Fort Laramie (2 page)

"I have thought of it," Tom admitted. "Of course, we can't really do that these days. Woman are too quick to cry abuse."

"You could make it part of the internship. I'm sure husbands kept their wives in control back then, didn't they?"

Tom just smiled... but later that night it did give him something to think about. Something that made it extremely difficult to get to sleep. He kept imagining her plump, shapely bottom over his lap, as he delivered stinging swats to her pale flesh, listening to her heartfelt pleas for mercy.

Carrie Anne Carson flipped through her small pile of mail, dropping the bills and advertisements to the floor as she spied the official-looking envelope she had been waiting for. She chewed her lower lip, feeling the pressure of tears build behind her eyes. She wanted this so much! The key to her entire future was locked inside... was it a yes or no? She should have waited to go to her room on the ninth floor of the dormitory, but the suspense was making her lightheaded. She jabbed her finger beneath the flap and tore it open, gaining a paper cut in the process. She let the envelop join the junk mail on the floor as she quickly scanned the letter. Then she had to read it once more, just to be sure.

"Yes!" she screamed. "Yes, I'm in! Julie! Julie? Look in your box!" She spun around and hugged her best friend.

Julie Martin laughed, pushing against Carrie's shoulders. "I will, if you let me go," she teased. She wasn't as touchy-feeling as Carrie tended to be. She inserted her key into the small mailbox and removed a stack of envelopes similar to the bills and junk mail swirling around Carrie's ankles. Finally, she found the twin to the one in Carrie's hand. "Yep! I got one, too," she squealed. Then she quickly tore it open to confirm that it was an acceptance letter, and not the other one.

"What does it say? Don't just stand there, tell me! Tell me," Carrie insisted.

"Hush now, I'm reading."

"For heaven's sake! Hurry up!" Carrie shook her friend's arm. "Well?"

Julie tried to keep a straight face, but she failed. "Yes, I'm in, too!"

Carrie let out a whoop, hugging her friend as she bounced enthusiastically in the crowded hall. No one even bothered to look. The lobby of a university dorm was always full of one drama or another. It was where relationships started and ended, where futures were begun or delayed. The girls' excitement hardly made a ripple in the river of traffic that flowed through the halls. For these girls however, it was a moment when a dream came true.

Carrie read her letter again. "It doesn't really give us any information," she said, a trace of impatience in her tone. "I thought it would tell us what part we're going to play, or what we need to do to prepare for this."

"I'm sure we'll find out soon," Julie said. "At the informational meeting scheduled for Thursday night. See here? It's at 7:00pm, in the Humanities building."

"I know, I know," Carrie whined. "I'm just excited, and I can't wait for summer to begin!"

"We have a lot to do to get ready for this," Julie warned. "We're going to need every minute we can spare. It's not like flinging burgers at McDonalds."

"No! This is going to be way better!"

Carrie's excitement was contagious. Although Julie was generally more controlled than her best friend, even she was bouncing on her feet.

They had been best friends since junior high where they first met. They were as opposite as two people could be, and yet, the best of friends. Julie was tall, slender, calm and composed. Her straight brown hair was never out of place, her snug-fitting blue denims were always spotless. Her fingernail and toenail polish were color-coordinated to match her sandals, and today, she had on watermelon jellies that matched the tiny crocheted top that ended an inch shy of her waist.

Carrie was nearly a head shorter - barely hitting five-foot-two wearing thick soled athletic shoes. She wasn't over-weight, but was curvier than she wanted to be. Being short accentuated her full breasts and hips, which she often tried to conceal under a baggy sweatshirt. Her honey-blonde hair curled and frizzed, spewing over her shoulders like a bee hive had erupted. Sometimes she corralled it into some semblance of order by lassoing a hair tie around it into a thick ponytail, but usually it was just all over the place, like her exuberance.

Julie bent down to gather up all their spilled mail. "Come on, girlfriend. Let's dump this in our room and go someplace to celebrate."

