Under Fire Part 16

"Yes, sir. I got the order, sir, last night," said Haney, forgetful in Cranston's presence of the impulse to be flippant, and unconsciously revealing just exactly what his captain meant to conceal. Davies turned and looked at Cranston, and the latter, with a peculiar smile, linked his arm in that of his friend and, carefully avoiding the spot where Devers now stood watching them, led him away.

This for a starter was significant, but more was to come. Guard mounting was hurried through that morning, for the air was sharply cold and a northerly wind was beginning to moan through the garrison and whirl the snow in drifts over the desolate prairie. Captains Truman and Pollock, the former as old and the latter as new officer of the day, appeared in fur caps and heavy overcoats and stood at the desk where Colonel Pegleg for months past had administered the affairs of the post. The former raised his hand in salute as he said, "I report as old officer of the day, sir," and tendered the guard report. Devers glanced at once at the list of prisoners. Foremost were the familiar names of the old stagers, the general prisoners undergoing sentence of court-martial. Then those of the men sentenced to brief confinement by the minor or garrison court. Then came the names of those awaiting trial, and opposite each name in the column headed "Charges" was the word "Preferred," as was the custom of the day, and this significant word appeared opposite the next to the last name on the list, that of Howard, Troop "A."

"Ah! What is the nature of the charges against prisoner Howard?" asked Devers, blandly.

"I haven't seen them, sir. I understand that they were prepared by Lieutenant Sanders as directed by Colonel Stone."

Devers tapped his bell and the orderly sprang in. "My compliments to the adjutant," said he, and from the adjoining room, grave, stolid, and imperturbable as ever, Leonard came in, pencil in hand, and stood at attention without a word.

"Mr. Leonard, have charges been preferred against Trooper Howard?"

"Yes, sir. Desertion. The specification alleges that he was caught aboard the west-bound train at Braska in civilian dress Monday evening."

"Anything else?"

"No, sir."

"Captain Pollock, you may release Howard. He was in town with my approbation and a.s.sent, looking for an absentee whose haunts he knew and whose presence was required here. He says he boarded the train expecting possibly to find him thereon, and wore civilian dress because his uniform might have caused his rejection at places he wished to search."

Captain Pollock touched his cap without a word.

"You will also see that Paine and Brannan, recently confined, are sent out to work with the police cart. Other orders as usual. You are relieved, Captain Truman. That is all, Mr. Leonard."

The talk that ensued among the officers of the calvary command when this matter was detailed at the club room will have to be condensed. Davies was not present. He never went there. Cranston was present for the first time in weeks, for it was an establishment for which ordinarily he had no use. He and Truman went thither because they knew that that was where Sanders could be found, and there they found him. It was barely ten o'clock, but this light-hearted young gentleman, together with three or four kindred spirits of the Fortieth, was discussing, to the accompaniment of hot Scotch, the relative values of hands dealt at random from a grimy deck. That they should have taken to hot Scotch at such an hour they explained by the statement that as they had to be up with the dawn the day was already old, and that they should be playing poker they didn't consider a matter calling for explanation of any kind.

It was "a way they had in the army" in those days when the other three-quarters of the year was spent in sharp campaigning. Sanders cheerfully dropped his hand as he had his money and told his story like a little man.

"We trotted or galloped all the way to town and found Paine soon after six, drunk, of course,--too drunk to ride the spare horse, so while we were waiting for an ambulance from the quartermaster's depot, I ran over to the Cattle Club for a drink, and was chatting there with Willett and Burtis,--by the way, I asked them both to drive out and dine with us to-night and take in the hop later,--and presently in came a couple of cattlemen from Cheyenne who knew everybody at Russell and were jolly, pleasant fellows. They were going up on the evening freight, and we loaded up a lunch-basket and went down to the depot to see them off in the caboose. The Braska crowd did their best to send them home full, and they were full, and nothing would do but we must go into the bar and drink Roederer with them until the conductor came rushing in to say all aboard. Then they snaked me on to the caboose platform when the train was under way, pulled me inside and ran me half a mile up the track before they could stop her again. But that half-mile did the business for Mr. Howard. There he was spruce and dandified as you please, dressed fit to kill in a bang-up better suit than I ever hope to own, trying to sit behind a newspaper. They pulled Burtis aboard, too, and in the scuffle he fell all over Howard, knocked his hat off, and I knew the face in a second, and when I came off that car he came with me, by the scruff of his neck, swearing and protesting and denying that he was Howard, and threatening to have the law on me and appealing to the cattlemen for rescue. By Jupiter, if it wasn't that I had been with them long enough to make a favorable impression they would have rescued him, too. They didn't half want to let him go, and he straggled hard to get away as it was."

