"A ver
y full day, dear," his wife replied
. Seeing that she was looking at him
with suspicion, he quickly pulled his
hand away, patting Skyraven's shoulder wit
h an air of fatherly concern.
"Well, I'll leave you two girls alone so that you can get started." With that said, he was up and
out of the room in an instant.
As soon as Henry had left the house, the two women tried to talk while trumpets blasted, carts rolled past the doorway, men called others to assemble.
It seemed their
voices
got louder and louder.
Gwen Ella held her hands, palm up, in a gesture of defeat. Finally
gave up their attempts at conversation and silently
ate their breakfast. When the noise had ceased, Gwen Ella went to the bedroom and brought two large canvas bags filled with soiled cl
othing into the living room.
"Today is the day for our laundry to be done, Skyraven. Remember I showed
you the building where it is to be done?”
Skyraven shook her head
.
"The other women will show you
everything you need to know."
Just as she handed the bags to Skyraven, Gwen Ella noticed that the draw strings on one of the bags was tied into a tight knot. " Oh! How many times must I tell Henry!" She sighed in vexation. "Well, you will never get this undone without some help." She tried but she could not get the knot undone and thus determined that it must be cut. "There is a knife right over there near the stove on the wall, Skyraven. Just take it along with you to cut this string when you get to the laundry
room, t
hen bring it back when you are done." Henry would have her head for giving the child a knife she thought. He was convinced that the girl had a streak of
savagery
in her
,
but Gwen Ella thought otherwise. This would be a test. If she was right in judging the girl's character, the Indian girl would go and do the laundry and return with the knife. Skyraven h
ad proven to be very obedient.
Skyraven picked up the knife and innocently stuck it down inside the strange band that held her stockings up, the band
Gwen
El
la
called a garter. As she walked along the dusty road
,
men weaved in and out of the barracks on their wa
y to perform their chores
. Everyone seemed to be in a rush and didn't give her much notice. They
had grown used to seeing her
and at least if they stared it wasn't with hostility. One company of the First Cavalry and one of the Infantry, with a buckskin clad frontiersman for a guide, were getting ready to ride off somewhere. She tried to put it out of her mind that
they might be hunting Indians.
As she came near the parade grounds, she noticed that the enlisted men's barracks were here near the dusty parade grounds. The detached officer's quarters
,
which she had left far behind
,
was in opposite direction, away from the stables, the dust and the commotion. Just like at her camp
,
the men of importance had the
most favorably placed lodges.
Suddenly Skyraven saw a man wave in a friendly manner and she stiffened, imagining for just a moment that the man was John Hanlen. Her heart seemed to come up into her throat as all the old feelings she had nurtured for him surfaced once again. But the man had dark hair, not golden an
d
he was stout and not as muscularly lean as her soldier had been. Still, she recognized him as one of the blue coats who always seemed to notice whenever she was anywhere by. Fearing he might try to further a friendship for unwanted reasons, she quickly turned h
er back and continued walking.
Just left of the parade grounds there was a long row of quartermaster's storage buildings. Men were carrying supplies in and out of the those buildings. A small military prison she had heard called t
he guard house was close by—surely t
he cage Lone Wolf had spoken about. She looked that way in horrified fascination but could not see inside. Did the white men have any Indian prisoners? Perhaps she would investigate so
meday when no one was around.
Outside the walled fort
, but still
part of it, were the frame stables built to house six hundred horses. Skyraven thought perhaps some of those must be the ponies that had belonged to her people. Strange how the white
men never considered taking another's property as stealing. But
the thought tugged her mouth into a frown
, it was not considered stealing
if somethi
ng was taken from the "savages", only if something was taken from the whites.
Still fa
rther back were the laundresses' homes. Here also was a wide level plain which served as
an extra place for drills, and the sutler’s
store with an attached billards room
.
She did not know the names of all the buildings she passed
,
but she was
carefully observing it all
along her way to the laundry room. She must familiarize herself with her surroundings, the better then to make a plan of escape.
As she neared the barracks
,
the stable call sounded and the soldiers swarmed out like ants from an ant hill. Skyraven had to step out of their way to keep from being knocked down. She watched as they formed lines and marched away to the sound of a drum beat. The stables, she thought. It was of utmost importance that she remember where the horses were kept for without a horse she had no hope of ever gett
ing far enough away from here.
John Hanlen. John Hanlen. His face and name haunted her as she looked around. She couldn
't help but think of him
every time she heard the bugle sound or saw a man in a blue uniform. Was he somewhere nearby
or had Lone Wolf taken vengeance and killed him?
That thought caused her so much pain that she quickly put it far from her conscious mind
, but still she looked at each face, hoping she would see him, but though she did see a few other soldiers with sun-touched hair, John Hanlen wasn’t to be seen
.
