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

by Elizabeth Bacon Custer

"I wish you could see the waxen white berries and the green leaves of the parasite on the naked branches of the trees here, mother; and, oh! to have you get one sniff of the December roses, which rival the summer ones in richness of color and perfume, would make my pleasure greater, I assure you. It is nearly spring here, and the grass on our lawn is getting green, and the farmers began to plough in January.

"Nettie is such a nurse here! Her name is up for it, and she has even to go out to the servants' quarters if the little nigs burn their heels or toes. She is a great pleasure to us all, and enjoys every moment."

It seems that the general racing of which I wrote to my father, was too tempting for me to resist entirely, and our household was beguiled one day into a promise to bring my husband's war-horse, Jack Rucker, down to the citizens' track. Every one was confident of success, and no one took into consideration that the experiment of pitting gentlemen against turf roughs has never been successful. Our officers entered into all the preparations with high hopes, thinking that with one good whipping the civilians would cease to send bantering messages or drag presuming coat-tails before their eyes. They were accustomed to putting their steeds to their best speed when a party of equestrians from our headquarters were riding in their vicinity. Too fond of good horseflesh not to admire the pace at which their thoroughbreds sped over the smooth, firm roads about Austin, there was still a murmured word passed around that the owners of these fleet animals would hang their proud heads when "Jack" came into the field. We women were pressed into going. All of us liked the trial of speed on our own territory, but the hatred of a horse-track that was not conducted by gentlemen was imbedded deep in our minds. The officers did not ask us to go for good luck, as army women are so often told they bring it, but they simply said, "You could not miss seeing our Jack beat!" Off we went, a gay, boisterous party, till we reached the track; there we put on our quietest civilian manners and took our place to watch the coming triumph. The track was good, and the Texas men and women, more enthusiastic over a horse than over anything else in the world, cheered their blanketed favorite as he was led up and down before the judge's stand.

When the judge gave the final "Go!" our party were so excited, and our hearts so swelling with assured success, I would have climbed up on the saddle to see better, if it had not been that we were surrounded with strangers. Off went the beautiful Texas horse, like an arrow from a bow; but our Jack, in spite of the rider sticking the spur and cruelly cutting his silken neck with the whip, only lumbered around the first curve, and in this manner laboriously made his way the rest of the distance. Of course it was plain that we were frightfully beaten, and with loud and triumphant huzzas, the Texans welcomed their winning horse long before poor Jack dragged himself up to the stand. Our officers hurried out to look him over, and found the poor brute had been drugged by the contesting side. There was no serious injury, except to our pride. We were too disappointed, humiliated and infuriated to stand upon the order of our going. We all turned our backs upon the crowd and fled. The clatter of our horses' hoofs upon the hard road was the only sound, as none of us spoke.

My husband met that, as everything else, as nothing worthy of serious regret, and after the tempest of fury over our being so imposed upon, I rather rejoiced, because the speed of our horses, after that first and last essay, was confined to our own precincts. Nobody's pocket suffered, and the wounded spirits of those who race horses are more easily soothed if a wounded purse has not to be borne in addition.

There was one member of our family, to whom I have only referred, who was our daily joy. It was the pointer, Ginnie, whom the Virginia family in Hempstead had given us. My husband made her a bed in the hall near our room, and she did every cunning, intelligent act of which a dog is capable. She used to go hunting, walking and riding with us, and was en rapport with her master at all times. I often think, Who among our friends pleases us on all occasions? How few there are who do not rub us up the wrong way, or whom we ourselves are not conscious sometimes of boring, and of taxing their patience! And do we not find that we sometimes approach those of whom we are fond, and discover intuitively that they are not in sympathy with our mood, and we must bide their time for responding to our overtures? With that dear Ginnie there was no question. She received us exactly in the spirit with which we approached her, responded, with measure pressed down and running over, to our affectionate demonstrations, and the blessed old girl never sulked if we dropped her to attend to something else. George Eliot says, "Animals are such agreeable friends! they ask no questions, they pass no criticisms."

A dog is so human to me, and dogs have been my husband's chosen friends so many years, I cannot look upon the commonest cur with indifference. Sometimes, as I stand now at my window, longing for the old pack that whined with delight, quarreled with jealousy for the best place near us, capered with excitement as we started off on a ride or walk, my eyes involuntarily follow each dog that passes on the street. I look at the master, to see if he realizes that all that is faithful and loving in this world is at his heels. If he stops to talk to a friend, and the dog leaps about him, licks his hand, rubs against him, and tries, in every way that his devoted heart teaches him, to attract the attention of the one who is all the world to him, all my sympathies are with the dog. I watch with jealous solicitude to see if the affectionate brute gets recognition. And if by instinct the master's hand goes out to the dog's head, I am quite as glad and grateful as the recipient. If the man is absorbed, and lets the animal sit patiently and adoringly watching his very expression, it seems to me I cannot refrain from calling his attention to the neglect.

My husband was as courteous in responding to his dogs' demonstrations, and as affectionate, as he would be to a person. If he sent them away, he explained, in dog talk, the reason, which might seem absurd if our canine family had not been our companions so constantly that they seemed to understand and accept his excuses as something unavoidable on his part. The men of our family so appreciated kindness to dogs that I have found myself this winter, involuntarily almost, calling to them to see an evidence of affection. One of my neighbors is a beer saloon, and though I am too busy to look out of the window much, I have noticed occasionally an old express horse waiting for his master to take "something warming." The blanket was humped up on his back mysteriously. It turned out to be a dear little cur, which was thus kept warm by a fond master. It recalls our men, and the ways they devised for keeping their dogs warm, the times innumerable when they shared their own blankets with them when caught out in a cold snap, or divided short rations with the dogs they loved.

Returning to Ginnie, I remember a day when there was a strange disappearance; she did not thump her tail on the door for entrance, fetching our stockings in her mouth, as a gentle hint that it was time to get up and have a fire, if the morning was chilly. It did not take the General long to scramble into his clothes and go to investigate, for he dearly loved her, and missed the morning call. Soon afterward he came bounding up the stairs, two steps at a time, to announce that no harm had come to our favorite, but that seven other little Ginnies were now taking the breakfast provided by their mother, under the negro quarters at the rear of the house. There was great rejoicing, and preparations to celebrate this important event in our family. Eliza put our room in order, and descended to the kitchen to tell what antics the General was performing over the animal. When she was safely down-stairs, where she could not intimidate us, my husband and I departed to fetch the new family up near us. The General would not trust any one with the responsibility of the removal. He crawled under the building, which was set up on low piles, and handed out the baby canines, one by one, to me. Ginnie ran beside us, frantic with anxiety, but her eloquent eyes full of love and trust in our intentions.