Someone had left her a plate of hardtack biscuits yesterday. She had added another piece of wood to the smoldering fire just outside her tent and boiled water for tea. She hadn't been out of the tent since dawn when she had gotten water from the barrel that was attached to the side of her wagon. Elizabeth got to her knees and crawled to the opening in the tent.
Men, she'd realized in her twenty-eight years on this earth, weren't always reliable. She didn't want to give him any excuse to forget about the deal when she was no longer able to remind him of it. Still, she wanted her tent to be in sight of the man when it was time for him to do his job. Miller had pledged himself, she believed he would do what was necessary when the time came. She'd given the blacksmith her team of oxen in exchange for his promise to dig a proper burying hole for her next to the one that held Matthew and their baby, Rose. O'Brian," the same man's voice called out. The fort was a noisy, smelly place and Elizabeth wanted to die the way she had lived, quietly and alone. Miller wouldn't have to walk far when he came to bury her. She had made sure the tree put her far enough away from the fort to prevent the influenza from striking anyone there while at the same time still being close enough that Mr. The canvas stretched from the back of her wagon to the only tree here, a squat cottonwood that had looked tired even before she'd tied her rope to it. She had used the canvas from her wagon to make a tent in this slight ravine that stood a good fifty feet east of the mud-chinked logs that made up most of the buildings at Fort Keogh. No one had thought her tent would be here for this long. She supposed he was nervous because she was so close to the fort. He would just have to be patient a little longer. Miller knew she was still waiting for the fever to come upon her. O'Brian," a man's voice called in the distance. It had only taken her husband, Matthew, and their baby, a few days to die from the fever so Elizabeth couldn't fault the blacksmith for being impatient. It was a cold November day and she'd been sitting in her tent for eleven days now in this desolate land. Miller coming to see if she was dead yet. It was a cold November day and s… More.įort Keogh, Montana Territory, 1879 Elizabeth O'Brian heard voices outside her tent and thought it must be Mr. Tronstad, Janet: Calico Christmas at Dry Creek - new bookįort Keogh, Montana Territory, 1879 Elizabeth O'Brian heard voices outside her tent and thought it must be Mr.
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