Edge of the Wilderness - By Stephanie Grace Whitson Page 0,31

Meg’s age made my heart ache to see her.

As Simon bent to the task of writing Gen, sweat collected on his forehead. He rose and lifted the window in a vain attempt to catch any errant breeze that might drift up from the river. The morning’s traffic to the river below had begun, and the noise of commerce competed with Simon’s attempts to concentrate.

If you were with me this moment we would be hurrying to escape the sweltering heat which penetrates the walls of this little room. We would descend to partake of Mrs. Smith’s boardinghouse breakfast where I imagine you would disdain her rather nondescript biscuits and long for a huge dollop of Miss Jane’s blackberry jam to increase their palatability.

However, once we exited the boardinghouse you would be treated to the sights of a rather substantial river city which, although it has existed only a little longer than you have been alive, boasts many imposing brick buildings and fine residences. We would stroll along one of the boardwalks erected to protect the fair citizens from disappearing into the endless mud that accompanies any rain. I would offer you my arm lest you stumble on one of the many loose boards that rise without warning to trip unsuspecting pedestrians. You would no doubt comment on the hogs roaming the streets at will, rooting up grass, fences, and seedling trees planted by the more hopeful citizens of this city.

Twice daily, the cavalry from Camp McClellan rides through the city in order to water its horses down at the river. The resulting cloud of dust deposits a gritty film over everything. Miss Jane and Mrs. Whitney would be driven to distraction trying to keep the furniture dusted.

The city has seen several hundreds of recruits arrive, train, and depart for the battlefields in the East. Now they are adjusting to the presence of the Dakota prisoners. The camp itself is situated on a high bluff overlooking the Mississippi River, the railroad bridge, and the city of Davenport. A fine belt of tall trees will help shield the prisoners from winter storms, and this will be needed as the barracks in which they are housed were hastily erected and are quite drafty.

The men are confined inside an enclosure about two hundred feet square inside of which are four buildings—former soldiers’ barracks, albeit without the beds. Of these four buildings, two are occupied by prisoners, one is a combination hospital and women’s quarters (about a dozen squaws have been brought down to do the cooking and laundry—two even assist the post doctor in the hospital). All is surrounded by a high board fence, four feet from the top of which is a walkway constantly patrolled by sentries.

The average age of the Dakota men here is about thirty, although we have a few very old men whose health is in such a precarious state I do not expect they will survive the winter next.

I long to tell you more, but the sun shining in my little window reminds me that my duty is up the hill inside the board walls I have been describing.

I miss you terribly. My love to the children.

We hold religious meetings three times each day. God is doing a great work here and has certainly remembered His children in their affliction. Chaska, a new convert, speaks at many of these meetings. He is a gifted orator and dispenses the gospel in a very fluent and impressive manner. His audience listens with profound respect, and more than once I have seen a time of spontaneous encouragement break out as the men speak of the freedom they have found in Christ and what His promises mean to them.

When not in religious meetings the men write to their friends at Crow Creek, play games, sing, or make bows and arrows or other trinkets for which there has sprung up a lively market in Davenport. There is talk of allowing groups of the prisoners under guard to be employed by neighboring farmers for the fall harvest.

New recruits to Camp McClellan usually begin by being quite harsh with the prisoners. However, after a few days their’ opinions inevitably change and the treatment mitigates. I have observed nothing so harsh as to compare with what these poor souls endured at the hands of the citizens of Minnesota and thus I have concluded that the Lord has been gracious to bring them here where they can serve whatever term of imprisonment the government sees fit to impose. The