Dancing Fawn

by Ginger Simpson

  Fawn had no problem hurrying, and right on her heels was her personal body guard. At least he had bathed since the Colonel commented, but he still looked repulsive. She locked the door behind her, giving no thought to anything Private Riley heard.

  * * *

  Fawn grew tired of being in bed. Her stomach felt much better this morning, and she had devoured her breakfast. Usually by this time, she would have already trekked to the river and finished her laundry, scraped and cleaned a few small animal pelts, and visited with some of her friends, but Eliza was following the doctor’s orders to the letter. Fawn twiddled her thumbs and fought boredom.

  To her relief, Eliza entered the room carrying packages. At last someone with whom to talk. Eliza’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she tore into the paper wrapping. “Wait till you see what I picked out for you. I’m convinced that if you want to make any progress being accepted again, we need to get you out of those awful clothes and into something more decent.”

  Fawn’s mouth disappeared into a thin line of disdain. It had taken a while to get used to them, but she certainly didn’t consider her clothing “Awful.” As a matter of fact, doeskin was by far the most comfortable thing she had ever worn.

  Eliza held up a red-and-white gingham dress with puffy sleeves and a lace collar. She fanned it out across the bed. “Isn’t this lovely? It will look wonderful on you.” She tore into another package and displayed undergarments. “And, of course, you’ll need these.”

  Fawn grimaced at the feminine trappings. She certainly hadn’t missed their irritating and confining fit, but she cast a smile at Eliza. “The dress is beautiful. Thank you, Eliza. That was very kind of you.”

  She pulled out some matching red ribbons, leaned over, and held them against Fawn’s braids. “When we let your hair down and wash it, we’ll pull it back on the sides and add these. What do you think?”

  Fawn brushed Eliza’s hands aside. “I’m sure the ribbons will look very nice.”

  Eliza prepared to open another bundle but stopped. “I’m sorry, but they didn’t have any women’s shoes left. I guess the influx of families moving into the Black Hills has depleted the stock.”

  Acting disappointed, Fawn curved her lips into a frown. “Don’t worry. You’ve been far too generous already. I don’t mind wearing my moccasins. Besides, my dress will cover them.”

  Eliza gave a flick of her wrist. “You’re right. No one will notice once they see how beautiful you look.” Still excited, she tore into another bundle and pulled out a dress rivaling Fawn’s eyes. Pressing the material against her own body, Eliza held out the skirt and waltzed around in a circle. “Isn’t this a beauty?”

  She snapped her fingers. “Oh my, I nearly forgot to tell you. I met the doctor on the way back, and he asked after you. He said to tell you if you are feeling better and the pains are gone, you can get up and move about.”

  “Thank goodness! I was about to go stir crazy.” Fawn slid out of bed and stood.

  Eliza wagged a finger at her. “You take it easy. Doctor Fairchild said we should call him if the pains return.”

  “Oh, I will, I will. I don’t plan to go hefting hay bales. I just want to move around.”

  Eliza opened the armoire and hung the dresses inside. She pointed to an adjacent door. “Here’s where we keep the wash tub. If you would like to bathe, I can heat the water for you.”

  Fawn couldn’t believe her ears. “I’d love a bath. It’s been a long time since I’ve had such a treat. Bathing in the creeks and rivers does the job, but the water is never very warm.”

  * * *

  “Then I’ll be back with hot water.” Eliza turned. She fidgeted with the tie around her middle. “Ah… there is another thing we need to talk about. Your name. You can’t very well go traipsing about the fort and expect people to call you Dancing Fawn. It’s... Well... It’s a lovely name but not very appropriate for a white woman at Fort Sully.”

  Angry heat crept up Fawn’s neck. “Now wait a minute, Eliza—”

  “Don’t get angry, dear. I’m only thinking of what’s best for you.”

  Earning trust and being able to move about required her to play along. She nodded. “You’re right, of course. From now on you may call me Grace.”

