Wildon walked out the main gate and looked down the road into the distance. He stared through the dancing heat haze for long minutes before walking back into the shade provided by the post stables.
The young lieutenant was waiting for the arrival of the stagecoach on which his wife and her two servants were riding. Although there was no town near Fort MacNeil, it was located on the stage line between Red River Station and Dallas. The company that ran the transportation service was under contract to carry mail and passengers for the army.
The four soldiers who had been detailed to help with the luggage lounged nearby, glad for the opportunity to get away from the drill for the morning. Trooper Gus Dortmann and his friend Trooper John Jones watched bemused at the young officer’s impatience. “It must be wonderful to be in love,” Dortmann whispered with a wink to Jones.
Jones nodded. He’d served in another regiment under his real name a few years earlier. Kicked out of the army with a bad-conduct “bobtail” discharge, he had reenlisted under a new identity after nearly starving to death in the civilian world. When he’d made his fraudulent second entry in the army, he’d said his name was John Smith. The recruiting sergeant told him that the monthly quota of “John Smiths” had already been used up. Not being too imaginative, Jones then announced his name as John Jones.
Dortmann spat a stream of tobacco juice. “Wait’ll she starts nagging him about his drinking,” he said. “The lieutenant will be trying to get her to go back East.”
“Aw,” Jones said. “The kid don’t drink hardly at all. I know that for a fact.”
“Give him another coupla years out here,” Dortmann said. “He’ll be a John Barleycorn officer for sure.” He pointed at Wildon going back for another look. “Yeah, he’s impatient all right. We’ve been waiting for two hours now.”
“So what?” Jones asked. “It sure beats hell out of drill call or stable call, don’t it?” He pointed over at the other two soldiers napping by the stable. “They sure ain’t complaining.”
“Dortmann!” Wildon’s voice interrupted the conversation.
“Yes, sir?”
“Here comes the stagecoach. Get the men out here.”
“Yes, sir!” Dortmann walked over and gave the sleeping troopers a couple of light kicks. “C’mon. It’s time to tote for the new officer’s lady.”
The two troopers, yawning and stretching, got to their feet. Both were young, in their late teens. “I didn’t join the army to carry folks’ luggage,” the one named Rampey said.
“Me either,” his companion Mauson added with an undisguised tone of resentment in his voice.
Dortmann sneered. “What the hell did you ’list up for? To fight Injuns?”
“Yeah!” Rampey said in youthful defiance.
“Well, you got in the wrong regiment, boys. There ain’t a riled-up redskin closer’n Fort Sill,” Jones said.
“And even if there was hostiles, you’d still be toting for the officers,” Dortmann said. “Now let’s go and be nice about it.”
The stage had been so far away when Wildon sighted it that the conveyance didn’t reach them for a half-hour. When it did, the attitude of the driver and guard showed they weren’t planning on tarrying. One tossed down valises from the top of the stage, while the other went around the back to unbuckle the straps on the rear boot. He was a feisty old man with a droopy gray mustache. He glanced over at the soldiers. “Let’s go, soljer boys. We ain’t got all day.”
Dortmann and Jones saw to it that the youngsters were the ones to handle the heavy stuff. Rampey and Mauson walked over and wrestled Hester’s heavy hope chest off the coach.
Meanwhile Wildon held the door and helped Hester down to the road. He had not seen her in months, having only a photograph to remind him of her beauty. She seemed to have grown even lovelier, but he could easily detect her fatigue and irritation despite the smile she gave him.
“Hester, dearest!” he said.
“Oh, Wildon, I’m here at last!” she said almost desperately.
She was followed by Albert and Ethel. Albert, an old family retainer, was scarecrow thin with a hawkish face that also showed the strain of the journey. Ethel, appearing to be on the verge of exhaustion and collapse, lowered herself down from the conveyance and reeled about, hanging onto Wildon for support.
