Under Fire Part 31

"Why, yes, a.s.suredly."

"Well, she isn't home,--I think you'll find her at Mrs. Darling's."

But Mrs. Cranston's humor changed. She decided to wait and see her later. She did not care to go to Mrs. Darling's; neither, as it transpired, did she care to return home, at least not yet awhile. There were people capable of believing of Mrs. Cranston that she had no especial interest in Mrs. Davies, personally, and no genuine desire to communicate to her the tidings which Mrs. Davies, perhaps, could hardly appreciate. Mira had not once set foot within Mrs. Cranston's door since their return from the cantonment, and there had been next to no intercourse between them, and yet on this almost joyous afternoon Margaret had eagerly seized upon this pretext of leaving Agatha Loomis alone with Mr. Langston, who had returned that very day from some investigation at Kearney and Cheyenne, and, after half an hour with Mr.

Leonard, had hastened to her door. He was still in the parlor when the lady of the house came smilingly in an hour later,--she had been visiting Mrs. Leonard the while,--but there was constraint in the air.

The boys were out with their ponies. There was no one to entertain him during her absence but Miss Loomis, and Miss Loomis apparently must have failed, for Langston's face had grown ten years older, and the moment Mrs. Cranston left the room, on household cares intent, he must have taken his leave, for when she returned from an inspection of the larder in order to see if it would justify an invitation to stay and dine, the parlor was empty. Langston had gone back to Braska, Miss Loomis to her room. I regret to have to record it of Mrs. Cranston, but during the following week she made more than one effort to induce her friend and kinswoman to say what had happened to put so summary a stop to Mr.

Langston's visits, and that she wrote some peppery things to her husband, the captain, in summing up her conclusions; she also looked some, and I fear said some, to Miss Loomis herself, for one day, going suddenly into Agatha's room, she surprised that young lady in the act of packing her trunk. There ensued a scene which neither cared in after-years to say much about. There were tears and reproaches on one side, if not both, but Agatha's determination could not be changed. She had made up her mind to leave Fort Scott, return to Chicago, and go she did,--but not without Mrs. Cranston.

In less than ten days there came a long letter from the captain. He and his troop were destined, he said, to long months of scouting in the distant Northwest. The general had told him as much. They might again have to go to the Yellowstone, and it would be November before he could hope to see the inside of a garrison. "So," said he, "stow away the goods and chattels, leave them with the quartermaster, pack your trunk, and take the boys and Agatha for another visit to the old folks at home,--who are most eager to welcome you." When the Fourth of July came, the Cranston boys, in the added glory of all their experiences at the cantonment, were once more the envied centre of youthful attention at Chicago.

"We will have no more fighting this summer," said he, "for the Indians have scattered," and "C" Troop did not; but there was abundant opportunity for usefulness and distinction for "the prodigy," as Cranston now generally referred in his home letters to Corporal Brannan, whose devoted mother was almost the first to visit Margaret on her arrival and overwhelm her with proffers of hospitality and with questions about her boy. "C" Troop was detailed as escort to the commanding general in a long tour he made to the Yellowstone Park, and the prodigy's letters to that fond mother became more and more a cause for rejoicing. Already had she learned to thrill with pride over the accounts of his bravery and good conduct in the affairs at the agency and the fighting on the Ska, but that, said she, was only as she knew he would behave. From babyhood her boy had been conspicuous among his fellows for absolute fearlessness and desperate courage, and her memory was charged with a wealth of corroborative detail which that of his fellows seemed to have lost. Those who were confidently appealed to were polite and sympathetic, as became them when responding to a social magnate of such prominence and influence, but they looked far from confident and said satirical things when once away from her presence; but then, no one knows how a boy is going to turn out. A few weeks and the general himself would be home, and then, fresh from the contemplation of the soldierly prowess and graces of her son, what could he do less than have him commissioned a colonel or something and ordered in on the staff, and then what store of fatted calves would not be slaughtered in honor of this her son who was lost and was found, and who had returned to her bringing his sheaves with him? If mother-dreams could but come true all men would live and die immaculate, enn.o.bled, magnificently brave, steadfast, and commanding. And far away among the fastnesses of the Yellowstone, living in close communion with nature, in a glorious round of days, full of high health, courage, and hope, with ambition fired, purpose strengthened, with freedom from care or temptation, small wonder was it if Corporal Brannan's letters warranted all her expectations. But those were the halcyon days of cavalry life, not the typical. Our truest heroes are those who bear with equanimity the heat and burden of the long, monotonous round of garrison life with its petty tyrannies, exactions, exasperations, and bear them without a break or murmur. It is a poor, poor soldier who cannot wax enthusiastic on a full stomach--and a good horse--when serving in the field.