Then Truman told him what Devers's orders and remarks were, and Sanders fairly blazed with wrath. "It's the maddest kind of a lie," said he.

"That fellow had never looked for Paine or thought of such a thing. We found where he had left his uniform and where he kept in hiding until time to skip out and catch that train. He wasn't looking for anybody and didn't care to see or be seen by anybody. If it wasn't a clear-cut case of desertion may I be hanged. He had over two hundred dollars in his clothes and fresh duds in his grip-sack."

Long before mid-day, therefore, Sanders's words were being repeated from mouth to mouth, and Trooper Howard, with pale face and starting eyes, was shut up in the company office where only the captain and Sergeant Haney could get at him, and Devers was there with his sergeant and clerk, when just at 10.45 the telegraph operator came bulging into Mr.

Leonard's office.

"An important despatch," said he, "for the commanding officer."

Leonard took it, then hesitated. Under Colonel Stone his instructions were to open and read at once, but the relations between him and the captain temporarily in command were neither confidential nor cordial.

"Take it to Captain Devers," said he, "and I will wait."

Devers read the despatch with kindling eye. It was from department head-quarters at Omaha, and said briefly,--

"Send a discreet officer with twenty cavalrymen for temporary duty with Boynton at the agency at once. Report action by wire."

For a few minutes the captain sat in deep thought, then with head erect, and with quick, confident step, left the barracks and went straight to the adjutant's office. "Orderly," said he, "my compliments to Mr. Davies and say I wish to see him at once."

And so only a little more than an hour later, knowing absolutely nothing of what might be going on at the agency, judging only from the reports of the mail-carrier that there had been trouble between the agent and some of Red Dog's people, and that the agent had determined to make arrests, leaving his bride wildly weeping and protesting in the hands of her devoted friends Mesdames Flight and Darling, yet commending her to the guardianship of Captain and Mrs. Cranston, Percy Davies set forth upon a bitter, wintry march of eighty miles, answering the call of duty at the front, leaving wife and fireside, good name and character, to the care of friends or foes who remained.

CHAPTER XVII.

Long remembered at Fort Scott was the evening that followed Mr. Davies's departure for the agency. Infantry and cavalry both, the garrison took it much to heart that the detail should have devolved, of all men, upon him. Not because he was comparatively young and inexperienced; not because he was just back from long leave that had been necessitated by long and serious illness, but solely and entirely because he had but recently married a wife, and therefore shouldn't have been expected to go,--should not have been torn from her side. The women opened the ball, but the men were not slow in taking the floor. What Davies himself might think no one knew, because Davies would not say. He received the order of the post commander without a word, went home to his wife and sent Barnickel to ask Captain Cranston to come to him as soon as possible.

Devers retired to his quarters and was not again seen until after stables, when, scrupulously avoiding those of the other troops, he visited his own lines, having previously sent his orderly to Mr.

Hastings to notify that gentleman that he should not require him to attend stables this week, which was to have been Mr. Davies's, but would expect him to superintend roll-calls. The temporary commanding officer of the garrison and of the cavalry battalion appeared, therefore, in solitary state in his capacity as captain of Troop "A." Officers who pa.s.sed him on the way to or from stables raised hand or cap in the salute due the post commander, but few of them entered into conversation. Old Dr. Rooke, the post surgeon, a man ten years Devers's senior in the service, returning from a visit to Colonel Stone's bedside, came face to face with the captain, and the captain stopped to make inquiries. Rooke's face was grave.

"He is semi-conscious and resting fairly well, but has received a severe shock that has clouded his faculties. I cannot say when he will be up again. I do not see any likelihood of his returning to duty for a month."

