Fort Laramie (7 page)

She nodded.

He flipped on a flashlight and scooped her up, carrying her easily across the uneven ground.

"I could walk," she said.

"Yes. But this is faster," Tom said. "And it's an emergency."

They both chuckled. Carrie leaned her head against his shoulder. Her bottom was still burning, her foot throbbed, she was shivering, but she had never felt more protected.

Tom handed her the flashlight once she was inside the dirty rest room, which was a lot better than it had been before. Someone had started cleaning it. Then Tom waited outside until she called for him. He carried her back to her tent, and held the flashlight for her while she dug through her duffle bag for pajamas. He shook two tabs of the pain medication into her palm, then opened a water bottle for her. She swallowed back the pills. It would be a while before they kicked in, and they hadn't done anything for the pain in her bottom - only her foot. She didn't know how medication could be so smart like that. She knew it was time to go back to bed, but she didn't want to go. If he asked her to join him in his tent, she would in a heartbeat. Not for anything more than just to be held... she wasn't ready for more yet. Annoyed with herself, she was a little rude when she thanked him and crawled back into her tent.

"Good night, Carrie," Tom said. "Keep the flashlight, in case you have another emergency," he whispered. "But no more pain pills now until after breakfast."

Eventually the medicine kicked in and Carrie was finally able to get back to sleep. But Tom remained awake for the remainder of the night.

Breakfast was an eerie affair. Twelve sleepy students stumbled about in heavy woolen uniforms or gingham dresses while trying to choke down fried eggs and bacon and strong camp-boiled coffee. Tom looked sexy in his uniform, a fancier version from what the boys wore, for he was the base commander. They wore tall boots, trousers with a bright gold stripe down the side, dark navy coats with a single row of shiny brass buttons, a thick leather belt, and Tom had a long sword at his side. The boys wore the iconic slouched hats of the union army, but Tom's hat had a wider brim, almost like a cowboy hat, but not quite.

Julie buttoned the top button on Carrie's dress. Carrie wished she could leave it undone, for the dress buttoned practically up to her chin - but she knew that women wouldn't have done that in the old days. They were excessively modest to the point of being almost phobic about it. Even though it was going to be in the high nineties again today, her dress had long sleeves, a long skirt that just barely "skirted" the ground, a petticoat underneath, bloomers beneath that, an apron layered on top and a poke bonnet to protect her face and hair from the bright, hot sun. Although she knew she would be hot and miserable later, she was just excited now. This was going to be so much fun!

Adrian wasn't as sharply dressed as the rest. He wore dark pants, boots, and a plain muslin shirt that he left untucked. He had a leather belt with pockets, which would protect his jewels from any hot sparks that flew from the forge. He had let his reddish blonde hair grow since the first meeting back in February, so that now it was a short ponytail. He had a decrepit-looking western hat that could have come straight from a filming of Gunsmoke or Bonanza. For the first time, he didn't look like an art freak. He was kind of hot.

"So, are you ready for this," Julie asked, elbowing Carrie.

"I was born ready. Aren't you?"

"I meant, are you ready to fake it that you know how to spin? You should have told Tom the truth a long time ago."

Dread ran down her spine and took up residence in her groin. He was going to spank her again! Her bottom was still sore. And with her foot sore - she couldn't get comfortable. It hurt to stand, and it hurt to sit. She was going to have to think of something, and soon!

"Five more minutes, people," Tom called. "The van leaves in five minutes. If you miss the van, you'll have to walk, and you will face disciplinary action once you reach the fort. Believe me, after spending a day in jail, you won't be late again."

The boys teased one another, wondering how many bodies the jail could hold, and if that meant they got out of work that day, but when it came time to leave, every one of them was lined up outside the van. They were as excited as Carrie was, history nerds that they were.

Tom smiled, genuinely pleased with them, and he told them so. "I'd like everyone to pose for a picture, please," he said. "For the record. Adrian, will you take it?" Tom stood next to Carrie, his arm around her, and he tossed the crutches aside. Then one of the students took a few pictures so Adrian could be in them. The camera put away, Tom did a final inspection, making sure they wore nothing that was period inappropriate.

