A Wounded Name Part 10

The sun had gone down behind the high bluffs at the back of the straggling frontier town. The plank sidewalks were thronged in the neighborhood of the hotel with picturesque loungers as the young officer made his way westward, and soon reached the outlying, unpaved, deep-rutted cross streets. He readily found the rector, a kindly, gentle-mannered widower he proved to be, whose sister had come to keep house for him, and never before had either of them lived in a community so utterly primitive, if not uncouth. It was plain to be seen that he was a Southerner, and in the joy of a few minutes' conversation with a young man whose language and manners bespoke the gentleman, Mr. Lambert speedily made known to him that his health had suffered in New Orleans and his physicians had insisted on total change of climate, and the great Northwest was a new, untrodden field for the sons of the cross, of his sect at least. He had read with admiration of the missionary work accomplished among the savage Indians by the church of Rome, but there were heathen rather more intractable than they, said he, with a sigh.

Mr. Loring was sympathetic, but already informed on that point. What he wished to learn was, did the rector know of any family among his parishioners at whose table he could find his daily bread for a reasonable consideration. Loring, as has been seen, was a man to whom the converse of his fellow-men, as found upon our frontier, was neither edifying nor improving. He preferred the society of his own thoughts.

The rector, the General (Colonel Newcome, it will be remembered, always accorded the head of column to the church), the adjutant-general of the new department and one solitary subaltern of cavalry were the only men he had met since reporting at Omaha whom he found really congenial. But then it must be remembered that it was the early summer, and the troops were all afield.

The rector brought the tips of his fingers together and bowed his gray head, his characteristic att.i.tude in reflection and repose. Yes, he knew of one, a woman widowed but a year ago, who was striving to keep her home by taking boarders, and who perhaps could find room for him at her table. Already she had given shelter to a most estimable woman, a widow like herself, a woman of many sorrows, whom he had well known during the troublous days in New Orleans, a gentlewoman, he might say, whose birth and breeding were apparent to the most casual observer, a Mrs.

Fletcher, who had come to him for advice, and who, through his recommendation gladly given, had recently gone to a good position--a lucrative position--and a home at Gate City. Loring was politely interested, but could the rector direct him to the house? He would call at once and make inquiries. The rector could, of course, but he was aging, and he loved a listener. He hated to let a hearer go. Might he ask if Mr. Loring was any connection of the General of that name so conspicuous in the service of the South in the defense of their beloved old Creole city before the hapless days of Butler, though he must concede to General Butler that his vigorous administration of munic.i.p.al affairs had cleansed and quarantined the city as they had never seen it done before. The similarity of name had suggested the--

"None whatever that I know of," said Loring, finding it necessary to interpose; "and where is Mrs. Fletcher's?"

"Ah, to be sure. Mrs. Fletcher is the name of the lady who boarded there awhile, but she has gone to Gate City. Mrs. Burton it is--a worthy soul.

Perhaps, indeed I think, a breath of air will do me good. I might walk around there with you."

So despite the remonstrance in his sister's eyes and Loring's respectful protest, the rector got his hat and linked his arm in that of the young athlete on his left, and led forth into the gloaming, prattling all the way. Soon they reached the cross street that led northward, parallel with the bluff line at the west, and against the twilight of the northern sky, the scattered houses, the few straggling saplings hopefully planted along the gutter, even the silhouetted figure of a long-legged dog, trotting across the road, were outlined sharp and, clear, black against a lemon horizon that shaded away imperceptibly into a faint violet. Long years after Loring could see the picture, and how, right in the midst of it, there rose slowly into view two black dots, the heads, evidently, of two pedestrians like themselves, ascending from the north, with the whole wide Missouri valley at their backs, the pathway he and his genially chatting conductor were threading from the south, with only this gentle rise between them, perhaps fifty yards away. It was interesting to the Engineer to watch the gradual development of the shadows against the sky, coming slowly into view as the fairies rise to sweet, thrilling melody, from underneath the stage in the transformation scene of the last act of the pantomime and spectacular drama beloved of our youth. Courteously inclining his ear to the monologue at his right, he kept his keen eyes fixed upon those coming figures. Slowly they rose, one that of a slender, dapper man, the other that of a slender, graceful girl, and the long arms of the former as they swung in sight were in energetic motion, in emphatic gesture.

Little by little the murmur at Loring's right dulled over his senses.

Little by little the slowly approaching figures sharpened and fixed themselves upon his sight, until when the pair could not have been more than fifty feet away, the rector looked suddenly up in alarm, as Loring halted short.

