That Describes The Man Who Rode Rollo First - And No Wonder The
Spirited, High-Strung Colt Was Suspicious Of Saddles, Men, And Things.
I Watched The Man As He Rode Away.
His horse was going at a furious
gallop, with ears turned back, as if expecting whip or spur any
Instant, and the man sat far over on one side, that leg quite straight
as though he was standing in the long stirrup, and the other was
resting far up on the saddle - which was of the heavy Mexican make,
with enormous flaps, and high, round pommel in front. I am most
thankful that Rollo has gone beyond that man's reach, as everything
about him told of cruelty to horses.
Yet, Mrs. Ames seemed such a cold woman - so incapable of understanding
or appreciating the affection of a dumb animal. During the years we
owned Rollo he was struck with the whip only once - the time I wanted
him to run down a wolf up the river.
The Great Northern Railroad runs very near Fort Shaw now - about twenty
miles, I think - and, that will make it convenient for the moving of
the regiment, and all of us, in fact. We will go to St. Paul on the
special train with the regiment, for Faye will not be relieved as
adjutant until he reaches Fort Snelling, where we will remain for a
day or two. It will be a sad trip for me, for I love the West and life
at a Western post, and the vanities of city life do not seem
attractive to me - and I shall miss my army friends, too!
Perhaps it is a small matter to mention, but since I have been with
the Army I have ridden twenty-two horses that had never been ridden by
a woman before! As I still recollect the gait and disposition of each
horse, it seems of some consequence to me, for unbroken as some were,
I was never unseated - not once!
THE PAXTON HOTEL, OMAHA, NEBRASKA,
August, 1888.
ALMOST five weeks have passed since we left dear Fort Shaw! During
that time we have become more or less accustomed to the restrictions
of a small city, but I fancy that I am not the only one of the party
from Montana who sometimes sighs for the Rocky Mountains and the old
garrison life. Here we are not of the Army - neither are we citizens.
General and Mrs. Bourke are still dazzled by the brilliancy of the new
silver star on the general's shoulder straps, and can still smile.
Faye says very little, but I know that he often frets over his present
monotonous duties and yearns for the regiment, his duties as adjutant
of the regiment, the parades, drills, and outdoor life generally, that
make life so pleasant at a frontier post.
Department Headquarters is in a government building down by the river,
and the offices are most cheerless. All the officers wear civilian
clothes, and there is not one scrap of uniform to be seen any
place - nothing whatever to tell one "who is who," from the department
commander down to Delaney, the old Irish messenger! Each one sits at
his desk and busies himself over the many neatly tied packages of
official papers upon it, and tries to make the world believe that he
is happy - but there are confidential talks, when it is admitted that
life is dreary - the regiment the only place for an energetic officer,
and so on. Yet not one of those officers could be induced to give up
his detail, for it is always such a compliment to be selected from the
many for duty at headquarters. Faye and Lieutenant Travis are on the
general's personal staff, the others belong to the department. Just
now, Faye is away with the department commander, who is making an
official tour of inspection through his new department, which is
large, and includes some fine posts. It is known as "The Department of
the Platte."
Everyone has been most hospitable - particularly the army people at
Fort Omaha - a post just beyond the city limits. Mrs. Wheeler, wife of
the colonel in command, gave a dancing reception very soon after we
got here, and an elegant dinner a little later on - both for the new
brigadier general and his staff. Mrs. Foster, the handsome wife of the
lieutenant colonel, gave a beautiful luncheon, and the officers of the
regiment gave a dance that was pleasant. But their orchestra is far
from being as fine as ours. In the city there have been afternoon and
evening receptions, and several luncheons, the most charming luncheon
of all having been the one given by my friend, Mrs. Schuyler, at the
Union Club. One afternoon each week the club rooms are at the disposal
of the wives of its members, and so popular is this way of
entertaining, the rooms are usually engaged weeks in advance. The
service is really perfect, and the rooms airy and delightfully
cool - and cool rooms are great treasures in this hot place.
The heat has been almost unbearable to us from the mountains, and one
morning I nearly collapsed while having things "fitted" in the stuffy
rooms of a dressmaker. Many of these nouveaux riches dress elegantly,
and their jewels are splendid. All the women here have such white
skins, and by comparison I must look like a Mexican, my face is so
brown from years of exposure to dry, burning winds. Of course there
has been much shopping to do, and for a time it was so confusing - to
have to select things from a counter, with a shop girl staring at me,
or perhaps insisting upon my purchasing articles I did not want. For
years we had shopped from catalogues, and it was a nice quiet way,
too. Parasols have bothered me. I would forget to open them in the
street, and would invariably leave them in the stores when shopping,
and then have to go about looking them up.
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