph that is of some interest to me. It is only a smudge of wings, so that it requires effort to see that it is several birds in flight, yet there is something appealing about the pale gray ripples.

  Dear Mrs. Forrester —

  Regarding the fogging, I suspect there may be some light leaking through, whether into your camera box or your dark room. If, instead, a negative appears thin from underexposure, it may yet be saved — try the citrate of soda solution, added just as the negative begins to show detail. It can nicely intensify the image.

  As for the stains on your hands, they are a nuisance that cannot be avoided. You might try rinsing them with muriatic acid. I find a solution of ¼ ounce of acid to 16 ounces of water to work well enough.

  I have enclosed a brand of printing paper I have found quite satisfactory, as well as the additional chloride of gold you requested. It does seem a waste indeed that the toning bath cannot be preserved for additional prints.

  And let me say, I hope you do not hesitate to write again. It gives me pleasure, perhaps inordinate, to be able to discuss the chemistry of the process, and I am well-pleased to know that you are finding success so far.

  Yours respectfully,

  Mr. Henry Redington

  Lieut. Col. Allen Forrester

  May 29, 1885

  Smoke rises from Indian camps along the riverbanks. We have observed several Midnooskies fishing with sinew nets on the ends of long poles. One young woman stood on a rocky outcropping, leaned out to lower her net into a churning eddy. The gray water is cold & fast moving. It is a precarious business. Samuelson says every summer the Wolverine swallows several Indians & village dogs.

  No salmon have been caught yet. Throughout the day, the Indians dip their nets in the water in hopes of making a catch. They will spend the summer here. They have already set to raising pole racks where they cure will cure the fish with sun & smoke. They also begin to dismantle two of the baidarra so as to use the poles & moose hides for their summer huts. I obtained the third to assist in our travels upriver.

  I have yet to convince Ceeth Hwya to guide us over the mountains. He has agreed, however, to accompany us for a time up the Wolverine.

  We wait for the salmon. As restless as I am to be on our way, it would be foolhardy to leave with so little food.

  Samuelson informed me today that he & Boyd will remain in the Wolverine Valley.

   — We’ll try our hand at these creeks. Looks promising. Like to see if we can get a bit more out of the Indians about the copper. Not as good as gold, but there’s money in that, too, if a man can get a proper operation going.

  Though I anticipated we would part ways eventually, I am sorry he will not continue on with us. I much appreciate his company. I told him so.

  I asked if Nat’aaggi would join them. It occurred to me that Samuelson might be interested in taking her as a wife. Such is common practice among frontiersmen.

   — Don’t believe so. I’d have no objection. But she’s got itchy feet. I don’t see her settling down with us. Not even with the tyone, rich as he is. I wouldn’t be surprised if she tags along with you three.

  I asked why she would want to do such a thing.

   — You remember what she said. She’s got the world to see.

  It was then that he mentioned something about already having a wife, which came as a surprise to me.

  The woman lives in San Francisco. During the course of 10 years, they have only seen each other a half dozen times. They have not been reunited in nearly two years most recently. They are married by law, yet live as if not.

   — Gertie’s got herself a young dandy to keep her satisfied. Saves me from the opera houses & city life. I love that woman, but I don’t much like being shackled down. We came to terms. I tramp about to my heart’s desire, take up with a squaw now & then when it suits me. When I hit my luck, I send money Gertie’s way. Once in a blue moon, we renew our vows, so to speak.

  Samuelson must have read my expression.

   — Now then, Colonel. We can’t all be as upstanding as yourself.

  I declared that if I were to find my wife with another man, I feared what I might do to the both of them.

   — It’s true that many a man has turned murderous under such circumstances, but seems to me that would put a halt to any good times for those involved, he said.

  I cannot comprehend his tolerance.

