by Rita Hestand
Everyone stopped dancing to hear the romantic story of the young soldier and the Indian maiden. The women were very quiet, as they weren't sure what to make of it.
But the young soldier did not deny it and wished to marry the Chief's daughter.
"Considering the circumstances, and if the chief approves, then we should proceed with the wedding tomorrow."
The next day the wedding ceremony began as the chief's daughter was brought to the fort. She was dressed in a beautiful white buckskin dress, with many beads and feathers and smiled when she saw her young soldier again. Most of the women of the fort had never seen an Indian woman before and all of them remarked of her beautiful hair and eyes. She was young, and love shone in her eyes for the light-haired soldier.
"Are you sure about this son?" The Captain asked before he joined his sweetheart.
"Yes sir. I love her." The young man replied.
The young man was one of Quirt's raw recruits and although he was surprised, he was pleased the young man was so willing to do right by the girl.
"How long have you known her?" The Captain asked as the Indian party arrived.
"Since last winter when she came to the fort to beg for food for her people."
The Captain looked dismayed. Quirt wondered why, as this was long before the Confederates came.
"She carries my child, sir. I love her beyond words. We must marry." The young soldier insisted.
He said it lowly so not everyone in the room would hear.
"Then let's proceed, son." The Captain nodded.
The ceremony was long and beautiful, and when it was over, he wrapped a large blanket around them both, the taking the blanket he spread it over the horse he brought for her and they rode out of the camp.
Jennifer stood watching with fascination.
"That was beautiful," she cried. "I've never seen anything like it in my life."
Quirt heard her and joined her side. "Yes, it was."
"I've never seen an Indian ceremony." She told him.
"Neither have I. At least not a wedding. I've been present at a war dance before, but that's another story." He smiled. "It is rare that something like this happens. But I'm glad you ladies were able to see it. It gives you a glimpse of their life. And the fact that love transcends all peoples."
Victoria came to stand beside them staring after the couple as he walked beside her on the horse.
"I must say, I respect him for being so truthful. Do you think they will be happy?" Sylvia asked.
Quirt smiled. "From the looks of them, yes."
"But she's Indian?" Victoria objected. "It isn't done in civilized communities, you know!"
"Obviously he sees her not as an Indian but as a woman." Quirt smiled and walked off.
Victoria stared after him, "Sometimes I don't know what to think of Quirt."
Jennifer smiled but said nothing. She understood what Quirt was saying, in fact, she agreed with him. Funny, she hadn't known the man long, but she felt a gentle bond growing between them, but she wondered if that was her imagination or not. Had she been too bold to answer his kiss? She wasn't sure, but she didn’t care, she enjoyed it. It had been a long time since a man had paid her court.
They found out that the old chief loved whiskey, but he told them that it rendered his young warriors as fools.
News came that Colonel V.D. Reeve, surrendered to Colonel Earl Van Dorn on May 9, and Fort Davis was quiet, only talking among themselves about it. The Surgeon Peters and his wife had been captured and were soon paroled due to ill health.
Quirt stood looking out over the horizon one afternoon, entranced.
"Something on your mind?" Jennifer came to stand beside him.
"When some of the officers took off for San Antonio, they were captured, and jailed. The war as began, without declaring it. I wonder how long this land will be peaceful."
"It's hard to believe they would make war with someone who hadn't begun to fight yet. It's rather unfair."
"No, there's no going back… that's what I'm afraid of. When it's all over, what will be left of the peaceful lands here?"
"I wish Washington had worked harder to negotiate." Jennifer said lowly.
"The bible says there will be wars and rumors of wars…"
"I know, but it's little comfort."
"I guess, I gotta leave in the morning, taking a small troop to that last wagon train that came through."
"Oh, well, be careful... " She smiled.
He came to stand in front of her, "I will."
"What are you staring at?" she asked breathlessly because he was so close.
His eyes went over her slowly, deliberately, intimately from her head to her toes.
"You… " he said simply.
Then he walked away, with a smile on his face.
When the news came of their commander being captured, it put a damper on the spirits of the raw recruits that were left behind, but the Confederate soldiers rejoiced in their victory. It was a strain to not show emotion because it could get someone thrown in jail.
On the fourth of July, some of the soldiers got permission to celebrate and use the company howitzer. However, one of the Confederates hadn't elevated the piece enough and it struck the cliff above and it ricocheted down the mountain straight at the gun. One of the raw recruits saw what they had done and ran to report it.
"Did it do any damage?" One of the officers demanded to know.
"Yes, sir, it exploded at the foot of the mountain. He cut his fuse too long."
"Good heavens man. How could he be so foolish, someone could have been killed."
"Yes sir." The recruit left smiling. "Have you been drinking young man?"
"Yes sir, just two, sir." He answered.
"I suppose blowing off some steam helps the morale, to some extent, excused."
Lt. Colonel Baylor reinforced McAllister's troops with Company D, on his way to seize Ft. Filmore, forty miles north of El Paso. Baylor didn't stay though he left an English Captain Walker to command Ft. Davis. Baylor's main objective was New Mexico Territory.
