I have not missed my
dresses very much--there has been so much else to think about. There
is a little store just outside the post that is named "Post Trader's,"
where many useful things are kept, and we have just been there to
purchase some really nice furniture that an officer left to be sold
when he was retired last spring. We got only enough to make ourselves
comfortable during the winter, for it seems to be the general belief
here that these companies of infantry will be ordered to Camp Supply,
Indian Territory, in the spring. It must be a most dreadful
place--with old log houses built in the hot sand hills, and surrounded
by almost every tribe of hostile Indians.
It may not be possible for me to write again for several days, as I
will be very busy getting settled in the house. I must get things
arranged just as soon as I can, so I will be able to go out on
horseback with Faye and Lieutenant Baldwin.
FORT LYON, COLORADO TERRITORY,
October, 1871.
WHEN a very small girl, I was told many wonderful tales about a grand
Indian chief called Red Jacket, by my great-grandmother, who, you will
remember, saw him a number of times when she, also, was a small girl.
And since then--almost all my life--I have wanted to see with my very
own eyes an Indian--a real noble red man--dressed in beautiful skins
embroidered with beads, and on his head long, waving feathers.
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