At that season, we got excellent wild turkeys there, and good
Southdown mutton, and one could not complain of such living.
But I could never get accustomed to the wretched small space of
one room and a hall; for the kitchen, being detached, could
scarcely be counted in. I had been born and brought up in a
spacious house, with plenty of bedrooms, closets, and an immense
old-time garret. The forlorn makeshifts for closets, and the
absence of all conveniences, annoyed me and added much to the
difficulties of my situation. Added to this, I soon discovered
that my husband had a penchant for buying and collecting things
which seemed utterly worthless to me, and only added to the
number of articles to be handled and packed away. I begged him to
refrain, and to remember that he was married, and that we had not
the money to spend in such ways. He really did try to improve,
and denied himself the taking of many an alluring share in
raffles for old saddles, pistols, guns, and cow-boy's stuff,
which were always being held at the cutler's store.
But an auction of condemned hospital stores was too much for him,
and he came in triumphantly one day, bringing a box of
antiquated dentist's instruments in his hand.
"Good gracious!" I cried, "what can you ever do with those
forceps?"
"Oh! they are splendid," he said, "and they will come in mighty
handy some time."
I saw that he loved tools and instruments, and I reflected, why
not? There are lots of things I have a passion for, and love,
just as he loves those things and I shall never say any more
about it. "Only," I added, aloud, "do not expect me to pack up
such trash when we come to move; you will have to look out for it
yourself."
So with that spiteful remark from me, the episode of the forceps
was ended, for the time at least.
As the winter came on, the isolation of the place had a rather
depressing effect upon us all. The officers were engaged in their
various duties: drill, courts-martial, instruction, and other
military occupations. They found some diversion at "the store,"
where the ranchmen assembled and told frontier stories and played
exciting games of poker. Jack's duties as commissary officer kept
him much away from me, and I was very lonely.
The mail was brought in twice a week by a soldier on horseback.
When he failed to come in at the usual time, much anxiety was
manifested, and I learned that only a short time before, one of
the mail-carriers had been killed by Indians and the mail
destroyed. I did not wonder that on mail-day everybody came out
in front of the quarters and asked: "Is the mail-carrier in?" And
nothing much was done or thought of on that day, until we saw him
come jogging in, the mail-bag tied behind his saddle.