Where was he? And had he truly been involved
with the raid on their village? She didn't know what to believe anymore. She didn't want to believe the worst of him
, and yet how could she doubt?
She pushed the heavy door of the laundry room open and looked inside. It was damp an
d mu
sty and smelled of mildew. The floors were wet and slippery. Already four women were busy working. One heated water over the fire, one scrubbed on washboards over
steaming hot tubs of water, still another
stirred clothing in big wooden trough and one was hanging clothes over lines stretched upon pegs driven in the wall. There
were many women
working in the laundry
room on Suds Row
,
but
some of them were too busy with their own tasks to notice her. Others j
ust looked but did not speak, t
hen when their work was finished they seemed to vanish very quickly as if to pu
t the laundry far behind them.
Skyraven went about her work ignoring the women
,
but one by one their disdain for her seemed to thaw. Soon she was joining
in on their chattering with a ca
m
a
raderie that surprised her
. S
he found herself thinking that after all
,
the white women might not be as bad as she had first supposed. She soon learned that four laundresses were allotted to each troop. These
women worked for troop eight and a
ll of them were married to men in that troop. Some of the laundresses had little babies or toddlers clinging to their skirts, not so very different from her own women cleaning their garments at the river, she thought. The women were very friendly and she listened as they explained the laundry process to her a
nd helped her to get started.
They gossiped chatted and laughed as they worked
,
as if seeming to get extreme pleasure out of telling their stories about the white maids and how very much in demand they were in the officer's quarters.
"Nobody can keep a maid for very long because some poor enlisted soldier or miner or settler grab the white gir
ls up as soon as they arrive,” said a dark skinned girl
“Ach, as you can wee, there aint very miny vite vomen around here,” added a rotund woman with a thick foreign accent.
Two of the women were Spanis
h, Skyraven learned, one a Negress—so beautiful with her black skin, and the other was
Swedish
.
Their work was nearly done when they saw the covered wagons from the supply rooms pass by from the q
uartermaster's area
filled with sacks and
barrels
. Kitchen utensils, shovels, axes and other items which were attached to the sides of the wagons. Other wagons w
ere headed toward the stables.
"Guess it's just about quittin' time. Ve be on our vay," the heavy set woman said as they pushed through the door, their youngsters in tow, clinging to their ha
nds or carried in their arms.
"Are
you comin' Skyraven?" The Negress
asked as s
he held the door open for her.
"No not just yet." Skyraven was determined to do this job well. She had blundered at some of the tasks given her
,
and her pride demanded she do well
at this one
. "I still have some socks and white
under things
to do. You go on.
It won't take me much longer."
Indeed it had taken the entire day, though only now did she realize it. Skyraven had had to take her turn at the tubs, then there had been the rinsing. Ah well, if
Gwen
E
lla needed her
, she knew where she was.
Dusk was beginning to fall when the heavy wooden door of the laundry room
squeaked
open. Skyraven turned away from the wooden tub to find
Li
eutenant
Colonel Henry Sedgwick standing there. He pushed the heavy wooden door tightly closed and leaned against. "Well, well, well. So at last I find you all alone. It's about time." He leaned against the door as if to keep Skyraven from leaving. As he started over toward Skyraven, something about his manner of appr
oach cautioned her to be wary.
"I.....I am through with...with the laundry,
” she
said hastily wringing the garments out as she had been instructed to do by the other laundresses. "It must be getting close to dinner time. Gwen
E
ll
a will be looking for me....."
"Don't worry about that, my dear. Mrs. Sedgwick is down with one of her headaches. Right now she is napping. We will not be missed."
His eyes were like a weasel’s, hungry and ferocious, as he reached out to grab
her
. Skyraven tried to pull away, frightened at his intent, but he was stronger of arm than she might have suspected. “Oh, no, we won’t be missed at all…..” Feverishly, his hands moved over her body, tugging at her gingham dress. “But we will have to hurry.”
“What are you doing?” As if she didn’t know. “No!”
Oh, you are a pretty little savage. No wonder John was so crazy about you. No wonder he dared…
. He
pressed his body close to hers
, rubbing their lower portions together in a gesture that resembled some strange mating dance. The thought of what he meant to do was too terrible to imagine.
“No!” she said again, trying to control the hysteria that threatened to choke her. How could she have ever thought she could be at ease here? Ho
would
she have forgotten even for a moment
.
His moist mouth fastened on hers so hard that she
couldn’t
breathe. She struggled and fought like a bear to escape his grasp, but he had placed her hand behind her in such a way that it was nearly impossible for her to escape.
He forced her to her knees and then into a lying position upon
the damp wet floor. Pinioning
her
one
hand to the ground
, he
placed her other hand up
on the crotch of his trousers.
"Can you feel that I
have a desire for you
?
I’m already hard. We can make this quick.
There is no need to struggle. Just lie down quietly and allow me to have my way with you. I have heard about you hot
-
blooded Indian girls."