The Removes

by Tatjana Soli

  One afternoon on the street, Judge Bacon and Libbie passed an obviously inebriated Autie staggering along with friends, his arms over their shoulders, belting out a bar ditty. Her father gave a deep frown, and she was furious with the knowledge that now he would never allow Autie to step foot in the front door, much less permit courtship or marriage. Fanny would win him by default. Libbie gave Autie an ultimatum to give up alcohol as she could not abide such behavior, and he surprised her by vowing never again to touch a drop.

  Although her father forbade their correspondence, Autie, undeterred, sent her heady letters through her best friend, Nettie, detailing battles and victories that would be in the newspapers. His ardor was the most exciting thing that had ever happened in her life. Autie was in the grip of an important fate. They never talked of it, but she knew he felt it. It was what led to his moods later when that good fortune deserted him. The youngest brigadier general in the Union army, then after his part in the Battle of Gettysburg he became a national hero. And he loved her.

  All was not perfect. Even though he was supposed to be head over heels about Libbie during their courtship, he still kept up a relationship with Fanny, sending them an equal number of letters while away. It goaded Libbie into despair. After all she had been through she needed someone for her very own. She forgave him when he promised to court only her while at the same time she stopped believing his excuses. She had to endure Fanny bragging all over town of his proclamations of love. That summer Fanny even hinted that there was an understanding they would be engaged in the fall.

  If Libbie really was decided on him, this would be her first battle.

  She had an expensive ambrotype taken of herself and sent it to him, only to find out later that he was so pleased with it he showed it off to Fanny. He also shared Libbie’s letters, which infuriated her. Nothing was private between them. But the indiscretion went both ways. He told her that Fanny had attended a drunken party and actually sat in his lap, kissing him.

  “She is a girl who Does Everything,” Autie said, smiling when Libbie confronted him.

  Libbie blanched. “Really?”

  “Everything. And that’s exactly why I love only you.”

  “I’m sure I don’t understand what you mean.”

  But of course she did. Libbie sat alone in her house playing out a strategy no different than that of a general on a battlefield, calculating her behavior to win the moniker of Mrs. General Custer.

  When Autie left to return to the War, her merry handful of suitors took their old place, joined by yet new ones. Perhaps she would do better to forget Autie, but it was as if she had been gifted with the Sight. Instead of enjoying the suitors’ glances, their compliments, instead of reveling in their attentions as she had formerly, she understood that these were simply the opening feints in a war. They aimed to win her, to carry her away in her white lace dress to a life of drudgery and homemaking.

  She caught glimpses of possible futures. One night at supper she regaled the table with a story about Nettie and herself on an adventure.

  “Then we returned by a dirt path. It looked like the one we had come on, but then—”

  “Pass the rolls, Libbie,” one of her beaux said, clearly not having heard a word of her story.

  “Excuse me?”

  “The bread. And butter.”

  Her father coughed into his napkin.

  For the first time Libbie noticed her admirer’s small eyes, his wide, dull forehead, the ungenerous mouth that did not promise passionate kisses.

  He looked up at her, puzzled that she had not done what he asked.

  “The rolls, Libbie, please! For my gravy before it gets cold.”

  One could only imagine such a marriage, such a fate.

  Only one man could give her the extraordinary life she craved. She read his letters as if they were nourishment.

  … I am longing and anxiously hoping for the time to come when I can be with my darling little one again. I bury my nose in your scented handkerchief that you gave your Bo on leaving. Ah, how it brings back sweet memories of snuggles. Prepare for being attacked with tickles once we are together again …

  Autie, for all his philandering, his endless lies about no longer corresponding with Fanny, hung on Libbie’s every word. He would retell something she had said months before, treasuring it as if it were the wisest, most learned thing he had ever heard on the matter. Words from her, Libbie Bacon, girl from Monroe.

  Their courtship was conducted through absences and letters, much as their marriage would end up being lived. Although it was an agony to live through, she admitted it created an unusually bright flame of passion between them. She was always realistic about herself—she was nothing particularly special except for Autie’s love for her. She was determined to win him.

  THE THIRD REMOVE

  The deserted township—Starvation—An untruth—Arrival at the Indian village—Her mistress—A fellow captive

  A northerly struck, driving the temperatures down so low that water froze in a cup and even those with the benefit of heavy buffalo robes shivered. Custom was for each teepee’s family to extend shelter to all members, but when Anne sought accommodation for the child and herself, she was roughly thrown out. She begged shelter from others, who sometimes offered it. Hearing of her actions, her chief forbade her to go asking for aid and thus shaming him. As punishment he denied her food although Anne guessed nothing other than the usual broth had been intended them.

  Elizabeth and she lay down on the open ground, huddling by a small fire that she had kindled from brush and a stolen coal. Anne’s limbs grew heavy and somnolent, and many a night she fully believed she would not survive till morning. Her only regret was no longer being there to protect Elizabeth, who was too fragile to survive without a guardian. One evening in particular Anne tried to prepare her thoughts to depart the earth and make peace with her Lord as her mother would approve, but found herself distracted by the night sky, which had at last cleared, revealing thousands of sharp silver daggers of light above, as well as the fairy-tale blanket of white that lay on the trees, bushes, and land around them. Nature, when not observed at a remove but up close, enchanted beyond anything she had previously imagined.

