By the fourth of October we had crossed the range, and began to see something which looked like roads. Our animals were fagged to a state of exhaustion1, but the travelling was now much easier and there was good grazing, and after three more long day's marches, we arrived at Camp Apache. We were now at our journey's end, after two months' continuous travelling, and I felt reasonably sure of shelter and a fireside for the winter at least. I knew that my husband's promotion2 was expected, but the immediate3 present was filled with an interest so absorbing, that a consideration of the future was out of the question.
At that time (it was the year of 1874) the officers' quarters at Camp Apache were log cabins, built near the edge of the deep canon through which the White Mountain River flows, before its junction4 with Black River.
We were welcomed by the officers of the Fifth Cavalry5, who were stationed there. It was altogether picturesque6 and attractive. In addition to the row of log cabins, there were enormous stables and Government buildings, and a sutler's store. We were entertained for a day or two, and then quarters were assigned to us. The second lieutenants7 had rather a poor choice, as the quarters were scarce. We were assigned a half of a log cabin, which gave us one room, a small square hall, and a bare shed, the latter detached from the house, to be used for a kitchen. The room on the other side of the hall was occupied by the Post Surgeon, who was temporarily absent.
Our things were unloaded and brought to this cabin. I missed the barrel of china, and learned that it had been on the unfortunate wagon8 which rolled down the mountain-side. I had not attained9 that state of mind which came to me later in my army life. I cared then a good deal about my belongings10, and the annoyance11 caused by the loss of our china was quite considerable. I knew there was none to be obtained at Camp Apache, as most of the merchandise came in by pack-train to that isolated12 place.
Mrs. Dodge13, of the Twenty-third Infantry14, who was about to leave the post, heard of my predicament, and offered me some china plates and cups, which she thought not worth the trouble of packing (so she said), and I was glad to accept them, and thanked her, almost with tears in my eyes.
Bowen nailed down our one carpet over the poor board floor (after having first sprinkled down a thick layer of clean straw, which he brought from the quartermaster stables). Two iron cots from the hospital were brought over, and two bed-sacks filled with fresh, sweet straw, were laid upon them; over these were laid our mattresses15. Woven-wire springs were then unheard of in that country.
We untied16 our folding chairs, built a fire on the hearth17, captured an old broken-legged wash-stand and a round table from somewhere, and that was our living-room. A pine table was found for the small hall, which was to be our dinning-room, and some chairs with raw-hide seats were brought from the barracks, some shelves knocked up against one wall, to serve as sideboard. Now for the kitchen!
A cooking-stove and various things were sent over from the Q. M. store-house, and Bowen (the wonder of it!) drove in nails, and hung up my Fort Russell tin-ware, and put up shelves and stood my pans in rows, and polished the stove, and went out and stole a table somewhere (Bowen was invaluable18 in that way), polished the zinc19 under the stove, and lo! and behold20, my army kitchen! Bowen was indeed a treasure; he said he would like to cook for us, for ten dollars a month. We readily accepted this offer. There were no persons to be obtained, in these distant places, who could do the cooking in the families of officers, so it was customary to employ a soldier; and the soldier often displayed remarkable21 ability in the way of cooking, in some cases, in fact, more than in the way of soldiering. They liked the little addition to their pay, if they were of frugal22 mind; they had also their own quiet room to sleep in, and I often thought the family life, offering as it did a contrast to the bareness and desolation of the noisy barracks, appealed to the domestic instinct, so strong in some men's natures. At all events, it was always easy in those days to get a man from the company, and they sometimes remained for years with an officer's family; in some cases attending drills and roll-calls besides.
Now came the unpacking23 of the chests and trunks. In our one diminutive24 room, and small hall, was no closet, there were no hooks on the bare walls, no place to hang things or lay things, and what to do I did not know. I was in despair; Jack25 came in, to find me sitting on the edge of a chest, which was half unpacked26, the contents on the floor. I was very mournful, and he did not see why.
"Oh! Jack! I've nowhere to put things!"
"What things?" said this impossible man.
"Why, all our things," said I, losing my temper; "can't you see them?''
"Put them back in the chests,—and get them out as you need them," said this son of Mars, and buckled27 on his sword. "Do the best you can, Martha, I have to go to the barracks; be back again soon." I looked around me, and tried to solve the problem. There was no bureau, nothing; not a nook or corner where a thing might be stowed. I gazed at the motley collection of bed-linen, dust-pans, silver bottles, boot jacks28, saddles, old uniforms, full dress military hats, sword-belts, riding-boots, cut glass, window-shades, lamps, work-baskets, and books, and I gave it up in despair. You see, I was not an army girl, and I did not............