Fort Laramie (4 page)

"Chayton is finishing his certificate in American Indian studies, with a double major in History and Theater. He'll be presenting Northern Plains culture for the tourists this summer."

"Now he's cute," Julie whispered, nudging Carrie's shoulder.

"He looks like trouble," Carrie answered. Chayton had a few tattoos and a scar on his forearm.

Tom McKay continued speaking, ignoring the girls' back-row chatter.

"Finally, Julie Martin will play the blacksmith's wife. She will present civilian life at the fort, while Carrie Carson, who portrays the base commander's wife, will be posted at the Burt House where she will demonstrate spinning and weaving."

Base commander's wife? Carrie sat up straight, her hand shot into the air. "A wife? Why can't we be widows? I didn't sign on to get married this summer."

Some of the boys whistled and joked, offering to take her on as their wife. Tom shushed them. "As I said, she will be the base commander's wife. I am the base commander."

Carrie felt herself shiver. Her grandmother would've said someone had walked across her grave, but Carrie was sure her physical reaction was an intuitive feeling of impending catastrophe. She was just Irish enough to trust her intuition.

"I thought you were the administrator. Why are you playing a role too?"

"Limited funds. I'll be doubling up as administrator and Fort Commander. William Burt was either in charge, or second in command during his tenure at Fort Laramie. I'll be kept pretty busy with running the fort, working with the soldiers, but we may have to work together for a few activities. I trust that won't be an issue?"

Carrie sniffed, feigning an indifferent shrug. "Pretend husband," she muttered. "Don't get any ideas!"

"Of course not." Tom bowed his head briefly in an old-fashioned gesture of respect. "Well, ladies. Let me know if you have any questions between now and then. If I can be of any service, please don't hesitate to ask. Ms. Martin. Ms. Carson."

"Damn!" Carrie said, as soon as she thought he was out of ear shot.

Julie tugged on her arm hard enough to nearly pull it out of socket. "Carrie Anne Carson! Did you lie on your application form?"

"Huh?"

"Did you put down that you know how to spin? My gosh! Why would you do that! Now you have to demonstrate that all summer long - how are you going to pull that off?"

"I've got time to learn," Carrie said. "You know how important this internship was to me! I had to make sure I'd be chosen."

"And what do you think Tom McKay's going to do when he finds out you don't know a thing about spinning?"

"Nothing. Because you're going to help me learn."

"Oh, that's a great plan. I know even less than you do. You're on your own for this one. I bet you would have been chosen even if you hadn't lied, you know. Especially since you think Tom likes you. I just don't know - I don't know what you're going to do now," Julie warned. She tucked her notebook into her backpack and slung it over her shoulders.

"At least I know how to sew," Carrie murmured. "I can adjust our costumes so they fit better."

* * *

The morning finally arrived. Twelve students gathered in the parking lot outside the Humanities building with all their luggage. Tom McKay strutted around with a clipboard and pen, checking things off, going through their luggage and telling them what they could or could not take. He eliminated iPods, iPads, notebook computers, and all sorts of electronic equipment that he deemed unnecessary. They had one van for passengers and one for equipment - space was limited. Most of students grumbled as they handed the forbidden contraband off to a friend or family member to keep for the summer, but it shouldn't have come as a surprise to them. What they were allowed to pack had been clearly listed in the handbook they'd all received at the start of the program.

Carrie hadn't understood Tom's reticence for electronic gadgets at first. Of course, they wouldn't be allowed to listen to their iPods while in costume - but what would it hurt in the evenings, after the fort was closed and they were relaxing back at their campsite? But then Tom had pointed out that the campsite was primitive without electronic hookups. There would be outlets in the bathrooms, but nowhere else.

"What are we gonna do all summer," one boy complained.

"By the time you get back to the campsite, prepare supper and clean up, you'll be ready for sleep," Tom replied.

"Boring," the boy muttered.

Tom just laughed.

Of course, their costumes took up a lot of room! Duffle bags stuffed with woolen army uniforms, gingham dresses with aprons and petticoats, antique props and boxes of camping gear spilled out all over the parking lot. Carrie doubted that it was all going to fit anyway. Maybe they should have shipped half this stuff weeks ago? Still, it was rather impressive watching how Tom got everything sorted and loaded in under an hour's time. If only she were in the market, he was certainly worth considering.