"I wonder who else is going? This is so cool - do you think we got it because besides being history majors, we're also minoring in drama? Of course, this means we can't be in the summer theater, but that was only my backup plan if we didn't make it. You didn't really want to do South Pacific, did you? Of all the musicals they could have chosen, that one is my least favorite. No pretty costumes! Although, there's a few guys I wouldn't mind seeing shirtless on a sandy beach. Julie - wait up!" Carrie called, racing after her friend who was already getting into the elevator.

"Honestly, Carrie. Are you going to be like this the rest of the semester?" Julie heaved a deep sigh.

"Like what?"

"You're nuts. You know that."

Carrie shrugged. "And that's what you love most about me. Admit it!"

* * *

Thursday night was heralded by a spring snowstorm. Big fluffy wet flakes filled the air, swirling lazily on their way to the ground where already five inches had accumulated. Julie shivered in her jacket, her neck pulled down inside as if to hide from the chilly fingers of wind, but her feet were ice cubes. She had opted to wear pretty canvas shoes instead of the fleece-lined boots that would have been far more practical.

"I love this kind of snow," Carrie announced, trying to catch a few flakes on her tongue.

"You wouldn't if you ever had to shovel it," Julie said pointedly.

"Why shovel? It's going to melt in a day or two anyway," Carrie said. She sprinted a few feet ahead, then braced herself as she tried to slide over the sloppy wet pavement. She slid a few feet, before nearly toppling over.

"Carrie, grow up," Julie complained. "People are staring at you."

"This is Madison. Everyone here is strange. Didn't you get the memo?"

"I can't take you anyplace."

"Can't you at least pretend to be excited? This is our internship! We're going out west this summer, to live on a real, historic site! We'll get to share our love of history with people - kids, families, tour groups - and we get paid to do it! I mean, isn't that why we're in college in the first place?"

"Some of us," Julie admitted. She stamped her feet, trying to get some feeling back into them. She pulled open the heavy door to the Humanities building and waited for Carrie to precede her.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, some girls are just here to find a man," Julie said. She tipped her head towards a couple making out in the hallway as if to prove her point.

"That's such a stereotype. I don't think that at all. I think most kids are just here to party. This campus has a big reputation for consuming more alcohol than most. That's not me. I'm not the marrying kind, either. I'm not ready to find a husband - there's too much I want to do first!"

Julie shuddered as her shoes made squishing noises on the shiny tiled floor. She was half tempted to just blow off the orientation meeting and go back to her room. Maybe she was coming down with something. Something more than just the jitters.

Carrie grabbed her arm and yanked. "Hurry up! We're going to be late!"

Together they toppled through the classroom door just as an older student was pulling it shut. Carrie giggled breathlessly, then made her way to the back of the room where they could grab a couple of seats together. She took off her mittens, hat and scarf and piled them on the chair next to her. "Do you see anybody you recognize?"

Julie shook her head. Sitting in the back, she saw a lot of jackets and hats, but no one's face. It was a small group, though. By the end of the summer, they should know one another pretty well.

The student who had closed the door flipped the lights on and off a couple of times to get their attention. Conversations gradually died down, and then the student introduced himself.

"Good evening, everyone! Welcome to the first meeting for the summer internship program. I don't need to tell you that this is experimental. If it goes well, this could become a permanent part of the history department, so a lot is riding on your shoulders. We need you to be completely committed to this. Once you start, there's no backing out. We won't be able to just hire a replacement for you if you later change your mind. So please, be absolutely sure this is what you want to do. At the end of the presentation today, you'll be asked to sign a contract committing yourself to work the entire summer. So now, I'd like to introduce the brains behind this project, my good friend, Thomas McKay."

"What?" Carrie shouted, although there was just enough applause from the other students to muffle her outburst.

"What - what," Julie hissed, tugging her friend's sleeve to get her to settle down.

"Not him," Carrie whined. "Not him - he can't be in charge! He'll ruin everything!"

"Sh! Listen up, he's staring at you!"

