Under Fire

C >> Charles King >> Under Fire

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32

"I cannot help it," said Mrs. Cranston, "it may be uncharitable, unkind,
but I am simply glad she could not go with us. She does not like us,--me
at least. She has pointedly avoided me, and I half believe it was to
avoid going with us that she was taken ill. I only hope Wilbur will not
misunderstand the matter."

"I think you are unjust, Margaret, in one thing at least. There was
certainly some severe fright or shock Saturday night."

"Oh, a thing that might unstring a nervous, hysterical woman a few
hours, perhaps, but it is no case of nerves or hysteria with her. She's
a perfectly healthy country girl. Mrs. Darling, who isn't thoroughly
strong and well, seems to have been very little affected."

"Mrs. Darling has been three years out here and is accustomed to
frontier life. Mrs. Davies, probably, never had such an experience
before, and she has been worried by these queer incidents that Mrs.
Leonard tells us of,--those midnight whistlings and tappings at her
window. Mrs. Davies is alone, her husband miles away at the agency.
Everything has tended to worry the girl. I honestly feel sorry for her,
Margaret. I'm sorry that she wouldn't let us be her friends."

"You are full of excuse for her, Agatha, and down in the bottom of your
heart you know perfectly well she doesn't deserve it. I cannot forgive
her for this flirtation with Mr. Willett. I only welcomed the idea of
taking her with us because of the hope it gave me of breaking up that
affair."

"Has it never occurred to you that she may have broken it off
herself?--that besides this queer adventure with those drunken fellows
there was something else to agitate her? Be just, Margaret. She came to
us utterly inexperienced, even ignorant. She hasn't much mind, I'll
admit, but she is innocent of wrong intent. Is it not possible that
driving home he may have spoken to her in a way she could not mistake,
and that that has had much to do with her prostration? If not, if she
did not then and there forbid his coming near her again, how do you
account for it that he has not once been out to the fort since
Saturday?"

"Well, it's only three days, and the sleighing is practically ended."

"Yes, but he hasn't let forty-eight hours pass hitherto without a visit,
so I'm told, and he has his buggy and wagon, and unless there was a
rupture of some kind was it not more than likely he would be out Sunday
or Monday? Wasn't it the proper thing, really, for him to call and
inquire for her?"

But here the Concord rattled on again, the boys playing "giant strides"
hanging to the boot at the back, and the driver, poking his head around
the canvas wind-screen at the front, called out to Mrs. Cranston,
"There's two of our fellows coming a couple of miles ahead, mum." And
both ladies leaned from the wagon to strain their eyes in vain effort to
distinguish the forms and faces of the distant party, Margaret half
hoping that her soldier husband might have been able to stretch a point
and ride far down to meet her, Miss Loomis half divining who it must be,
and it was Miss Loomis who was right. Fifteen minutes further and the
Concord halted again, and Mr. Hastings, with Davies at his side, rode up
to the open door.

Even at a glance one could see how much he was changed in the service of
those two months. The lines about his clear, thoughtful eyes had
deepened and his face was thinner, despite the full, heavy,
close-cropped beard, but there was no mistaking the joy with which he
met and welcomed his friends and nurses of that long autumn's
convalescence. He whipped off his gauntlets and flung them at Louis's
head, as the boys came dancing about his horse, and then extended both
hands in eager greeting to Mrs. Cranston, who was nearest him, and who
frankly grasped and shook them in hearty, cordial fashion.

"Oh, how glad I am to see you!" she cried. "We thought to meet you at
our first camp I had no idea you could come so fast." And by this time
she had released his hands and he was bending farther in to extend the
right to Miss Loomis, who welcomed him with friendly warmth, yet with
that womanly reserve which seemed never separable from her.

"We did not stop at the Niobrara," said he. "We came right through and
camped at Dismal River late last night. Did you see Mrs. Davies this
morning? How did you leave her?" he asked, with grave anxiety.

"We left her very comfortable. Dr. Rooke said there was no occasion
whatever for anxiety," answered Mrs. Cranston, tactfully evading the
question as to "seeing her," and then, fearful lest he should be moved
to repeat it, plunging impetuously ahead. "She was looking so bright and
well, so lovely in fact, that none of us were prepared for her being
ill. Of course you'll hear all about the excitement and adventure they
met with, so I won't speak of it now. In deed, you know, we hardly know
anything more about it ourselves than you do, for both Mrs. Davies and
Mrs. Darling saw so little of what followed the first appearance of the
fellows. Mr. Sanders jumped right out among them, it seems, and gave
chase after some who ran. The one they afterwards captured was one of
your recruits, Paine by name, and Mr. Sanders can tell you all about it
when he gets back. He was sent up to Cheyenne. One or two men who have
disappeared entirely are the suspected ones, and he is after them."

