Dreams and Nightmares

by Shirley A. Roe

  “Oh Lord, why is this happening to me? Why did father do this to me? God, what more must I bear? This is so unfair God, so unfair.” Feeling trapped, downtrodden and very sorry for herself, Martha looked down upon the sweaty, pale angelic face of the tiny boy. His face was flushed; beads of sweat covered his face. His eyes were closed and his breathing shallow. For several minutes she stared at him, not moving. Suddenly realizing that he may die, she was filled with unfamiliar compassion and concern. A strange feeling of warmth filled her body. It was at that moment; consumed with guilt she shed her childish selfishness. She prayed again, only this time it was Ezekiel and not herself that was to be the recipient of God's salvation. “Please lord, don't let him die. He is just a child and not responsible for the situation I'm in. Oh God, he is so tiny and innocent. Please watch over him and let him live.” Martha sobbed from deep within her soul. “ I have been a selfish self-centered woman. Please forgive me. Oh Lord, how vain and selfish I have been. Others have suffered, as much if not more than I, yet they do not complain. I am not worthy of your help. But this innocent boy is. I'll try harder God, I promise, just help Ezekiel please.” Her body wracked with sobs, Martha bathed the fevered boy with cool cloths and administered Willow bark tincture through the long night. She prayed like she had never prayed before. For the first time in her life she was more concerned for the welfare of someone else than she was for herself.

  The next morning the fever was down and the child's condition had improved. Ezekiel opened his eyes and actually smiled at her. Her heart leapt into her throat. She pushed back the tears as she stroked his forehead, gently, almost a caress. Martha was exhausted but different somehow. Her emotions were in turmoil, fear mixed with compassion, anger mixed with guilt.

  Isaac came to see his brother. As he left the wagon he turned on Martha viciously. The confining space offered only a few feet between them. “This is all your fault, why did you have to come along and ruin our lives. We were fine before you came. You're not our mother and you never will be. Our mother is dead. I'll never forgive you if my brother dies, never. I hate you! I wish you were dead!” Martha watched him leave, a new fear beginning to grow in her.

  Disheveled, exhausted and crushed by the viciousness of both Jebediah's blow and Isaac's biting words, Martha went to find Jebediah and let him know Ezekiel's condition had improved. She pulled her bonnet low to hide the purple and red bruise that was starting to blossom on the side of her face. Her eye was swollen shut. If anyone noticed, they said nothing.

  A few brief scriptures from Jebediah over the boy in the presence of the other homesteaders and the wagon train moved out. Life was hard for these new pioneers and they had almost lost one of their own to this new land that they hoped to call home. They began to wonder what other hardships awaited them?

  More dusty oppressive miles were covered and Jebediah quickly learned the vocabulary of the homesteaders. “Yes, Jonah, the family and I are anxious to arrive in Wyoming and begin our new life as farmers and homesteaders. Nothing like owning your own piece of God's green earth, I always say,” repeated Jebediah to anyone who would listen. At the same time, thinking that he was becoming very convincing in this new role, he offered his assistance to the others to gain their confidence. “We all have to pull together and help build our new homes and barns. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you, sayeth the Lord.” He raised his eyes to the heavens before he continued. “ It's going to be a great life for all of us in Wyoming.”

  Martha found Jebediah's newly acquired love of the land and the scriptures hard to swallow and her bitterness and hatred for him grew like a cancer inside of her. How could he be so pleasant and friendly to strangers, yet treat his own family with cruelty? Her confidence and sense of self, eroded away like the wind stripped earth of the prairie. Weeks turned to months as the wagon train, resembling a ship sailing across the Great Plains progressed on its journey. Several head of cattle had been lost to the oppressive heat and the dust was affecting everyone's breathing. Women and men alike wore handkerchiefs tied across their faces most of the day in an effort to breathe easily. Olga's husband Fritz had developed a wheezing in his chest, causing Olga great concern. Children grew restless and tempers flared. Fights broke out amongst the men over little things, women barked at their children and spirits were sagging.

