Although the fort was a lonely outpost, the army was there to protect them. They could stock up on the provisions they’d run out of, get repairs done to their wagons, and post letters home.
After camping for the night down by the river, Matilda and Tabitha joined in with everyone else to go inside the fort to check out what was available at the stores. Although they had been warned in advance it was used as a trading post by fur trappers to sell their pelts, the stink of the huge piles of raw hides in the centre was disgusting. The prices of supplies were exorbitant too, back in Independence Matilda could buy three sacks of flour for the price of one here, and she was very relieved she didn’t need anything that desperately. Worse still though was the dishevelled appearance of the enlisted men. Few had real uniforms, they were dirty and unshaven, and sat around playing cards and gawping at the women travellers. Many of them were so drunk they couldn’t stand.
As she hurried out of the fort empty-handed, Captain Russell broke away from talking to another officer and came over to her and Tabitha.
‘You didn’t buy anything? Wasn’t there anything you needed?’
Tabitha saw a child she often played with and skipped off to join her.
‘Not so badly I’d pay their prices,’ Matilda said with some indignation. ‘As for the stink in there, and those awful dirty, drunken soldiers! I can’t believe what I saw!’
He laughed. ‘Would you have them shave, polish up their buttons and press their uniforms when they aren’t going anywhere?’
She was surprised at his tolerance, she had never seen him dirty or unshaven, even his hair and moustache were always trimmed.
‘But the drinking!’ she exclaimed. ‘What if Indians attacked? How could they fight them off?’
‘Don’t you worry none about that,’ he said, ‘Soldiers fight better with liquor inside them. You’d drink too, Mrs Jennings, if you were stuck out here with nothing much to do, missing your home and loved ones.’
‘Soldiers would never be allowed to be like that back in England,’ she said, suddenly getting a mental picture of Queen Victoria’s Horse Guards. ‘It’s so slovenly.’
‘I guess it is,’ he said, looking amused. ‘But this ain’t England, ma’am, it’s a big, wild, often cruel country, and it can turn men like that too. I’ve spent many a year in forts like this one, seen things they never told me about when I was a cadet at West Point. But I can tell you now, I’d rather pick ten men from Fort Laramie to lead into battle than twenty clean and tidy milksops from back in the East.’
Matilda looked at him sharply, noting for the first time how refined his features were, well-defined cheek-bones, an elegant, almost aristocratic nose, shapely lips. That and his words suggested to her that he had indeed been brought up as a gentleman, but that somewhere along the line he’d turned his back on his own class. He was a very unusual man in every way, and her curiosity about him was stirred.
‘Are you married, Captain?’ she asked. Then, realizing such a direct question would in turn encourage him to ask her equally blunt ones, ‘I ask only because it must be difficult to have a home and family when your work takes you away so much,’ she added quickly.
‘My wife died four years ago, ma’am,’ he said crisply, and half turned to look back at the camp down by the river. ‘You’d better hurry on back there where the air smells sweeter, Mrs Jennings. Have a good rest, maybe even try a couple of drinks yourself.’
Matilda hurried away, smarting from the rebuff and promising herself she would ignore him completely in future. Later that night she wondered how he thought anyone could have a rest here – it might be sweet-smelling by the river, but it certainly wasn’t peaceful.
Some of the men took their cue from the soldiers, broke out bottles of whisky and got very drunk, and the sounds Matilda heard took her straight back to Finders Court: men fighting; and singing, stumbling and cussing, women shouting at them, often quickly followed by loud slaps and the women screaming. Children cried out in alarm, and dogs barked frantically. There were the sounds of love-making too, wagon springs creaking, and heavy breathing.
It struck her that living with the gentle, peaceful Milsons for so long had lulled her into thinking that they were typical of ordinary people. The truth of the matter was that they were very unusual. What she was hearing now was how most people all over the world, regardless of class, education, wealth or poverty, behaved after a few drinks. And if she wanted to make a good life for herself and the children in Oregon she had got to stop yearning for the well-ordered life she had with the Milsons, delve into her own past for the experiences which had shaped her character, and use them and her wits to make one that suited her.
