A Dream Unfolding (27 page)

The five days of travel between Fort Union and Santa Fe left Hannah thankful they finally arrived in the small city.
 
Weary from weeks of nightmares, she longed for a respite from traveling.
 
The sense of foreboding stayed with Hannah ever since Mr. Richmond’s story of the beheaded Indian woman.
 
Then, when General Carleton mentioned the savage attacks of the Apaches at supper earlier in the week, Hannah grew even more fearful.
 
She could not shake the feeling that something catastrophic was going to happen.

Why did they ever leave a safe and peaceful home?
 
Thomas.
 
Oh, if only he had not robbed that bank.
 
Hannah would be safe and happy back in Ohio, working by Drew’s side in his clinic.

No, instead, she travelled uncivilized lands—under the constant threat of attack from wild animals or wild men.
 
Starvation, something she had not thought possible until passing through Trinidad, piled on to her lengthening list of fears.
 
What of the Confederate troops rumored in the western territories?
 
Would they pose a threat to her?

She longed for Drew to change his mind about settling in La Paz.
 
She would much rather settle in Granite Creek.
 
The governor’s men seemed to think that was where the capital would locate.
 
Betty and Paul would be there.
 
She did not want to live in some booming mine town with only one hope for an industry.
 
She wanted to live somewhere that would thrive and grow.
 
And feel like home.

Hannah shifted in the wagon seat, scolding herself for such sorrowful thoughts.
 
Glancing at Drew, he seemed oblivious to her darkened mood.

As they wound down the mountain into the valley of Santa Fe, Hannah pushed her fear aside for the time being.
 
Despite the dangers and fears of this journey, Hannah never tired of the varied landscapes and structures.
 
As they neared town, she counted at least six tall churches, all magnificent in size and with noticeable crosses on their rectangular spires.
 
They weren’t really spires, not like the churches back home.
 
They were more like towers.
 
The light color of the church exteriors provided a stark contrast against the bright blue sky.
 
Numerous flat roofed adobe houses littered the streets.
 
Unlike the plank wood houses from back home, these were made with bricks of straw and mud.
 
None stood more than one level.
 
Several houses left their doors propped open.
 
When Hannah looked inside, those houses were packed with a large number of people sitting on the floor.
 
She wondered if the houses were typically so full.

As the wagon train continued through town, many of the freighters headed directly for the town plaza, presumably the center of commerce.
 
This was their final destination culminating in the sale of all their wares and goods.

The wagon train camped on the western outskirts of town close to the river.
 
Tonight, they would make supper and chat around the campfire.
 
Then tomorrow the routine of camp would begin again with laundry and such.
 
Not waiting for Drew’s assistance, Hannah jumped down from the wagon eager to be free from the wretched seat.
 
Stretching her arms high over her head, she tried to work out the stiffness of muscles long inactive.

Some days the endless journey really chafed her nerves.
 
They left Cincinnati over two months ago.
 
They covered only a few more miles in the last two months as what they covered by steamboat in just those first few days.
 
Wagon travel was indeed agonizingly slow.
 
Hannah hoped they would not be delayed in Santa Fe for too long.
 
She was more than ready to settle in her new home even if it might be teeming with Apaches.

She rooted through the crate where she kept their pans and utensils for cooking on the trail.
 
While she had other items stowed for when they finally found a home, she kept things simple like Betty showed her.
 
Tonight they had fresh beef provided by some generous locals.
 
She savored the long forgotten aroma of beef steaks sizzling in the pan.
 
While she enjoyed the venison, buffalo, and other game eaten along the way, there was nothing like the familiar flavor of beef.
 
Feeling ambitious, Hannah decided to mix up some biscuits and gravy.
 
Perhaps keeping her hands busy would help her forget her fears.

“Smells delicious,” Drew said as he came up behind her and put his arms around her.
 
When was the last time he did that?
 
Was it in Ohio?
 
She leaned back against his chest, missing his nearness.

He kissed her neck and lightening shot through her limbs, improving her mood.
 
Drew settled his chin on her shoulder still holding her close.
 
Oh she longed for the privacy to succumb to the thoughts running through her head.
 
Instead, she pulled away, aware of the constant watch of their fellow travelers.
 
Kissing Drew on the cheek she shooed him away, but not before she caught his roguish grin.

In addition to her fears and the overwhelming length of the journey, the complete lack of privacy vexed her.
 
The prying eyes of their companions never closed.
 
Since they camped with the wagons providing a perimeter around the people, every conversation and action was scrutinized—and often whispered around the circle.
 
Intimacy between a husband and wife seemed impossible.
 
She wondered if any of the other married couples found it difficult, although there were very few couples in their wagon train.

Grumbling to herself, Hannah dished up the completed meal, the earlier embrace of her husband forgotten.
 
Sitting near Betty and Paul, the foursome bowed their heads for Paul’s blessing before eating the mouth-watering beef.

“Have either of you,” Betty asked addressing Drew and Paul, “heard how long we will remain in Santa Fe before moving on our way?”

