Buffalo Girls Read Free

fire.”
    â€œI guess we oughta go look up Calamity,” Bartle said. “She’ll know the news. Calamity always knows the news.”
    â€œShe might be too drunk to remember it, though,” Jim said. “She needs to wean herself from all that drinking.”
    The prairie dog looked so unappetizing that he regretted he had even bothered to shoot it, much less cook it.
    â€œThere could be a passel of news,” Bartle said. “We could be at war with China for all you know. The Chinamen could have captured San Francisco by now, or even Texas.”
    â€œI’ve never been to San Francisco, let ’em have it,” Jim Ragg said. Texas was another matter, but it seemed unlikely to him that the Chinese had captured Texas. If there was war in Texas, half the old men of the west would have rushed to the fight.
    â€œEven if there ain’t no news I miss Calamity, and I have seen enough of the Wind River to last me awhile,” Bartle said. “What’s your mood?”
    â€œHungry, mainly,” Jim said.
    Darling Jane—
    Didn’t get far, Janey, I only come down the Tongue River a few miles. The older I get the harder it is to get started. Some days I just don’t want to move—there are times when it’s hard to seethe point. You have your school and have to help your Daddy with the housework, I’m sure you are busy, Janey, people should be helpful, at your age especially.
    Now that the smallpox has died down I don’t guess I have any chores. Over in Deadwood when the smallpox hit they said I was the best nurse they had, the boys said they’d never forget me. Their shacks were miserable, some of them didn’t even have shacks, just tents and not real tents either, rags would be a better description. Ha, I wasn’t just the best nurse they had, I was the
only
nurse, nobody else would go near those dying boys—forty of them died anyway, I couldn’t save them. I ain’t a Doc, Janey all I could do was cook them soup and hold their hand—I hated to see those boys die, I have been gloomy ever since.
    I may tear this up, why should you read it? I feel I should be writing you about cheerful things, the prairie flowers or maybe pretty sights I’ve seen. It’s not wise to pass on painful memories, that smallpox up in Deadwood is painful to remember, nothing much worse has happened in my life. Wild Bill getting assassinated by the coward Jack McCall was worse and the Custer battle was worse, I lost many fine friends in the Custer battle. But that’s just quick death, it happens—the sickness in Deadwood was slow, I guess that’s why it seems worse.
    I should just get my mind off it, Janey. I should remember what ripping fun Jim and Bartle and me used to have hauling freight to the forts—they thought they were degraded, mountain men ain’t supposed to drive mules, but I loved driving them mules, I’d be driving them still if Custer hadn’t took a dislike of me, Mrs. Custer had no better opinion I’m afraid. I thought Custer was a vain fool and look what he did—hundreds of men died because of him, not just soldiers either, newspapermen only count the soldiers, but many Indians died too, you won’t find finer-looking boys than some of those Cheyenne, I love to see them ride.
    I was never able to get on the good side of a General, Janey—General Crook didn’t care for me either but at least he waspolite, Sheridan wasn’t polite, he would have hung me right away if he could have found a regulation that allowed him to hang a woman for whooping and hollering.
    Janey I like to yell at times, why not? The Indians like to yell too, maybe that’s why I get along with Indians, who wants to just sit around and be quiet all the time?
    I am not much closer to Ragg and Bone today, ten miles maybe. I can do sixty miles a day if I get up and get started. Satan can’t figure out why we’re