‘You seem to be the only one anxious to leave,’ Captain Russell said to Matilda on the morning of their departure. She had already yoked up her oxen and she was smearing ointment on a sore place on the foreleg of one of them. Mostly everyone else was still nowhere near ready. ‘Why didn’t you join us last night?’
The previous day of rest, coupled with everyone being able to replenish their stores in the fort, had led to a big party. The soldiers had joined them, bringing whisky with them. Guitars, fiddles and accordions had been brought out, food shared, and for most of the women it had been a welcome opportunity to put on their best dress and dance. Matilda had let Tabitha join in for a couple of hours but she had stayed in her wagon pretending she was too tired to join in.
‘I’m in no condition for dancing and carousing,’ she said tartly, putting the lid back on the ointment and wiping her hands on a piece of rag.
He leaned back against one of the wagon wheels and folded his arms. ‘You could have just watched,’ he said, watching her face. Her eyes were puffy and he suspected she’d spend most of the night crying. ‘And talked to the other women. You ain’t doing yourself any favours being so chilly.’
She wanted to retort that he’d been chilly himself when she only asked him a simple question. But to do so would imply she cared enough to notice. ‘I didn’t come on this wagon train to make friends,’ she said instead.
‘But you’ll need them when we get up in the mountains,’ he said, tilting his hat back and smirking at her. ‘And when your baby comes.’
‘I’ll manage,’ she said. She wanted to get back up on the wagon, she felt vulnerable standing so close to him, but if she moved to do that, she knew he would help her, and she didn’t want him touching her.
‘Mr Jennings must have been one powerful man,’ he said reflectively.
‘Why do you say that?’ she retorted in alarm.
He gave her a long, cool stare, which seemed to penetrate right inside her. ‘Well, ma’am, even after his death and all these miles we’ve travelled, he’s managed to hold your heart so tight that you don’t need nobody else. I never had that power over a woman. Tell me about him.’
Matilda’s first reaction was to spit out something sarcastic, but as she looked up at the man she saw no ridicule in his blue eyes, only interest.
‘He wasn’t a tough man in the way you are,’ she said with a toss of her head. ‘He was a man who cared deeply about people and wanted to end suffering everywhere he found it. Even now I can’t understand why the Lord chose to take him when there’s so many wicked men in the world.’
The Captain looked hard at her for a moment, his expression one of sympathy. ‘Then you must count yourself lucky that you had such a man, even for a short time,’ he said with a new softness in his tone. ‘I can tell you, ma’am, there sure ain’t many out there like him. But from what you’ve said, I don’t think he’d like you to cast yourself off from other people, especially now when you’ve got so much ahead of you.’
Tears prickled the backs of her eyes, but she was determined she wouldn’t cry in front of him. ‘Maybe you are right,’ she said stiffly.
‘I know I am.’ He smiled, moving from the wagon wheel and setting his hat straight. ‘And it wouldn’t hurt to put on another dress, one that don’t show up the dust so much
. Black holds the heat, you know, and that ain’t good for you.’
His concern touched her. She was tired of being sharp and nasty with him, and weary of constantly being on her guard. ‘You are a puzzling man,’ she said. ‘One minute callous and sarcastic, another kind and thoughtful. Tell me what made you like that.’
‘Probably the same sort of things that makes you so prickly,’ he said, looking down at his feet and shuffling his boots in the sandy earth. ‘Death of loved ones, being far from home. You’ve got little Tabby dependent on you, I’ve got all this lot.’ He waved one hand back at the rest of the wagons. ‘Neither of us knows what lies ahead.’
Matilda sensed that he wasn’t ready to give her a more detailed explanation, but he’d said enough for her to feel they’d built a bridge between them, even if only a shaky one.
‘I’m counting on you knowing what’s ahead,’ she said teasingly.
