“We’ve seen some smoke to the northwest,” said Colonel Dotson. “Thin line.”
“We have?” Christine looked at him. “That’s news to me.”
“We didn’t want to worry you women. I sent Chessor out to investigate right after all that rain, but any sign of a trail got washed out. We’ve not seen any smoke since. More than likely it was just a lone rider.”
Still . . . the mood of the entire train turned sober. Josephine didn’t sing. The children didn’t play hide-and-seek. Couples didn’t stroll down to the water and back. And Hoke hardly slept. He watched the stallion during the day to see if he pricked his ears, and he watched Rascal at night, believing the dog would wake him if he heard anything out of the ordinary.
June 28, 1866
A few days ago we passed a station formerly used by the Pony Express, now abandoned, new telegraph poles strung overhead. It’s so vast and lonely out here it is hard to imagine there are settlements at the end of those poles.
I continue to waver between confidence and trepidation as we draw nearer our answers, Mimi. It feels like the skies are brooding in the distance.
They rode into Fort Laramie on June 29, weary and grateful to be near fortified walls.
By the time most settlers arrived at Laramie, the romance of the adventure had long worn off. They’d experienced storms, rivers, sleeplessness, sameness of diet, monotony of landscape, and death.
Sometimes settlers got to Laramie and decided to turn around and go home. Several families on the Dotson train thought about it: Sam and Audrey Beckett with their new baby; the Kensington sisters, who had both been ill with mountain fever; Nichodemus and Nora Jasper, who had inherited several hundred dollars found in the Vandergelden wagon along with a stockpile of whiskey; and Abigail Baldwyn, who was getting colder and colder feet with every step that took her closer to Fort Hall.
All of these people and more considered turning back. But in the end, every family decided to keep moving forward.
Within moments of their arrival at Fort Laramie, a tall soldier walked up to the Baldwyn wagons.
“Mrs. Robert Baldwyn?” he asked.
Abigail held her breath.
“Letter for you, ma’am.” He handed her a thick letter addressed in Mimi’s handwriting.
“Charlie! Corrine! Jacob! Lina!” The children came running.
“Is it from Pa?” asked Charlie.
“No. Mimi.”
Charlie looked disappointed but Corrine said, “Quick, open it!”
Abigail’s hands were shaking so violently she couldn’t untie the string. Corrine took it. “Here, let me.”
May 21, 1866
Dear Mrs. Abigail,
How I hope this letter finds you and the children well. So much has happened since you left. First, Annie B recovered. We all thought she was going to die from whatever it was ailed her, but just when it seemed all was lost, she recovered.
There is a small community of Negroes here and we have formed a church. I surely did enjoy going to that Presbyterian church with you in Marston, but it was nothing like the joy I get worshipping here. The men pitched in and built a simple building. It is only one room with an open back door and side windows to let the breeze flow. The walls cannot contain the singing.
And the cooking! We bring food every Sunday and have a feast like you can’t imagine. I am going to feel bad writing this if you and my babies have been suffering for food. I pray that is not so.
Corrine stopped and looked at the others.
“What I wouldn’t give for Mimi’s cooking right now,” said Jacob.
“The letter, Corrine!” Abigail urged her.
If you’ll just pour your love into the food like I do, you’ll be fine. Same way you pour your love into the fabric when you’re working it into a pretty garment. It will put health on my babies’ bones, so promise me you’ll try.
Corrine raised her eyebrows at Abigail just like Mimi used to do. They all laughed.
“I’m trying, aren’t I?” said Abigail. “Now keep reading.”
Your father is growing meaner, I do believe. He never was a mean man before the war but some men need a woman to make them tame.
Corrine raised her eyebrows again.
I know you probably think what do I know about it, but surprise, surprise. I have done married, Mrs. Abigail!
Corrine’s jaw dropped. Lina put her hand over her mouth.
“It does not say that.” Abigail snatched the letter. “Oh my word, it does say that.”
“My heart got swelled,” said Lina. Charlie picked her up as Abigail finished reading out loud.
And guess who? The preacher of our new congregation. He never was a slave, but is a free man from upstate New York who came to Tennessee to especially encourage his brothers and sisters as they are figuring out what they want for their lives.
Just think, if Annie B hadn’t fallen ill, I would have gone to Independence with you and missed meeting my Thomas. He is a good man, Mrs. Abigail.
Abigail stopped reading for a minute, her throat growing tight.
I know you would approve of him. Even though our courtship was short, the Lord, He whispered in my ear that it was the right thing to do.
Abigail stopped reading again, her throat threatening now to close.
You know I listen when the Lord talks, and now He has gone and taken care of me. He is going to . . .
This time when Abigail stopped reading, Corrine smiled and took the letter from her hands to finish.
He is going to take care of you, too. (I know, because He whispered it in my ear.) And I understand why you sent me my freedom papers. Don’t think I don’t appreciate it. But my love to you was always free. You need to know that.
Abigail pinched the bridge of her nose as Corrine continued reading.