"My dear young friend, how thoughtless I am! Are you not well? What is wrong?"

A big wooden house, in whose windows the lights were feebly shining, stood just a few paces back of the fence, back of the gate where now the pair was standing, in low whispered talk, eager and impetuous on part of the man, doubtful and reluctant on part of the girl. Then the former became suddenly aware that two men were standing only a short distance away, observing:

"Then, good-night," he said. "You think it over;" and, without raising his hat, turned sharply and went striding back the way they came.

Only one glance did Loring give that receding figure, but his eyes followed that of the girl, who skimmed lightly up the steps and into the house, banging the door behind her.

The rector was clinging to his arm and looking into his face with much concern when Loring pulled himself together.

"This is Mrs. Burton's," said he. "Let us enter. Surely you need a gla.s.s of wine, or--water," he added vaguely.

"Thank you, Mr. Lambert, not--there. Let us turn about."

CHAPTER XX.

Within the fortnight that followed came a climax in the life of Loring, and astrologers who could have heard would have made much of such a combination of strange influences. Having told the General that it was his desire to find a quiet place in the northwestern section of the new city, Loring had moved back to the hotel. Having told the rector he desired to obtain table board at Mrs. Burton's, it of course resulted that the worthy ecclesiastic should speak to her at first opportunity, and that she should speedily come in search of Mr. Loring to inquire why he had failed to carry out his plan, and further, to intimate that on the strength of the rector's representations she had ordered a much nicer set of china, and laid in a stock of provisions that just then were to be had at lower rates, which, except that she expected him, she could not have thought of doing. Indeed, Mrs. Burton not only called once at his office, but followed it up by a visit to his lodging, where she shed tears in the presence of the person from whom he rented his rooms, and, this still proving ineffectual, she came again to department headquarters with the manifest object of taking the General and his staff into her confidence, to the equally manifest dismay of the chief and the disgust of his adjutant-general, neither of whom could check the volume of the good lady's words of woe. Loring found his soldierly commander grinning whimsically when he dropped in to say good-morning.

The General was that rare combination--a devout churchman and a stalwart fighter. Time and money had he devoted to the building up of this little church in the wilderness, and the communion service was his gift. More than once had he knelt to receive the sacred elements from the trembling hands of the worthy rector and listen to Mrs. Burton's effusive "Amen!"

on his left ere she parted with the cup that was then pa.s.sed to his bearded lips. At the chancel rail all good Christians knelt in common and meekly bowed their heads, but when Mrs. Burton came up to headquarters with a rail of her own, the General couldn't stand it, and said so to worthy Lambert, who remonstrated with the widow.

"Then the least he can do as a gentleman, after deceiving me so, is to help pay for them things I bought on the strength of his promise to board with me," was that pragmatical person's reply, and this view of the case the energetic lady ventilated to her six boarders, and they to the flock. There was one boarder, a temporary sojourner only, who listened and said naught. But that was only another of her aristocratic, stuck-up ways, said they. She was "a lovely young lady," as all admitted on her first timid appearance, and the three women who sat at table with her were eager to take her into close fellowship and confidence, and the two young men, clerking in the new stores, no doubt, were as eager. But it became apparent within twenty-four hours that she held herself above, and desired to hold herself aloof from them, which led to a dissection of her personal charms on part of the women, and of her mental gifts on part of the men. Mr. Lambert had commended her to the care of Mrs.

Burton. Her board was paid in advance and no questions asked. She went to church and sang softly, but in a voice so exquisitely sweet and penetrating that it tempered the strident melodies of the devout Omahannas, and caused many a head to turn. She spent the first few days at the rector's, or in her room. Then came a roomer with the rumor that she had a follower, and for two evenings she was seen with a strange young man, pacing slowly up and down the walk, but never going into town. Within ten days after Loring settled in Omaha Mrs. Burton's boarders were engrossed in just two topics--the young lady in the second-story front, and the story of the young officer who first would and then wouldn't be one of their number. No exception to this statement as to Mrs. Burton's boarders is made in the case of the damsel herself.

Loring frankly told his story as to Mrs. Burton to the General. He had merely asked Mr. Lambert if he could tell him of a place to board.

Lambert had led him to Mrs. Burton's. He found it too far out and otherwise unsuitable, and had abandoned the idea. He had never seen Mrs.

Burton or authorized any one to speak to her for him. The General laughed and said he understood it all, was perfectly satisfied and never thought of questioning him; and satisfied he was for several days. Then suddenly it was announced that Loring had decided not only to return to the hotel for table board, but was actually rooming there, and the landlord of whom he had rented his rooms turned up with a grievance, at least his wife did, and when a woman has a grievance, nine times out of ten the world gets the benefit of it. Mrs. Landlord came round to the chief quartermaster with her complaint.