Finally, Tom went around to all the students, letting them draw numbers from a hat. Mindlessly, they followed directions, not even knowing what the numbers were for. Carrie drew 11; Julie got 2. Then Tom opened the side door on the campus van. "Since we're going to be working together all summer, I thought we'd start with assigned seating. It's a fourteen-hour drive. We'll rotate at every gas stop - so you should get a chance to sit next to just about everyone. All aboard!"

The front passenger seat was marked with a number 2. Julie sat up front with Tom, who drove, while Carrie was relegated to the very back of the van, where no air conditioning ever reached, and the shocks were shot, so she felt every bounce and pothole. She was wedged between scrawny Doug Slater, who enjoyed a bad case of gas like a vulgar fourth-grader, and sullen Chayton, the scary senior with tattoos and scars. She crossed her arms, rested her chin on her chest and pretended to sleep, even though it was barely nine o'clock in the morning. If she tried real hard, she could hear Julie's and Tom's voices, engaged in conversation that they were apparently enjoying, if their carefree laughter was any indication. Life just wasn't fair.

Tom was beginning to regret his decision to eliminate all electronic gadgets. The students had bickered and squabbled for eight straight hours. What were they - junior high schoolers? What was wrong with kids these days? He wasn't that much older than them, but he felt ancient. He had never been that foolish. He was the oldest in his family, and became the head of the house at age seventeen when his father passed away. He'd dropped out of football to take an after school job. He'd been too busy for foolishness. Mom insisted that he go to college, but he'd chosen one near enough that he could commute, so he was still around to help out at home.

The exit sign ahead advertised a KOA - saved at last! He flipped on the blinker and sharply cranked the wheel to the right, tossing the passengers into each other.

"Hey," some of them called out.

"Sorry," he muttered, without much conviction.

Adrian, following behind him, laid on the horn as he zipped on past. He hadn't been able to make the abrupt exit. Tom wasn't worried. Adrian had GPS; he could find an alternate route as soon as Tom gave him the address. He slowed to a stop, looking right and left to figure out which direction had the campground. He didn't see another sign, but right looked cluttered with gas-and-go shops, fast food places, and dollar stores. He turned left. A mile and a half later he found the elusive campground. He pulled to the side of the gravel entrance and texted the address to Adrian.

"Why did you get to bring a smartphone, and we couldn't," one student whined.

"Because I'm the administrator," Tom said. That was going to be his pat answer to a thousand questions this summer.

He paid the fee for the night, tucking the receipt into a zippered pocket in his project binder, and minutes later backed into one of the two primitive camping spots he'd reserved. There wasn't much they could do until Adrian joined them - all the tents and camping gear were in his van. One by one the grumpy undergrads piled out of the van, stretching and groaning.

"Now what, Teach?"

"When Adrian arrives, we'll need to pitch our tents. It's much easier to do before dark. For now, take about fifteen minutes to walk around, get the kinks out and use the facilities. Then report back here."

"Aye, aye, Captain," snapped several of the future soldiers, executing sloppy salutes.

Someone bumped into him hard enough that he took an extra step to keep from toppling over. It was Carrie. She stomped on by, not even apologizing for nearly knocking him over. He clenched his teeth. He was not going to make a scene... he was not going to start the summer out by fighting with his future wife! But he wasn't going to put up with much more of her attitude, either.

"She'll settle down," Julie said quietly.

"I don't know what I did to piss her off."

Julie patted his shoulder, but just smiled. Then she trotted after her friend. Tom walked back towards the entrance of the park to wait for Adrian's van.

Ten minutes later his friend arrived, still cussing a blue streak.

"What the hell kind of move was that! You jerk. Not only did I miss the exit, but I nearly clipped your bumper. Give me some kind of warning next time!"

"Sorry," Tom said, climbing in the passenger seat. He pointed in the direction of their campsite. "I'll change places with you in a heartbeat. I'll drive the cargo van and you can ride with the monsters."