Julie looked perfect in her crimson gingham dress, her hair done up in a smooth bun. She and Carrie had gone to rummage sales and craft shows to find jewelry that might be appropriate for this. Julie had a lovely cameo pin at the low collar of her dress. Her apron was starched and white, her hands devoid of nail polish for the first time since seventh grade. The historically-accurate boots were painful to wear. They were narrow, with rows and rows of buttons that held them tight up past the ankles. Tom wouldn't know that she had tucked a pair of Dr. Scholl's inserts inside -they wouldn't show anyway - but they made the prospect of being on her feet all day a little less painful.

Carrie's dress was dark blue with little flower prints. It also buttoned up to the throat, but she had found a locket to wear, and put little black-and-white photos inside. The photos weren't of anyone she knew, just something she found on the internet and printed off, but she would pretend that they were her parents when she showed them to any park visitors. Her skirt was fancier than Julie's, with several rows of gathers, making her skirt much fuller, but she was the base commander's wife, not the wife of a blacksmith, so it stood to reason that she would have a larger clothing budget. Her second outfit was even prettier- a white lace top with a dark green skirt. But she had decided to wear the blue today, thinking that it would be easier to navigate with the crutches.

They were a noisy group as they scrambled into the van, chattering excitedly. Too bad Tom could only take pictures for his project, as a recording of their chatter would be far more informative than the posed shots he'd taken in front of the van. Tom dropped them off at the fort, then went to park the van at the back of the parking lot. He told them that after Carrie's foot healed, they would all walk from the parking lot in the future, for which the boys all thanked her for screwing up her foot.

The parade grounds were in the center. There was no wooden stockade surrounding this fort, unlike the forts portrayed on television. The Native Americans respected the well-stocked garrison, and only ever invaded it once to steal a few horses. The horse thieves were never caught. Carrie had read everything she could get her hands on about the fort. She had so much information to share - and was eager to start sharing it with the busloads of summer tourists.

Julie was to be posted at Old Bedlam, the impressive white building that had been quarters for unmarried officers. Reportedly, the card games that had occurred there in the past were so rowdy, that it had earned the nickname after an asylum for the insane in England. Carrie was almost envious of her friend, for the building was spectacular. Instead, she would be posted to Colonel Burt's home, a long, narrow building just south of Old Bedlam. It was a short walk from where Tom dropped them off to the Burt house, so Carrie hobbled inside to get settled.

The parlor was just as it had looked in the postcards she'd received. The furniture was small and lightweight, much of it made of wicker. The reason for that was because soldiers moved around a lot, and were limited on how much they could take with them. She touched one of the keys on the antique piano and was rewarded with a sour note. She shuddered, grateful that she didn't have to perform on it! She left the formal parlor and went into the sitting room next - what was the equivalent of a family room. It was where the family would have gathered in the evenings. A bookcase filled with dark hard covered books hung on the wall between the windows and the fat cast iron stove. She'd read the Colonel Burt liked to read, and knew Mark Twain personally. Sure enough, there were first editions of several of Twain's works in the book case. Women back then didn't read that much, as they believed novels to be a terrible waste of time. Carrie was glad that wasn't still true! She loved reading, especially historical romances... and even hoped to write them herself after she gained more experience.

There was a checkers board on the floor, a set of jacks and a top. The Burt's youngest son Reynolds lived at the fort with them. Their older children, a son and a daughter, attended school back east. How sad it was to be separated from their children, Carrie thought, thinking on the many sacrifices their ancestors had made. There in the middle of the sitting room was the object she feared most: a spinning wheel. Mrs. Burt would have spent many evenings either doing needlepoint or spinning wool into fine yarns, to knit socks for her husband and son. Here Carrie was expected to deliver spinning demonstrations all summer long! She sat down on the little backless stool next to the spinning wheel, still rather uncomfortable from her recent spanking, but she was absolutely clueless how to proceed from there.

Julie was right - she never should have lied! She'd tried to learn how to spin since getting her acceptance letter into this program. She had watched dozens of YouTube videos! But without a spinning wheel or access to rovings or sheep wool, she couldn't practice. There was a big wheel that was supposed to turn, causing a smaller spindle to twist, which would put a twist into narrow strands of roving as the spinner expertly pulled those strands. On video it had looked both beautiful and simple. In real life, it was complicated.

A large basket sat on the floor next to the wheel, filled with soft fluffy balls of what looked like thick wads of hair. It was what the videos called "rovings" - what happened after taking raw sheep wool and combing it. A single pedal was on the floor. She tapped it with her left foot, and the wheel made a turn. That was it! Her temporary excuse! She couldn't possibly spin until the stitches came out! She grinned, momentarily elated. Of course, it was just postponing the inevitable. One day he would find out she had lied, and the longer she waited to tell him, the angrier he would be. And of course, he would have to spank her again.

