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McCarter, Margaret Hill, 1860-1938

"Vanguards of the Plains"

Great God! I wonder we ever got you here!" Rex's
face was very grave. "Now go to sleep and wake up well. No more thinkin'
like a man. You can be a child again for a while."
Those were happy days that followed. Safe behind the strong walls of old
Fort Bent, we children had not a care; and with the stress and strain of
the trail life lifted from our young minds, we rebounded into happy
childhood living. Every day offered a new drama to our wonder-loving
eyes. We watched the big hide-press for making buffalo robes and furs
into snug bales. We climbed to the cupola of the headquarters department
and saw the soldiers marching by on their way to New Mexico. We saw the
Ute and the Red River Comanche come filing in on their summer
expeditions from the mountains. We saw the trade lines from the far
north bearing down to this wilderness crossroads with their early fall
stock for barter.
Our playground was the court off which all the rooms opened. And however
wild and boisterous the scenes inside those walls in that summer of
1846, in four young lives no touch of evil took root. Stronger than the
six-feet width of wall, higher than the eighteen feet of adobe brick
guarding us round about, was the stern strength of the young Boston man
interned in the fort to protect us from within, as the strength of that
structure defended us from without.


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