Devers's face expressed all proper concern and sympathy. "It is best, of course, that I should know this, but the colonel's friends are numerous in garrison, and it is something that would have a depressing effect. I suggest, therefore, that you do not confide your fears to any one else.

It affects me painfully to hear it, though I had not the good fortune to be in the colonel's good graces. We differed as to various official matters."

"I'm aware of that," said Rooke, dryly, "and I have felt more than half constrained to remonstrate with you as to the confinement of Private Brannan. He left the hospital in good condition, and with the expectation of returning to his detachment and duty. Of course if new charges have been lodged against him----"

"New charges _have_ been lodged against him, doctor. He was sent to the hospital at my request that he might be restrained from liquor, which, under the system pursued by Colonel Stone, could at any time be procured by guard-house prisoners who had money. That he would be able to indulge his propensity in your department had not, of course, occurred to me as a possibility."

"Any criticisms you have to make at the expense of my department will receive due weight, I have no doubt, with my superiors, and you will oblige me by addressing them upon the subject, not me. The post commander expressed his entire approval of it, and to him and not to the company commanders am I responsible, Captain Devers. This, however, I will say, sir, that sooner than submit to further comment of this character, I shall telegraph to department head-quarters requesting instant relief from duty as post surgeon here, if you are to retain the command."

And Rooke had gauged his man. He knew perfectly well that this application, coming on top of Stone's prostration, would lead to the inevitable conclusion at head-quarters that the colonel could not return to duty for some time, and the surgeon could not contentedly perform duty under Devers as temporary commander. In other words, that Devers was already beginning, as the general expressed it, "to cut up didoes,"

and somebody--some field officer--would be at once detached, in all probability, and sent from his proper post temporarily to take charge of matters at Scott. On the other hand, if things worked smoothly and with no apparent friction, Devers might hope to retain command for several weeks, and that would be of inestimable benefit. What might not be accomplished in that time? He was quick, yet not too precipitate, therefore, in expressing grave and courteous disclaimer. No reflection on Dr. Rooke's management was intended or implied, though Dr.

Burroughs, the junior, had, in Devers's opinion, laid himself open to criticism. Of course being somewhat inexperienced, the unwarrantable interference of Lieutenant Davies and Miss Loomis had confused and hampered him. Surely Dr. Rooke could not say that he, Devers, had ever interfered. On the contrary, had he not incurred the enmity of officers and ladies of his own regiment by making formal report to the post commander of what he considered an unjustifiable encroachment on their part upon the sacred precincts of the post surgeon? Rooke looked at him from under his s.h.a.ggy eyebrows, suspicious and unmollified. He was a shrewd old Scotchman, and Devers protested too much.

"So far as Miss Loomis and Mr. Davies are concerned," said he, "I have no exceptions to take whatsoever. I knew the young lady's father well, and I have faith in the young man. I hear he has been sent on some temporary duty to the agency, captain, and had he consulted me I should have advised against his going. The suffering and exposure of such duty in such weather are more than many a rugged man can bear. Mr. Davies has not yet half recovered his strength."

"Then I wish I had known it, doctor," said Devers, diplomatically; "but not knowing it, I could make no other selection. The orders called for a discreet officer, and Mr. Davies's friends consider him discretion itself. I have even been led to think he had too much discretion. The orders said 'cavalrymen,' therefore I was limited to the officers of my battalion. They said to report to Lieutenant Boynton, therefore I was limited to officers junior in rank to him, for no senior could be required to do it. Mr. Boynton is a first lieutenant, and the only first lieutenants junior to him here are Hastings, who is eminently indiscreet, and Folsom, who is a martyr to rheumatism, as you very well know. The only second lieutenants now on duty with us are Sanders, Jervis, and Davies; certainly of the three Davies is the only one who can be called discreet, and he was the only one who had not been on scout or detached service of this character since he joined. I regret having to break up his honeymooning, but even that is to be but temporary, for so the orders said. I explain all this to you, doctor, because I respect your rank and service, but I shall not condescend to justify myself to my juniors."

"And have you reported action yet by wire?" asked Rooke, critically.