"But I don't understand," said Davies, gravely. "It seems incredible
that even drunken soldiers should have attempted an indignity to a party
of officers and ladies. Weren't you with them?"

"No; we were in the midst of packing, you know, and we weren't going
anywhere. Indeed, it was an extraordinary thing and no one knows how to
account for it, but you'll hear all about it at the fort, and I know you
are eager to push ahead, and we'll see you so soon at the Ogallalla, so
just tell me how you left my husband and you may gallop on."

How blithe and radiant was her face as she spoke! How could he suspect
the dread that lurked behind it,--the artfulness of her effort to escape
further questioning?

"The captain's as well as ever and counting the hours until your
coming," he answered. "How thankful I am, for my wife's sake as well as
my own, that you and Miss Loomis are to be so near us! Think of our
having a house while the rest of you live in log huts! But if any sub
would exchange with me I'd gladly give him the agency guard and the
house and come and live in cantonments." Then with a parting shake of
the hand he waved them on. The driver cracked his whip, the boys
scrambled aboard, and away they went bowling on northward, while Davies
and his single orderly turned again their horses' heads to the welcome
awaiting them at Scott.

Margaret sank back in her seat with fluttering heart and a deep sigh of
relief. "Thank heaven, that's over, and I have told nothing of any
consequence, have I?" she murmured to her silent friend. "What will he
say or think when he learns the truth? But you were saying Mr. Willett
had not reappeared. For that matter neither had Mr. Burtis nor Mr.
Langston. I believe they'll all be out to the fort this very day. Mr.
Langston thought we were not to start, you know, until to-morrow."

No answer to this observation. Miss Loomis was quite well aware of the
fact and had been, for her, an eager advocate of the earlier start the
moment it was declared that Almira could not attempt to move.

"I didn't fib, did I?" asked Mrs. Cranston, after a moment of deep
thought.

"No; you managed to control the examination quite successfully without
it."

But people at Scott that afternoon were less skilful or less fortunate.
Arriving nearly ten hours earlier than he was expected, Mr. Davies
dismounted at his quarters and, tossing the reins to his orderly,
quickly and noiselessly entered. He expected to find his wife an invalid
in a darkened chamber. He strode in upon a cosey little party at
luncheon, Almira presiding at the tea things in a most becoming
_negligee_, and Mrs. Stone and Mrs. Darling nibbling at the dainties set
before them, rising in surprise and some confusion as the young wife
fluttered from her chair to the arms of her returned hero and becomingly
precipitated herself upon his breast. The visitors managed to retire
soon after luncheon was over, despite Almira's evident desire to hold
one or both at her side, for in that brief quarter of an hour Davies
learned, as the result of questions that presently became insistent,
very much to deepen the grave anxiety in his grave face, very much that
made him impatient to hear from other witnesses.

Over the interview between him and his now nervous and fluttering wife
we need not linger. She read disapproval, even distrust in his eyes, in
his grave, deep tones, and all the prostration of the three days
previous showed forcible symptoms of immediate return. She knew she was
going to be wretchedly ill again; she must have Mrs. Darling and Dr.
Rooke. Oh, why had they taken Dr. Burroughs away? he was so much nicer,
and Barnickel should go for Dr. Rooke at once; and Barnickel, who was
unpacking the lieutenant's saddle-bags and blanket roll, said he knew
the doctor had gone to town and there was no one but the steward about.
Mr. Sanders was just back, said he, and some gentlemen from town with
him; whereat Almira started nervously and with fear in her face, and
Davies took his cap and, presently, his leave.

"I will ask Mrs. Darling to come to you at once," he said, gently, "but
I must go and see Mr. Sanders." He stooped and kissed her flushed
forehead and then turned slowly away. The instant he closed the hall
door behind him she crept to the parlor window, watching him as he
walked rapidly westward along the row; then, slipping the bolt, she flew
back to her room, searching in the bureau drawer an instant, drew forth
two or three little notes, tied with silken ribbon, also a bunch of
faded violets. The next instant notes and violets were blazing in the
parlor base-burner.

