Tenting on the Plains; or, General Custer in Kansas and Texas

by Elizabeth Bacon Custer

As story after story reached us, I began to think the State was well named. There were a great many excellent, law-abiding citizens, but not enough to leaven the lump at that chaotic period. Even the women learned to defend themselves, as the war had deprived them of their natural protectors, who had gone either in the Northern or Southern army—for Texas had a cavalry regiment of refugees in our service. One woman, while we were there, found a teamster getting into her window, and shot him fatally. Firearms were so constantly about—for the men did not dress without a pistol in their belts—that women grew accustomed to the sight of weapons. There was a woman of whom I constantly heard, rich and refined, but living out of town on a plantation that seemed to be fit only for negroes. She rode fearlessly, and diverted her monotonous life by hunting. The planters frequently met her with game slung upon her saddle, and once she lassoed and brought in a wolf alone. Finally, this woman came to see me, but curiosity made me hardly civil for a few moments, as I was trying to reconcile myself to the knowledge that the quiet, graceful person before me, with rich dress, jewels and a French hat, could take her gun and dogs, mount a fiery horse, and go hunting alone. We found, on returning the visit, that, though they were rich, owning blooded horses, a plantation and a mill, their domicile was anything but what we at the North would call comfortable. It was a long, one-storied, log building, consisting of a parlor, dining-room, bedroom and two small "no-'count" rooms, as the servants said, all opening into one another and upon the porch. The first surprise on entering was, that the roof did not fit down snugly on the side wall. A strip of the blue sky was visible on three sides, while the partition of the dining-room only came up part way. There seemed to be no sort of provision for "Caudle lectures." The walls were roughly plastered, but this space just under the roof was for ventilation, and I fancied they would get enough of it during a norther.

I am reminded of a story that one of the witty Southern women told me, after repeating some very good comic verses, in which they excel. She said the house I described was not uncommon in Texas, and that once she was traveling over a portion of the State, on a journey of great suffering, as she was accompanying her husband's remains to a family burial-ground. They assisted her from her carriage into one of the rooms of a long log house, used as a wayside inn, and the landlady kindly helped her into bed, as she was prostrated with suffering and fatigue. After she left her, the landlady seemed to forget that the partition did not extend to the rafters, and began questioning her servant as to what was the matter, etc. Hearing that the lady had lost her husband, the old dame exclaimed, sympathetically, "Poor thing! Poor thing! I know how it is; I've lost three of em."

The General and his staff got a good deal of sport out of the manner in which they exaggerated the tales of bloodshed to me, and aroused the anger, grief and horror that I could not suppress. I must defend myself from the supposition that I may have been chronicling their absurd and highly colored tales. All that I have written I have either seen or have reliable authority for. Their astounding stories, composed among themselves, began with a concocted plan by which one casually started a story, the others met it with surprise, and with an "Is it possible?" and the next led up to some improbable narrative of the General's—I growing more and more shivery as the wicked tormentors advanced. Always rather gullible, I suppose, I must confess the torn and distracted state of society in Texas made everything they said seem probable. I don't know how long I kept up a fashion of starting and shuddering over the frequent crack of a rifle or pistol, as we rode through the woods about the town. My husband and his attendant scamps did all they could to confirm my belief that the woods were full of assassins, and I rode on after these sharp reports, expecting to come upon the lifeless remains of a murdered man. They all said, with well-assumed feeling, that Texas was an awful country in which to live, where a man's life was not safe an hour, and excitedly exclaimed at each shot, "There goes some other poor fellow!" I have reason to believe it was a serious disappointment to the whole confederation of jokers, to have me actually see a Mexican driver (a greaser) crack his whip over the heads of his oxen, as they crawled along in front of us one day when we were riding. There is no sound like the snap of the lash of a "bull-whacker," as they are called, and perhaps brighter women than I am might have been taken in by it, and thought it a pistol-shot. This ended my taking it as the signal of a death.

The lawlessness of the State was much diminished by the troops scattered through the country. General Custer was much occupied in answering communications that came from distant parts of Texas, describing the demoralized state of the country, and asking for troops. These appeals were from all sides. It was felt more and more that the presence of the troops was absolutely necessary, and it was certainly agreeable to us that we were not looked upon as invaders. The General then had thirteen regiments of infantry and as many of cavalry, scattered in every part of the State comprised in his district. The regular troops arriving brought their wives and daughters, and it was a great addition, as we had constant entertainments, in which the civilians, so long cut off from all gayety, were glad to participate. The staff assisted me greatly in my preparations. We dressed the long parlors in evergreens, made canopies of flags, arranged wax-lights in impromptu wooden sconces, and with the waxed floor it was tempting enough to those who cared for dancing. The soldiers soon organized a string band, and a sergeant called off the quadrilles. Sometimes my husband planned and arranged the suppers alone, but usually the staff divided the duty of preparing the refreshments. Occasionally we attempted a dinner, and, as we wanted to invite our own ladies as well as some from the regular regiments, the table was a subject of study; for when twenty came, the dishes gave out. The staff dined early, so that we could have theirs, and the Southern woman who occupied two rooms in the building lent everything she had. Uncle Charley, our cook, who now had found a colored church in which to preach on Sunday, did up all his religion on that day, and swore all the week, but the cellar-kitchen was distant, and, besides, my husband used to argue that it was just as well to endure placidly the evils right about us, but not to seek for more. The swearing did not interfere with the cooking, and Charley thought it necessary to thus clear the kitchen, as our yard at that time was black with the colored race. Each officer's servant had his circle of friends, and they hovered round us like a dark cloud. The dishes that Uncle Charley sent up were excellent. The Texas beef and poultry were of superior quality, and we even had a respite from condensed milk, as a citizen had lent us a cow.

