Under the Distant Sky (9 page)

“How did the appointment come about?”

“Well, the present commandant, Colonel George Sanford, is retiring. There have been some serious Indian problems in that part of Wyoming Territory of late—Cheyenne, Sioux, Arapaho, and Blackfoot. So the big brass in Washington planted the commission on me and told me to take my entire regiment to beef up the number of troops at the fort. They’re building more barracks and officers’ quarters to accommodate us right now.”

“Sounds like you’ll be busy.”

“You’re right about that. Only I’d rather fight Rebels than Indians any day. Men can usually figure out what Rebels are going to do, but Indians… now they’re something else.”

“That’s what I hear,” Solomon said with a chuckle.

The old friends chatted for a few more minutes, then the officers and their wives left, saying they would see the Coopers at the camp that evening.

S
everal campfires winked against the darkness as Solomon and Hannah approached the army camp. Uniformed men milled about, and they could hear the sound of women’s and children’s voices.

“Oh, Sol, I’m so excited!” Hannah said. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen them!”

“Well, none of them have changed much. The colonel’s hair is completely silver now. But it was close to that when we left Fort Benson. Mrs. Bateman has either found some marvelous make-up, or she just hasn’t aged. Christel’s only a year older than you, and like you she still looks the same.”

“I guess you haven’t noticed the crow’s-feet at the corners of my eyes.”

“Guess I haven’t.”

“Well, just keep it that way, okay?”

Solomon chuckled and gave her a quick hug as they entered the camp.

Two soldiers, standing beside a wagon, looked at the Coopers with curiosity. Solomon stepped close and said, “Excuse me, gentlemen. We’re looking for Colonel and Mrs. Bateman, and Major and Mrs. Crawley. They’re expecting us. Where might we find them?”

The shorter soldier pointed in the direction of a wagon on
the other side of a large fire. “Right over there, sir. The wagon with the white wheels.”

Hannah’s heart was throbbing with anticipation as she held onto her husband’s arm and walked toward the designated wagon.

Christel Crawley spotted the Coopers first and sprang out of her chair, shouting, “Hannah!”

The others were quickly on their feet as Christel and Hannah met in a warm embrace.

Sylvia crowded in, playfully saying, “My turn, Christel!”

When the hugging was done and the two officers had greeted Hannah, Colonel Bateman looked around. “Where are the children?”

“Well,” Hannah said, “we left them home so we could use them as bait for tomorrow night.”

“Pardon me?”

Hannah’s laugh tinkled in the chill night air. “Well, it’s our understanding that you’ll not be pulling out until day after tomorrow. Is that correct?”

“Correct,” the colonel said with a nod.

“Then Solomon and I would like to extend a formal invitation to Colonel and Mrs. Bateman, and Major and Mrs. Crawley to attend dinner at our humble home tomorrow evening.”

“Oh, we’d love it!” Christel said. “Wouldn’t we, Sylvia?”

“Consider the invitation accepted,” Sylvia replied.

Bateman raised his eyebrows in mock surprise at the women. “Without checking with your husbands?”

“We both know how well our husbands liked Hannah’s cooking in the past,” Christel said. “Certainly it can’t be anything but just as good now!”

Hannah smiled her pleasure and said, “We figured if you hesitated to accept the invitation, we’d tell you that unless you came for dinner tomorrow night, you wouldn’t get to see the children!”

Bateman laughed. “Well, even if your cooking was horrible, Hannah, I’d come and eat it just to see those three younguns again… and to meet the little one.”

“Good,” Hannah said. Then, putting on her best English accent, she said, “Dinnah will be suhved at seven.”

Everybody laughed, remembering what good times they’d had together around Hannah’s table.

The Coopers spent a few more minutes talking with their old friends, then Solomon gave directions on how to find the farm and offered to come in the family wagon and pick them up. The colonel refused, saying they would come in an army wagon, and they would be there promptly at fifteen minutes before seven.