Walker was English and not used to the more western ways.
But even Walker didn't remain at Ft. Davis but followed Baylor to Ft. Filmore where they had a quick victory.
In the end, only twenty Confederate soldiers remained at Ft. Davis. Baylor did realize that the Indians would take the advantage at Ft. Davis, so he arranged a temporary peace with Chief Nicolas, agreeing to send food to the Indian camp in exchange for a peace. But the Chief escaped, and the peace was short lived.
Quirt was angry at Baylor's failed attempt to achieve a peace.
He knew they'd be attacking the fort now.
First the Indians began raiding the homesteaders and stagecoaches. They hit a settler Patrick Murphy's place, killing and stealing over fifty head of animals, owned by Murphy.
Lt. Mays along with Company D, Second Texas Mounted Rifles and a posse of settlers including Murphy took off after them, Quirt leading with Mays.
Quirt realized quickly that Mays intended to follow them no matter how far, even into the Big Ben country, and decided to return to the fort as it might need protection while they were gone. Mays agreed to let him go back as he had in his own mind a good size army with him.
By now most of Quirt's raw recruits had joined the Confederates and became part of their troops. Quirt was anxious to get back. Later a Mexican guide by the name of Fernandez stumbled back to Ft. Davis to tell them it had been a trap and that Mays, and his men were being massacred.
Lt. White, and Captain Adams from Ft. Stockton took up the pursuit sending nineteen recruits from Ft. Davis, with Fernandez guiding them back to the site of the skirmish. Adams group nearly ran out of water, but White's group found the site, only there were no survivors.
When Baylor realized the forts weren't well occupied, he ordered Adams to remain at Ft. Davis, keeping the road to El Paso open so supplies could go out to New Mexico territory.
For a while, there
was some peace, but the tensions began to rise as to Yankee infiltration and Indian raids. At no point was Ft. Davis ready to receive such a war.
The women tried to keep a routine going, cooking and cleaning for the men. Mending clothes, doing laundry.
But one day Victoria Fontane got her back up and approached the officer in charge.
"I am sorry to break in on your duties sir, but I wish to know what you plan to do about us." She had busted in on a meeting of officers and the Captain was shocked at her actions.
"Do about whom, madam?" Adams the commanding officer asked.
"We came to claim our dead and take them home. Is there any way we can do that? We do not wish to take up residence here at this fort for the entire war, sir."
"Madam," Adams ordered the officers out and then stared at her with an arrogant brow, "we are fighting a war here, between the Indians and the Yankees, there is no way we can permit you leaving this fort. You have all been of great service to us and we appreciate your predicament, but there is no way I can allow you to travel, especially with such cargo at this time. We have no time to dig up graves and find transport, hell woman, we do good to keep food on the table, don't you realize that?"
Victoria raised herself to try to match the man in front of her. He was quite handsome, but right now she couldn't see that, she was much too angry.
"We know we are in your way, and we certainly don't wish to be. But we cannot remain here forever." She insisted.
"You can and will until such time we can provide you an escort back to where you came."
"But…"
"I am extremely sorry this has happened. Washington of all places should have known this wouldn't work out. I cannot help you at this time. But I think to keep the spirits of everyone concerned up you need to head up an entertainment committee."
"Entertainment? Are you mad? There is a war on."
"Precisely, and nothing keeps a man's spirit up better than music and dancing with pretty ladies. It you would be so bold as to head up this committee, it would greatly be appreciated."
"You're serious?"
"I certainly am."
Victoria gasped aloud. "Well, I guess it would keep the men happier. Alright, I'll do it."
She marched out of his office in a huff. Several of the women tried to calm her down, but she was distraught at his lack of concern for the war.
She wrung her hands. "I've always been told that the south had manners, but to dance and have music during a war, seems ridiculous."
Chapter Twelve
Captain Adams had been right though. Weekly dances and entertainment at evening meals did make the men less restless and able to handle the stress of the war they might soon face. The men seemed to enjoy having music and dancing, and they had to admit the food had improved since the women took over the cooking.
It was the first of June and Jennifer and her friend, Essie had gotten up early, put on a stew to simmer and done their wash.
As they were hanging their clothes on the line out back, Jennifer stared at the young widow for a moment. "Essie how long has it been?"
"What?" Essie jerked around to look at her. "What are you talking about?"
"How long has it been since your Luther died?"
Essie nearly dropped the tablecloth she was about to pin up on the line. "Two years." She mumbled.
Jennifer nodded. "And in all that time you've not been courted?"
"No ma'am." Essie said too quickly. "Why do you ask?"
"Because you are young, and very pretty and I can't imagine you not having a lot of young men wanting to court you. Your still young enough to have a family, Essie. Don't you want a family?"
"Of course, I do. Luther and I often talked of having a family. But, do you think two years is long enough to mourn my Luther?" she asked a bit shocked at the suggestion.
"I think it's long enough, especially for a young woman your age." Jennifer smiled sympathetically. "Your still in the prime of life and could find another to go on with your life, don't you think?"
"Maybe, but every time I think so, I feel guilty." Essie admitted. "I've tried, I guess maybe the time wasn't right. At the dances, the men all ask me to dance, but I just couldn't."