But while "C" Troop was doing escort duty, and its captain's wife and little ones were safe at home, "A" Troop, long handicapped by the frailties of its commander and notorious for bad drill, was now striving to win a new name under the lead of Bachelor Hastings and its grim Bened.i.c.k second lieutenant, whose fair young bride could hardly be said to be safe at Scott, restored to the sympathetic circle of which Mesdames Stone, Flight, and Darling were the guiding stars. Old Pegleg seldom left his piazza now except to go to bed or dinner, and did not much care what was said or done around him so long as he was left in peace. The post surgeon had bolstered him up again, after a few days in bed, so that he could sign papers, and while he retained the nominal command of the garrison, Leonard was its virtual and actual head, for when July came only one detachment of the Fortieth remained with the band as guard.

But that band was a host in itself, and why should women weep and mope and mourn--with music and the dance so easily accessible? Mrs. Leonard's letters to Mrs. Cranston became vividly interesting just about this time. The hops were resumed, as well as the drives with friends in town.

Mr. Langston came no longer, but the bank and the Cattle Club poured forth their homage. Messrs. Burtis, Courtenay, and Fowler were out twice a week at least. Then Mr. Willett's beautiful team reappeared, and presently Mr. Willett himself, and he had brought still another step from the distant sea-sh.o.r.e. It is only the first step that counts, and Mira had taken that. Mrs. Leonard thought she was learning another. She danced as beautifully, dressed as divinely, smiled as bewitchingly, and talked as inanely as ever. Mr. Leonard disapproved of Mr. Willett, but that could not keep him off the post. When mid-July came Willett was there almost every day. Twice he remained overnight, sleeping at the sutler's. The chaplain had been to talk with Mr. Leonard, and had tried to talk with Mira, but she fled from him in tears. What he said to her was dreadful!--dreadful! and she should tell Mr. Davies about it just as soon as he returned. "I," said the chaplain, gravely, "shall not wait till then. I shall have to write and tell him now."

Meantime Captain Devers occupied his quarters in gloomy state and twice each day patrolled the garrison limits with the air of an injured man.

At other times he was writing long letters and reading those which came to him by every mail, but none came now from the faithful henchman Haney, far away on the Indian trail with Tintop's pursuing column. Red Dog was known to be with a remnant of his band somewhere in the wild Bad Lands to the north of the Ska, and the last heard from the colonel was that he, with six troops of the Eleventh, was scouring the southern limit of those dismal features of our frontier landscape, looking for Red Dog not far to the north of Antelope Springs. Devers had been truculent in his demand for speedy trial up to the third week in July,--up to the twentieth of the month in fact,--but that day brought telegraphic sensation. Tintop had found and struck Red Dog's camp at dawn on the sixteenth, guided thither by Thunder Hawk himself, had struck hard and heavily, scattering not only Red Dog's people to the hills but destroying their village and burning another that from its foul condition seemed to have been standing there all winter. Red Dog himself was killed, fighting like a tiger, and "A" Troop under Hastings and Davies had won the distinction of heading the charge, doing most of the work, and losing more in killed and wounded than the others combined. Hastings was shot through the arm and crippled. Corporal Boyd, one of Devers's pets, was killed, so were two troopers, and Sergeant Haney had received what was reported to be a mortal wound. Leaving a small guard with his invalids and invoking aid from Major White's infantry battalion, now garrisoning the stockade where the new post was to be built, Tintop had gone on into the hills to continue the work of breaking up the bands, Davies commanding "A" Troop, and not until the thirtieth was he heard from again.