She flushed, feeling her heart rate increase, and something pooled low in her belly. There it was again... she wanted him to spank her! Oh, not really - not as hard as he had last night. But laying over his lap had been oddly erotic.

Carrie slapped herself across the face. "Wake up, girl," she scolded herself. "You are not ready for that!"

She grabbed her crutches and hurried into the hallway. Next was the formal dining room, the table already set as though six people would gather around it. She wondered briefly whom the colonel's wife would have been expecting. Maybe some pioneers passing through on their way to Oregon or California? The colonel's wife would have been hungry for news of what was going on back east, what the current fashion trends were, or maybe just to have another woman to talk to and share recipes.

Behind the dining room was a kitchen, a lot smaller than Carrie would have imagined, but behind the kitchen was a pantry that was nearly the same size. The pantry shelves were lined with dishes and pots and pans, and bins for flour, sugar, coffee and rice. There was a large tub on its side, the family bath tub, no doubt, a washboard and smaller tub for doing laundry.

She returned to the kitchen and glared at the stove. All of the items in this room were meant to be used - the more valuable antiques were stored at Old Bedlam. Carrie was to put a fire in the stove so she could cook lunch for the colonel and his men. If Julie wasn't busy with a tour group, then she could come to help her. Vicki would be giving several presentations a day at the schoolhouse, but was to come over after lunch to help with clean up. This was Carrie's main duty - that and the spinning, of course. It was a good thing that she actually did know how to cook, or more than just Tom would be angry with her!

She opened the cookbook and studied the simple recipes. Today she would make stew.

One student blew on the bugle, calling the soldiers to attention. He had been practicing that since February and wasn't half bad. Tom had worked with the boys a few times during the spring semester, teaching them how to march, salute and act like a soldier, but they were a far cry from the well-trained soldiers the fort had once housed. What they lacked in skill, though, they made up for in enthusiasm. They had each been assigned a different area of the park. Twice a day they would muster into formation, practice drills in the parade grounds, but then they would scatter to various posts. One would go to the commissary, another to the bakery and yet another to the livery. There was the guard house, the doctor's quarters and a separate hospital, the administration building, the mess halls, the stables, and barracks. There were civilian buildings, as well. Fort Laramie had been a major stop for stagecoaches, and as such, there had been a large hotel between the livery and the hospital.

Already the parking lot was filling up. A park employee would handle admissions, gathering the entrance fees. Then once they left the Visitor Center, Tom's duties began. He grinned. It didn't matter how today went. It could go smoothly, or it could be an utter fiasco. It didn't matter. He'd made it this far. It was time to savor the moment. At noon, the bugle sounded again. It was the signal for the soldiers to meet at the first mess hall for lunch. He wouldn't be eating with them, but with his "wife." Hopefully, Carrie had something edible for him. He wouldn't put it past her to burn something just to get even for last night's spanking. Well, he had time to give her a refresher before the next busload arrived. He almost looked forward to it.

"Honey, I'm home," he called out, as he closed the front door. The parlor was empty, as was the sitting room. The dining table was set, but no food was on the table. He found Carrie in the kitchen in tears. "Honey, what's wrong," he asked anxiously.

"I'm a failure!" she sobbed. "I tried, really, I did! I know how to cook - with electricity! I can't cook on this old stove. First, it wasn't hot enough, and the water wouldn't boil. Then it was too hot, and the meat burned. And I burned myself-."

"Where!" Tom interrupted, taking her hands and looking for injury.

"It's not serious," she said with a sniffle. "It's just annoying. Like a hangnail kind of pain, but I wanted to do it right, and make you proud, and I failed!" She launched into another bout of tears.

Tom chuckled, gathering her into his arms. "There, there, dear," he said, calling her Elizabeth as Colonel Burt would have done. It was a lot of fun pretending to be someone else! "You'll get better with practice. Now let me see." He inspected her hands, finding the small red blister on her middle finger. He kissed it first, then covered it with a modern Band-Aid to protect the blister from breaking, or the keep the wound clean if it did break. "Typically, they would have put butter on a burn, but we know better now." Then he helped her to the table and insisted she sit. "You need to put your foot up when you can," he reminded her. "Is it time for another pain pill?"