It was a lovely summer morning. Lieutenant Loring had walked down to the office and raised his hat to the General as that genial officer was driven by behind his st.u.r.dy old team, and waving his hand cordially to the grave young gentleman who walked so erect with such measured stride, and with never a glance into the windows of the shops or bars.

Loungers had no use for Loring. He never stopped to pa.s.s the time of day or suggest a toddy, and Loring had less use for them. Ten minutes later the lieutenant found the office in commotion, clerks and orderlies hastening about with grave faces, Stone and Stanton with the General in his room; the general himself, pallid and mopping his wet forehead.

"This is horribly sudden," he said, as he thrust an open dispatch into Loring's hand. It was the brief announcement that the General commanding the department of California, the chief Loring had so recently left, had dropped dead at his desk the night before. Little as he had liked him, the Engineer was shocked and grieved.

"It may make grave changes," said the adjutant-general a little later.

"It may send our kind and thoughtful chief to the Pacific coast and give us--whom?"

"It will make one, at least," said Stone impetuously. "It'll send that galoot Petty back to his regiment right here in Nebraska and give him a taste of service he will little like."

"Why do you say back, Stone? Where did Petty ever serve with it except when it was in the garrison of Washington?" asked the adjutant-general.

"You know him, I believe, Loring?"

"I know him--yes."

"Think he'd pan out well in an Indian fight?"

"He might."

"You're an optimist, Loring," said Stone, who was ever seeking yet never succeeding in the effort to penetrate the armor of Loring's reserve. "I believe you think even Burleigh would fight at a pinch."

"I'm sure he would!" said Loring, as he walked thoughtfully away.

"That's the dash, dashest man I ever met," said Stone, in terms he never knowingly used in the hearing of his commander. "What he'd say _to_ a man I can only guess from a letter Skinny wrote from Alcantraz after that row they had at 'Frisco. _Of_ a man you can't get him to speak."

"We may have to," said the adjutant-general to himself, as he turned back to his desk and to a packet of papers and dispatches from Gate City.

It was a day of perturbation. Not ten minutes later the Engineer was called to conference with the department commander and found him closeted with his chief of staff.

"You were not favorably impressed with Major Burleigh," said he, after a moment of silent study of the young officer's face. "Will you tell me why?"

Loring stood and colored. He had spoken no word of Burleigh, except in answer to direct question. Stone must have seen his aversion, and had possibly told of it.

"You dislike to, I see," said the General kindly. "Let me remove your scruples. Major Burleigh has been absent from his post without leave at a time when his services were urgently needed. His affairs are in a good deal of a tangle. It is believed that he has been making use of government funds. I tell you this in strict confidence. Do you know what caused his panic there at Reno and made him insist on being taken right on to Fort Frayne?"

Loring thought a moment, then "No, sir."

"Mr. Loring," said the General, "Major Burleigh has been an object of distrust for over a month. While he was away on this trip to Warrior Gap matters were brought to my attention that were of a grave nature.

Investigations have been made. Major Bruce at Reno says you seemed struck by the superscription on the envelope of the letter he received there that threw him into such a panic. Would you know the handwriting, do you think?"

"Yes, General."

Silently the chief-of-staff held forth a note which Loring took and closely examined. It read "Captain Newhall begs to a.s.sure the adjutant-general, Department of the Platte, that he meant no discourtesy in failing to register. He was unaware of the rule existing at department headquarters, had come here on personal business connected with certain real estate in which he has an interest, is on two months'

leave from his station New Orleans, Louisiana, and will register the moment the office opens in the morning unless he should be compelled to leave for St. Joe to-night."

Loring looked up, puzzled. The handwriting was familiar; so was a form that he had recently seen vanishing in the distance one evening a week before, and something in the voice had a familiar ring, but this name was new.

"To explain all this," said the adjutant-general, "there was a dashing-looking fellow here for two or three days drinking a good deal down about the depot on the flats and around the quartermasters'

corrals. He said he was Captain Newhall, of the Thirty-ninth Infantry, and the general finally told me to send an aide to look him up and remind him it was his duty to call at headquarters and account for his presence. Between that night and the next morning he disappeared, and at last accounts was hobn.o.bbing with Burleigh at Gate City. You know of him, I see."

"Possibly."

"Then, General," said the chief-of-staff, with prompt decision, "the quickest way to got at the root of the matter would be to send Loring at once to Gate City."