by Zina Abbott
Embarrassed that she had been caught staring, Penelope turned her head slightly so that she faced the inside of the coach. She sought to focus on a spot between the catty-corner passenger and the thin older man who sat in the center of the bench next to him. She pressed her body against the bench back in an effort to hide her profile behind the narrow strip of wood on the side of the coach between the rear wall and the window.
“What’s the hold-up? The ambulance we were waiting on is now here, so we ought to be able to get going?”
Blinking, Penelope turned to the man on the opposite side of her bench who spoke. She glanced toward the other wagon in time to see the officer who had been sitting in the ambulance now climbing out of the back. Refusing to be caught spying on him, she allowed her gaze to scan the faces of her fellow travelers.
Mr. Tucker leaned forward and muttered an expletive. Then he nodded toward Penelope, an expression of apology on his face. “Sorry, ma’am, but it seems he’s coming to the stagecoach. I hope he doesn’t plan to chew the fat with the driver while we sit here like sardines in a can and rusticate.”
“Nope! I don’t think he intends to talk to the driver.”
Wide-eyed, Penelope stared at Mr. Keller across from her.
Mr. Keller turned his gaze from watching something outside the coach until it met hers. “I suspect, by the manner in which he’s got his eyes focused on your window, ma’am, that he intends to speak with you.”
Penelope failed to keep the squeak out of her voice. “Me? Why would someone with the Army want to talk to me?” She leaned away from the window and turned her face to the left to look at the officer standing outside. His form blocked the sun and cast a shadow on her and Jeremy.
The soldier, his hat now in place on his head, stood ramrod straight as, with a stern expression, he glanced at Jeremy before he focused his gaze on her. “Excuse me, ma’am. Capt. Marcus Garrett, at your service. Forgive me for asking, but where do you think you are going?”
Penelope straightened on the bench and blinked several times before she looked down at Jeremy, who, lips parted, stared at the man outside the stagecoach. Who does he think he is? She forced a smile as she turned her head and met the officer’s gaze. “Good afternoon, Captain. I’m traveling west. I don’t believe my final destination is any of your concern.”
“I disagree. This is Indian country, ma’am, and more than one tribe has been overly active all year. If the truth be known, it’s not safe for anyone to travel this route at this time, but especially not a woman and her child. Perhaps in six or seven weeks, when most of the natives will tend to settle down in their winter camps—”
“I cannot wait that long, Captain. I am on my way to meet my future husband. He has assured me the location where I will make my new home with him is safe.”
“And where, again, did you say you plan to meet with him? Denver? Yes, it is safe there. However, there is a lot of Indian country between here and there.”
“Not Denver. Pond Creek, on the outskirts of Fort Wallace. From his letter, I understand he has a business next to the fort.”
The captain’s forehead wrinkled as he looked off to the side. “I’ve heard of Pond Creek. Fort Wallace was set up to protect the Pond Creek Station from attacks by hostiles. I wasn’t aware a town started building up around it. The soldiers get most of what they want from either the commissary or the sutler.”
“A lot of civilian contractors helping to build the fort have settled around Pond Creek, Captain.”
Penelope glanced at Mr. Tucker. She returned her gaze to the captain and shot an eyebrow upward. “You’re offering me unsolicited advice, yet you are not familiar with the area?” I’m sorely vexed with everyone telling me what to do.
“No. I’m a post surgeon attached to Fort Larned, which is situated next to the Santa Fe Trail. I came up to Fort Hays temporarily because, of all of the forts, it seemed to be hit the hardest with cholera a couple of months back.” He stretched his neck forward. “However, I do know that Fort Wallace bears the brunt of dealing with the attacks by tribes against the stagecoach lines and the few settlers brave enough to try to homestead land close by. I seriously urge you to discontinue your journey and go back to your home.”