"Corporal Riley sure gives you the eye."
"But he's a rebel!" Essie cried out as though she had given him some serious thought.
"Down here in Texas, that seems almost irrelevant, don't you think?" Jennifer cried. "Most of the troops here now will be rebels. It could last a long time. And we aren't going anywhere, it looks like."
"Maybe. But my folks would never approve." Essie shook her head.
"Essie," Jennifer stopped pinning wet clothes and turned to look at her seriously. "Look, we may be stuck here a long while. We must make a life for ourselves no matter where we are. Are you going home to live with your folks when you leave here?" Jennifer asked.
"Well, I guess I will. I don't know."
"You have every right to make a life for yourself, and it doesn't matter if it's with a rebel, or not." Jennifer encouraged.
"My parents would die. I'm from Maryland. Where are you from?"
"New York. But that doesn't seem to matter right now. How old are you Essie?"
"Twenty-two."
"That means you’re a grown woman now. We're in Texas and we won't see as much fighting as some states. But we are among rebels. Still, as a woman you need to let down those defenses, as your parents aren't here to judge you. I've come to realize we might be here a long time, years even, if this war drags on." Jennifer told her.
"Years?" Essie's blue eyes filled with shock "Do you really think it will be that long?"
"Honey, I don't know. But it's possible. This war will last longer than most think, I'm sure of that. We must think about it, about our futures. Our lives are changing every day because of the war. We have no control over that. We are stuck here, and we have to live."
"I hadn't thought about the war much. It seems women are so far removed from it. Especially up north." Essie murmured as though mulling it over in her head.
"Maybe you should think about it. We don't know what our future holds. None of us know exactly what will happen, either." Jennifer smiled at her.
"You're a Yankee, how do you feel about being stuck down here among all these rebels?" Essie challenged.
"I don't consider myself a Yankee for one thing. Nor a southerner either. Tell me, did your family have slaves?" Jennifer asked.
"No ma'am, they did not. I don't believe in slavery. They are people, just like us, they just happen to have a different skin color."
"Exactly." Jennifer smiled.
"My family would never approve of me marrying a rebel, never! Why, they almost as soon I marry a Negro."
"Then you may be lonely for a long while, Essie. That is if you let their opinions hold you back. Here they are either rebels or Texans."
"What's the difference?"
"I'm not sure yet, but I am learning that there is a difference." Jennifer told her. "Do you like Corporal Riley?"
"I don't know him. I mean, not really. I think he's very good looking."
"He was one of Quirt's men, when we came. He was one of the men who dug the ditches for us to sleep in. He's very nice. But consider this, your family is a long way away and it could be a long time before you even see them again. And Corporal Riley is good looking, and quite a gentleman. I've seen the way he stares at you from a distance, he's interested."
Essie stared at her. "He is, isn't he. Still, there would be a lot of differences."
"Would there, he's a man, and you’re a woman."
Then they both burst out laughing.
Jennifer was about to pick her basket up and go back inside when she saw a movement in the woods beyond the yard.
"Essie?" She whispered.
Essie glanced at her curiously.
"Something moved along those tree lines out there." Jennifer muttered lowly.
"Are you sure, where?" Essie glance
d around, as her eyes widened in fear.
"Just beyond those trees." Jennifer whispered.
"Should we tell someone?"
"No, but come with me," Jennifer directed her, taking her hand and pulling a revolver out of her pocket with the other hand.
"You have a gun?" Essie shrieked.
"Yeah, Quirt told me I might need one. He gave it to me since he won't be at the fort a lot."
"He likes you, doesn't he?"
"I don't know, maybe. Let's be very quiet…" Jennifer whispered as they neared the trees.
They walked on past the tree line and suddenly they saw him. A man lying in the brush, a black man.
"Lord almighty!" Essie cried out. "He's certainly a big man."
"Hush," Jennifer whispered as she approached the man. She slipped her gun back in her pocket. His shirt was torn in the back with dried blood all over it, and Jennifer saw the whip marks. He had passed out.
"W-what are we going to do about him?" Essie whispered now.
"We can't leave him here, and we can't turn him over to the soldiers. He's probably a runaway slave. They'd take him back to where he came from or hang him one."
Essie's head whipped about to stare into Jennifer's eyes.
"What do you mean? How do you know?"
"I mean, he's a runaway slave, Essie, see those whip marks on his back. We can't just hand him over to the officers, they are rebels," Jennifer stared at her. "They will take him back to his owner or imprison him here. Or worse. We have to hide him, Essie."
"Hide him? Forever more. We'll get in trouble, won't we?"
"Not if we keep our mouths shut." Jennifer told her.
Essie stared once more, now she was visibly trembling. "I guess you're right. But where are we going to hide him?"
"There's an old butchering shed across the creek, it isn't used anymore, it leaks rain, Quirt told me about it once. We can take him there."
"But how will he eat?"
"We'll just have to sneak him food until he gets well enough to travel."
"This is dangerous, isn't it?" Essie murmured. "Don't you think someone is bound to notice us going out all the time?"