  In the middle of the night a family of deer appeared at the edge of the tree line. She held her breath as they stood still a moment basking in the starlight, eyes that reflected the liquid night, pelts silvered, hooves like polished riverstone. Their ears twitched back and forth listening. She swore that they looked straight at her and yet were unafraid. Finally they moved off through the trees. She worried for their safety even though she herself wasted from starvation.

  She drifted off to what she assumed was a final rest only to be prodded awake in the glare of daylight. She covered her eyes with hands reddened and split from the cold. The two of them were so pitiable now that the Indians had no choice but to mount them on a pony that they then led. Elizabeth began an incessant crying over the pain in her stomach, which Anne recognized was simply hunger. The sound irritated their captors, and they threatened to knock the girl on the head if she did not quiet. Anne was hard-pressed to calm her.

  “I want my mama,” Elizabeth whimpered.

  “That’s where we are going,” Anne answered without hesitation. “But you must promise to be very, very quiet.”

  She, who had been such a careful tender of the truth, now spouted lies when convenient as easily as if she had been doing such her whole life. What would happen when they reached their destination and no mother appeared? Wasn’t it a sin to engender hope that had no possibility of fruition? But Anne could not think beyond the successful navigation of the next few steps ahead of them. She needed the girl to survive. That would be her victory. Survival was the beginning, without which the child would soon enough be joining her mother in eternity.

  Worn from another day’s march, they entered a small township Anne recognized from past visits with her family. It had been a special treat to stop there on the
way to or from their home while stocking provisions or visiting relatives. The main attraction had been a passable luncheon café and sundry dry goods store where the children were allowed to pick out bits of sweets such as maple sugar candy or Necco wafers.

  The place was now deserted, the people having fled, most of the buildings burned down. Anne remembered her parents talking of whole towns disappearing due to Indian attacks. Nonetheless the sight of the few remaining wooden structures was a comfort, evidence of a civilization that was fast becoming strange to her. Granted, that relief was small given the town’s abandonment. There would be no one to rescue them.

  Down the main street, they passed the half-decayed, flyblown carcass of a horse still tethered to the welcome post of the local flophouse. In one house, Anne could see a smashed bedstead and the green, heavy silk of a dress that still clothed its owner. Idly Anne recalled her coveting a friend’s pretty dress and wondered at her former callowness. How much she took for granted. An amazing array of artifacts lay scattered along the ground—a cracked looking glass, boots, pots, pans, apothecary items—things totally superfluous to her current existence. A lady’s whalebone corset. The funeral card of a young man in uniform. Anne picked up a sterling fork that an Indian quickly snatched away from her. She found a dog collar and a few books much abused by the weather. It was disturbing to contemplate the likely fates of the owners of these worldly belongings.

  The Indians, tired of the wailing of the women, allowed the captives to take abode in a half-standing warehouse for the night. Although the floor was dirt and the sky visible, having walls seemed a rich luxury to them.

  Anne could not sleep, and as she lay there she heard the scurrying of mice. Curious, she waited till all was quiet outside then she crawled on her hands and knees to find what she suspected—stray grains of wheat and corn that had been stored in the building. She gathered the pitiful kernels into her pockets, little guessing that these would provide the bulk of her sustenance in the days ahead.

  They traveled over a week through rough terrain without anything more than a few cups of weak broth and melted snow for nourishment. The cold was so bitter that even when they had a fire to sleep against, Anne felt that warmth was something foreign to her body. It could no longer penetrate to her frozen core. She did not credit her survival each day to anything less than a miracle.

  When at last they reached what she guessed was the main encampment in Indian Territory, the arrival occasioned a frenzied atmosphere. They remained in the winter camp for more than a week, but even such rest did not recuperate Anne from her fallen condition.

  Within hours they were traded to another chief for the price of a hunting blade. Captives were valuable as labor. Her new master’s woman put her to work day and night. Her first duty was to stay out all night guarding his pony herd, a job usually reserved for men, as horses were a tribe’s main wealth. It was grueling labor in the freezing cold. One night, bone tired, she lay down for a quick nap and did not rise till morning when a warrior had to lift her to standing and then slap her face for circulation. Such an easy solution, to simply freeze to death.

  Grudgingly, a sour, greasy buffalo hide was given her to wear over her cotton dress. With its warmth the task became the smallest bit more tolerable. A gift of clean undergarments would have brought her to tears.

  Allowed only a few hours’ sleep in the morning, her daytime duty then began, of stripping bark from the saplings to provide fodder for the animals. She was told that if she tried to escape not only would she be killed but also Elizabeth. If a single horse went missing, she would be killed. If the animals were not fed properly, she would be killed. Anne held firm to the belief that it was only a matter of time before they found an excuse to kill her regardless of her actions. Observing their hardship, Anne understood she was the unwelcome enemy.