But meantime Lieutenant Archer, of the general's staff, who had accompanied the cavalry column, was staying with the wounded, and had removed them from the smoking, malodorous neighborhood of the ruined villages, and could be found, he wrote, with his charges at Antelope Springs. This was news at which Leonard's eyes flashed. It was tidings at which Devers turned very pale. The latter begged for authority to go at his own expense and at once, and without a guard, though it involved five days of buckboard driving or saddle work from p.a.w.nee Station, to join his wounded men. "Debarred," said he, "from the right to battle with my men, I pray that I may at least be permitted to minister to their needs,--they who have so gloriously maintained the honor and credit of their troop." But the adjutant-general at department head-quarters smiled sarcastically and said that this, with others of Devers's letters and telegrams, deserved to be framed. August came, and Devers again clamored to be brought to trial or relieved from arrest, and two evenings later, as he sat in gloomy state upon his piazza, he was amazed to see the adjutant turn grimly into the gate and calmly stand attention before him.

"Captain Devers," said he, "I am directed by the post commander to read to you this despatch:

"'COMMANDING OFFICER, FORT SCOTT:

"'Notify Captain Devers that his letters have been received, and that the court for his trial will convene not later than the fifteenth instant.

"'By command of General ----.'"

And when it is remembered that he had persistently demanded prompt trial it is surprising that the accused officer looked completely disconcerted. The fact of the matter was Captain Devers had no idea that the members and witnesses could be brought together again before mid-September, if then. That night he sat up writing until very late, and sent two messages away by wire. He was sorely troubled now, but could he have seen the group gathered solemnly about the dying sergeant far away at Antelope Springs, and heard his faint, whispered words as Archer took them down, Devers would have stood aghast.

A charming little informal dance was going on at the fort one August evening about a week later. The Leonards would not attend them now, but with five such belles as Mesdames Stone, Darling, Davies, Flight, and Plodder, to say nothing of other lesser lights of the garrison galaxy, there was no lack of womanly beauty, only the cavaliers were short. One officer, an infantry subaltern, represented the martial element, the other men were civilians. Courtenay had brought out two Eastern friends; Burtis was on hand as usual, and Willett, metaphorically, at least, at Mira's feet. The poor girl actually lacked the sense to see that his infatuation was such that he had no eyes, ears, or senses left for any one else. Possibly she gloried in his devotion. At all events he danced with her again and again and watched her jealously when she danced with others. At last towards eleven o'clock Leonard suddenly appeared at the door of the dancing-room, holding an open letter in his hand, and beckoned to his comrade. "I'll have to trouble you to come with me to the quartermaster's storehouse," said he. "There is a chest there that must be opened to-night." And though the lieutenant was surprised, he, in common with everybody else in the Fortieth, had learned that Leonard rarely opened his mouth except to speak by authority, and so went with barely a word to the ladies left behind, nor did he return in ten minutes, as he said he would. The old non-commissioned officer left in charge of the "A" company stores was awaiting their coming with the quartermaster sergeant. He looked troubled and perplexed when Leonard handed him the key and bade him unlock and open Sergeant Haney's chest.

"I ought to have the orders of the company commander, sir," he began. "I mean Captain Devers."

"Captain Devers is not the commanding officer," said Leonard, quietly.

"Here is the written order of the owner, Sergeant Haney, and the instructions of Lieutenant Hastings. The actual commanding officer of the company is with it in the field." So no more was said.

Down in the depths of the chest, among a roll of clothing, carefully covered, but just as described in Hastings's letter, was found a leather writing-case. "Lock the chest again," said Leonard, as this was handed to him. "That is all we mean to disturb." And then he took the case to the office, while the old trooper went to tell his captain what had happened. Morning brought, as was to be expected, a letter from Devers protesting against this new indignity. No property of his officers or men should have been opened save in his presence, as he was but temporarily suspended from his functions, and as to him the men would look for the security of their effects. Lying in wait for Leonard as he returned from the office, Devers demanded to be told what had been taken from the sergeant's chest, and then went white as chalk when Leonard calmly answered, "Certain stolen property, sir, including a map and some written memoranda which will be required before the court-martial that meets next week."