  May 30

  A competitive nature has risen between Tillman & Nat’aaggi. They began the morning attempting to see which of them could skip stones farther across the river. Now they are at some kind of Midnoosky game. Nat’aaggi bends & ties a thin willow branch into a circle, throws it upstream. The two then throw as many rocks as they can into the hoop as it bobs & swirls past. I thought it only idle diversion, but they both sprint after the hoop, picking & tossing rocks with vigor. I take it that Nat’aaggi won the first effort, for Tillman kicked his foot in the sand. He must be in the lead now, for he often whoops. All the commotion has roused Boyo. The dog barks & runs alongside them.

  Pruitt mostly reads & sleeps in a patch of sand beside the river. I went with hopes of drawing him into conversation. It was a small book of poetry that he held. I asked him if he enjoyed it, to which he only nodded.

  He has been so markedly subdued on this expedition that I worry for his health. I asked if he is well enough, all considered. He said he did not know — an answer plain & candid. Had he sustained injuries over these past years? Long after wounds & fractures have healed they can yet trouble a man.

   — Nothing you can put eyes to, he said.

  When it seemed he had nothing more to say on the matter, I began to walk back to camp.

   — I was at Elk Creek, sir, he called after me.

  His words stopped me. He asked if I had heard the stories then.

  I was not aware that he served with the regiment at that time, but I admitted I had heard events went poorly there with the Indians.

   — That does not even begin to describe it, he said.

  Never once did he look me in the eye, but he spoke more than I have heard on this journey. He gave some details of the events. I needed none. I have witnessed depravities in the field. It is a sad fact, but given too much rein, men will often degenerate into animals. It does not require tremendous skill to halt such behavior — a bit of intelligence, a clear sense of morality, a strong hand. Unfortunately, many leaders possess not even one of those traits.

  I said I understood Major Townsend was in command. He nodded. I saw then that Pruitt was trembling.

  One cannot bear the responsibility of other men’s actions, I advised. The blame rests with the commander.

  Pruitt was silent for a long while, then he returned to his book. Our conversation was at end.

  May 31

  A shout just rang up from the river. — Slukayk-ay! Slukayk-ay!

  We joined several of the children as they ran down to the shore. One of the young Indian men had netted an enormous salmon that bowed his pol
e with its weight. It took all the man’s strength to pull it ashore as it flapped against the rocks. A most remarkable fish! It was nearly three feet long & weighed as much as a small child.

  Boyd explained that it was a chinook, the largest of all the salmon.

   — Not a better fish I’ve found, for looks or for eating, Samuelson said.

  It was indeed an impressive specimen. As one of the first fish of the season, it aroused a great deal of gleeful singing among the Indians.

  A delicious meal. The Indian women cut slabs of firm, crimson meat from the fish, then cooked it on sticks over the flames of a campfire. They added green alder to the fire & the smoke flavored the salmon. We all of us ate until we could eat no more.

  June 1

  The Midnooskies have requested Tillman name the found infant before we part ways. Many suggestions for the child were considered, including the names of people in our party, but none could be agreed upon. I offered Bradley, after Tillman since he seems to have a soft spot for the baby, but he said he has never cared much for his own name & would not like to burden a child with it. Other names would draw up some unpleasant association. Michael was the name of Tillman’s uncle, who was apparently the ‘meanest b —— d’ Tillman had ever known. George, a favorite of mine, was tossed out because it called to the trapper’s mind some association with “sissy royalty,” while Boyd said he had known too many cheating saloon gamblers of the name of Frank.

  I suggested we consider a biblical name, in the way of frontier missionaries. As the son of a pastor, Pruitt knew better than the rest of us & made a strong cases for ‘Moses.’ But what of a family name, when this child has no family? Again Pruitt’s knowledge proved useful. The scientific name for the spruce tree is Picea.

  Moses Picea it is.

  Later in the day Samuelson came with the lazy-eyed shaman, as he wanted to tell me something.

   — He wants you to know it is good we have given the child one of our names. He says he will need it when it is time to fight the Red Beards.