At half past six the next evening, darkness was settling over the land when Colonel Bateman and Major Crawley helped their wives into the army wagon. The air was cool, as it had been for the past few nights.

The women rode on the second seat while Darrell Crawley held the reins and Ross Bateman sat beside him.

The moon was beginning to cast its silvery spell over the hills, creating shadows in the low spots. When the wagon turned off Main Street and headed north, Sylvia said, “I wonder if Hannah has her house fixed up as darling as she kept their quarters at the forts.”

“I would imagine so,” Christel said. “She has such a way of tastefully putting things together.”

When the wagon turned off the road into the Cooper yard, the four were greeted with bright lanterns on posts that illuminated the front of the white two-story house.

“Just as I figured,” Christel said. “You can see Hannah’s personality all over it.”

The house had a wide porch across the front and on one side, forming an L. Bright potted plants adorned the porch railing, and comfortable red-and-white gingham padded chairs looked inviting.

The black shutters contrasted with the soft yellow glow of lanterns from inside that flowed through snow-white lace curtains.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Darrell said, pulling the wagon to a halt in front of the porch.

The front door swung open, and the entire Cooper family came out on the porch, the children preceding their parents. Patty Ruth stayed close to her mother, holding Ulysses in the crook of her arm.

Chris and Mary Beth remembered their guests, and B. J. smiled as the visitors marveled at how all three had grown so much in the past five years.

Then all attention was turned to the little redhead looking on with big blue eyes.

“So this is Patty Ruth!” Colonel Bateman said, bending low and placing his hands on his thighs. “My, aren’t you a pretty little thing!” The others made over Patty Ruth, commenting on how much she resembled her mother and sister.

Patty Ruth smiled, curtsied politely, and thanked them.

“My, what a sweet child!” Sylvia Bateman said, while the others nodded in agreement.

Unnoticed by the adults, Chris and B. J. exchanged glances, as if to say Mrs. Bateman’s comment about Patty Ruth was absurd. The little redhead saw them and stuck out her tongue.

Inside, the guests looked around appreciatively at the decorations and furnishings. The parlor was so warm and cozy with a cheerful fire reflected in the polished hardwood floors.

While the men talked to Solomon and the women chatted animatedly with Hannah, Patty Ruth edged closer to her father.
When she reached his side, she looked up at the two army officers and smiled.

The conversation broke off and Colonel Bateman looked down. “Hello, Patty Ruth. My, that’s some bear you have there. Does it have a name?”

“Yes, sir. He’s not an it, he’s a he. His name is Ulysses.”

Bateman’s head bobbed. “Ulysses?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you hear that, Major Crawley?”

“Yes, sir.” The major bent down to Patty Ruth’s height and said, “Did you name him, honey?”

“Sort of. My papa helped me. He’s named after President Ulysses S. Grant, who was the gen’ral my papa fighted for in the Cibil War.”

“That’s wonderful, honey,” Bateman said. “Major Crawley and I fought for General Grant, too.”

“Oh,” she said, adjusting Ulysses in her arm. “Did you and Major Crawley help Papa when he won the Cibil War?”

Solomon’s face turned pink. “Honey, Papa didn’t win the War.”

“I heard B. J. tell Tommy Nelson that you won the Cibil War almos’ all by yourself.”

Everyone was in on the conversation now. Solomon sent a sharp glance at his second son, who gave him a blank look and shrugged his shoulders.

“Dinner’s ready,” Hannah said, eager to change the subject. “Let’s eat.”

The guests laughed and followed the family to the dining room.

B. J. took the opportunity to lean close to his little sister and whisper, “Blabbermouth!”

Patty Ruth gave him an innocent look. “I jis’ tol’ ’em what you tol’ Tommy.”

It was Mary Beth’s job to show the guests where they would
sit at the big dining table. When everyone was seated, Solomon led in thanking the Lord for His bounties, and the meal began.

