A Daughter of the Sioux Part 9

Already, however, the orderly was hurrying back. They met him when not half way over to the line of officers' quarters. The few men for duty in the two companies of infantry, left to guard the post, were gathering in little groups in front of their barracks, awaiting the sounding of the a.s.sembly. They knew the chief at a glance, and were curiously watching him as he went thoughtfully pacing across the parade by the side of the temporary commander. They saw the orderly coming almost at a run from the direction of the guard-house, saw him halt and salute, evidently making some report, but they could not guess what made him so suddenly start and run at speed toward the southward bluff, the direction of the trader's corral and stables, while Captain Dade whirled about and signalled Sergeant Crabb, of the cavalry, left behind in charge of the few custodians of the troop barracks. Crabb, too, threw dignity to the winds, and ran at the beck of his superior officer.

"Have you two men who can ride hard a dozen miles or so--and carry out their orders?" was the captain's sharp demand.

"Certainly, sir," answered Crabb, professionally resentful that such question should be asked of men of the ----th Cavalry.

"Send two to report to me at once, mounted. Never mind breakfast."

And by this time, apparently, the chief, the post commander and possibly even the aide-de-camp had forgotten about the waiting coffee. They still stood there where they had halted in the centre of the parade. The doctor, coming from hospital, was signalled to and speedily joined them.

The bugle sounded, the men mechanically formed ranks and answered to their names, all the while watching from the corner of their eyes the group of officers, now increased by two infantry subalterns, Lieutenants Bruce and Duncan, who raised their caps to the preoccupied general, such salutation being then a fashion, not a regulation of the service, and stood silently awaiting instructions, for something of consequence was surely at hand. Then the orderly again appeared, returning from his mission, out of breath and speaking with difficulty.

"c.r.a.ps--I mean the Frenchman, sir, says it was after four, perhaps half past, when they started, Pete drivin'. He didn't see who was in it.

'Twas the covered buckboard he took, sir--the best one."

And then, little by little, it transpired that Hay, the post trader whom the general had need to see, had taken his departure by way of the Rawlins road, and without so much as a whisper of his purpose to any one.

"I knew he had thought of going. He told Major Webb so," said Dade, presently. "But that was before the outbreak a.s.sumed proportions. He had given up all idea of it yesterday and so told me."

"Has anything happened to--start him since then?" demanded the bearded general, after a moment's thought.

Dade and the doctor looked into each other's eyes, and the latter turned away. It was not his affair.

"W-ell, something has happened, general," was Dade's slow, constrained reply. "If you will step this way--I'll see you later, gentlemen--" this to his subalterns--"I'll explain as far as I can."

And while Dr. Waller fell back and walked beside the aide-de-camp, gladly leaving to the post commander the burden of a trying explanation, the general, slowly pacing by the captain's side, gave ear to his story.

"Hay cleaned up quite a lot of money," began the veteran, "and had intended starting it to Cheyenne when this Indian trouble broke out. The courier reached us during the night, as you know, and the major ordered Ray to start at dawn and Field to go with him."

"Why, I thought Field was post adjutant!" interposed the general.

"He was, but--well--I beg you to let Major Webb give you his own reasons, general," faltered Dade, sorely embarra.s.sed. "He decided that Field should go----"

"He _asked_ to go, I suppose--It runs in the blood," said the general, quickly, with a keen look from his blue-gray eyes.

"I think not, sir; but you will see Webb within a few days and he will tell you all about it. What I know is this, that Field was ordered to go and that he gave the major an order on Hay for two packages containing the money for which he was accountable. Field and Wilkins had had a falling out, and, instead of putting the cash in the quartermaster's safe, Field kept it at Hay's. At guard mounting Hay brought the package to the major, who opened both in presence of the officers of the day.

Each package was supposed to contain three or four hundred dollars.

Neither contained twenty. Some paper slips inserted between five dollar bills made up the packages. Field was then far to the north and past conferring with. Hay was amazed and distressed--said that someone must have duplicate keys of his safe as well as of his stables."

"Why the stables?" asked the chief, pausing at the gate and studying the troubled face of the honored soldier he so well knew and so fully trusted. He was thinking, too, how this was not the first occasion that the loss of public money had been hidden for the time in just that way--slips inserted between good currency.

"Because it transpires that some of his horses were out that very night without his consent or ken. No one for a moment, to my knowledge, has connected Field with the loss of the money. Hay thought, however, it threw suspicion on _him_, and was mightily upset."