Adrian's temper evaporated, which was just like him. Quick to anger, but then just as fast, it was gone. He burst out laughing. "Come on, Captain. They're your troops. You need to be believable as the Army base commander. Have them do forced marches, or drills, or k-p. Find some backbone."

Tom glowered at him. "Shut up."

Adrian laughed harder.

They parked the van in the adjoining campsite. Tom yanked open the back doors and started hauling out the camping gear. Four neat little nylon bags holding four tents, tent poles, tent stakes and directions - but not a single student around to help. He called, but no one came. Still grumbling, he tugged the drawstring to pull the first tent out of its sack.

"Now stop right there," Adrian said, taking the tent from him. He tossed it back onto the ground. "I'm going to give you a few tips, and you're going to thank me.  Let the punishment fit the crime. If they aren't here to set up their tents, then they can sleep on the ground."

"But it will be too hard to do after dark," Tom started.

"Too bad. Let them learn that the hard way. You and I will set up our tents. We will fix our own meal. They can sleep on the damp ground and go to bed hungry. You'll find them a lot more respectful tomorrow."

Tom gave his friend a doubtful look, but with a shrug of his shoulders, he caved. "Fine. Tough love."

Within fifteen minutes they had their small tents pitched over ground tarps, the excess tucked under the bottom of the tent so dew or rainwater wouldn't collect on it. Tom shook charcoal into the grill and lit it. Adrian uncorked two beers.

"I wasn't going to bring any alcohol on this trip," Tom reminded him. Some of the students weren't old enough to drink, and being that this was associated with the school, he couldn't risk any bad publicity.

"You didn't bring it," Adrian said. "I did. And I'll keep it locked up. I'm not going to share it with anyone but you. But it sounds like after the day you've had, you really need it."

Tom wasn't much of a beer drinker, but it was cold. He drank it a bit too fast, and then Adrian handed him another. Adrian took over the dinner preparations, grilling two hamburgers and warming a can of beans. They ate their meal, cleaned up, and were just enjoying nature's evening song around the faint glow of the dying embers before the students stumbled back to camp.

"What's for dinner?" a boy asked.

Tom squinted, trying to make out who it was. Maybe Jimmy. No - Jimmy was the taller boy behind him. That must be Henry. Henry only minored in history. He was an education major. Tom had thought he would be a great addition to the team, as he might help them to relate to school groups better. He had to get Henry's cooperation.

"We already ate," Adrian said smugly.

"Did you eat it all? What are we going to eat?"

"You missed it. You'll make sure not to miss dinner again, won't you." Adrian gave him a friendly shoulder slap. "By the way, have fun setting your tents up in the dark."

"But - but - you can help us," Henry blurted. "We never put it together before."

"Neither have we," Tom said, beginning to enjoy himself for the first time all day. "It comes with directions."

"But it's dark! How can we read it?"

"You'll figure it out. You're a smart college kid, right?"

Tom climbed into his little tent, but he didn't close the flap. He kept a watchful eye on the students, to make sure none of them did something dangerous.

He was pleased to see that the girls didn't struggle too much. They had a flashlight and shone the light over the assembly directions. Before long, working together, they had their tent up and were unrolling their sleeping bags. The boys, on the other hand, had tugged all the poles and stakes from their bags, ignoring the directions, and after much swearing and grumbling, had to give up. They ended up sleeping right on the ground. Late in the night Tom heard them complain about how their sleeping bags were damp. He smiled. Maybe Adrian had been right this time.

Tom was up early. He didn't entirely trust the students not to play some prank on him. He showered and dressed, then started a pot of coffee over his Coleman stove. Did any of the kids drink coffee? He had to remind himself that they were young adults, not children, although their behavior didn't reflect that. Well, if he hadn't made enough, they could buy some by the cup at a quick stop before they got on the road again.

His heart skipped a beat as a certain blonde emerged from her tent. She'd slept in her clothes, thank God. He didn't know how he was going to make it through the summer if she came out of her tent in slinky pajamas. Her hair, always a bit on the wild side, framed her face in a profusion of kinks and curls. He'd love to take a hairbrush to it, to tame it... to tangle his fingers in it. Seeing the ever-present scowl on her pretty features reminded him of other uses for a hairbrush, as well.

"Good morning," he said neutrally.