  * * *

  “My, you look so lovely.” Eliza clapped her hands in glee. “I can’t believe the transformation. Why, Faw... Grace, your hair is beautiful. Much too pretty to hide in those awful braids. It looks so much better piled atop your head with those loose little tendrils framing your pretty face. I wouldn’t guess you were the same woman. And that shapeless thing you had on before hid your womanly attributes. I can’t wait until the colonel sees you. He’ll be so pleased at the change.”

  Eliza followed Fawn onto the walkway where Private Riley sat in a chair leaned back on its rear legs against the side of the building. When he glanced in their direction, his chair dropped down so hard the planks shivered. He stood, touched the brim of his dirty cap, and gulped. “Land sakes alive. Jes’ look at ya. Who’d ever guessed that you was that same filthy white squaw we brung here.”

  “Private Riley!” Eliza snapped. “You mind your manners, or Colonel Jamison will have something to say about it.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” He gave her a mock salute. “I guess I was jes’ plumb shocked.”

  “Well, I understand, but we’ll have no name calling.”

  “Yes um.”

  “Now, I’m taking Grace on a tour, and I see no need for you to follow us around like a hungry bear. She’ll be fine with me. Where would she go? I’m sure she’s much too smart to set off on foot.”

  Riley removed the stained cap from his head and scratched his scraggly hair. “That’s jes’ fine with me, Miz Jamison. I been needin’ to get me some clothes washed.”

  “Very good, Private Riley. You do that.”

  Eliza glanced at Fawn. “Shall we go?” She led her across the parade ground, toward the gates.

  While walking, Eliza pointed out several points of interest. “That’s our brand new hand-pump fire engine. You know the fort has been plagued with fires in the past. Why, in 1869 the quartermaster’s storehouse burned to the ground, and about three weeks later, our hay supply burned. Of course, we’ve also had some fires set by those pesky Ind--” She caught herself. “No offense intended.”

  “None taken,” Fawn responded. “I’m sure they must have had a good reason.”

  Clearly, Eliza didn’t want to engage her. “You may be right. Who knows? But, let’s not dampen our spirits by arguing about it.”

  A stunning sight stood beyond the massive gates. The sea of green before them looked as though it had been sewn to a bright border of blue. Only a few wispy clouds floated lazily along in the sky. Fawn took a deep cleansing breath. “How beautiful. I didn’t really notice when we were riding in.”

  Eliza pointed toward the bottom land. “Down there we have the post gardens. They grow better next to the river, and of course it’s much easier to keep them watered. And, over there, the riverboat landing. That’s how we get most of our supplies.”

  Fawn pointed to the east. “What’s that?”

  * * *

  “The cemetery,” Eliza answered. “Would you like to walk closer?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Don’t be frightened. It’s really quite serene.”

  “Are only soldiers buried there?” Her mind turned to Little Elk and the others who left to wage war on the blue coats.

  “Oh no. Civilians are there as well, but have different markers,” Eliza explained. She glanced back at the fort. “Well, if you don’t want to see the cemetery, let me show you around inside. We have a chapel, a school, a bakery, and of course, the dispensary. Which would you like to see?”

  Fawn’s mouth watered for something sweet. “I choose the bakery.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Fawn had completed the camp tour, had more than a few treats at the bakery, and still hadn’t formulated an esca
pe plan. Exhausted, she struck a match against flint and held the flame aloft. The bedroom grew dark as the sun dragged the daylight below the horizon. Fawn removed the chimney from the oil-burning lamp, lit the wick then carefully replaced the delicate glass piece. Finished washing up, she picked up the water bowl and carried it with care and balance to the door. She met Eliza in the hallway. “I thought I’d empty this. I think I washed off half the parade ground. This place is so dusty.”

  Eliza reached for the bowl. “Let me take it for you. You shouldn’t be lifting heavy things just yet.”

  Fawn thanked her and returned to her room. She perched on the window seat and stared out the window at the bounty of colors in the sunset. Her thoughts drifted. The scene was so beautiful, she wondered if Little Elk enjoyed the same magnificence wherever he was.