He looked up and smiled at her, and this time there was friendship in his eyes.
‘I know the ways, and the perils,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get you there. So can we call a truce? I’ll try not to be sarcastic if you’ll stop being so aloof.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ she said with a grin.
After Fort Laramie the going got even harder, rocks caught at the wagon wheels, threatening to turn them over, the dust blew worse than ever and it grew hotter day by day. For days on end there was no water or feed for the animals, and at night when the campfires were lit there was no singing or dancing, just the sound of children crying and laboured breathing from the oxen and horses. The fruit trees were wilting through lack of water, and Matilda found herself dreaming constantly of a hot bath, of starched white sheets on a comfortable bed and cool breezes.
Sometimes they only made around eight miles in a day because the going was so rough. Matilda mostly walked with the lead oxen, leading them, for though it was tiring and hard on her feet, it was better than being constantly thrown around up on the wagon.
Indians came more often now, and presents had to be brought out and laid on a blanket for their inspection before they’d let them move on. The scouts reported war parties further north which made everyone nervous. Two more children died, one of the Mormon women gave birth to a little boy, a man with four children died from a snake bite, and several oxen had to be shot because they were too weak to continue.
Overcome by the heat, Matilda finally dug out another dress, the blue and white one Lily had given her back in London. She had to take the skirt apart to use some of the material to make the bodice larger, and she hoped she wouldn’t get very much bigger because nothing else she had would adapt at all.
They were moving into the Black Hills now, and Matilda discovered why the Captain had said she would need friends when her axle broke on a rock. It was all very well knowing the theory of how to change it, but it needed strong men to lift the wagon and fit the spare one.
But people were kind, four men came forward without her even asking, and one of their women took the opportunity to offer her an old dress she’d worn in her last pregnancy. Matilda had to unbend, she made them tea and gave them all the biscuits she’d made the night before.
The day after the broken axle they made camp that night at Willow Springs where there was pasture for the animals. As several of the children on the train were sick, Captain Russell said they would lay up there a whole day to rest which would give the men a chance to go hunting for badly needed fresh meat.
Matilda woke very early the following morning and crept out of the wagon to watch the sun rise. Everyone else was still asleep, the sound of gentle snoring was coming from every direction, even Treacle didn’t move from his position under the wagon.
The sky was still very dark, just a pink and yellow glow in the east, and it was deliciously cool. Matilda reached back into the wagon for a towel, thinking that perhaps she could take the opportunity to bathe in the stream, and when her hand touched the gun, she took that too, just in case there were snakes.
As she passed by the ashes from last night’s fire in the middle of the circle of wagons, she could feel a little warmth coming from them still, and it reminded her oddly of mornings in New York when she would creep downstairs at dawn to coax the stove into life again and enjoy the tranquillity of being alone while everyone else still slept.
She tiptoed through the wagons on the stream side of the circle, stopping as she saw elk drinking on the far bank, less than forty yards from her. Not wishing to frighten them, she shrank back against a wagon to watch. She had seen these large deer before on the trail, but only at a distance, and she hadn’t known that they were even taller than her and that their antlers were so huge. For a moment she just watched, awed by their beauty, expecting that they would sense her presence any moment and run, but perhaps the wind was in the wrong direction because they didn’t even lift their heads from the water.
Suddenly she remembered Captain Russell’s words last night about the desperate need for the men to go hunting. Hunting parties had not been very successful up till now, for the men on the train were mainly farmers, and few could shoot straight. The thought of killing one of these magnificent animals was abhorrent, but there were many sick children on the train, and Tabitha had informed her she thought many of the families had no food left at all, indeed she’d even suggested giving away the last of their hoarded bacon.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered as she lifted her gun to her shoulder. ‘I wouldn’t kill you if we didn’t need food so badly.’ She got the largest one in her sights and fired.
He staggered for a moment as the rest of the herd scattered, then he fell heavily to the ground.