Carrie gulped, her face a pale shade. She hunkered down behind the student in front of her, as if she could blot out the speaker's existence by avoiding eye contact.

The man at the front of the classroom cleared his throat. "Okay, then, let's get started," he said.

Julie took out a notebook and pencil and began writing notes. She always took notes, putting things in neat little lists, and later color coding them with pastel highlighters. Carrie never took notes. Sometimes she studied off Julie's, but more often than not she just went in and took the tests cold, having memorized whatever she'd heard in the lecture. Julie didn't know how she did it - Carrie never cracked a book and seldom studied, yet her G.P.A was a point higher than Julie's. They were both on the honor roll, but Julie envied her friend's apparent cavalier attitude at times.

They would leave the campus on Saturday morning, after the last day of school. Tom would be driving a campus van, and his friend would follow along with his private van to haul some of their luggage. It was a fourteen-hour trip, and when they arrived, they would be sleeping in tents. Tom had four tents for the twelve students to share - three to a tent. Tom and his assistant Adrian each had tents of their own. There was a public restroom and showers at the campground, and they would take turns fixing breakfast and dinners there. Lunch would be at the Fort, and would consist mainly of traditional foods prepared in the cabins over a fireplace or pot-bellied stove.

Julie glanced around at the other students. Most of them had taken off their jackets by now, so she could tell that there were a lot more boys than girls going. Nine boys. Only three girls. She closed her eyes, hoping Mr. McKay meant what he said about them taking turns with the cooking. There was no way she wanted to be cooking over a hot fireplace all summer long, fixing slop for everyone. This was sounding less and less like fun, and more like her worst nightmare. Camping! Maybe she should just call it quits now.

"So, are there any questions," Mr. McKay said, clapping his hands as if he didn't anticipate any. Julie raised her hand immediately.

"Yes? And you are?"

"I'm Julie Martin," she said.

Mr. McKay studied the papers in his hand, then nodded in her direction.

"Everyone is going to take turns cooking, right? Not just the girls?"

"Yes," he said. "In the campground. But in the fort, cooking was primarily a woman's task. Most of the boys are going to be soldiers. So unless we decide to pack sandwiches, you three girls will be preparing the lunches."

"If we're doing all the lunches, then don't you think we should be exempt from fixing dinner and breakfast?" Julie persisted.

The teacher nodded thoughtfully.  "I'll consider that. More questions?"

"I was wondering if we are responsible for getting our own costumes?"

"Good question. Most of you will be playing soldiers, and you need to get fitted by Mr. Whitman in the theater department. The rest of you, if you have pieces which would be historically correct, please feel free to wear them. If you don't have anything that will serve, you also should see Mr. Whitman. He has an enormous stockpile of appropriate costumes. Make sure that you have at least one change of costume a piece. One to wash and one to wear. Don't forget to get footwear, and leave any non-historical jewelry or accessories at home. Nothing breaks the illusion faster than a pair of Ray Bans or a swatch watch. Anything else?"

One student wanted to know if the uniforms were hot. Another wanted to know if they would get to fire real guns. Another asked if they could bring a dog. The questions were kind of silly, and Julie was getting impatient. She wished they'd just shut up so she could go back to the room and think about this whole adventure.

"Look - it's getting late," Mr. McKay said, interrupting a growing argument between two students who disagreed on whether wool socks would itch or not. "I've got your contracts here. Please think hard before you sign. I've got time to replace you if you change your mind right now, but two weeks from now is too late. Got it?"

He passed out the contracts. Then he passed out pens to a few students. How anyone could go anywhere on campus and not have paper or pens with them, she would never understand. Julie took the contract and stuffed it into her backpack along with her notebook. She tucked Carrie's contract in as well. They had a lot to talk about!

Most of the students scribbled a signature on their contract and turned it right back in. Then they filed out of the classroom, still arguing. Carrie pulled on her hat and scarf, tying it up over her face. She still looked pale, and Julie was itching to find out what the problem was.