  The porcelain bowl clinked against the table. “You seem to be a million miles away.”

  Fawn hadn’t even heard her hostess return. She rose and rubbed her belly with both hands. “I was just thinking of home and my husband.”

  “You shouldn’t punish yourself like that. It’s not good to dwell on what was.”

  Clearly, Eliza didn’t believe Fawn planned to escape.

  “I know you think you miss those people,” Eliza continued, “but you’ll get used to being with your own again. I just know it.”

  Fawn decided she’d play along and be the “rescued captive,” but when the time was right....

  * * *

  Her stomach rumbled. Fawn laid aside the catalog she’d been thumbing through and patted her hungry belly. If she hadn’t been so full from all the sweets she had devoured at the bakery, she wouldn’t have passed on supper. She slid off the bed and stood.

  “Maybe I can sneak into the kitchen and find a snack to tide me over until morning.” She peeked out the door, seeing only complete darkness in the rest of the living quarters. She picked up the lamp and ventured into the hallway. On tiptoes, she made her way to the kitchen.

  She held the lamp in the air and scanned the pantry shelves. “Oh, look!” she whispered. “Bread... I can have some with butter.”

  With a ceramic crock and small knife on the table in front of her, Fawn sat munching on her find when Colonel Jamison walked in on her. He wore a nightshirt over his trousers, but his hair was still impeccably combed. “Well, I see we had the same idea.”

  Fawn’s cheeks flamed at being caught. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask permission first, but all the lights were out, and I thought you were asleep.”

  The colonel pulled out a chair, sat, then leaned in. “Actually, I’m glad I found you here. I need to know if you have any relatives you would like us to contact—white relatives.”

  Fawn shook her head. “No, not anymore. My only family are Lakota.”

  * * *

  His jaw visibly tightened. “Returning you to the Indians is out of the question, but I’m afraid you can’t take advantage of the government’s hospitality forever. Tomorrow, you will report to the post laundry and start to earn your keep.”

  Fawn’s bite of bread caught in her throat. She swallowed hard. “You...you mean wash clothes for the soldiers?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean. You’ll be paid a fair wage. I imagine my wife is going to insist you continue to stay here since there really isn’t any other place available right now, but that may change. Maybe after you’ve been here a while, you’ll forget your silly notions about living with savages.”

  He scraped his chair backwards and stood. “I don’t seem to be as hungry as I thought. I’ll bid you goodnight.”

  After he’d closed the bedroom left the room, Fawn propped her elbows on the table, rested her face in her hands, and gave thought to his words. Perhaps working in the laundry wouldn’t be such a bad thing. She wanted to get out of the house, and this might be the chance she needed to plan her escape. Colonel Jamison’s announcement of her new job didn’t seem quite so bad.

  * * *

  The colonel escorted Fawn to the laundry. They made polite conversation along the way, but she wasn’t sure what to expect. It certainly wasn’t the offending odor that greeted her at the door. The moment she walked in, her eyes burned. She blinked several times and wrinkled her nose. “What is that smell?”

  One nearby woman straightened from bending over a washboard. “It’s lye. You get used to it after a while.”

  The heat from the wash water had reddened the rotund little woman’s cheeks; lose wisps of dark hair, curled from the dampness, framed her face and hung into dark eyes.

  “I guess I’ll have time to do that.” Fawn grinned as she glanced at the colonel.

  Respectfully, he removed his hat and introduced them. “Thelma, this is Grace. She’s going to be helping out for a while.”

  Fawn stiffened at the mention of her Christian name but smiled. She might be Grace to them, but in her heart she refused to be anyone other than Dancing Fawn.

  Thelma wiped her red and withered hands on her apron. “Howdy. It’s nice to meet you. I’ll show you around and introduce you to the rest of the women.”

  Colonel Jamison squared his hat back on his head. “Then I’ll leave you in good hands. Grace, I’ll see you at the end of the day for supper.”