"Certainly," said Devers, but he reddened. Evidently there had been wide spread talk over the selection already, and speculation as to what department head-quarters would think of it. Evidently it was known that he was ordered to report by telegraph, yet who could have "given it away"? The despatch was still in his waistcoat-pocket, for Devers, unlike his trimmer juniors, wore that unsoldierly garment underneath his sack-coat. Even the adjutant had not seen the despatch, and the operator was sworn to secrecy. He had reported by wire, and in these words: "Discreet officer and twenty cavalrymen left post at noon with orders to hasten to Ogallalla agency and report to Lieutenant Boynton for temporary duty." This was sent at 1.15, and he had only just received another inquiring name of the officer detailed. This he did not mean to answer until after five o'clock, by which time he knew the Omaha offices would be deserted and Davies some thirty miles away. "The horses are hard and sound," he had said to the silent subaltern. "You should reach there Friday morning without fail and without fatigue, and ought to camp to-night at Dismal River. It's a long thirty miles, but you can easily make it." He meant Davies to be beyond recall in the event of disapproval, and that point secure, he didn't much care what head-quarters might think or the garrison say.

And so Wednesday's sun went down red over the snow-streaked barren to the west, and long, long before that the last vestige of Davies's little party disappeared from view among the breaks and ravines in the low range of treeless heights many a long desolate mile to the north, and Almira's faithful comforters were still with her, and at dusk bustled her over to Mrs. Darling's for change of scene and surroundings and tea and a little music, and presently sleigh-bells were heard, and Mrs.

Flight screamed joyously at the window, "Oh, it's Mr. Willett and Mr.

Burtis with their lovely team, and they've come out for the hop!" And before long Lieutenant Darling, accompanied by these very gentlemen, came stamping in, and Sanders and Tommy Dot followed, and in the firelight the little army parlor was a pretty picture as these gallants entered and the lamps were lighted, and the gentlemen from town were presented to Almira, and everybody thought it the proper thing to be especially devoted to her by way of consoling her for this sudden and heartless separation from her lord, and for nearly half an hour her lovely face maintained its expression of pathetic and unconquerable woe; but Willett had seated himself at the piano, and he and Sanders and Tommy Dot began singing with inimitable drollery some of the popular melodies of the day, and presently, "to save her life," as she declared, Almira could not resist joining in the laughter and applause, and then Willett began telling of the new step they were dancing in the East,--he had been home just long enough to attend a few parties,--and while Tommy Dot played a waltz he essayed to teach it to Mrs. Darling,--a charming partner ordinarily, but still she did not seem to catch the idea, and Mrs. Flight was even less successful. Mira looked on with sparkling eyes and new and uncontrollable eagerness. It was the very step she had danced with the aides-de-camp in Chicago the previous September,--almost the same that she had danced time and again with Mr. Powlett at Urbana, and not a lady at Fort Scott had yet learned it. At last Sanders spoke,--

"Why, surely it is the glide step you were telling us about, Mrs.

Davies." And then Willett implored her to try it with him, and how could she refuse? This was not a ball or party, it was only a dancing lesson; and somehow, all in a moment, she was floating around that little parlor on Willett's sustaining arm in long, graceful, gliding steps that seemed admirably adapted to his, and Willett's face glowed with delight and hers with pardonable triumph, for was she not showing the belles of the army the latest thing out in the ball-rooms of fashionable society? And Sanders and Darling applauded enthusiastically, and the ladies as enthusiastically as they could, for one's charitable impulses ooze all too rapidly when the object looms suddenly as a rival. Sanders begged presently to try with Mrs. Davies, while Mrs. Flight tried again with Willett, and presently all were trying and gradually mastering the new step, and when it was time to separate for dinner it was solemnly agreed that they would tell no one of their practice, but that very night at the hop they would simply paralyze the entire a.s.semblage by dancing the latest waltz step.