At his allegations of frequent Indian activity where she was going, Penelope suppressed the shudder that rippled through her shoulders. As for returning home, there was no longer a home to which she could go. She steeled her facial expression. “The Fort Wallace area will be my home, Captain. There might be conflicts with the natives in places along this road, but my future husband has assured me of the safety and suitability of living in Pond Creek next to the fort.” She waved her hand to indicate her fellow travelers. “As for the journey there, between giving me personal advice and telling me how to care for my own child, these gentlemen have proven themselves quite capable without your added input.” She ignored the throat-clearing and shoulder-shifting of the men inside the coach. Determined to have her say, she forged on. “If trouble does arise before we reach Pond Creek Station, I trust them to see to the safety of the stagecoach and us passengers. Until I find a more compelling reason to turn back, I will continue my journey.”
As he continued to stare at her, the captain shook his head. “You are one stubborn woman.”
Penelope lifted her chin. “I prefer to consider myself as being determined to achieve my goal, Captain. I suspect, if I was a man, you also would be more likely to consider me the same, instead of viewing me as a stubborn female.”
“No, ma’am. I consider anyone who insists on traveling this route at this time as being stubborn.” The captain glanced at the men inside the coach. “That includes your traveling companions. Some might make the journey because they deem themselves the adventurous sort. However, considering the increased resistance by hostile natives to any whites in this region, I think anyone choosing to travel across this section of country before winter comes when the Natives hole up somewhere must have a death wish.”
Penelope felt a chill of fear travel down her spine. She refused to forfeit her plans and become stranded in an unknown frontier town with no prospects for where she might live or how she might provide for herself and Jeremy. “Yet, here you are, Captain, making this same journey. I appreciate your concern and your warning. As entertaining as my fellow passengers might find this discourse, I believe we would all appreciate starting our travel toward the next station.” She leaned back, turned her gaze from the imposing sight of the blue wool coat with its brass buttons only a few feet from her face, and stared forward.
“Madam, unless you have an arsenal of weapons on your person, at least sit in the center, please.”
Wide-eyed, Penelope jerked her gaze back to meet that of the captain.
Capt. Garrett huffed out a breath. “To use their firearms effectively, these men will need free access to the windows. Please sit in the center of the bench. At the first sign of trouble, get yourself and your child beneath a bench.” He turned and strode toward the rear of the ambulance.
Her lips pursed, Penelope leaned forward and watched the man climb into the other wagon and resume his seat, his head facing forward. The nerve of that man!
The gentleman sitting next to her—the one man among her fellow passengers who had not repeatedly offered her warnings or advice about what she should do or think—cleared his throat.
“Alonzo Pierce, at your service, ma’am. Would you like to change seats now?”
Penelope continued to stare out of the window several seconds, this time without seeing anything. She had jealously clung to the forward-facing seat next to the window. Not only did Jeremy, on occasion, find something he saw outside entertaining, but due to the sway of the coach body on its leather slings, she sometimes found herself fighting against motion sickness. The air movement against her face helped. She sighed in resignation and then turned to her seatmate with a smile. “I believe that would be wise, Mr. Pierce. Thank you.”
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Chapter 5
~o0o~
Hays City to Downer Station, Kansas
October 2-3, 1867
O nce they reached the Downer stagecoach station, Penelope felt bedraggled and hungrier than she had been for some time.
She expected to stop at Big Creek Station, the station about ten miles west of Hays City. She understood that normally, that was a place the coach often stopped for a late supper, passengers could spend the night, and new drivers and messengers took over the stagecoach the following morning. However, between the shifting of the End of Track for the railroad to Wilson’s Station and the insistence from Capt. Garrett regarding reaching wounded soldiers farther west, they had stopped at Big Creek for a quick meal—if one considered a couple of biscuits stuff with ham a meal—and, with new drivers, they continued driving long after dark.