  Martha noticed that Jebediah never showed the least amount of irritation with the circumstances or any emotion at all. This so called husband of hers is a strange creature, she thought to herself. Although they never said so, she knew that some of the other women pitied her for the relationship she had with him. She often wished she had jumped from the ship that night during the crossing and put an end to this existence once and for all. Those days when plans of escape filled her every waking moment had been replaced by thoughts of resignation, bitterness and basic survival. Food was growing scarce and the men did not always return with food when hunting for supper. Empty stomachs gurgled and faces grew gaunt. Meals often consisted of small portions of cracked wheat porridge, bread and jerky. Flour, sugar and yeast were rationed and meals of boiled rabbit or grouse with little else were not uncommon. Martha willingly passed food to Ezekiel, his young eyes hungrily resting on her plate. She noticed that Jebediah always devoured his food without a thought for the boys. Martha had lost more weight and her prediction of looking more like a boy than a woman was coming true. The few dresses she had been allowed to bring were repaired and made smaller and she was becoming quite proficient at sewing.

  “Margaret, just look at these dresses we are wearing.” Martha commented to Margaret one evening by the fire. “I have worn the same dress for over a week. Why I remember changing dresses three or four times a day back in England.” Margaret had noticed that Martha complained less and less with each passing day. She also noticed that any sign of gaiety and spunkiness seemed to be slowly draining from her. She tried to cheer her friend.

  “Yes, we had dresses for taking tea, dresses for garden parties and gowns for operas and balls. Now we have one dress for everything and it's falling to bits,” she joked. “Soon we will all be marching stark naked across the plains.”

  Martha smiled at the thought of it. “We spent more time changing clothes in a day than we spent partaking of the activities. Having no clothes would certainly alleviate that.” Martha and Margaret laughed. Laughing was something she rarely did these days and it felt good to forget the troubles of the trail if only for a few minutes. She cherished these moments with her friend.

  “When we arrive in Wyoming we'll be able to make new clothes once we are settled.” Margaret looked down wistfully at her dusty cotton dress and apron and then smiled at Martha. Martha was always impressed with Margaret's ability to see the good in every situation. She was having a very difficult time adjusting to this new way of life and admired Margaret's positive attitude. Martha would attempt a little optimism herself from now on, remembering her promise to God.

  Early one morning, Margaret's husband James announced that the fort was within a day's ride and that the wagon train would be welcomed there. Great jubilation filled the homesteaders, especially the women. Martha raised her face to the sky and thanked God.

  “Food, a soft bed and a hot bath!” One of the women exclaimed.

  “No dust, no more bumping along in the wagon,” cried another. The fort was just what the people needed to rejuvenate their spirits. Even Jebediah looked pleased that the fort was within a day's ride. He led the group in a prayer of thanks.

  “Some of us should ride ahead and prepare the fort for our arrival,” Jebediah suggested, thinking that if there was any advantage to being there first, he wanted to be the one to benefit.

  “Yes, I think that would be a good idea,” Arthur shouted over the excitement. “Your wife or Isaac can drive your wagon. You would be a good representative of this wagon train. Take a couple of men and head out this morning.” Arthur had always liked Jebediah and thought him a God fearing and friendly man. Curiou
s relationship with his wife though, he mused, must be a hard woman to get along with. The poor man never voiced his complaints but it was clear that his wife was not very demonstrative towards him. Sometimes the other men wondered what a fine chap like Jebediah was doing with such a cold, hardhearted woman. A real looker all right but she didn't even appear to be fond of her own stepchildren, for heaven's sake. Nursed the boy after the snake bite all right, but she should have been watching him in the first place. Arthur had heard rumors that she had angered Jebediah with her carelessness and the man had been driven to uncharacteristic violence, but as wagon master he tried to mind his own business and leave the rumors for the womenfolk. He allowed himself just a minute to think of his own wife and daughter back in St. Louis. Isabel was the love of his life but embroiled in the society life of the city. When he was home, he was attentive and loving and she, in turn, spent every waking minute in his company. Their marriage was a success because of the separate lives they led. Right now, Arthur had to move a wagon train and thoughts of anything else were quickly replaced with making sure all went well for a swift and safe arrival at their destination.