"Morning," she acknowledged. "I'm starved. Do we get to eat this morning, or do we have to say 'pretty please,'?"

Tom chuckled. "Since you asked nicely, I'll make breakfast today," he said. "Do you drink coffee?"

She nodded, eying him suspiciously.

He poured some into a tin mug, leaving enough room at the top to add cream or sugar. He gestured to a small camp stool where both additions were located, along with stir sticks and napkins weighted down with a smooth stone. Carrie accepted the mug eagerly, wrapping her fingers around it. She inhaled deeply, but just enjoyed the scent while she waited for it to cool to drinking temperature.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

She shrugged. It didn't seem like she was being sullen or rude, but more like she wasn't much of a morning person. He dug in his duffle bag, withdrawing a red and white zippered hoodie with the school's emblem on the front. He offered it to her.

"Thanks," she said. She put it on, pulling up the zipper to her chin. She looked adorable wrapped in his sweatshirt, which was at least three sizes too big for her.

"We can have a campfire in the mornings at Fort Laramie," Tom said. "But I didn't think we'd need one today. I'd like to get on the road soon, and I don't want to leave hot coals behind."

"This is fine," she quietly. "I'm only cold because I'm still a little sleepy. Once I wake up, I'll be fine."

Tom got busy fixing eggs over the little Coleman stove. Before long, he placed a scoop of scrambled eggs on a plate for her, pairing it with a powdered sugar donut. He continued scrambling eggs as more sleepy, grumpy students rejoined the land of the living. It was after ten before their bellies were filled, the dishes washed, and all their used and unused gear was loaded back into the van.

The second day wasn't quite as difficult as the first. The boys were sullen, but less fractious. The girls smirked a bit, lording it over their male counterparts, who had been unable to get a good night's sleep on the cold, damp ground. Tom tried to engage whoever rode up front with him in conversation, but after multiple attempts, he gave up. He found a radio station that played not-too-awful music and drove the remainder of the journey lost in his own thoughts.

It was late afternoon when they arrived at their destination. Fort Laramie didn't look like much at first glance. The ground was mostly barren - few trees to offer shade from the blaring summer sun and the yellowed grass reflected a lack of rain. A few buildings remained from the original fort, and a few had been rebuilt. Gone was the original wooden palisade, and the subsequent adobe walls. The North Platte River marked the eastern boarder of the historic site, while the Laramie river wove lazily through the very heart of the 833-acre park.

He had been here several times already, working with the park's few full-time employees and eager, but aging volunteers. Camping wasn't allowed at the fort itself, but there was a small campground just a few miles away - close enough that the students could walk to and from the fort if they had to. Tom drove across a bridge, behind a historic farm, and pulled into the campground bordering the Laramie River.

"Okay, everybody, we're here," he announced, somewhat anticlimactically.

They spilled from the van, groaning a little as they stretched cramped muscles.

"No one disappears until all the tents are pitched," Tom said sternly. "Henry, Jimmy and Doug - you three are on k-p."

"Huh?"

"Kitchen patrol. You're responsible for cooking dinner tonight."

"Can't we just have cold cuts sandwiches," Henry complained.

"No. We've had that for lunch two days in a row," Tom reminded him. "And we'll probably have it for lunch again tomorrow. Don't worry, I'll stick around to help you out - but I will not cook for you. If you disappear, your team mates will go to bed hungry again."

"Don't even think about it," Chayton growled, looming menacingly over Henry. Nearly six years his senior, Chayton was a big man. He could make some of the football players think twice about crossing him.

The students merged into groups of three - the girls getting their tent up with practiced ease. Henry's group was smart enough to watch the girls and imitate their steps, managing to get their tent up almost as fast. Chayton tugged the directions out and shoved them into the hands of a younger student. Without a word, he managed to corral his tent-mates into shape, getting their tent up with a minimum of grunts and growls. The fourth group was so inept that Tom took pity on them. He stepped in and gave them step-by-step instructions in terms a grade-schooler could understand, until finally four sturdy green nylon tents stood lined up in a row, all facing the river. Nine of the students were then dismissed, free to roam the area, or explore the Fort on their own, while Henry's team started on dinner preparations. Tom was optimistic. This summer might work out after all.

* * *