My name is Cassandra Harper of Small Creek, Wisconsin. Small Creek is a small northwestern area of the state. It was densely wooded country and becoming very crowded now because of the ever growing demand for lumber in the rest of the country.
I lived in a small cabin with my Momma, and two younger brothers or rather, I did until yesterday when I left my home and my momma to earn money as a house maid. However, far into my journey to my new vocation, I learned I was not to be a house maid after all but a kitchen hand and wash girl in a lumber camp filled with men. I was still grappling with my newly understood circumstances when my new step father, Mr. Hernsh attached the reins to his gray, stocky work horse and we continued onwards in the rickety wagon to the camp and my new life.
I could smell the camp before I saw any trace of its existence. I smelled wood burning and food cooking. I also smelled something else that I could not identify but came to learn it was the smell of a large number of men living and sleeping in close proximity to each other in one space; it was the smell of perspiration and well worn clothes in need of laundering and pipes and cigars, leather boots and mud. Then I could hear the camp, all the voices blended into one large noise that got louder as I got closer to camp.
I could also hear the roar of water running over rocks, we must be near a river, though which one, I could not say.
My eyes widened as the camp suddenly revealed itself. It was so much larger than I had envisioned, there must be hundreds of men here! Tents and very crude cabin-like structures were in one area, a few better made cabins were in another area, the areas were separated by a river of mud.
Mr. Hernsh did not attempt to drive his wagon onto the mud roadway, even he knew his wheels would sink in and render him impossibly stuck. He clipped his reins and we both hopped down and walked, and carefully stepped between the mud puddles and debris.
Men stopped and stared in my direction. I felt like they could see right through me, knew why I was here and what I allowed Mr. Hernsh to do to me last night and again this morning. I allowed him to teach me how to handle all these camp men. How exactly they would handle me, I did not know.
We came upon a crude cabin where a great many men seemed to be just standing around, some talking to friends, others just smoking their pipes.
"Where's the wash woman?" Mr. Hernsh asked a lone man.
He hooked his thumb to indicate inside the cabin but he didn't bother to talk. We walked inside, even though it was a bright sunny day outside, it was dark inside the cabin.
There were several roughly built long tables and benches where several men sat and ate brown stew. There was only one woman in the cabin, she was a medium sized lady of about thirty five years old. She had very black hair and a large bosom. She looked formidable, her face was practically set in a snarl, her black eyes were hard.
She looked at Mr. Hernsh with a some recognition and then me. She did not seem happy to see me.
"This your girl?" She asked. Her voice sounded loud and angry.
Even Mr. Hernsh seemed cowered in her presence. "Yes, Ma'am" he politely answered holding his own hat in his hands.
She looked me over, her snarl only becoming more prominent. "You said she was an older girl!" She barked at Mr. Hernsh.
"She's eighteen, like I told you. She's small but after some hard work, she'll get sturdy, I believe," he promised.
The black haired lady continued to look at me, doubtful and not happy.
"Hmph!" Was her only reply. She turned and went back to serving brown stew to other men who recently sat down at a long table.
Mr. Hernsh and I stood there rather awkwardly. She didn't seem to want me, so, what now? I wondered. Would we just turn around and go back home to Momma?
After awhile Mr. Hernsh became impatient, he spoke over to the women, "You want her or no?" He asked.