  Chapter Four- Fort Laramie and the Wyoming Territory

  Fort Laramie rose like a beacon in a storm on the horizon. It had been months since the travelers had seen more than the occasional supply depot or another wagon train. At last life would return to some semblance of order and the women especially looked forward to a soft straw bed and a bath.

  Jebediah arrived at the fort and was greeted by Col. Watson, commander of Fort Laramie, recently converted to a military outpost. Being sure to begin as he meant to go on, Jebediah introduced himself as Pastor Whittaker. “Fort Laramie was created in 1834 as a trading post for the Cheyenne and Arapaho. It rests in a location that proves to be the path of least resistance for those crossing the continent. Many wagon trains rest and restock here bound for Oregon, California and Utah.” The Colonel informed Jebediah, who noticed the fort was not an enclosure surrounded by a stockade but an open fort that depended on its location and its garrisons for security.

  “Our wagon train is full of homesteaders bound and determined to make Wyoming their home.” Jebediah informed the Colonel. He wasted no time in inquiring how the homesteaders were to go about filing claims for land and where the best place to settle might be. By the time the wagon train arrived, he had all the information the homesteaders needed and was immediately placed in a position of authority with the group.

  “It is my suggestion that we stay in the fort for a few days and then some of us will ride out and look at the land available to us. We'll need water and grazing land and I have all of the information on the paperwork required to become landowners in this part of the country.” The men were very impressed with his organization and most of them were happy to let Jebediah handle the details. A trust that they would come to regret.

  The reality of the fort soon dispelled the euphoria the women had felt at arriving, leaving the women less than pleased at the state of Fort Laramie. Converted to a military post in an attempt to control the Indian populations in the area, the fort was not the ideal place for tired women and children. Sanitary conditions were lacking. As anxious to be rid of the wagon as she was, Martha soon realized that the wagon was the only refuge.

  Military personnel lived in barracks, where tightly packed rows of cots gave another dimension to togetherness. The officer's quarters were known as “Old Bedlam”. famous for its raucous parties. At one end of the fort was the guardhouse, whose basement jail lacked water, toilet facilities and even light. Discipline at the fort was strict and many of the soldiers spent time in the basement jail. The men, seeing few white females, leered at the women and made obscene gestures. The women learned to travel in groups and never into the area of “Old Bedlam.”

  The river and the wagons they had traveled in, quickly replaced the decent bed and bath they had longed for. The quick moving, frigid river was used for bathing and it was difficult to find a calm, secluded area in which to bathe. Many of the women crowded together and took turns in the center of the circle. It was the only way to bathe in privacy and to avoid the calls and leers of the nearby soldiers. Several squaws were kept in the fort as servants and nightly entertainment for the soldiers and the women were quick to avoid all contact with them. In fact most of these women and children had never seen an Indian. They were deathly afraid of the savages.

  Martha returned to her wagon after a quick icy dip in the river. Her cheeks were pink, her skin still tingling from the cold water. She ran her fingers through her damp hair, stooping to retrieve her dropped comb before climbing into the wagon. A young soldier approached. “Morning Miss, lovely day.” He tipped his hat, flashing his brightest smile. Hesitant to speak to a stranger, Martha nodded to returned his greeting. “Sergeant John Dwyer at your service, Miss.” She liked the musical twang to his speech and the way he wrinkled his nose when he spoke. He was young and handsome, making a striking impression in his uniform. He watched her eyes as he spoke to her. Her hand pushed back the damp hair from her face; she looked at him from under her lashes. It was pleasurable to have a polite interchange with a gentleman. She smiled, enjoying herself for the first time in months. John Dwyer was very taken with Martha and hoping to know her better.

  “It's Martha McGuire, I mean Whittaker, Mrs. Martha Whittaker, sir. I am happy to make your acquaintance.” John, fascinated with Martha's British accent was disappointed to learn she was married. The two chatted for several minutes, discussing the weather, the fort and Wyoming in general before he moved off leaving Martha staring wistfully after him. She had been battling depression for months. This interchange provided her with the positive interaction that had been sorely lacking. She felt strangely uplifted.