Travel was much slower with only lanterns to illuminate the road once the moon went down, but they continued until they reached Stormy Hollow Station and pulled inside the sod stables. Since the station was not set up to assist travelers, other than the messenger using the lantern to guide her and Jeremy to the necessary, they had been forced to stay with the coach.
Attempting to sleep on the stagecoach bench and being awakened more than once by the snores and grunts of fellow passengers—not to mention, the shaking of the coach any time someone either in the coach or on the roof moved—left her exhausted. Fortunately, the man to the right and the former catty-corner passenger opted to take their weapons and blankets to sleep on the ground outside. Covering herself with her cloak she kept under her seat for an emergency blanket, she spent the remainder of the night leaning against the vacated side of the coach.
For most of the night, Jeremy slept on his blanket on the floor under the center bench.
At first light, with no refreshment offered except coffee—which Penelope declined rather than sip out of a community cup—the stock tenders hitched a new team to the coach and the caravan of stagecoach, ambulance, and military escort traveled the remaining twenty-one miles to Downer Station.
Penelope waited until all the men traveling with her left the coach. With enough space to move without jostling her fellow passengers, she stood and turned halfway around before sitting on the center bench. Facing the back bench, she leaned over and drew out her carpetbag. She took a mental inventory as she searched through it.
Did she have enough diapers to keep Jeremy covered for two more days? She had counted on being able to, at the least, rinse several out and hang them to dry when they stopped at a station overnight. Unfortunately, by traveling with an escort that included a post surgeon intent on reaching injured men, it had not been possible.
Mr. Pierce held out his hand. “May I help you out, Mrs. Humphry?”
Penelope looked up into the kindly gaze of the man with whom she had changed seats. “Thank you, Mr. Pierce. I’m just checking my supply of clean clothes for my son.” She bit the side of her lower lip. “I don’t have many dry diapers left.” She accepted the man’s outstretched hand and left the wagon.
“You won’t have time to wash them here.”
“I know. Even if I could rinse them and then hang them somewhere on the coach to dry, it would help.” She sighed as she rubbed her forehead. “I know that’s impossible.” She turned around and grabbed Jeremy, who stood at the edge of the coach floor. Wearing a smile, she faced Mr. Pierce once more. “My cousin traveled by stagecoach with a baby only two months old the first time, and then again about two months later. She said she shook out damp diapers and held them outside the window to dry in the breeze caused by the moving coach. I don’t think that would work for me, especially with it being so dusty this time of year.”
“Ma’am, maybe if they’re just damp, we can rig something up inside the boot. Most of us are traveling pretty light, and there’s room for three or four of them to hang from the top down. I’ll talk to the messenger, see what we can do.”
“Thank you, Mr. Pierce. That would be greatly appreciated. I’ll get a few rinsed out.” She felt Jeremy’s hand tugging at her gown.
“Eat, Ma!”
“Yes, Jerry, we’ll find something for you to eat. Ma has a can of your milk.” She picked him up, and with Jeremy riding on her hip, she muttered under her breath as she reached for her carpetbag. “Hopefully, the station will sell mush or flapjacks.”
The station did not have much, but the stationmaster did manage to provide flapjacks at an exorbitant price. While waiting for the food, she learned that, in addition to the soldiers assigned as escort to the stagecoach and ambulance, four additional soldiers were assigned to the Downer Stagecoach station. The uneasy suspicion that Capt. Garrett might be correct about the presence of hostilities along the stagecoach line prompted Penelope to avoid making eye contact with the soldiers and to focus on caring for Jeremy.
Penelope listened as the man running Downer station regaled the male passengers of the difficulties his station recently endured.
“This is a home station, yessiree. Had my wife here ’til May. After we got hit so bad in April, even with Colonel Custer sending out the soldiers, I sent her back east. Custer, he and the 7th Cav, they kept going after them Injuns. But them Cheyenne, they’re wily as can be—he never did catch them, nosiree. Not sure how long I’ll be staying here. Depends on if them Injuns settle down or keep going on like they’ve been.”