Davies went straight to Sanders's quarters. It was then only a little
after two and no one happened to be visible along the row. Over at the
barracks and office there was the customary drowsy silence that followed
the mid-day meal of men who had to be up with the dawn, and at stables,
drill, or exercise until the noon recall. But Mrs. Stone had hurried
home to her colonel and told him of Davies's arrival, and the colonel
was eager to see him. Mrs. Darling had similarly warned her consort, and
Darling was as eager to dodge.

"Lieutenant Sanders has gone to report to Captain Devers," said the
striker who answered Davies's ring, and Davies said he would come in and
wait until his return. He wanted to get by himself and quietly think
over Almira's fragmentary and reluctant account and admissions
concerning this supper-party at Braska. He threw himself into Sanders's
big arm-chair drawn up in front of the stove, and leaned his head on his
thin, white hand. Trooper Hurley, Sanders's striker, acting under his
usual instructions, presently reappeared with a decanter of whiskey,
glasses, sugar, and spoon on a tray. "We're all torn up, sir, packing
the lieutenant's traps for the move, but here's everything but bitters,
or lemon, and I can get them in a moment, sir."

Davies wearily thanked him, but waved the proffered refreshment aside.
Hurley deposited his tray on the table close to the lieutenant's elbow
and tiptoed out.

"Did Mr. Sanders say he'd come back here?" called the visitor.

"No, sir," said Hurley, poking his head back in the door-way; "but he
will, sir. He was sent for by Captain Devers before he had been ten
minutes in the post, and he went as soon as he could change his clothes
and get into uniform. Mr. Darling run in here just a few moments ago
after him, but he was gone. Mr. Willett fetched him out from town, sir,
along with some other gentlemen. They went over to the store."

"I'll wait a few minutes," said Davies. So Hurley hospitably brought the
late papers and placed them within reach.

"There's pipes and tobacco if the lieutenant would like to smoke, and
I'll be in the back room, sir, packing."

"Did you hear whether Mr. Sanders had succeeded in arresting the other
men?"

"No, sir, he didn't. They couldn't be found and hadn't been heard of in
Cheyenne, but Mr. Sanders said they had bought their tickets for there,
and that they were on the train as far as Sidney anyhow. I heard him say
that. They were a bad lot, sir, them two fellows, especially Howard. The
men in 'A' Troop say he made many a ball for Paine to throw, and that he
was the one that was always making trouble for Brannan."

Davies bowed silently. He remembered Howard well all through the long
dismal summer, one of the very "likeliest looking" of the recruits, at
first glance, and almost the only one of the lot whom Captain Devers
seemed to fancy, yet Davies was surprised, when he rejoined after his
sick-leave, to find him in the troop office instead of the drill squad.
All through the regiment the story had gone the rounds of how Sanders
had arrested him on the train in "cits" and evident intent to desert,
and how Devers had ordered his release, virtually assuming
responsibility for the entire affair, and no man could account for
Devers's action in the matter except that it was Devers's, and therefore
bound to be different from that which any other officer would have
taken.

And it was Howard who, this time at least, had deserted for good, taking
with him a garrison ne'er-do-well whose going was only a good riddance,
and leaving as a captive in the hands of Lieutenant Sanders the luckless
Paine, now languishing in the guard-house, while, under the orders of a
nervous and evidently anxious post commander, parties were searching
everywhere for the other two.