Thad and Mrs. Sue Anne had their new baby, right on the heels of the other one. They named him Seth Robert and wanted you to know. Your father has not rejected him. We all take this as a good sign.
My love and hugs to the children. I have enclosed a letter for each of them. I wrote Lina’s in big letters because I know she is still learning.
Corrine handed out the letters and gave the first one back to Abigail.
Signed, Mrs. Thomas Hargrove (but you can still call me Mimi).
Abigail was so happy to have heard from Mimi that when the soldiers threw a dance in their train’s honor later that evening, she wore her blue dress. Corrine didn’t say a word about it.
The waist piece was fashioned like a corset worn over a white blouse. A dyed blue string laced up the front and the bottom of the Swiss waist dipped to a low V, pointing down to a wide flounced skirt. It wasn’t on a hoop but still swung slow and wide, thanks to the stiffness of an underskirt of crinoline.
The dress sent quite a buzz through the soldier ranks.
Hoke was standing beside Lieutenant Coatman and several other men when she came into the fort’s dining hall. The lieutenant turned to him. “Did someone tell me she was married?”
“I don’t know, did they?” Hoke didn’t like for so many men to be following her with their eyes. “You know any of the men at Fort Hall?”
Coatman’s eyes lingered on her. “A few. What’s his name?”
Hoke didn’t like where Coatman’s eyes were concentrating.
“Baldwyn,” he said flatly.
Coatman nodded, his eyes never leaving Abigail. “Yeah. He’s been here.”
Hoke’s eyes bored through him. “Robert Baldwyn?”
“Yeah.” Coatman frowned up at Hoke, then looked back at Abigail. “Lucky man.”
A hard blow to Hoke’s stomach couldn’t have hurt more. In spite of all evidence that seemed to prove the man’s existence, he had not wanted to believe him real.
“When was he here last?” Hoke asked.
“Month and a half ago, maybe?” Coatman crossed his arms. “Never said a word about his wife coming.”
When another soldier came over to ask the li
eutenant a question, Hoke stepped to the wall opposite Abigail Baldwyn.
He was just breathing normally again when Irene approached him. “You’ve never asked me to dance, Hoke Mathews, and I’m starting to get my feelings hurt.”
“We can’t have that.” He bowed. “Miss McConnelly, shall we?”
She smiled. “It’s actually Mrs. Stinson, but I was married such a short time everybody still thinks of me as Irene McConnelly.”
“Begging your pardon then, Mrs. Stinson.” He led her onto the dance floor.
“You know, you’re hard to read,” she said.
“How’s that?”
“You don’t talk much. Mr. Parker, now, he is very sociable.”
“Would you like me to get him for you?”
“No!” She held tight to Hoke’s arm.
Hoke did not place his hand low on her back nor lay her hand on his chest like he had with Abigail Baldwyn. He refused to look over Irene’s head at Abigail but knew when she passed on the dance floor. He seemed always to be aware of her movements, as if she held him by a string.
Colonel Dotson soon cut in to dance with Irene. She watched Hoke move away with a sharp crease in her forehead.
Hoke asked Christine Dotson to dance next, then Josephine, Melinda, Caroline Atwood, who looked extra pretty in a yellow gingham frock, and finally Ingrid Schroeder. He moved with little feeling. His heart belonged to the woman in blue . . . and she could never be his.
He watched her dance with several of the soldiers . . . like a rich sapphire floating in a sea of tarnished brass. What could he ever have offered her? He was an orphan who came from nothing and had amounted to little more than nothing.
The soldiers had their own musicians, which freed up James, Alec, and Nichodemus to enjoy the dance. As soon as Corrine had entered the room, James had waltzed over, taken her arm, and led her to the dance floor. Corrine wore a floor-length dress for the first time and had put up her hair, aging five years in an hour.
Her cheeks flushed and she said, “Are you asking me to dance, Mr. Parker?”
“Nope.” He put his arm around her waist.
“Isn’t this dancing?”
“It is. But I didn’t ask.”
She stopped and stood still. “A gentleman ought to ask.”
“Miss Baldwyn? May I have the pleasure?” When she started to dance again he said, “I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to give you a chance to say no. Now, if you’re holdin’ a dance card, I imagine it’s goin’ to fill up once I let you go. You just make sure you leave the last spot open for me.” He winked. “I want to be the first and last man you dance with tonight.”
Corrine didn’t say she would or she wouldn’t, but a soft blush stole into her cheeks.
The evening was nearing its end when Alec Douglas asked if he could play one more.
“I feel so inspired by that blue dress Mrs. Abigail is wearin’ that I wanted to play one o’ the Douglas clan’s favorite Scottish ballads, ‘Blue Bell of Scotland.’ It was our mother’s favorite. It’s Paddy’s favorite, too. Right, Paddy?”
Paddy nodded shyly and looked down at Carson, the raccoon riding as usual in the sling inside Paddy’s vest.
“Baird, ye have to sing it with me,” said Alec. “Big an’ loud now.”
Ah! where and ah! where is your highland laddie gone?