"Now, Mrs. Davies," said Willett, "you've just _got_ to go, if only just once to show them how," and Darling and Sanders joined eagerly in the plea. There was not actual unanimity as to the propriety and necessity of the project, however. Mrs. Flight was doubtful, but did not openly oppose, and Mrs. Darling said, of course dear Mrs. Davies must know that it would certainly cause remark. But all through tea it cropped out again and again, and after tea Willett and Sanders came back from the mess dinner and renewed their supplications. It was, at least, decided that Almira could not be left to mope alone, and as her lady friends had to go to the hop, why, she might as well go and peep in and hear the music at any rate. There were good friends, true friends of her own and her husband, who would have been glad indeed to spend the evening with her, either at her fireside or their own, whose cards and condolences she found on her little hall table when, escorted to the door by Mr.

Willett, she went home at half-past eight, just to make some slight change in her toilet, which, as it stood, was too funereal for so festive an occasion.

And so that night, while Davies and his men were huddling about the little camp-fires in the snow at Dismal River and a wintry blast was whistling through the bare, brown limbs of the cottonwoods, there were sounds of revelry at the big frontier post, spirited music, merry laughter, the rhythmic beat of martial feet in the measures of the dance, the rustle of silk, and the pit-a-pat of dainty slippers. Only two or three households were unrepresented. It was the first hop Mrs.

Stone had missed. It was something that the chaplain and his wife did not care for. It was a nuisance to Leonard, who loved his books and his home. It bored more than one old warrior, who went, however, on account of his wife and daughters, but Captain and Mrs. Devers were on hand, as befitted the official heads, temporary, of post and martial society, and the Cranstons with Agatha Loomis, after again going to see if they could do anything for Mrs. Davies, and again finding her absent from home, concluded to go over to the hop-room soon after taps, and the first thing that met their eyes was the sight of Mira--Mrs. Davies--waltzing down the waxed floor, and waltzing beautifully in the new step that was coming into vogue while they were still at home, and waltzing on the encircling arm of the appreciative Mr. Willett. Beyond doubt she was the observed of all observers.

It had all come about in the most natural and matter-of-fact way. Mira had persisted for full an hour in her determination not to dance, but again and again had Willett and Sanders implored,--Willett with eyes as eloquent as his tongue. "None of these other ladies had yet really learned the step. Everybody longed to see it. Everybody had heard how beautifully she danced it," and presently body after body came and coaxed "just to show us," and so, really before she knew it, she was again on Willett's arm, he murmuring praise and encouragement into her pretty little pink ear, and everybody seemed to stop to watch them, and then strove to imitate. And then Sanders implored her to give him just one turn for the honor of the Eleventh, and then Jervis wouldn't be denied, and Willett and Burtis came for more,--Willett again and again, and so she danced until the last waltz died away, and her first hop in the army had been one long, vivid triumph; Willett in his eagerness forgetting an engagement to waltz with Mrs. Hay. "She will never forgive me," he murmured to Almira, as he saw her home, "but," and his voice sank lower, "I only wonder I did not forget all--but yours." And that was one of the lovely things said to her that night she did not report in her long, explanatory, self-exculpatory letter to Percy. It is possibly surprising that she had sense enough not to tell it to Mrs.

Flight, whose lord was on duty as officer of the guard, and who had accepted Almira's urgent invitation to come and spend what was left of the night with her. Almira was timid, even afraid to be left alone. Like two schoolgirls they chattered about the cosey fire in Almira's bedroom, Mrs. Flight filling the young wife's ears with tales of the compliments that had been pa.s.sed upon her beauty, her grace, her dancing, her lovely costume,--one of Aunt Almira's _modiste's_ most charming creations, one she a.s.suredly would not have worn had Percy been there. Everybody had praised her in one way or another, and many had done so to her face, Captain and Mrs. Devers, even, taking heart, as they said, from seeing her so delightfully occupied, came up to congratulate her on being the belle of the ball and to express every manner of condolence for the stern necessity which called her husband away. It was a piece of diplomacy Almira was at a loss to answer.

Of all the women present the two whose opinion she most dreaded and toward whom she felt absolute aversion, neither congratulated nor praised her in any way. Miss Loomis smiled and bowed and said, "Good-evening, Mrs. Davies," in very cheery manner when they met in promenade. Mrs. Cranston bowed and smiled gravely, stopped, and extended her hand, which Almira, with heightened color and drooping eyelids, took nervously.