They both shook their heads.

“I’m not certain how much farther we have to go before we get to the Arizona Territory either,” Paul said.

“Do you think there is any possibility we might be there by Christmas?” Hannah asked, hopefully.

“Not sure.
 
I’m certain the wagon master will be around in the next day or so to give us an update.
 
We should be here for at least a few days,” Drew answered.

Hannah ate the rest of her food in silence as Drew and Paul speculated about their arrival date.

By the time they finished their meal, fast-paced rambunctious music filled the air.
 
Hannah found herself tapping her foot to the beat as she sat around the fire with her husband and friends.
 
Lieutenant Harrison joined them shortly after sunset.

Drew asked, “Where is that music coming from?”

Lieutenant Harrison replied, “The locals have a custom they call a
fandango
, or dance.
 
Almost nightly, they gather at a
sala
, or dancing hall.”
 
He pointed towards the building nearby as several uniformed men ducked inside.
 
“It is a relatively harmless form of entertainment.”

“Come on,” Drew said, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he grasped Hannah’s hand.
 
They followed the growing throng of travelers pouring into the
sala
.

Contrary to her husband’s sense of adventure, Hannah felt more concerned than excited as they entered the long and narrow building.
 
The room was lined with benches along every wall, except for the far side along one of the narrow walls where the stage held musicians.
 
Velvety fabric covered the walls up to the top of Drew’s head.
 
Candles, ornate iron crucifixes, and gold framed pictures of saints adorned the walls.
 
The bare dirt floor whirled dust around her ankles as the dancers waltzed down the center of the hall.
 

Drew led her to one of the benches on the long side of the
sala
, where she watched the diverse group of people gathering in the room.
 
Men and women from every race and station of life participated.
 
The dancers lined up, men on one side and women on the other.
 
One, obviously wealthy, woman was dressed in a flowing lavender silk gown with large gold necklaces decorating her neck.
 
She wore enough rings for every finger on her hands; each ring contained some sort of precious ruby, diamond, or emerald.
 
In her hair was the most exquisite pearl comb.
 
This woman partnered with a short local Mexican dressed in an open cotton shirt and leather trousers.
 
His bare feet further contrasted the difference in class and clothing.
 
Every dancing couple was similarly mismatched, such as the army officer paired with an old peasant woman.

The music was different from what Hannah remembered at the old barn dances and socials back home.
 
A lively short and stout man on the stage picked out an energetic tune on a small
guitarra
.
 
The
tombé
, a small drum, provided the steady beat.
 
The fiddler was very tall and thin, with short, dark black hair slicked back from his brown skin.
 
A thick black moustache hid his upper lip and wide dark eyebrows provided a strong line above his dark brown eyes.
 
The ruffles on his sleeves bounced in time with each lively stroke of the bow against the fiddle strings.

The energy of this odd collection of people became contagious.
 
More Americans joined in the revelry.
 
The wagon master picked a lovely Mexican gal with a
cigarritos
dangling from her brightly painted lips.
 
Most of the local men held a cigar or drink in one hand and a dance partner in the other.
 
Even more scandalous were the local women, many smoking
cigarritos
or gulping their champagne.
 
After a few waltzes, the far end of the dance floor became obscured from the smoke and the dust kicked up by dancing.

Despite the unusual pairing of couples, everyone seemed well behaved.
 
There seemed to be a general understanding and respect among the participants.
 
The dancers kept arms and hands to appropriate places.
 
Hannah overheard Lieutenant Harrison say that the
fandango
was simply meant to be entertaining.
 
Most attendees only wanted to dance.
 
Even the children joined in the fun.
 
One adorable little girl, not more than six or seven years old, with dark curly tresses danced with the priest.

Turning towards Drew, she tried not to breathe too deeply of the dust and smoke.
 
He bobbed his hand up and down against his leg keeping beat with the drum.
 
When he looked at her, his eyes shimmered, free from the worried look he carried since they started west.
 
She smiled.
 
He nodded his head towards her, causing her focus to shift forward again.

A young boy of ten or so, stopped in front of her.
 
He held out his hand towards Hannah, indicating he wanted to dance.
 
She grew nervous, uncertain as to whether or not it would be considered proper.

“You should dance with him,” Lieutenant Harrison said, sitting next to Drew.
 
“It is considered impolite to refuse anyone requesting a dance.”

Hannah glanced at Drew almost seeking permission.
 
With a smile on his face, Drew nodded, giving her the courage to proceed.
 
She was quickly swept into the crowd of dancers whirling about the dance floor.
 
The music was jovial and one could not keep from becoming festive.
 
As the song concluded, the young boy, with a huge grin on his face mumbled “gracias
señora
” before running off the dance floor into the haze.
 

Hannah looked around frantically searching for Drew.
 
She lost sight of him during the dance.
 
Dancers moved about her, one pair bumped into her nearly knocking her on the ground.
 
Suddenly the weariness of the journey hit her and her eyes began to water.

Chapter
14