“Master Wildon!” she gasped. “Oh, Master Wildon!”
Albert, stern and tired, merely executed a slight bow. “I shall see to the luggage, sir.”
“Thank you, Albert,” Wildon said. “I have brought four soldiers to help.”
Hester looked over at the men picking up their belongings. They certainly were not like the ones in the garrison detachment she’d seen at West Point. These fellows were unkempt and even a bit surly. The soldiers stationed in the garrison at the military academy had always been lively and eager to please.
Within a few moments, the group trooped through the main gate and across the parade ground toward officers’ row. Wildon braced himself for the inevitable when he reached his quarters. He paused and pushed the door open. “Here we are.”
Albert stepped back a pace. “Is this where Ethel and I are to stay?”
“No,” Wildon answered with a weak grin. “I’ve arranged for a tent to be pitched for you.” He motioned to the soldiers. “Take it all inside, men.” As the soldiers carted the stuff in, the others remained outside.
Hester smiled weakly. “I don’t understand, Wildon. What is this place?”
“It is our home, Hester dear.”
“Wildon, it is made of dirt.”
He nodded. “Yes. Remember my letter? I told you all about it. You said it would be a grand adventure.”
Hester waited for the soldiers to come back outside. Then she entered through the door.
Wildon turned to Dortmann. “Take Albert and Ethel to the tent behind the N.C.O. quarters. Then you can dismiss the men.”
“Yes, sir,” Dortmann said saluting. “C’mon, folks.”
Wildon went inside and found Hester standing in the middle of the room. “Do we live here, Wildon?”
“Yes,” Wildon said. “It’s not much, but we really haven’t had time to purchase the things we need. We have three rooms, Hester. This is the parlor and dining room.”
Hester looked at the table and three mismatched chairs. “All in one room?”
“Yes, dear. The next room is our bedroom.”
When they went into the sleeping quarters, Hester looked at the homemade bed. “Is this all the furniture in here? No bed stands?” She glanced around in a desperate fashion. “No closets! Wildon, there are no closets!”
He pointed to the cupboard covered by a curtain. “That serves as the closet, darling. I can arrange to have another constructed by one of the men. It would be ready in a couple of weeks. The kitchen is through here.” He wanted to keep the tour and led her into a room that was bare except for a cook stove.
“Wildon, the bedroom is between our kitchen and dining room,” Hester pointed out. “The maid will have to walk through our boudoir in order to serve us.”
“Uh, yes, Hester,” Wildon said. “I must tell you about that. There is no domestic help available at the moment.”
“Wildon!”
“There are no nearby towns, Hester,” Wildon explained. “And all of the married enlisted men’s wives are already engaged.”
“We must speak more of this,” Hester said. “Now, the back yard is right out here.”
Hester numbly followed him outside. She looked at the privy and said nothing.
Wildon pointed to the water barrel by the door. “A detail of soldiers comes around regularly and fills it up.” He grinned. “All you can drink.”
“Really, Wildon. I—” Her shriek was so loud it echoed several times off into the empty prairie.
The rattlesnake in the back yard, surprised and angry, coiled up and prepared to defend itself. Wildon pulled her back inside, then retrieved his saber from its sheath on the clothes rack. He went back into the yard. After a few moments, he returned. “They’re a diamondback variety,” he said. “Very similar to our timber rattlers in New York.”
“The snakes in New York do not come up to one’s back door, Wildon,” Hester said. “They wouldn’t dare!”
“Indeed not,” Wildon said. They went back to the living room portion of the small house. “You must realize that these quarters are for second lieutenants. After I am promoted, we shall be able to move into somewhat—” He wanted to use the right words. “—grander quarters, Hester dear.”
Hester sat down in one of the chairs. “How soon, Wildon, will you be advanced?”
“I should make first lieutenant in about ten years.”
“Ten years!”
“How was your trip, Hester?” he asked abruptly, wanting to close that area of conversation.