Ah! where and ah! where is your highland laddie gone?
He’s gone across the ocean in search of wealth to roam
and ’tis oh! in my heart I wish him safe at home.
He’s gone across the ocean in search of wealth to roam
and ’tis oh! in my heart I wish him safe at home.
Abigail had never heard the song before. She was struck by how parts of it were a reflection of her own story. How many times had her heart wished for Robert to be safely home?
Oh! where and oh! where does your highland laddie dwell?
Oh! where and oh! where does your highland laddie dwell?
Why had Robert chosen to dwell in Idaho Territory when his family waited for him in Tennessee?
His bonnet’s of the faxon green, his waistcoat’s of the plad,
Robert had always looked good in green. Was that why she’d made Hoke a green shirt? Had she wondered if he’d look as good as Robert in it?
Suppose and suppose your highland lad should die?
Suppose and suppose your highland lad should die?
The bagpipe should play over him I’d sit me down and cry
And ’tis oh! in my heart I hope he may not die.
The bagpipe should play over him I’d sit me down and cry
And ’tis oh! in my heart I hope he may not die.
Abigail had been convinced that Robert had died. She’d grieved. Then the news had come that he was alive. She should have been happy. Was she happy? How could she be when she didn’t know if he loved her . . . or wanted her . . . anymore?
By the song’s end nearly everyone was staring at Abigail. She looked so self-conscious and miserable that Hoke’s heart went out to her. He decided he would ask her to dance, after all, just to get her moving out of the eye of the room. But as he started across the floor a soldier cut him off. “I heard that pretty lady in the blue dress was Cap’n Baldwyn’s wife. Is that true?”
Hoke stopped. “Why? Do you know him?”
“Yeah. I’ve had dealings with him.”
“What kind of dealings?”
“Not overly pleasant ones. He came here to restock on guns not long ago, but we were low ourselves. He wasn’t none too happy about it. I can’t believe he’s got an upscale wife like that.”
“Why not?”
“Don’t get me wrong, he’s kind of a dandy, but men don’t hold him in very high regard.”
“Why? What sort of man is he?”
“Struts like a banty rooster. Carries a fancy hilt sword. Acts like he’s better than anybody else.”
“Does he have reason to be arrogant?”
The soldier raked back over Abigail with his eyes. “I didn’t think he did, but . . . maybe I’d be arrogant, too, if I had that to come home to.”
But the man didn’t go home to her, thought Hoke.
Seeing the way this man looked at Abigail and thinking of the bad spot Baldwyn had put her in lit Hoke’s ire so bad it was all he could do not to grab the lusty-eyed soldier by the neck and pin him to the wall.
He inwardly swore, then turned and left the room.
As he left he heard someone propose they all sing “My Country, ’Tis of Thee,” as the Fourth of July was only days away.
Rascal, who was lying near the porch steps, jumped up as Hoke came out the door. Nick and Nora were outside, selling whiskey to the soldiers. When Hoke stormed by, they tried to hide what they were doing, knowing the colonel wouldn’t approve and thinking Hoke wouldn’t, either. But in his current mood he was glad to happen on them.
He took a bottle from Nick’s hand as he passed, then walked out of hearing distance, away from the lights, and stared off into the darkness. Rascal sat at his feet, watching him expectantly.
When Rascal’s head swung back toward the mess hall, Hoke whipped around, the Colt in his hand. He saw Abigail walking away carrying a sleeping Lina, the child’s head on her shoulder.
Had Abigail been coming out to see him? Why had she stopped? Should he go after her? Why would he? What did he have to say? I hear your husband is alive and that he’s a disrespected blaggard.
Hoke holstered the gun and took another swig.
CHAPTER 21
Bugs crawling in the sugar sack
When Abigail got back to her wagon, she laid Lina down and peeled off the blue dress. She had worn it because she’d wanted him to see her in it.
Last time he had danced only with her; this time he’d danced with everyone but her.
Abigail hadn’t seen when Hoke left the dance, but she had felt it. A cold breeze had swept in and swirled around her . . . the fool in the blue dress.
&nb
sp; The Douglas boys hadn’t meant to wound her by drawing attention to her—they didn’t know the state of her heart. Mimi’s letter had caused it to swell. Then the sight of Hoke dancing with Irene, and later, an awkward conversation with Lieutenant Coatman, had jerked her heart first one way then another. Now it was sore and raw.
What did she care if Hoke danced with Irene? And what did she care if he drank whiskey in the moonlight? What was any of that to her?
And so what if Lieutenant Coatman had given her a strange look when he said as she was leaving the dance with Lina, “I’ve met your husband.”
She had stopped, surprised. “You have? How is he?”
“Opinionated. And stubborn.”
While those were qualities she remembered, Abigail had expected Coatman to say something nice. She waited for him to laugh and follow up with a compliment—perhaps about Robert’s attention to detail, his sense of fairness, his strong intelligence and competence. But that was all Coatman had to say before he smiled wanly and left the dining hall, renewing Abigail’s fears that Robert had changed.
Leaving Independence Page 20