From the somewhat garbled and excited account given by the ladies at the
luncheon-table, Davies had been able to gather only these
particulars,--that, as the second sleigh was coming along, oh, just a
little distance behind Colonel Stone's, and as they rounded a sharp turn
at the head of one of the islands, a brilliant light flashed from the
bank, so close to the horses that they shied violently, nearly toppling
Mrs. Davies out, and in this flash they distinctly saw the face and form
of a tall young man in dark slouch hat and civilian clothes, and the
expression on his face was so wicked, and he was so ghastly pale that it
looked like an apparition, and Mrs. Davies screamed and nearly fainted
from the fright and shock, and Mr. Willett, who was driving, made a
furious cut at the fellow with his whip, and then as the horses tore
away in fright the occupants of the sleigh had just time to catch a
glimpse of some soldier overcoats, and when at last Mr. Willett regained
control of his horses, Mrs. Darling cried out that they must go back for
Mr. Sanders. He had leaped right out among those brutes, and she was
sure she had heard shots. Mrs. Davies admitted that here she protested
against going back, so terribly was she frightened, but Mrs. Darling
said that they must do so and Willett said that they must, and go they
did, only to find the spot abandoned. Even when Willett called for
Sanders there was no answer, and then they were dreadfully alarmed for
fear he had met with violence, and Mrs. Darling took the reins while
Willett searched, and Mrs. Davies, as she admitted, cowered under the
buffalo robe, and then, all on a sudden, they heard the sound of angry
voices, heard some one furiously denouncing Mr. Willett for lashing a
gentleman with his whip, heard Willett curse the stranger for flashing a
match purposely to frighten his horses,--some sneering reply to the
effect that a man had a right to light a cigar on a public road, then
Willett's voice calling the man a liar, then heavy blows and scuffle,
and then Sanders came running up the road just in time, for the stranger
had Mr. Willett down in the snow and was throttling him. He sprang up
and dashed into the willows the instant he heard Sanders's voice, and
that was the last seen of him, for Sanders's first care was for the
civilian, who was bruised and choked, but, after all, not seriously
hurt. He helped Willett back to his seat, bade him drive the ladies at
once to the fort, but said he was going after those marauders, for two
at least were soldiers. That was all. When Willett and Mr. Darling drove
back they found that he had captured Paine, too drunk to run well, and
that the others were gone. Next morning Trooper Howard was reported
absent, and that settled the identity of the man in civilian dress. Mr.
Willett had not been out at the post since the affair simply because he
was nursing a black eye and a sprained thumb.

What Mrs. Darling and Mrs. Stone couldn't understand was what could
possibly have prompted the man Howard to stand right on that little
bank, close to the track, and there flash his phosphorus match. He must
have known it would scare the horses even if it did not terrify the
people. It was a reckless, diabolical thing to do, and then to think of
his daring to strike and beat Mr. Willett afterwards. Mrs. Darling was
full of indignation at his conduct; Mira was agitated, but had little to
say. She was thinking of the cross-questioning that was inevitable when
her supporters were gone.

And now, sitting there in Sanders's easy-chair, Davies was pondering
over all that he had been told at the table, and the little that he had
wrung from her reluctant lips, putting them together with the frequent
questions asked him by the few women who had joined their husbands at
the cantonment,--questions so frequent and persistent as to whether he
often heard from his wife, and wasn't she soon coming, _very_ soon, to
join him, that even to his unsuspicious nature they carried a
significance he could not down, and now it seemed that Almira had gone
with a gay party to a supper and dance in town at a time when he
supposed that she was spending her hours with his friends, the
Cranstons, or in quiet and seclusion at her home. There, at least, he
showed his inexperience, for in nine cases out of ten the friends the
newly-arrived wife is surest to fancy in garrison are not those whose
praises her lord has been sounding for six months ahead. Of the hops and
dances and drives that had preceded this eventful evening he had as yet,
_mirabile dictu_, heard nothing beyond Mira's own meagre account. In
fact, he had no idea of them at all.

He was worn and weary after the long, hard eighty-mile ride. The fire
was warm, the room still and peaceful; no sound broke the silence but
Hurley's occasional step and soft whistle out in the "linter" at the
rear where lay his packing-boxes. Possibly Davies may have become
drowsy, dreamy, as he reclined there. At all events he never moved as a
quick, nervous step came bounding across the veranda and into the hall.
The door burst open and a voice, surely a little tremulous and agitated,
spoke low and quickly.

"Where are you, Sanders? Oh, say, will you do me a favor? I can't--at
least I don't want these other women to know. Was there ever such a
streak of hell's luck as this? He's home. I've got to go. Will you see
that Mrs. Davies gets this before to-night?"

And in the dim light of the little bachelor den, Percy Davies, slowly
turning, was aware of a stylishly-dressed, handsome young civilian,
whose face, though pale and apparently bruised, was vaguely familiar to
him, in whose outstretched hand was a little box-shaped packet. Just
then another step came bounding into the hall-way, into the room, and
the lawful occupant of the quarters halted short at sight of the two
tall, slender forms confronting each other, one that of the civilian,
slowly recoiling toward the door with twitching, tremulous hands, and a
face livid as death, the other, in cavalry undress, with bearded,
haggard face, deeply lined, under whose heavy, bushy, overhanging brows
a pair of blue eyes were blazing. For a moment not a word was spoken,
then Davies broke the silence.