But this was not all that was found in Brannan's case, the lock of which had long since been forced. There was a valuable gold watch presented to Chaplain Davies by the officers and men of his brigade at the close of the war. There were letters which Leonard barely glanced at,--some silly, sentimental trash addressed to some one's darling Bertie by his devoted Mira. All this, opened in presence of a regimental comrade and certified to by him, was replaced, carefully sealed, and then the case was locked in the commissary safe. "That goes with me to Omaha Monday next," said Leonard to the much-mystified officer, "and you may be needed to corroborate my testimony. Keep all this to yourself."

And, despite a vigorous cross-questioning, the youngster managed to hold his own against even Captain Devers, whose suspicions, however, were now fully aroused, and who obtained permission from Colonel Stone to visit the telegraph-office at Braska, and there wired to a legal friend in Omaha and to certain addresses in Washington, and on Friday came telegraphic instructions permitting Captain Devers, for the purpose of consulting with his counsel, to repair to Omaha at once, and he took the midnight train. On Monday, as required, Leonard left, taking his prizes with him, and on Wednesday the court met, with all but two members present. Colonel Atherton inquired of the judge-advocate if he were ready to proceed to business, and that officer replied that he was, but that certain witnesses were still to arrive and the accused did not seem to be in the building. A messenger to the hotel brought back word that the captain breakfasted there that morning, had paid his bill and gone out, his baggage being taken away by an expressman. This strange news fluttered about from room to room at the headquarters building. The members of the court fidgeted in their full-dress uniforms and smoked and chatted and strolled about, calling on old acquaintances, and the adjutant-general sent orderlies to and fro with inquiries.

And then came the sensation of the year among military circles in the old frontier department. The grave, dignified, soldierly chief of staff appeared at the court-room door with a telegraphic despatch in his twitching fingers. "Gentlemen," said he, "your services in this case will not be needed. The accused is beyond our jurisdiction."

There was a moment of intense silence, a look as of awe on many a face, then came the question from one who knew not Devers:

"Killed himself?"

"No! Worse than that,--resigned under fire, and got it accepted."

Later that day there were shown to certain officers some sc.r.a.ps and letters that had been left in the wastebasket in Devers's room; among them was a telegraphic despatch from b.u.t.te, Sunday, repeated from Scott on Monday, apparently after Leonard left. It was to this effect:

"Haney split. Secure box. McGrath found. Send hundred at once."

And while detectives hastened b.u.t.teward in quest of its signer, Howard, only malediction followed its recipient, now speeding eastward fast as steam could carry him.

"By heaven!" said Leonard, in strange, unnatural excitement, "the Eleventh have said all along that Devers could never be cornered, and I believe they're right."

But on the following morning the adjutant's black eyes glowed with even greater wrath and amaze. They had gone to the station,--several of the officers,--to meet the in-coming train on which certain of the witnesses were expected, and there another despatch was handed, this time to Leonard himself. He tore it open, read it, and then, handing it without a word to Truman, turned bitterly away.

And Truman, wondering, read, looked dazed an instant, then--understood.

"Gone--with Willett--last night."

CHAPTER x.x.xIII.

All manner of men were gathered at the station of the Union Pacific in Omaha that August morning. Some of the members of the court, thus unexpectedly absolved from a disagreeable duty, had obtained brief leave of absence and were going to spend a few days in the East before returning to their commands. They were there to take the train. Others had come to see them off; others, like Truman and Leonard, to welcome the coming witnesses. Far up into the fastnesses of the Big Horn had gone the couriers from the frontier forts, bearing brief orders that had come by telegraph, and even Winthrop's command, having an almost idyllic time of it hunting and fishing in the mountains, was required to yield up some of its officers and men at the beck of the law. A long ride had these fellows to Fetterman and thence over the Medicine Bow to Rock Springs. Davies was of this party, but Cranston and Corporal Brannan had a ride still longer. The bulk of the army of witnesses, oddly enough, was marshalled by Lieutenant Archer at the field hospital at p.a.w.nee, and this distinguished young staff officer was coming "with blood in his eye," as wrathful a man as lived and swore in army blue that long, eventful summer. To think that he who so prided himself on plainscraft should have been so utterly hoodwinked by Captain Differs, of all men, was worse to him than gall and wormwood, but he came now fairly snapping with righteous indignation, fresh from another study of the famous field over which he rode with the last man to part with Lieutenant Davies the night of the tragedy of Antelope Springs,--Devers's long-missing sergeant, McGrath.