All at once the whole camp awoke, dogs barked, horses whinnied, men came leaping out of wagons and from under them, mostly wearing only their underwear.
‘Is it Indians?’ someone shouted, and with that, before Matilda had a chance to move or speak, Captain Russell was striding bare-chested through the circle, a pistol in his hand.
‘It’s nothing to worry about,’ Matilda called out. ‘I just shot an elk.’
Later, as she told Tabitha how it all came about, they both laughed at the thought of Captain Russell rushing out imagining Indians were about to attack and finding Matilda in her white night-gown, clutching a rifle. But at the moment he came towards her she wanted to hide herself from him and all the other male eyes on her.
The Captain splashed through the stream and bent over the elk to check it.
‘Where in tarnation did an English woman learn to shoot like that?’ he called back.
Matilda ran away then, back to the wagon to dress herself. She had a strong feeling she would be the sole subject of today’s gossip.
At noon Matilda was sitting in the shade of the wagon making some alterations to the dress she’d been given, enjoying the peace which had fallen over the camp in the last hour. Earlier it had been a scene of frantic activity, women washing clothes, airing bedding, children shouting to one another as they fetched water, men hammering and banging as they repaired rock damage to their wagons. Some had taken off their wagon wheels to leave them to soak in the stream, for the dry heat shrank the timber, and if left, it could cause the iron rims to fall off. But it was quiet now, most people resting under the trees by the creek, and there were delicious smells of meat stewing slowly on the many camp stoves.
Tabitha came running back with Treacle and the pair of them flopped down on the ground beside Matilda, panting with the heat. Tabitha’s sun-bonnet was dripping wet, just a few days ago one of the scouts told her he kept cool by soaking his hat in water and she’d copied him. Matilda thought it might work with a leather hat, but not with a cotton bonnet.
‘Everyone’s talking about you down by the creek,’ Tabitha said excitedly. ‘Mrs Jacobson, she’s the one with nine children, said I ought to be real proud of you.’
‘I don’t really know if you should be, Tabby,’ Matilda replied with a smile. ‘I thought it was an awful shame to kill such
a noble creature.’
‘No one else feels that way.’ Tabitha grinned. ‘Lots of the other people had nothing to eat. Mrs Jacobson said her children went to bed hungry last night, and if the men didn’t get something today she didn’t know what she was going to do. One of the men said he reckoned they could have been out all day hunting and still come back with nothing.’
Matilda rolled her eyes, she hadn’t shot the elk with the intention of saving the men from doing their duty as providers.
‘I bet they aren’t helping their women instead,’ she said dryly. ‘Lazy devils!’
‘No, they’re all talking about you and wondering how an English lady learned to handle a gun like that,’ Tabitha said gleefully. ‘But I stopped to speak to Mrs Donnier, she’s the one whose children are sick. She was making some broth for them with the meat, she said she hoped it might make them better. I told her you knew a whole lot about sick children too, and she asked if you’d come and take a look at them and see if you know what’s wrong with them.’
Matilda had been quite enjoying her new-found fame, but at that she turned to the child in horror. ‘Oh Tabby, I can’t do that,’ she said. ‘They might have something catching.’
Tabitha looked stunned. ‘You sound like Mama,’ she said accusingly. ‘She was always scared of catching things. I thought you were braver.’
That retort was like having a mug of cold water thrown over Matilda. For not only did she realize how selfish and uncaring she must have sounded, but suddenly after so long she actually understood the primitive instinct behind Lily’s fear of disease.
‘Your mother, my girl, had a great deal of courage,’ she said sharply. ‘If she was afraid of disease it wasn’t for herself, but you. I can see that now because I don’t want to take any risks that might harm you, the baby inside me, or myself for that matter, because I’m the one who has to look out for us.’
‘But Mrs Donnier looks so tired and worried,’ Tabitha said, her dark eyes welling with tears. ‘No one else is helping her, and I was so sure you would.’
Never Look Back Page 42