Hannah had prepared roast beef, succulent and tender, with thick gravy, golden-brown roasted potatoes, and green peas and baby onions in a creamy white sauce. There was applesauce with cinnamon and yeasty homemade dinner rolls with freshly churned butter. There was steaming hot coffee for the adults, and milk for the children. And for dessert, they would all enjoy her scrumptious pies, both cherry and apple.

Everyone was eating with gusto when Colonel Bateman looked across the table and said, “So, tell me, Sol, how’s the store doing?”

“Very well, sir. Especially right now. It’s wagon train season. You saw a little of what it’s like in the store, although it had slowed some by the time you came in.”

“Lots of people moving west, eh?”

“Yes, sir.” Solomon glanced at Hannah.

“We’re maybe gonna go out west, too,” Patty Ruth blurted.

The guests looked at her, then at Solomon and Hannah. Solomon shifted uneasily on his chair.

“That so?” Bateman asked.

Solomon glanced at Hannah again. “Well, we’ve been talking some about it. Kind of caught the ‘go west’ fever. The lure of the frontier is strong.”

Hannah laughed, “The lure is stronger for Sol than it is for me. But, then, I guess it’s that way with all husbands.”

“If I might speak, here,” Christopher said, “I sure would like to go west.”

“Me, too,” B. J. said.

Mary Beth and Patty Ruth just looked at their mother without speaking.

“What part of the West are you considering, Sol?” Bateman asked.

“We’ve talked about California, but then we agreed that if
we do it, maybe Oregon would be better. We could make a good living up there on a hundred and sixty acres of free land.”

“You just want to farm, eh?” Crawley asked.

“Well, they tell me Oregon is a virtual paradise. Beautiful valleys of rich black soil, plenty of water, and heavy with timber. One old wagon master who came through here last year told me that in Oregon the cattle feed on such thick green grass that they run around fat and already cooked, with knives and forks sticking out of them so you can cut off a slice whenever you’re hungry.”

Patty Ruth giggled. “O Papa, that’s silly!”

There was a round of laughter, then Bateman said, “Sol, are you wanting to get out of the general store business? I mean, you think you’d like farming better?”

“I love the general store business, but Hannah and I have talked farming because of the Homestead Act and all that free land. I don’t know how the business would do out there. Maybe in a few more years, when the population grows, we could get back into it.”

“Would you be interested in going west and bypassing the free land in order to do a powerful lot of business with a general store?”

Hannah looked at Bateman, then at her husband. Solomon quickly swallowed a mouthful of potatoes. “Would you run that by me once more, sir?”

Bateman smiled, winked at Sylvia, and said, “Sure. You can go west right now and go into the general store business. And believe me, you can do well.”

“You’re not talking about Oregon.”

“No. Your trip would be much shorter. I’m talking about Fort Bridger.”

“I don’t understand, Colonel. Are you talking about a sutler’s store?”

“No, Sol. You see, a town is forming outside the walls of
the fort. They’re calling it Fort Bridger after the name of the fort. At present, there’s a sutler’s store in the fort, and that’s where the townspeople are doing their trading. But the way the town is growing, they need a general store. You could make a good living there.”

Hannah saw a light come into her husband’s eyes. The others saw it, too.

Bateman took a sip of coffee, then said, “Let me explain what I mean by a ‘good living.’”

“Please do,” Hannah said. “Certainly the town is quite small.”

“Yes, it is, Hannah. But it’s growing fast. And think of this. All the wagon trains going either to California or Oregon pass through Fort Bridger.”

“That’s right, Mama…Papa…” Mary Beth said. “Miss Powers has been teaching us about the Oregon and California Trails at school.”

“Mr. Barrick has too!” Chris said, his voice full of enthusiasm. “And he says there’s every indication that people will be moving west for many years to come.”

“That’s right, Chris,” Bateman said, then turned to Sol. “While the town is growing, Sol, you’d be doing right well, just with the wagon trains coming through. I realize the wagon train business is seasonal, but you can make enough on your sales in the spring and summer months to easily carry you through the fall and winter.”