Separated from his young officer in the gathering darkness by the eagerly searching Indians, detected by them and shot through the leg, he had taken refuge in a ravine until dawn, and then the cries of the coyotes had attracted him to the scene of the ma.s.sacre, and the sight of his mutilated comrades had unmanned him utterly. Feeling sure the Indians were still in the neighborhood, he had determined that if seen he would adopt the plan told him by an old scout long months before,--that of feigning insanity and boldly seeking their company.

Indians regard the insane as specially guarded by the Great Spirit and look upon them with superst.i.tious fear, but McGrath little dreamed how narrow would become the border between the real and the feigned. Fleeing in dismay from the sight of his slaughtered comrades, he had followed the ravine to the timbered valley, lurked there two days and nights in constant fear and nervous dread and suffering, and finally swooned from exhaustion. When he waked with sudden, awful start, two Indian faces were bending over him. Then he had fallen into the hands of the foe at last.

But he was in better luck than he had dared to dream. They were of a peaceful band, wanderers from the fold of Red Cloud who had sought the lower valley for peace and protection. They had a hunting lodge and led him thither, and their squaws gave him food and ministered to him as best they knew how in the mad fever that followed. McGrath never realized how long he was ill, but when he came to himself it was bitter cold and he was living somehow among these strange people,--a small village of them in the heart of the Bad Lands. Not for months did he recover strength. Not until May did he try to ride or walk beyond the limits of their camp. They were poor; they had no spare ponies, and they made him understand he was many, many "sleeps" from his friends with hordes of marauding hostiles intervening, and so induced him to remain with them in hiding until the rebellious tribes were driven from the reservations and Red Dog himself fled to their fastness. Then again had McGrath to remain in hiding, secreted by his humble friends, and there he lay when Winthrop's bugles sounded the charge and his own old troop came dashing in. He was so worn, ragged, and changed that he had difficulty in making even "A" Troop know him, but, once they did, their joy was boundless, for McGrath was a popular man, and the meeting between him and Davies was something long to be remembered, for each believed the other dead. Then, as the wounded were led back to the Ska and he recovered strength and was happy in seeing his Indian protectors lavishly fed, clothed, and rewarded, he began to talk of the events of the campaign of the previous summer and to inquire why the captain was away now; and then Hastings and Archer took him in hand, and later poor stricken Haney, conscious of the approaching end, begged to see him, and then came Haney's broken confession. No wonder Hastings and Archer were confident they had Differs "done for" now.

These, the wounded and convalescent, were still at p.a.w.nee hospital awaiting telegraphic summons from the judge-advocate, but Archer was already on the ground, and Cranston and Davies and others, reunited, presumably, the previous morning at Rock Springs Station, were due at Omaha by this very train for which all hands were waiting. So was another princ.i.p.al witness, who, however, might decline to testify because of the danger of self-incrimination. The detectives sent to b.u.t.te the previous day went too late. Langston's trailers were ahead of them, and deserter Howard, in irons, was being forwarded under charge of a corporal of infantry from Ransom, arrested two days before in a restaurant at b.u.t.te.

"Verily," said Truman, "there is quite a batch of interesting evidence trundling over the Union Pacific to-day," and this was before he had read that significant despatch from Scott.

But when he read and had pondered over it a moment, the captain suddenly left the company of his fellows and strode away after Leonard, now gloomily pacing the platform a dozen yards away.

"Man alive!" said he, "if they left last night what could they do but take this train?"

Leonard nodded, darkly. Then again, after a moment's silence, Truman spoke.

"Could he have been so mad, do you think, as not to have thought of that,--of some one being on that train?"

"No one at the fort knew. How was he to suspect when up to yesterday we all supposed Davies would come down the Yellowstone."

Truman shuddered. "She ought to be in now," said he. "Just think of the tragedy there may have been."

The train was late,--half an hour late, said the official at the train-despatcher's office. No, there hadn't been any accident or excitement up the road that he'd heard of. He really didn't know what caused it. Did she reach and leave Braska on time? Yes, the delay occurred this morning somewhere,--began after leaving Kearney.

Then there had been no excitement, no tragedy farther up the road. There was comfort in that, said Truman. But there had been a sensation at old Fort Scott, such as these counsellors little dreamed of.