Lanier of the Cavalry Part 12

"Do you think it a thing to be thankful for? I don't."

"I wouldn't have lost it for a month's pay, to put it mildly, and it will take more than a month's pay to repair later damages," said he, trying to smile and be unsentimental.

"How very much more than that you _may_ lose!" said she. "Do you think I could have danced with you if I had dreamed what--what you were doing?"

"You were dancing like a dream," said he. "Do you mean I was dancing like a nightmare?"

"You were doing what was sure to involve you in grave trouble, and--it wasn't kind to me, Mr. Lanier."

"I'm all contrition for the anxiety it caused you, Miss Miriam, and for absolutely nothing else. I wish you to know that I did nothing unusual.

Colonel b.u.t.ton was angry with me for a very different matter."

One moment she was silent; then, with lips that quivered in spite of her effort--a quiver that he saw and that set his heart to bounding madly--with lowered voice she hurried on: "And that, too, involves me, or mine. And you"--then uplifting her swimming eyes--"you _would_ not tell."

And then the barrier of his pride was swept away.

"Miriam!" he cried, his hands eagerly seeking and seizing hers, only faintly resisting. "There was no _need_ to tell." He was standing facing her now, close to the curtained window, his back toward the twittering trio near the dining-room door and imperceptibly edging thither at Mrs.

Stannard's suggestion of coffee. Was this prearranged? Bob never saw nor heeded. _She_ did, however, and well knew its meaning, and the woman in her, that thrilled and throbbed at sight of the pa.s.sion in his eyes the worship in his face coquetting with her own delight would have torn herself away to follow them, but her little hands were held in a grasp against which she might struggle in vain. He was lifting them to his heart, and as he drew them he was drawing her. She had to come, her long curling lashes sweeping the soft cheeks, now once more blushing like the dawn. "Oh, Mr. Lanier," he heard her murmur, as though pleading and warning. One swift glance he tossed over his shoulder at the last form vanishing through the doorway, then his dark eyes, glowing and rejoiceful, fastened on hers, and quick and fervent came the next words: "There is only one thing that need be told--that _must_ be told, because I've just been br.i.m.m.i.n.g over with it all these weeks" (ah, how the bonny head was drooping now, but drooping toward him), "and now I can keep it back no longer. Miriam, Miriam, I love you--I love you! Have you nothing to tell me?"

One instant of thrilling suspense, then with a sob welling up from her burdened heart, the barrier of her pride and reserve went as his had gone a moment ago. "Oh, you know--you _know_ it! Who _hasn't_ known it since that awful night?" she cried, and then found herself folded, weeping uncontrollably, almost deliriously, in his arms, his lips raining kisses on the warm, wet cheek. A moment he held her close-wrapped to his heart, then gradually, yet with irresistible power, turned upward the tear-stained, blushing, exquisite face, so that he could feast his eyes upon her beauty, then with joy unutterable, his lips sank upon the soft, quivering mouth in the first love kiss she had ever known, and their troubles vanished into heaven at the touch.

Mrs. Stannard, you were a jewel and a general. Now, how about the major?

"For conference with the Judge-Advocate of the Department," read the order that summoned him, and from that conference forth went our doughty dragoon in search of conquest. "It is understood," said the officials, "that you know the circ.u.mstances under which Lieutenant Lanier became responsible for the money borrowed at Laramie by or for that young Mr.

Lowndes, also that you know him." There were other matters, but that came up first. Stannard knew and was quite willing to set forth with a plain-clothes member of the Omaha force on a mission for and from headquarters.

In a derby hat and civilian suit of the fashion of '72, the latter much too snug for him, our squadron leader of the Sioux campaign looked little like a trooper as he sauntered with his detective companion into the lobby of the Paxton a few minutes later, and listened to his modernized tale of the prodigal son. It was all known to the police.

Lowndes had run through the purse and patience of his Eastern kindred some two years before. Lowndes had been transported to a cattle ranch near Fort Cushing in hopes of permanent benefit, but speedily neglected the range for the more congenial society of the fort. He was well born and bred. He was made free at first at the mess, but wore out his welcome. He went on the campaign for excitement and got much more than he wanted. He took to gambling among the scouts and packers and sergeants, for the officers had soon cold-shouldered him. But he was a college man, a secret society man, as had been Lieutenant Lanier before entering the Point. Since the campaign Lowndes had been going from bad to worse; had gambled away the money sent him by his relatives, and they were now sorely anxious about him. Moreover, he was needed as a material witness for the defense in the case of Lieutenant Lanier, and would answer no letters to his post-office address. He hadn't been near the ranch in nearly a month, hadn't been seen about Cushing City since the blizzard; was believed to be somewhere in this neighborhood in disguise.

And even as the story was being told, there came bounding down the broad stairway from above, a slender, well-built youth, in whom the civilization of the East was stamped in the stylish, trim-fitting travelling suit with cap to match, in the further items of natty silken scarf and the daintiest of hand and foot covering. It was the erect, jaunty carriage that caught the major's eye. In build, bearing, and gait the approaching stranger was Bob Lanier all over. He came straight toward them, and was tripping lightly, swiftly by when Stannard sprang to his feet.

"Rawdon!" he cried, voice and manner at once betraying the soldier and the habit of authority and command. It was as imperative as the crisp, curt "Halt" of veteran sentry, and effective as though backed by levelled bayonet.