The man’s enthusiastic storytelling to a mostly appreciative audience struck her as sensationalism. Penelope refused to react and give him the attention she guessed he craved. Two more days. I surely can survive two more days of this, and then I can reach a more civilized place and settle in to my new home and family.
While sitting at the table feeding Jeremy, Penelope cringed with the sense that someone watched her. She glanced up and discovered the captain, his arms folded, staring at her.
The captain walked over until he stood next to her and leaned over. “Do you believe me now, ma’am? The stationmaster just confirmed how active the natives have been in this part of the country. As of last May, Custer ordered a non-commissioned officer and three privates to stay at each stagecoach station between here and Fort Wallace. I’ve got men at Fort Monument to tend to who were injured fighting off a Cheyenne attack. Is that not a compelling enough reason for you to turn back?”
Penelope offered the man a glacial scowl before she turned and smiled at Jeremy while holding a cup of milk to his lips. She kept her tone upbeat, as if she were talking to her son. However, her words were intended for the captain. “There is no home for me to return to. Besides, Captain, I would guess it would take just as long to travel back the way I came than if I continue forward. From all you’ve said, I would be in just as much danger. I still choose to believe in my future husband’s assurances that Pond Creek is safe.”
“And I still believe your best course of action is to turn around and find a new home away from the frontier.”
As Penelope felt the heat radiating from the Captain’s body while he leaned over her depart from her back, her hand holding Jeremy’s cup for his milk stilled. She listened to his footsteps retreat across the room. I am sick unto death with people telling me what to do.
“Potty, Ma!”
“One moment, Jerry.” Penelope suppressed a grumble as she rummaged around in his carpetbag until she found the glass jar she managed to rinse out at Downer Station. She poured the remaining milk from his cup inside and reached for the can still half-full of condensed milk. As much as she did not look forward to taking care of her son’s call of nature, she knew it was best that it happen here at the station rather than while they were traveling.
“Ma! Need potty.”
With the room quiet except for a few soft chuckles, Penelope knew all present had heard and found her son’s demand humorous. She clamped her lips tight to suppress her sigh of frustration while she rummaged for the cloth-wrapped, child-sized chamber pot inside her carpetbag
. Grabbing Jeremy with one arm around his chest, she rose from the table to head for the door leading outside.
The stationmaster, evidently finished entertaining his guests, met her halfway across the room. “You don’t want to take the boy outside, ma’am. I don’t keep my room as neat and tidy like my wife did, but you’re welcome to use it. There’ll be fewer distractions for him in there.” He showed her to the room.
Penelope smiled her appreciation. She found a wooden bench on which to sit the enameled tin container. After placing the bench against the wall, she sat Jeremy on the pot. She positioned her body close enough to his face to block his gaze from finding any more distractions than necessary. She softly spoke a continual stream of chatter to help him relax. It took several minutes, but Jeremy finally produced. Using a rag she kept stuffed inside the small pot for just such a purpose, she wiped him before she pinned on his diaper. Then, with her one arm around Jeremy, and the potty covered with the cloth in the opposite hand, she exited the bedroom and started toward the door leading outside.
Once in the station yard, she discovered the driver already in the driver’s box, most of the passengers in the stagecoach, the soldiers mounted, and the ones riding in the ambulance already on the benches—all except for the captain, who stood a few feet from the door with his arms folded.
Alonzo Pierce rushed to meet her. “I’ll take the young’un while you finish up, ma’am.”
Feeling the tension leave her shoulders, Penelope smiled and handed over Jeremy. She ignored the captain as she finished her tasks. After tossing the contents of the pot into the necessary, she rinsed it out and then rinsed out the cloth she had used on Jeremy’s bottom. She wished she had thought to bring her bar of soap with her. Tucking everything back together, she returned to the station for her carpetbag. She placed the jar of milk and the cloth-wrapped potty on opposite sides of the carpetbag.