"Then his sudden departure at this time, without a word to anybody looks--odd," said the general, thoughtfully. "But _he_ had no need of money. He's one of the wealthiest men in Wyoming. And she--his wife,--needs nothing. He gives her all she can possibly want." By this time they were at the door. A lamp still burned dimly in the hallway, and Dade blew it out, as he ushered the general into the cosily lighted dining-room.

"You'll excuse Mrs. Dade and Esther, I hope, sir. They are not yet up--quite overcome by anxiety and excitement,--there's been a lot about Frayne the last two days.--Take this chair, General. Coffee will be served at once. No, sir, as you say, the Hays have no need of money--he and his wife, that is."

"But you suspect--whom?" asked the general, the blue-gray eyes intent on the troubled face before him, for Dade's very hesitancy told of some untold theory. The doctor and the aide had taken seats at the other end of the table and dutifully engaged in low-toned conversation.

"That is a hard question for me to answer, General," was the answer. "I have no right to suspect anybody. We had no time to complete the investigation. There are many hangers-on, you know, about Hay's store, and indeed, his house. Then his household, too, has been increased, as perhaps you did not know. Mrs. Hay's niece--a very brilliant young woman--is visiting them, and she and Field rode frequently together."

The general's face was a study. The keen eyes were reading Dade as a skilled physician would interpret the symptoms of a complicated case.

"How old--and what is she like, Dade?" he asked.

"The women can answer that better than I, sir. They say she must be twenty-four;--Mrs. Hay says nineteen--She is very dark and very handsome--at times. Most of our young men seem to think so, at least.

She certainly rides and dances admirably, and Mr. Field was constantly her partner."

The general began to see light. "Field was constantly with her, was he?

Riding just by themselves or with others when they went out?" he asked.

"By themselves, sir. I doubt if any other of our equestriennes would care to ride at her pace. She rather outstrips them all. The major told me they seemed to go--well, every time he saw them, at least,--up to Stabber's village, and that was something he disapproved of, though I dare say she was simply curious to see an Indian village, as an Eastern girl might be."

"Possibly," said the general. "And what did you tell me--she is Mrs.

Hay's niece? I don't remember _his_ having any niece when they were at Laramie in '66, though I knew something of Mrs. Hay, who was then but a short time married. She spoke Sioux and _patois_ French better than English in those days. What is the young lady's name?"

"Miss Flower, sir. Nanette Flower."

The chief dropped his head on his hand and reflected. "It's a good twenty years, and I've been knocking about all over the West since then, but, I'd like to see Mrs. Hay and that young woman, Dade, whether we overhaul Bill or not. I must go on to Beecher at once."

"You will wait for the cavalry from Laramie, will you not, sir?" asked the captain, anxiously.

"I can't. I'll get a bath and breakfast and forty winks later; then see Mrs. Hay and Bill, if he is back. They ought to catch him before he reaches Sage Creek. There are your couriers now," he added, at the sound of spurred heels on the front piazza.

The captain stepped forth into the hallway. A trooper stood at the front door, his hand lifted in salute. Another, in saddle, and holding the reins of his comrade's horse, was at the gate. A rustle of feminine drapery swept downward from the upper floor, and Dade glanced up, half dreading to see Esther's face. But it was his wife who peered over the bal.u.s.trade. "I shall be down in ten minutes," she said, in low tone.

"Esther is sleeping at last. How did--he--seem this morning?"

"Sleeping, too, but only fitfully. Dr. Waller is here," and then Dade would have ended the talk. He did not wish to speak further of Field or his condition. But she called again, low-toned, yet dominant, as is many a wife in and out of the army.

"Surely you are not letting the general start with only two men!"

"No, he goes by and by." And again Dade would have escaped to the piazza, but once again she held him.

"Then where are you sending these?"

"After Mr. Hay. He--made an early start--not knowing perhaps, the general was coming."

"Start!" she cried, all excitement now. "Start!--Start for where?" and the dressing sacque in aspen-like agitations came in full view at the head of the stairs.

"Rawlins, I suppose. I don't know what it means."

"But _I_ do!" exclaimed his better half, in emotion uncontrollable. "_I_ do! It means that she has _made_ him,--that _she_ has gone, too--I mean Nanette Flower!"

CHAPTER XV

A WOMAN'S PLOT