Finally, the two oldest
Kautz children were sent East to boarding-school, and we also
began to realize that something must be done.
Our surroundings during the early winter, it is true, had been
dreary enough, but as the weather softened a bit and the spring
approached, the post began to wake up.
In the meantime, Cupid had not been idle. It was observed that
Mr. Bingham, our gracious host of the Ninth Cavalry, had fallen
in love with Antoinette, the pretty and attractive daughter of
Captain Lynch of our own regiment, and the post began to be on
the qui vive to see how the affair would end, for nobody expects
to see the course of true love run smooth. In their case,
however, the Fates were kind and in due time the happy engagement
was announced.
We had an excellent amusement hall, with a fine floor for
dancing. The chapel was at one end, and a fairly good stage was
at the other.
Being nearer civilization now, in the state of Nebraska, Uncle
Sam provided us with a chaplain, and a weekly service was held by
the Anglican clergyman - a tall, well-formed man, a scholar and,
as we say, a gentleman. He wore the uniform of the army chaplain,
and as far as looks went could hold his own with any of the
younger officers. And it was a great comfort to the church people
to have this weekly service.
During the rest of the time, the chapel was concealed by heavy
curtains, and the seats turned around facing the stage.
We had a good string orchestra of twenty or more pieces, and as
there were a number of active young bachelors at the post, a
series of weekly dances was inaugurated. Never did I enjoy
dancing more than at this time.
Then Mrs. Kautz, who was a thorough music lover and had a
cultivated taste as well as a trained and exquisite voice, gave
several musicales, for which much preparation was made, and which
were most delightful. These were given at the quarters of General
Kautz, a long, low, rambling one-story house, arranged with that
artistic taste for which Mrs. Kautz was distinguished.
Then came theatricals, all managed by Mrs. Kautz, whose talents
were versatile.
We charged admission, for we needed some more scenery, and the
neighboring frontier town of Valentine came riding and driving
over the prairie and across the old bridge of the Niobrara River,
to see our plays. We had a well-lighted stage. Our methods were
primitive, as there was no gas or electricity there in those
days, but the results were good, and the histrionic ability shown
by some of our young men and women seemed marvellous to us.
I remember especially Bob Emmet's acting, which moved me to
tears, in a most pathetic love scene. I thought, "What has the
stage lost, in this gifted man!"
But he is of a family whose talents are well known, and his
personality, no doubt, added much to his natural ability as an
actor.
Neither the army nor the stage can now claim this brilliant
cavalry officer, as he was induced, by urgent family reasons,
shortly after the period of which I am writing, to resign his
commission and retire to private life, at the very height of his
ambitious career.
And now the summer came on apace. A tennis-court was made, and
added greatly to our amusement. We were in the saddle every day,
and the country around proved very attractive at this season,
both for riding and driving.
But all this gayety did not content me, for the serious question
of education for our children now presented itself; the question
which, sooner or later, presents itself to the minds of all the
parents of army children. It is settled differently by different
people. It had taken a year for us to decide.
I made up my mind that the first thing to be done was to take the
children East and then decide on schools afterwards. So our plans
were completed and the day of departure fixed upon. Jack was to
remain at the Post.
About an hour before I was to leave I saw the members of the
string orchestra filing across the parade ground, coming directly
towards our quarters. My heart began to beat faster, as I
realized that Mrs. Kautz had planned a serenade for me. I felt it
was a great break in my army life, but I did not know I was
leaving the old regiment forever, the regiment with which I had
been associated for so many years. And as I listened to the
beautiful strains of the music I loved so well, my eyes were wet
with tears, and after all the goodbye's were said, to the
officers and their wives, my friends who had shared all our joys
and our sorrows in so many places and under so many conditions, I
ran out to the stable and pressed my cheek against the soft warm
noses of our two saddle horses. I felt that life was over for me,
and nothing but work and care remained. I say I felt all this. It
must have been premonition, for I had no idea that I was leaving
the line of the army forever.
The ambulance was at the door, to take us to Valentine, where I
bade Jack good bye, and took the train for the East. His last
promise was to visit us once a year, or whenever he could get a
leave of absence.
My husband had now worn the single bar on his shoulder-strap for
eleven years or more; before that, the straps of the second
lieutenant had adorned his broad shoulders for a period quite as
long.