But if Stannard for an instant looked for demur, resistance, attempt to avoid, or even a trace of confusion on the part of this transmogrified trooper, the idea as quickly vanished. A wave of color, it is true, swept instantly to the young fellow's temples, but the sudden light of recognition in his handsome eyes was frank and fearless. Quickly he whirled about, courteously he raised his cap, instinctively his heels clicked together as he stood attention to his squadron leader of the summer agone.

"I beg the major's pardon," said he. "I did not expect him here, and had never seen him in civilian dress."

And now the detective, too, was on his feet, and curiously noting the pair.

"You're on furlough I understand, but I heard--my wife said--you were in Chicago."

"Mrs. Stannard was right, sir. My wife and her father are there now, visiting my sister. Doctor Mayhew told me of the charges against Lieutenant Lanier, and that is what brings me back at once."

"Going back at once?" began the major, mollified, yet mystified. "I presume you know more of these matters than any one else."

"With possibly two exceptions, sir. I hope to nab one of them here."

"Lowndes?" queried Stannard.

"Lowndes," answered Rawdon.

"Then you're just the man we want."

That afternoon as the Union Pacific express stood ready at the Union station for the start, there boarded one of the sleepers a burly, thick-set, bluff-mannered man in huge fur overcoat, close followed by two younger companions. One of these latter, erect and graceful in bearing, alert and quick in every movement, with clear-cut and handsome features, was dressed with care and taste, evidently a man accustomed to metropolitan scenes and society; the other, a youth of probably his own age, though looking elder, was sallow, shabby, with a dejected down-at-the-heel expression to his entire personality that told infallibly of failure and humiliation. At a sign from their leader he dropped dumbly into a section, settled himself next the frosty window, with his head shrunk down in his worn coat-collar, and his slouch hat pulled over his eyes.

"Better pull off that overcoat and make yourself comfortable, Lowndes,"

said the younger man. "You've a long journey ahead."

Whereat a tall, spare, elderly gentleman in the adjoining section slowly lowered his newspaper and turned half round, while a tall, spare, elderly, sharp-featured woman beside him, in prim travelling garb, sprang from her seat and brushing the burly man aside, precipitated herself upon the shrinking object in the corner.

"Mortimer Watson Lowndes!" cried she. "Where on earth have you been?"

For answer Mortimer Watson bowed his flabby face in his hands and wept dismally.

Two days later the colonel's office at Fort Cushing was the scene of a somewhat remarkable trial. It had no force in law, yet was held to be conclusive. There was no array of uniformed judges sitting, by order, as a general court-martial. The tribunal consisted, in point of fact, of a single man, acting as judge, jury and attorney, to wit, "Black Bill"

Riggs, Inspector-General of the Department of the Platte. To the unspeakable disgust of most of the officers, and the outspoken disapprobation of many of their wives, only those closely concerned in or connected with the case were invited to be present. Certain others who had just happened in, thinking to hear the proceedings, were, indeed, invited to leave.

Colonel b.u.t.ton, as post commander and princ.i.p.al accuser, was, of course, at his usual desk. Colonel Riggs, his jealously regarded rival, was seated at a little table, whereon was much stationery and a stack of memoranda. Lieutenant Lanier, somewhat pale but entirely placid, occupied a chair to the left of that table, with Captain Sumter, as his troop commander and counsel, by his side. Captain Snaffle was in support of the post commander to cross-question if he saw fit. Barker, the adjutant, was present, as a matter of course. A headquarters clerk sat facing Riggs, prepared to take notes, and the trim orderly stood outside the closed door. Three or four people in civilian garb sat awaiting summons in the adjutant's office across the hall, and Sergeant Fitzroy, with trouble in his eyes and wrath in his heart, was flitting uneasily about in the domain of the sergeant-major.

"If you are ready, Colonel b.u.t.ton," began Riggs, with elaborate courtesy, "I am, and let me briefly say that I have seen Trooper Rafferty at the hospital, also certain other men named by Captain Snaffle; but in order that all parties may be given opportunity to hear and to examine, and at the request of Lieutenant Lanier, who desires the fullest investigation and publicity, I have invited you and the captain to hear what I consider the really valuable evidence. Will you call in Trooper Rawdon?"

Snaffle's face was a sight when the door opened and there entered a very self-possessed young man, in stylish and becoming civilian dress, who nevertheless stood bolt upright, with his hand raised in salute.

"Hwat's he mean by coming here in 'cits'?" said Snaffle, in hoa.r.s.e whisper, to his commander.

"Yes, Colonel Riggs; if this man's a soldier, why isn't he in uniform?"

With perfect respect, at a nod from Riggs, the newcomer replied: "My uniforms, and other belongings of mine, were taken from my trunk in town during my absence."

"You could have borrowed one," said Snaffle truculently.

"I told him he need not," retorted Riggs. "And now, gentlemen, we'll waste no time trying to worry the witness. Mr. Rawdon, you _were_ a duly enlisted trooper, I believe. Take that chair."

"And am still, sir, as far as I know."

"But your discharge is ordered, as I understand it."

"It was applied for and recommended, and General Whipple told me in Chicago a few days ago it was settled; but that would have made no difference, sir. I should have been proud to wear the uniform until officially discharged."

Riggs wheeled in his chair. "Colonel b.u.t.ton, it has been fully explained to this--man, and to the next, that what they tell us here is to be just what they would swear to before a court. You can decide for yourself on hearing it whether you wish them to swear to it or not. Now, Rawdon, tell us how you came to enlist."

"As the representative of three newspapers, in Chicago and the East.

They were anxious to have an Indian campaign, and the life of an enlisted man, described as it really was. I joined a squad of recruits for this regiment right after the news of the Crazy Horse Battle on Powder River."

"Do you still hold that job?"