  * * *

  WHENEVER SHE HAD a rare free moment, her main task became begging for food. Hunger was a constant that crowded out all other thoughts. She had observed that the members of the tribe were generous with one another but acted miserly toward captives. If her teepee was preparing a large pot of stew over the fire, the family only rarely allowed her to dip her cup in and take the smallest amount away.

  Even when she was lucky, she knew better than to look too closely at the contents of her bowl, or she would lose her appetite. Soldiers had conducted winter campaigns, and the camp had had to flee to save their lives, leaving behind their winter stores of food. Mice and squirrels went in whole. Parts of dogs, deer, and horses. Birds and snakes and grubs. With starvation pressing close, everything was fair game, everything palatable.

  Although she endeavored to make their provisions last longer to stave off hunger, Elizabeth and she were forced to eat everything they received immediately or risk it being stolen. It led to a cycle of starvation, satiation, starvation that broke their strength. When Anne was successful enough to hide away a handful of nuts or pemmican, the chief’s wife would often find her hoard, and then she would be beaten for begging rather than be given enough provender to survive.

  In light of these restrictions and cruelties, Anne was surprised at the freedom of movement she was allowed. The Indians knew she was too frail to run far. She had lost all compass of where they were but assumed it was far from Kansas.

  Wilderness lay impenetrable in every direction, civilization a forgotten dream. Could the great cities of the world still exist simultaneously with this primitive world?

  During her explorations of the larger camp, she discovered another white woman, who had been taken a month before from Texas and found herself traded to her current location. Anne hugged her, overwhelmed at the companionship, but the woman shrugged off her touch. She was big with child and could talk of nothing but escape.

  “But in what direction would you go?” Anne asked, as she had already studied the matter and determined any attempt futile.

  The woman bowed her head and began crying. “The Lord shall guide me. Come with me.”

  Anne pitied the woman for her expectant condition, her thinness, the weathered roughness of her face, which clearly once held beauty.

  “You will never survive an escape,” Anne whispered.

  The woman reached out her hand and placed it atop Anne’s. She said nothing, an expression of great disappointment in her eyes. She got up with difficulty and moved off. It felt like a judgment, but Anne dismissed it. She had grown shrewd in survival and calculated the woman had no chance of success.

  The escape attempt was the news of the camp. The woman had been caught within one short hour’s time and killed. The method used was slow torture as a cautionary lesson to others against attempting the same.

  There were no words to describe Anne’s desolation. Her desire to escape redoubled.

  LIBBIE

  A scant year before, she had been preparing for spinsterhood, and now here she was—a bride. Not just any bride, but one marrying a national hero. She had escaped being poor, motherless Libbie Bacon forever.

  Her original plans were for a modest family wedding during Autie’s leave. She had always pictured an intimate ceremony, followed by a family party, but once word got out the occasion drew interest all out of proportion to what they expected. Important social figures in Monroe waylaid Judge Bacon and asked for invitations, and then townspeople wanted to know if there would be some type of public celebration of the nuptials in which they could take part. Libbie refused, but Autie was quite flattered at the attention and allowed the town to commandeer their wedding.

  “I just hope,” her stepmother said, “you are strong enough to stand up to such a man.”

  That was Libbie’s first inkling that her savior might also be her tormentor.

  Libbie had picked out a pea-green silk for her wedding dress, adorned with yellow military braid. A green silk veil and a corsage of red roses would complete it. But when one of the matriarchs of an important family in town heard of her plans from the dressmaker, she hurried to the Bacon hou
se and demanded to talk with Libbie and her stepmother, Rhoda.

  “What can you be thinking? It won’t do at all. This wedding reflects on all Monroe. A description of your dress will be in the national papers!”

  Libbie grew quite alarmed at the realization of how Autie’s fame was already changing them.

  The wedding plans swelled to an evening affair with the whole town invited, hundreds of people packed in the church with as many again milling outside. Libbie ended up going down the aisle in a stiff white dress that Autie joked could walk into church by itself. Its extensive train dragged at her steps as if it were reluctant to allow her to give up her girlhood status. A lace veil attached to an orange-blossom crown floated behind, and Autie got briefly tangled in it, much to the amusement of the front-pew guests.

  Autie’s brother Tom obtained furlough and surprised them. She had not spent time with him before, but now as Autie was whisked away by people craving his attention, Tom looked after her. Both were content to be wallflowers. Tom was handsome, an impressive soldier in his own right, but he was quiet and self-effacing compared with Autie. It occurred to her that he might have been the easier man to marry.

  The reception was grand, too grand for her taste. Tables were piled high with oysters, turkeys, hams, plates laden with wedding cake, blancmange, and fresh pineapple in February (luxury unimaginable during the lean war years), all washed down with champagne. A room was filled floor to ceiling with gifts, which later had to be left behind in storage. A military family traveled light.

  Libbie wanted Autie to come dance with her, but he was marooned in a crowd of men wanting his opinion about the outcome of the War of the Rebellion. As a military hero, he was the stuff their boyhood dreams had been made of and they wouldn’t let him go. As she walked the rooms, Libbie heard talk of people heading out to the Territories to make their fortunes. Farmland was being sold at bargain prices, along with equipment, animals, and seed to create enticement for new settlements.