Part 35 (1/2)
He said reluctantly, ”I'll ask Dugan or Dunbar.”
Joe left, and Emma sat alone at the table. After such a long time on the Trail, the past three days at Laramie had been unbelievable luxury.
Their quarters were warm and snug, with adequate housekeeping facilities. The roof was wood instead of canvas. Best of all, there had been three days of blessed relief from worry and tension. For the first time since leaving Independence Emma slept restfully because she was positive that they would have to respond to no alarm in the middle of the night. Because they did not have to rise with the sun and travel all day, there was leisure for sewing, was.h.i.+ng, and preparing meals as Emma thought they should be prepared. However, though Laramie provided surcease from the rigors of the Trail, it brought its own problems.
Emma did not agree with Joe's notion that there was no reason to worry about Barbara. Most of the young men who overwhelmed her with attention were more amusing than otherwise. Except that some of them were a little older than the swains who had so awkwardly wooed Barbara in Missouri, they did not differ greatly from the Tenney's Crossing youths. They blushed easily, sometimes stumbled over their own feet, and while they devoted themselves to Barbara and wanted to admire, they were content to do so from a distance. Barbara could wither them with a frown, or send them into ecstasy with a smile. Emma poured a second cup of coffee, a blissful extravagance, and thought about Private Hugo Gearey.
Emma thought he was about twenty-six, not old, but still older than most of the other privates. There was about him a fine courtliness and courtesy which within itself spoke of background and good breeding; he knew exactly what to say and exactly when and how to say it. His was a charm that attracted men and captivated women. Emma had never before met such a person, and she knew that all of Gearey's charm and courtliness had been fully noticed by Barbara.
But though Emma was old enough, and wise enough, to base her final appraisal of anyone at all on other than outward characteristics, she could not suppress an uncomfortable feeling that Gearey's eyes were cold and that they betrayed an inner weakness. Most of all, with no war on, she wondered what a person of his obvious breeding and background was doing, as a private, in a fort like Laramie. She conceded that he might be out for a bit of adventure, but most of the youngsters who were at Laramie for that reason alone were from three to seven years younger than Gearey. Though there were a few older privates who kept their own counsel and doubtless had their own reasons for being where they were, most of the enlistees who were making the Army a career were non-commissioned officers by the time they were Gearey's age.
The bedroom door opened and Barbara appeared, sleep-disheveled but lovely.
”Good morning, Mother.”
”Good morning, dear. Did you sleep well?”
”Oh!” Barbara stretched her young arms for the sheer pleasure of doing so. ”I had a heavenly rest!”
”I'll get your breakfast.”
”I'll get it, Mother.”
Barbara washed, put two slices of bacon in a skillet and knelt before the fire place. She broke an egg over the sputtering bacon, brought it to the table and b.u.t.tered herself a piece of bread. Emma smiled at her daughter.
”Have you reflected upon your ardent suitors' fist-fight of last night?”
Barbara said scornfully, ”Yes, and it was so silly! I couldn't stop them, and I was just mortified when they insisted on fighting that way!”
Her face clouded. ”Do you think they'll keep them in the guardhouse very long, Mother?”
”I suppose they'll be out before they're both old men.” Barbara grinned, and said happily, ”It's been such fun!” ”It would be,” Emma admitted dryly, ”with fifty or more unattached young men ready to grovel at your feet every time you make calf's eyes at them.”
She laughed, ”Oh Mother, none of them are serious--it's really all fun!”
”I don't know about that. How many proposals have you had?”
”Only seven so far. Johnny Parr, Michael Dilling, and Pete Robbins want to come to Oregon just as soon as their enlistments are up. Albert Johnson asked me to go to Baltimore with him, after we're married of course! His father has a store there, and I can be a clerk in it. Rodney Burr, he's from Maine and he talks so strangely, has wonderful plans for starting a s.h.i.+pyard in San Francisco. Robert Smith and Dan Jankoski want to get married right here.”
”What did you tell them?”
”Mother, what _would_ I tell them? I don't want to marry any of them.”
”I hope you didn't hurt their feelings.”
”I refused as nicely as I could.”
Emma looked down at the table, gratified. Barbara was no longer the half-child half-woman who had left Missouri. The Oregon Trail had given her a new maturity and poise. Barbara finished her meal and folded her hands thoughtfully under her chin. She stared across the table and for a moment she did not speak. Then,
”Mother, there's a dance tonight in the mess hall. May I go?”
”Do you mean you can single out just one escort?”