Free Fort Laramie by Courage Knight Page A

Twice a day they would muster into formation, practice drills in the parade grounds, but then they would scatter to various posts. One would go to the commissary, another to the bakery and yet another to the livery. There was the guard house, the doctor's quarters and a separate hospital, the administration building, the mess halls, the stables, and barracks. There were civilian buildings, as well. Fort Laramie had been a major stop for stagecoaches, and as such, there had been a large hotel between the livery and the hospital.
    Already the parking lot was filling up. A park employee would handle admissions, gathering the entrance fees. Then once they left the Visitor Center, Tom's duties began. He grinned. It didn't matter how today went. It could go smoothly, or it could be an utter fiasco. It didn't matter. He'd made it this far. It was time to savor the moment. At noon, the bugle sounded again. It was the signal for the soldiers to meet at the first mess hall for lunch. He wouldn't be eating with them, but with his "wife." Hopefully, Carrie had something edible for him. He wouldn't put it past her to burn something just to get even for last night's spanking. Well, he had time to give her a refresher before the next busload arrived. He almost looked forward to it.
    "Honey, I'm home," he called out, as he closed the front door. The parlor was empty, as was the sitting room. The dining table was set, but no food was on the table. He found Carrie in the kitchen in tears. "Honey, what's wrong," he asked anxiously.
    "I'm a failure!" she sobbed. "I tried, really, I did! I know how to cook - with electricity! I can't cook on this old stove. First, it wasn't hot enough, and the water wouldn't boil. Then it was too hot, and the meat burned. And I burned myself-."
    "Where!" Tom interrupted, taking her hands and looking for injury.
    "It's not serious," she said with a sniffle. "It's just annoying. Like a hangnail kind of pain, but I wanted to do it right, and make you proud, and I failed!" She launched into another bout of tears.
    Tom chuckled, gathering her into his arms. "There, there, dear," he said, calling her Elizabeth as Colonel Burt would have done. It was a lot of fun pretending to be someone else! "You'll get better with practice. Now let me see." He inspected her hands, finding the small red blister on her middle finger. He kissed it first, then covered it with a modern Band-Aid to protect the blister from breaking, or the keep the wound clean if it did break. "Typically, they would have put butter on a burn, but we know better now." Then he helped her to the table and insisted she sit. "You need to put your foot up when you can," he reminded her. "Is it time for another pain pill?"
    She shrugged, and Tom realized that she had been pushing herself too hard. He dished up the over-cooked stew into two bowls and joined her at the table. "I'll get you the pills and some water after we eat," he said.
    "What are you being so nice," she asked miserably.
    "I'm just a nice guy."
    "And that's the real problem, isn't it," she muttered.
    Tom was sure he'd never understand women at all.
    The stew had tasted only a little charred, but there hadn't been enough of it. She hadn't made any biscuits to go with it, and there wasn't any fruit - as the fort wouldn't have had access to fruit either. They would eat normal foods for the 21 st century mornings and nights, but lunches would be period appropriate. Tom had learned a little song the soldiers of old Fort Laramie had sung. "Soupy, soupy soup - without any bean! Porkie, porkie, pork, without any lean. Coffee, coffee, coffee - without any cream!" Apparently, army food had a long, well-earned history of being unpalatable. He sang it for Carrie and was rewarded with a weak smile.
    "Things will get easier," he said.
    She nodded.
    "So how did your morning go? Did you give the spinning demonstration?"
    She shook her head. "I can't," she blurted. "Not until my foot gets better."
    He nodded, not