Read Online One Thousand White Women by Jim Fergus - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jim Fergus
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day that the country we are passing through is littered with bones and carcasses in various stages of decay and that a noticeable stench of rotting flesh often pervades the air. Such an ugly, unnatural thing can come to no good in God’s eyes or anyone else’s for that matter. I can’t help but think once again what a foolish, loutish creature is man. Is there another on earth that kills for the pure joy of it?
Now we are finally under way again, the bloodlust of the men evidently sated …
8 April 1875—Fort Sidney, Nebraska Territory
We have reached our first destination, and are being lodged in officers’ homes while we await transportation on the next leg of our journey. Martha and I have been separated, and I am staying with the family of an officer named Lieutenant James. His wife Abigail is tight-lipped and cool and seems to have adopted the superior attitude with which those of us enrolled in this program have been treated by virtually everyone with whom we have come in contact since the beginning of our journey. Although “officially” we are going among the heathens as missionaries, everyone seems to know the real truth of our mission, and everyone seems to despise us for it. Perhaps I am naive to expect otherwise—that we might be accorded some measure of respect as volunteers in an important social and political experiment but of course small-minded souls like the Lieutenant’s wife must have someone to look down upon, and so they have cast us in the role of whores.
Shortly after our arrival, my hostess knocked on the door to my room, and when I answered, refused to enter but demanded in a haughty tone that I not speak of our mission in front of her children at the dining table.
“As our mission is a secret one,” I answered, “I had no intention of discussing it. May I ask why you make such a request, madam?”
“The children have been exposed to the drunken, degenerate savages who frequent the fort,” the woman replied. “They are a filthy people whom I would not invite into my home, let alone allow to sit at my dinner table. Nor will I permit my children to fraternize with the savage urchins. We have been ordered by the fort commander to house you women and to feed you, but it is not by our choice, nor does it reflect our own moral judgment against you. I shall not have my children corrupted by any discussion of the shameful matter. Do I make myself clear?”
“Perfectly,” I answered. “And may I add that I would rather starve to death than to sit at your dining table.”
Thus I spent my short time at Mrs. James’s home in my room. I did not eat. Early one morning I went out to walk on the fort grounds, but even then I was leered at by a group of soldiers and by some very rough-looking brigands in buckskin clothes who frequent the fort. Their lewd remarks caused me, however reluctantly, to give up even the small diversion of walking. Our mission appears to be the worst-kept secret on the frontier, and seems to threaten and terrify all who know of it. Ah, well, this is of scant consequence to me; I am rather accustomed to doing the unconventional, the unpopular … clearly to a fault … Frankly, from the way I have been treated by the so-called “civilized” people in my life, I rather look forward to residency among the savages. I should hope that at the very least they might appreciate us.
11 April 1875
We are under way again, on a military train to Fort Laramie. We have lost several more of our number at Sidney. They must have had a change of heart with our destination now so close, or perhaps the army families with whom they were lodged convinced them to abandon this “immoral” program.
Or perhaps—and most likely of all—they took to heart the pathetic sight of the poor savages who inhabit the environs of the fort. I must admit that these are as scurvy a lot of beggars and drunkards as ever I’ve witnessed. Filthy and dressed in rags, they fall down in the dirt
Now we are finally under way again, the bloodlust of the men evidently sated …
8 April 1875—Fort Sidney, Nebraska Territory
We have reached our first destination, and are being lodged in officers’ homes while we await transportation on the next leg of our journey. Martha and I have been separated, and I am staying with the family of an officer named Lieutenant James. His wife Abigail is tight-lipped and cool and seems to have adopted the superior attitude with which those of us enrolled in this program have been treated by virtually everyone with whom we have come in contact since the beginning of our journey. Although “officially” we are going among the heathens as missionaries, everyone seems to know the real truth of our mission, and everyone seems to despise us for it. Perhaps I am naive to expect otherwise—that we might be accorded some measure of respect as volunteers in an important social and political experiment but of course small-minded souls like the Lieutenant’s wife must have someone to look down upon, and so they have cast us in the role of whores.
Shortly after our arrival, my hostess knocked on the door to my room, and when I answered, refused to enter but demanded in a haughty tone that I not speak of our mission in front of her children at the dining table.
“As our mission is a secret one,” I answered, “I had no intention of discussing it. May I ask why you make such a request, madam?”
“The children have been exposed to the drunken, degenerate savages who frequent the fort,” the woman replied. “They are a filthy people whom I would not invite into my home, let alone allow to sit at my dinner table. Nor will I permit my children to fraternize with the savage urchins. We have been ordered by the fort commander to house you women and to feed you, but it is not by our choice, nor does it reflect our own moral judgment against you. I shall not have my children corrupted by any discussion of the shameful matter. Do I make myself clear?”
“Perfectly,” I answered. “And may I add that I would rather starve to death than to sit at your dining table.”
Thus I spent my short time at Mrs. James’s home in my room. I did not eat. Early one morning I went out to walk on the fort grounds, but even then I was leered at by a group of soldiers and by some very rough-looking brigands in buckskin clothes who frequent the fort. Their lewd remarks caused me, however reluctantly, to give up even the small diversion of walking. Our mission appears to be the worst-kept secret on the frontier, and seems to threaten and terrify all who know of it. Ah, well, this is of scant consequence to me; I am rather accustomed to doing the unconventional, the unpopular … clearly to a fault … Frankly, from the way I have been treated by the so-called “civilized” people in my life, I rather look forward to residency among the savages. I should hope that at the very least they might appreciate us.
11 April 1875
We are under way again, on a military train to Fort Laramie. We have lost several more of our number at Sidney. They must have had a change of heart with our destination now so close, or perhaps the army families with whom they were lodged convinced them to abandon this “immoral” program.
Or perhaps—and most likely of all—they took to heart the pathetic sight of the poor savages who inhabit the environs of the fort. I must admit that these are as scurvy a lot of beggars and drunkards as ever I’ve witnessed. Filthy and dressed in rags, they fall down in the dirt
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