She gritted her teeth. “It was ghastly. There were ruffians all over the place. Most seemed to find singular delight in tormenting poor Albert.”
“He is a funny old bird,” Wildon pointed out not too wisely. He immediately changed the subject again when he saw her reaction. “I’ve purchased some plates and cups from the sutler’s store. Knives and forks too. They’re not very fancy, but they’ll do nicely until we can get some better things.”
Hester began to weep. Each sob took her deeper into despair until the tears flowed copiously. Wretched, tired, unhappy, and horribly disappointed, she let her trampled emotions pour out without restraint.
Wildon did his best to soothe her jangled feelings. Although awkward and inexperienced at such an undertaking, he succeeded more from Hester’s love for him than from any real comfort he was able to give.
An hour later Albert and Ethel returned from their tent. Their mood had not improved in the slightest. It was easy to tell that it was only with a great effort that they had managed to make themselves available for service that evening. Wildon tried to make light of the situation.
“I’m sorry about the tent,” he said. “But there were absolutely no permanent buildings available as visitors’ quarters.”
Ethel looked around the sod house. “That’s quite all right, Master Wildon. We’ll make do.”
“It’s only for a few days,” Albert said. He closed his eyes as if praying. “Then we shall return to the East.”
“I shall see to dinner,” Ethel said. She glanced around. “The kitchen?”
“Through the bedroom,” Wildon said.
“The bedroom, sir?” Albert asked.
“Yes. But I’m afraid there’s nothing but salt pork and canned peaches. It was all the sutler has had for a while. I do have some coffee purchased from the quartermaster, however.”
It was not necessary for Albert, his nose wrinkling with distaste, to express his feelings. He motioned to Ethel. “Come, my dear.”
Less than a half-hour later, Wildon and Hester sat down to their first meal in the hew house. Served on plain, white platters, the food stood out starkly. Hester didn’t eat much, but Wildon’s appetite was in top form. He took a bite of salt pork and chewed thoughtfully. “You might be interested to know,” he said to Hester, “that we shall be able to buy vegetables from the company garden;”
“Really?” Hester asked in a weak voice.
“Oh, yes. We have one of the soldiers permanently detailed as a gardener,” Wildon said. “It’s very important work. Without it, there would be no greens to eat.”
Hester was in no mood for small talk. “Wildon, without domestic help, we shall have to see to all our needs ourselves, won’t we?”
“Yes, dear,” Wildon said with forced cheerfulness. “But I promise we shall engage a maid as quickly as it is possible to do so.”
“Wildon, I cannot cook,” Hester pointed out.
“Oh, I’m sure you can manage,” Wildon said.
Ethel sucked in her breath, then cleared the table. After being instructed that a washbasin was beside the water barrel, she tended to cleaning the dishes. An hour later, she and Albert took their leave and went back to their tent.
Wildon and Hester settled down in the living room. “So how are your parents?” he asked. “And dear Fionna and Penelope?”
Hester burst into tears again.
The evening was a strained affair filled with disjointed conversation and weeping. When it was time to retire for the night, they went into the bedroom. After changing into their nightclothes, Wildon tenderly embraced her.
“Hester, darling,” he pleaded softly. “Please help me through this. It is as difficult for me as it is for you.”
“I love you, Wildon,” Hester said. “I truly do. Let’s not worry ourselves. No marriage begins smoothly under any circumstances. I think that with a little effort, we can put things right.” She smiled and lifted her face for a kiss. “At least a little better.”
He kissed her. “I’m so happy you are here,” he said.
“I want to be with you, Wildon,” she said. Hester took his hand and they walked to the bed. The young wife leaned over and pulled the covers back.
Her scream was almost as loud as when she saw the snake.
Wildon reached down and batted the scorpion off the sheets and onto the floor. Picking up a boot, he smashed the insect. “Hester, dearest—”
Mutely she turned away and spent the night dozing in one of the chairs.