  As soon as he left, Thelma displayed a wide grin. “He shore is a nice man, ain’t he? He’s right good to us. Treats us real fair, he does.”

  Fawn nodded. “Yes, he and his wife have been very kind.” She wanted to add how much nicer he would be if he sent her back home.

  Thelma walked to aprons hanging on the wall and handed Fawn one. “You’ll be needing this.”

  Tears from the irritating odor ran down Fawn’s cheeks. She swiped the wetness from her face with her new apron. “My mother used to wash with lye, but it never smelled like this,” she complained to Thelma.

  “Like I said, you’ll get used to it. We do so many uniforms in a day, the air never clears in here. You’ll get some fresh air when you take a break or have lunch.”

  Fawn sniffed through a stuffed nose, but crinkled her face at the stinging sensation “I almost burnt my hair off once and that would have been horrible, but I really would like to keep on being able to see.” She blinked her blurry eyes. “Are you sure I’ll get used to this, or am I gonna go blind?”

  * * *

  Fawn’s whole body screamed from hunching over a washtub for three days. She straightened and rubbed the small of her back in hopes of easing the numbing ache. It didn’t. Scanning the rows of wooden barrels, she sighed. Never had she imagined how much work was involved in washing. Sure, she had helped her mother, but that was different.

  Here, clothing soaked in several tubs, waiting to be scrubbed with soap against a washboard in another vat. More tubs held rinse water. Really soiled pieces were boiled and stirred constantly to keep them from scorching. Afterwards they were transferred to the rinse with a stick. Over in the corner of the room, Bethany, another worker, cooked a putrid combination of animal fat and lye together to make the harsh soap they used. After it cooked, she strained it through wood ashes and formed it into bars. The caustic lye had practically blistered Fawn’s hands, but at least, as Thelma had promised, the smell didn’t burn her eyes anymore.

  A separate part of the laundry housed the pressers. Here, women used flat irons heated on the stove to press the wrinkles from the soldiers’ freshly laundered uniforms. Not sure which tasks were the most strenuous and monotonous, Fawn surveyed her red and wrinkled fingers.

  She had easily made friends with the other workers. Most were wives of miners, who had failed to strike it rich and now needed money to survive. Fort Sully didn’t offer many options for employment other than a soldier’s pay, so usually the women were forced to work to help their families survive. Fawn felt comfortable with them. They didn’t look down their noses at her or judge her. Maybe because they didn’t have much time to talk about things except on short mid-day meal breaks.

  Of all the women, Fawn bonded with Nola. She revealed
her age to be two years older than Fawn, and made everyone laugh, even when the workload seemed never-ending. She stood almost a head taller than Fawn, and her gowns hung on a willowy build. Her golden hair nearly matched Fawn’s in color.

  Fawn worked with Nola at the rinsing tubs today. Fueled by determination to find out more about her new friend, rather than making small talk, Fawn leaned in closer. “How did you come to be here?”

  “Not by luck, that’s for sure.” Her blue eyes, only a shade lighter than Fawn’s sparkled with her brief laughter.

  But, as she often did when faced with sadness, Nola chewed on her bottom lip. She pushed back a stray lock of hair and swallowed. “My parents died from the fever... Typhoid I think they called it. My uncle took me in and raised me. He’s a hard old bird and a bit greedy, but I guess I should be grateful. Like everyone else, he got a fever of his own—gold fever. He hasn’t had any luck finding a vein, so here I am. We do have to eat, and money doesn’t grow on trees.” Wincing, she pressed her hands to her lower back. “Boy, I sure wish it did.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss. I know how you feel. My parents are dead, too.”

  “I heard tell you were captured by Injuns. Is that so?” Nola didn’t look at her, just kept dipping clothing in the cloudy water.

  “Yes, I was. What else did you hear?”

  Nola tilted her gaze to Fawn. “That you married one of ‘em, and that’s his baby you’re a carryin’.”

  “True. I did marry an Indian. His name is Little Elk, and even though it might be hard for you to believe, I love him. I’m proud to be his wife and to be having his child.”