Correspondence from Washington, D.C., thoughts and action from railway workers, news in Tent City, and thoughts and actions of Marini Dreadful the Foreman/Security for the Union Pacific.
The Union Blue was all but gone from her personality now. The wool uniform that had once felt right and fit right had been near suffocating in the last moments with her senior officer as he brought down on the hammer on her future. As a well decorated officer of the Union Army Cavalry, Marini Brooks Dreadful had fought hard to keep the country from dividing while enforcing the politics of a man she believed in. A man that was now gone as was the war and she couldn't bear to endure serving any further.
"Captain Brooks, it's either stay here or lead a company to Cheyenne and assume the role requested of you. The stockades are mighty cold this time of year if you refuse both."
Really the only part of the conversation she rolled over in her mind again and again. Stay or go. Or... spend an uncertain amount of time in prison for not doing her duty for country and kin. It should have been flattering to gain such an honor. Why not just stay at Fort Knox?
There were still friends in the area not to mention relatives. The pay was good. The lodgings were fine after sleeping in tents on muddy hard ground and subsisting on not much more than beans and hardtack for long periods in between reaching Forts and other settlements. Even the Company she led was full of fine men that she had been proud to fight alongside and lead. It wasn't the Army. It wasn't the people. It was the war.
The memories that lingered fingers of cold ash in her mind enough to choke with emotion each evening she awoke in a cold sweat, heart racing from the vivid imagery that played out. Even the body wouldn't be still for long hours and maybe a hard waking was taken when falling out of bed. Sleeping on the floor was far safer now. Visiting with friends and family that were left, helping rebuild her hometown, having ice cream for the first time in years, none of that soothed the demons. Nothing filled the void that had always been a part of her until…
The sharpshooter shook her head as she exited the Senior Officer’s quarters and out into the bright fall sunshine while breathing in the crisp air that snapped with the threat of snow. His words echoed but the indecision remained. Even if the military didn't continue to employ those that suffered amputations and burns years ago, their agonized screams had penetrated the fort’s very walls while their blood seeped into the ground. The spirits of her dead brethren lingered merely to torment those lucky enough to have survived. Marini couldn't escape them. The fear that constricted her throat was that she never would, anywhere she went.
Instead of heading to the barracks, Rin veered towards the stables. A good ride would ease her mind somewhat and Griz could use the exercise. “CAPTAIN BROOKS!” Spit shined boots paused, standing still until the Private zipped in front of her, saluting with a rigid stance before handing her a well wrinkled, yet still sealed envelope and heading off to deliver other letters.
There was no return address and the name had been worn off the outside but once opened, the letter was intact. It was merely skimmed before the stables were all but forgotten as she hightailed it to her quarters, rereading the script in silence before penning a response and catching the Private to mail to out along with a note to the Major that simply read. "Send my pay to Cheyenne." Within the half hour, the Andalusian war horse was saddled and packed with gear for the seven hundred mile trek to Omaha where she'd meet up with the Union troops that had failed under a lesser leader.
Seemed like she got that ride after all.
"Captain Brooks, it's either stay here or lead a company to Cheyenne and assume the role requested of you. The stockades are mighty cold this time of year if you refuse both."
Really the only part of the conversation she rolled over in her mind again and again. Stay or go. Or... spend an uncertain amount of time in prison for not doing her duty for country and kin. It should have been flattering to gain such an honor. Why not just stay at Fort Knox?
There were still friends in the area not to mention relatives. The pay was good. The lodgings were fine after sleeping in tents on muddy hard ground and subsisting on not much more than beans and hardtack for long periods in between reaching Forts and other settlements. Even the Company she led was full of fine men that she had been proud to fight alongside and lead. It wasn't the Army. It wasn't the people. It was the war.
The memories that lingered fingers of cold ash in her mind enough to choke with emotion each evening she awoke in a cold sweat, heart racing from the vivid imagery that played out. Even the body wouldn't be still for long hours and maybe a hard waking was taken when falling out of bed. Sleeping on the floor was far safer now. Visiting with friends and family that were left, helping rebuild her hometown, having ice cream for the first time in years, none of that soothed the demons. Nothing filled the void that had always been a part of her until…
The sharpshooter shook her head as she exited the Senior Officer’s quarters and out into the bright fall sunshine while breathing in the crisp air that snapped with the threat of snow. His words echoed but the indecision remained. Even if the military didn't continue to employ those that suffered amputations and burns years ago, their agonized screams had penetrated the fort’s very walls while their blood seeped into the ground. The spirits of her dead brethren lingered merely to torment those lucky enough to have survived. Marini couldn't escape them. The fear that constricted her throat was that she never would, anywhere she went.
Instead of heading to the barracks, Rin veered towards the stables. A good ride would ease her mind somewhat and Griz could use the exercise. “CAPTAIN BROOKS!” Spit shined boots paused, standing still until the Private zipped in front of her, saluting with a rigid stance before handing her a well wrinkled, yet still sealed envelope and heading off to deliver other letters.
There was no return address and the name had been worn off the outside but once opened, the letter was intact. It was merely skimmed before the stables were all but forgotten as she hightailed it to her quarters, rereading the script in silence before penning a response and catching the Private to mail to out along with a note to the Major that simply read. "Send my pay to Cheyenne." Within the half hour, the Andalusian war horse was saddled and packed with gear for the seven hundred mile trek to Omaha where she'd meet up with the Union troops that had failed under a lesser leader.
Seemed like she got that ride after all.