  “Whatever it is you are thinking, forget it.” Jebediah appeared from the corner of the wagon, startling her. The icy stare turned her blood to ice. She scampered into the wagon as quickly as her legs would carry her. Jebediah stood staring at the soldier's back for several minutes before moving away. Martha's held breath escaped her lungs in relief when she heard him walk away. I hate you Jebediah Whittaker.

  Jebediah gathered the homesteaders together. The new title of Pastor seemed to become the norm, with no one even questioning how or when Jebediah had become the Pastor. Enjoying his new leadership position, he explained to the men that they could acquire land under the Homesteader's Act. “The Act allows anyone to file for a quarter-section of free land (160 acres). The land is yours at the end of five years if you build a house on it, dig a well, plow 10 acres, fence a specified amount, and actually live there. There is another way to get more acres, you can claim a quarter-section of land by “tree claim”. as long as you plant and successfully cultivate 10 acres of timber.” Jebediah slyly, watched the reaction of the homesteaders.

  “How much is this land going to cost us, Jebediah?” Pat O’Brien asked from the back of the group.

  “Well, let me explain. A filing fee of $10 to claim the land, and then there is a $2 commission fee for the land agent. After that you have to Prove Up as I already explained, build a house, grow crops and live on the land. You will need two people who can vouch for you and who are willing to sign a Proof document. Then once you have completed the Proving Up, after about four or five years, you pay a final fee of $6 and you receive the patent for the land.”

  “So you're telling us that we'll own our land after we build a house and plant crops, and survive for four years. Well that is going to cost money and some of us will have a hard time making it through the winter until we have crops to sell.”

  “Not to worry Jake, there are people who can help you with finances if you get in trouble. Remember, we're all in this together. Now men I suggest we go out and pick our acreages and file our claims for our new homes.” Jebediah led the men in a cheer and surveyed the crowd for his first victims. Many of the homesteaders were going to need money to survive the winter and Jebediah was the man to lend it to them
, with a small lien arrangement, of course. Within the year, he would hold titles to several of the prime acreages.

  After a week in the fort, an area had been chosen for homesteading and the wagon train moved off. Supplies had been purchased at the fort so at least the settlers could eat a decent meal and look forward to finally ending this torturous trek across the nation. The women were anxious to finally be able to settle down and at this point anywhere would do. Martha walked beside the wagons with her two friends. “It will be nice to have a home of our own again, no matter how primitive.” Margaret said, a longing look on her face. The trip was beginning to wear down even the optimistic Margaret.

  “Fritz and I plan to build a store as soon as we are able. We will start with living quarters and then expand for a General Store. The Colonel said that he would arrange for the shipment of supplies and stock.” Excitement was evident in her voice. “ I can't wait to have my own store again. I feel lost unless I am behind a counter.” Olga's broken English was becoming more familiar to Margaret and Martha. Martha was only half listening, her eyes combing the fort for a glimpse of Sergeant Dwyer. She had come across him only once more since that first meeting but couldn't seem to get him off her mind. He was so kind; his compliments making her feel alive once more. She remembered finding him loading a wagon near the fort entrance a few days after their first encounter. Not wanting to admit she had been looking for him, she feigned surprise at seeing him. “Why Sergeant Dwyer, how nice to see you again. It is a hot day to be working so hard.” She remembered how he had smiled, wiping perspiration from his brow with the back of his muscular forearm. Dust mingled with perspiration, making trails on his handsome face.

  “Mrs. Whittaker, you are looking lovely today.” The Sergeant thought that Martha would be lovely no matter what she was wearing. Her faded dress did not detract from her appearance in his eyes. Martha felt attractive and interesting again. Before setting out to find him, she had turned her attention to her personal appearance, spending extra time with her hair, brushing it until it shone. She wanted to stay and talk to him for hours trying to prolong this positive feeling. He made her feel like her old self again. She was desperate for any time she could spend with him, but her days with Jebediah had taught her well. Knowing that was an unadvisable situation, they conversed for only a few minutes before she reluctantly moved off to find the boys.