At one of these dinners Eliza had enlisted a colored boy to help her wait on the table. I had tried to borrow enough dishes, and thought the table was provided. But the glory of the occasion departed when, after soup, roast game, etc., all served with the great luxury, at that place, of separate plates, Uncle Charley bethought himself that he would add, as a surprise, a dessert. It is almost unnecessary to say that a dessert at that time was an event. Uncle Charley said his "best holt" was on meats, and his attempts at pastry would not only have ruined the remnant of his temper, but, I am afraid, if often indulged in, would have effectually finished our digestion. For this I had not counted, and, to my dismay, after the pudding had been deposited with great salaam and ceremony before the General, the colored boy rushed around and gathered everybody's coffee-saucer. Until he returned them washed, and placed them at the head of the table, I did not imagine what he was doing; I simply waited, in that uncertain frame of mind that a hostess well knows. My husband looked at the array of cups down the long table, standing bereft of their partners, laid his head back and shouted. Then everybody else laughed, and, very red and very mortified, I concluded to admit that I had not arranged for this last course, and that on that table were the united contents of all our mess-chests, and there were no saucers or dessert-plates nearer than town. We were aware that our stay in the South was limited, and made no effort to keep enough crockery for dinners of twenty.

After many enjoyable parties in our parlor, we received a pathetic and carefully worded hint from Eliza, who was now a great belle, that she would like to return some of the hospitality shown her by the colored people of the town, and my husband was only too glad to prove to Eliza how we valued her faithful, self-denying life in our service. We composed an invitation, in which Miss Eliza Brown presented her compliments to Mr. Washington or Mr. Jefferson, as the case might be, and would be happy to see him on such an evening, with the word "dancing" in the left-hand corner. A gathering of the darkeys seemed equally jubilant, whether it was a funeral, a camp-meeting or a dance; but it seemed they made a difference in dress for these occasions, if not in manners. So it was best, Eliza thought, to add "dancing," though it was only at first a mirthful suggestion of the General's fertile brain. He gave the copying to the office clerk, who, being a professional penman, put as many tails to his capitals and flourishes to his words as he did for the white folks, Eliza's critical eye watching for any less elaborate embellishment.

The lower part of the house was given over to the negroes, who polished the floor, trimmed the windows, columns and chimney with garlands of live-oak, and lavished candles on the scene, while at the supper they had a heterogeneous jumble of just what they asked for, including coon, the dish garnished with watercress and bits of boiled beet. I think we were not asked; but as the fiddle started the jigs, the General's feet began to keep time, and he executed some pas seul around our room, and then, extracting, as usual, a promise from me not to laugh, he dragged me down the steps, and we hid where we saw it all. The quadrille ended, the order of ceremonies seemed to consist in the company going down to one end of the room in response to an order from Uncle Charley to "cl'ar the flo'." Then the old man of sixty, a grandfather, now dressed in white tie, vest and gloves, with shining black clothes, took the floor. He knew himself to be the cynosure of all eyes, and bore himself accordingly. He had previously said to me, "To-night, I expects, Miss Libbie, to put down some steps those colored folks has never seen befo'." And surely he did. He ambled out, as lithe as a youngster, cut some pigeon-wings, and then skipped and flung himself about with the agility of a boy, stopping not only for breath, but to watch the expressions, envious and admiring, of the spectators at the end of the room. When his last breath was exhausted, Aunt Ann, our old laundress, came tripping down the polished floor, and executed a shuffle, most decorous at first, and then, reviving her youth, she struck into a hoydenish jig, her son encouraging her by patting time. More quadrilles, then another clearing of the floor, and a young yellow woman pirouetted down the room, in bright green tarlatan petticoats, very short and airy. She executed a hornpipe and a reel, and, like Uncle Charley, improvised some steps for the occasion. This black sylph was surrounded with a cloud of diaphanous drapery; she wreathed her arms about her head, kept on the smirk of the ballet-girl, and coquetted and skipped about, with manners that brought down the house. The fattest darkey of all waddled down next and did a breakdown, at which all the assembly patted juba, and with their woolly heads kept time to the violin. My husband never moved from his hiding-place, but chuckled and shook over the sight, novel to us, till Eliza found us out and forgave the "peeking."

The clothes worn looked as if the property-room of a third-rate theatre had been rifled—faded finery, fag ends of old lace, tumbled flowers that had done duty at many a "white folks'" ball, on the pretty costume of the missus, old feathers set up in the wool, where what was left of the plume bobbed and quavered, as the head of the owner moved to the time of the music, or nodded and swayed back and forth while conversation was kept up. The braiding, oiling and smoothing had gone on for days previous, to straighten the wool and make it lie flat; but the activity in the pursuit of pleasure soon set the little kinks free, and each hair stood on tiptoe, joining in a jig of its own. The powder begged from the toilet-table of the missus was soon swept away in the general shine; but the belles cared little for having suspended temporarily the breath of their rivals by the gorgeousness of their toilettes; they forgot appearances and yielded to that absorption of excitement in which the colored soul is spellbound.