Into the Wilderness. Laura Abbot
to admit women were, too. Even on short acquaintance it was clear that Lily bore no resemblance to Rebecca, the faithless woman who had broken his heart.
* * *
“In like a lion, out like a lamb,” Rose announced on the last day of March as she and Lily made their way to the sutler’s to buy provisions and collect the mail.
The day was warm, and wagon wheels and horses’ hooves had churned the ground into dust that clung to their boots and the hems of their dresses.
“We’d best enjoy days like this,” Lily observed. “Remember last summer? I swear equatorial Africa couldn’t be any hotter. In mid-July, we will look back on this weather with gratitude.”
Rose linked her arm with Lily’s. “Enjoy the day, this day. God’s day.”
Lily squeezed Rose’s hand. Their mother had often uttered those very words when her impatient daughters peppered her with questions: “When is Papa coming home from the war?” “How long until my birthday?” And more recently, “How are you feeling this morning, Mama?”
When they entered the store, enlisted men buying tobacco and assorted medicinal items made way for them. Several tipped their caps, a few ventured mumbled hellos and one insolent corporal winked leeringly. Jake Lavery, the proprietor, beamed as they approached. “Ladies, what can I do for you?
After placing their grocery order, Lily ushered her sister to a corner where yard goods and sewing notions were displayed. Thus removed from the prying eyes of men, the sisters studied some newly arrived bolts of cloth.
Rose stroked a brown calico covered with sprigs of tiny yellow flowers. “I rather fancy this for my summer dress.”
Each summer and winter, their father provided them with money to make one serviceable gown apiece. Lily always had difficulty making up her mind, and today was no exception. She draped a navy blue muslin across her shoulders.
Rose shook her head. “Too drab. Try the gingham. It reminds me of the ocean. That is, if I’d ever seen it.”
Lily unrolled a couple of yards and carrying the bolt to the small mirror on the wall, held the gingham to her face. The color did something magical for her eyes, tinting the usual blue with a hint of sea-green. She turned to Rose. “I like it.”
“That was easy. I do, too. Have we need of patterns?”
Lily shook her head. “I have some ideas about adapting ones we already have.”
“I trust you. You’re the expert seamstress.”
Mr. Lavery’s wife measured and cut the material, then wrapped it in brown paper and tied it with string. “Come show me when you’ve finished the gowns.” A wistful expression crossed her leathery face. Observing the woman’s worn gray dress, Lily ached for her. Frippery was hard to come by on the prairie where simplicity and practicality were both necessary and valued.
Lily tucked their purchases in the mesh bag they had brought with them. Their last stop was the mail counter. “Kellogg. Anything for us?” Rose inquired of the red-bearded postal agent, recently arrived at the fort.
“I know who you are,” the man said, as if offended that they would identify themselves to someone with such a brilliant memory. “You’re those girls the men are always talking about.”
Rose bristled. “I hardly think so.”
The man leaned on the counter and folded his gnarled hands, peering at them with beady eyes. “Bet on it, miss. It’s just as well your papa don’t hear some of what they say.”
Lily drew herself up to her full height. “Sir, our mail, if you please.”
He grinned wolfishly, then took his time moving to the mail slots.
“I declare,” Lily whispered to her sister. “The nerve.”
Rose took the letters from the man, uttered a huffy “thank you” and led Lily out of the place.
“That was demeaning,” Lily said when they were out of earshot.
“Yes, but, Lily, I imagine the men do talk of us...you. Think about it. They’re far from home, missing their wives and sweethearts. And some of them are so young. Bachelors.” She trudged on deep in thought, then added, “Don’t you see how they look at you?”
“Me?” Lily blushed.
“Oh, there’s some that might settle for me, but you’re the beauty.”
“Hush, Rose. Don’t you go tempting fate with that talk. ‘Pride goeth before a fall,’ and I don’t want to be prideful.”
“You can’t pretend you don’t notice their interest. For example, that new captain couldn’t keep his eyes off you at the Hurlburts’ dinner.” She stopped in her tracks and studied her sister. “You could do a lot worse,” she said gently.
“I’m not husband hunting.” Lily grinned coquettishly. “At least not until St. Louis, if that time ever comes.”
“St. Louis. A den of iniquity, if you ask me.”
“I didn’t.”
With a shrug, Rose held up the mail. “I suppose then that you’ll be wanting to look over the letter that came today from Aunt Lavinia.”
“Oh, do let’s hurry.” So eager was Lily to read the letter, she didn’t notice how Rose lagged behind. Nor did she see the concern in her sister’s eyes.
At home, scanning Aunt Lavinia’s letter before sharing it with Rose, Lily sighed in disappointment. There was no invitation for either of them. Just a description of Lavinia’s new Easter bonnet, the menu of a sumptuous dinner at the home of a local politician and a recipe for an elegant presentation of tenderloin of pork, as if they often had such a cut of meat available.
Bent over her crocheting, Rose looked up as Lily read the final paragraph.
“I shudder to think of you girls subjected to the cold winds and extreme weather of the prairie. Not to mention living in a forsaken army post, surrounded by who knows what sort of individuals. For the life of me, I cannot understand why Ezra took you to such a place. Would that your mother had persuaded him to abandon his army career. Well, water over the dam. I pray for your safety and hope conditions will permit us once again to meet. Perhaps after the miasma that is summer here along the Mississippi.
Your devoted aunt,
Lavinia”
Lily put the letter aside and sought composure by going to the sewing cabinet to locate the pattern for Rose’s new dress. Only now in light of Lavinia’s vague promise could she admit how much she had counted on deliverance from this wilderness outpost. She tried to take each day as it came, but the fierce, unpredictable spring winds tried her soul and increased her longing to escape. At times she wanted to scream from sheer frustration.
Rose had said something, but lost in her thoughts, Lily had to ask her to repeat it.
“Dear sister, patience.” Rose wasn’t trying to irritate her, and, yes, patience was needed, but right now the advice rankled.
“What’s the matter with me, Rose?”
Her sister set aside her crocheting. “You really do want to leave. It’s more than a dream, isn’t it?”
Lily sank back into her chair. “I’m so restless. Every day is like every other day. Rose, there’s a whole world out there, and I want to be part of it. If only I were a man, I could choose my lot and go wherever my fancy took me.”
“I would miss you.”
Chastened, Lily hung her head. “And I you.” She had thoughtlessly hurt her sister. The tug to home and to Rose and Papa was strong, but so was the pull of the exciting world beyond the prairie. Why couldn’t she lay aside these dreams that only grew more compelling with each passing