Free Fort Laramie by Courage Knight Page B

sure how one needed a foot to spin yarn, but he let it pass. "Vicki and Julie will be by later to help with clean up. I'll see you tonight when we close up for the day." He leaned over her, planting a chaste kiss on the top of that wild riot of hair she had attempted to tame into a bun.
    They were swamped with tourists that afternoon. Several busloads of mostly senior citizens came by. They were more attentive than the children, more patient that the children's parents. They seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say, and asked thoughtful questions. Tom decided seniors were his favorite customers. He hoped the others were enjoying their presentations half as much as he was. He gave a field demonstration of the 45-caliber Springfield carbine, the army's principle weapon of the time. Sabers were useless in fighting Indians, and were worn mostly for official functions when in full dress uniform.
    Chayton looked positively frightening in the traditional garb of the Lakota Nations. The school children were fascinated by him, as they were naturally attracted to all things scary.  They crowded around him and the large teepee erected for educational purposes. They could go inside and sit on the imitation buffalo robes, and listen to him tell stories of the various Native American peoples.
    At seven the bugle sounded again. His young soldiers gathered in the parade ground for inspection, drills, and firing practice. They stood stiffly at attention as the Nation's flag was brought down and carefully folded, signaling the end of the day. Few people still knew that the flag was not supposed to be flying at night unless it was illuminated. In cities and private yards flood lights could be directed at the flag, but in 1880s Fort Laramie, no such light would have existed. That's why the custom of raising and lowering the flag existed, he explained to the waiting crowds watching his men perform the simple task.
    The visitors filtered through the visitor center again, picking up souvenirs, using the rest rooms, and eventually left the park. Tom brought the van around to pick up Carrie, helping her into the front seat, which was easier for her than climbing into one of the back benches. The boys were loud and rowdy, exploding with enthusiasm for their first day. Vicki was just as excited, but Carrie was oddly silent. He hoped it was just her foot bothering her, and not something else. Maybe he'd ask Julie if she knew what was wrong.
    The next day a wagon train came to the fort - a real, honest-by-gosh wagon train! It wasn't completely historically accurate, but a group of volunteers had decided to re-enact   an Oregon Trail wagon train, loading up old wagons with food and gear and traveling the route through Fort Laramie. They circled their wagons out near where the old hotel had once stood, built a campfire, and spent the rest of the week camping there. It added to the visitor experience, and Tom was only sorry he hadn't thought of it first. Maybe something could be done to repeat the experience every year, and maybe even a couple of times through the summer. Chayton sure enjoyed them. Tom had never seen the stern senior smile more, or laugh harder.
    But by the weekend, Carrie's mood hadn't changed at all. She remained sullen and withdrawn, and any time he tried to ask her what was wrong, she practically tore his head off. He had been about as patient as he was going to be. They didn't work on Sundays. Volunteers came into the fort to host worship services, so the students had the day off. He would drive them into town and let them horse around, go shopping, take in a movie - whatever they had in mind, within reason. He hoped to get Carrie by herself for a heart- to heart conversation, maybe preceded by a hand to bottom conversation, if necessary. She was no longer taking the pain pills, and on Monday the stitches would come out. One more week, and she could even get off the crutches. It was time to stop making special allowances for