"Sanders, this gentleman wishes you to see that that package is promptly
delivered to my wife, and I should be glad to see you as soon as
possible at my quarters."

Not until the speaker had coolly stepped past them both and out of the
room had Sanders recovered sufficient presence of mind to sing out, "All
right, old man; I'll come." Then, as the outer door closed after the
retiring officer, he whirled on Willett.

"You inveterate ass! How dare you haul me into this?"

CHAPTER XXIII.

Among the gentlemen from Braska visiting the post that afternoon was Mr.
Langston, who drove thither full of eager anticipation, and hailed the
first glimpse of the bright hues of the flag with a thrill of hope and
joy. No spot in all God's green earth at that moment held in his eyes
such vivid charm and interest. Ten minutes later no spot in all the
world seemed so barren and desolate. The sunshine, the sailing clouds in
the vault of blue, the chasing shadows along the slopes, the streaming
colors of blue and white and scarlet at the tip of the swaying staff,
the glint and sparkle of the accoutrements of the guard, the gaudy
lining of the troopers' capes, were absolutely unaltered, yet the light
had gone from his eyes--following the trail to the far Ogallalla. To him
who loves a woman with all his heart there is more beauty in a
mud-chinked hovel in a frontier fort where she may dwell than in all
"the castled crags" of storied Rhineland or the cloud-capped towers and
gorgeous palaces among the mirror lakes of Alpine Italy.

[Illustration: "FOR A MOMENT NOT A WORD WAS SPOKEN."

Page 324.]

Langston learned of the departure five minutes after he reached the
post, and lost all further interest in the day. He said he would "loaf"
at the club room until Burtis and Willett got through their calls,
which, said they, would occupy some hours,--two or three at least.
Indeed, Willett "didn't know but what he might stay out with Sanders
overnight" and let Burtis "tool the trap" back to Braska when he got
ready. When, therefore, in less than forty minutes Willett's team was
reported being hurriedly harnessed in the post trader's corral and that
gentleman himself came bustling in with a pale, scared face that
intensified the blue blotch under his eye, Langston was astonished. He
was listlessly turning over the leaves of a magazine at the moment and
seeking solace in a cigar. Willett looked nervously about him, bade the
attendant bring him some brandy and soda, and threw himself into a chair
in front of the stove.

"You look used up, Willett," said the elder. "What's the matter? Seen
anything more of your midnight antagonist?"

"No, by heaven! I wish I had. I believe the devil himself has gone in
league with the gang at this garrison. I never knew such a string of
mishaps in all my life. Say, are you ready to go back?"

"Any time; but I thought you wanted to stay."

"Oh, so did you when you came out, Langston, and now you don't, and I'm
simply in the same boat."

The attendant brought him a tall glass and poured the soda hissing into
the brandy. Willett drank eagerly, then started for the door. "Come,
then," he called; "the trap's ready--or ought to be." Langston knew it
was not, so temporized.

"How about Burtis?" he asked.

"Burtis? Oh, I don't know or care. He can get back just the best way he
knows how. There's an ambulance coming over to town to-night."

"Well, I think you ought to let him know, Willett."

"I have. I sent him word by Sanders, whom I just left."

"Very well, then I'll go with you now. Only stop one minute at Sanders's
so that I can say good-by to him. He goes back to the agency to-morrow,
I believe."

"Well, he isn't there. He's gone out to pay a call. Jump in."

But as they drove around the level road towards the northwest gate, and
the long line of officers' quarters lay to their right front, two
officers could be seen in earnest conversation at the front gate of No.
12, the farthest away.

"There's Sanders now," said Langston. "It won't take you five minutes
out of your own way. Turn over there, won't you?"

"I can't. I--I've got to hurry, Langston. If you want to see him you can
jump out, and I'll wait for you outside the gate."

"Well, if you're in a hurry that'll take much more time than if you
drove. I'd have to walk both ways, don't you see?" was the cool answer.
"Never mind, though; go ahead. Who's that with Sanders?"

Willett, who had turned red with confusion at his own blunder, turned
redder at the question, then went gray again. "That's Lieutenant
Davies," said he, briefly.

"Oh, then he's home. Why, how I'd like to meet him again! Here--just let
me out, will you? and you go ahead. I'll come back with Burtis."

"No; come on with me, Langston. I'm in a devil of a fix and want your
advice."

And as they bowled swiftly along homeward over the smooth, hard, prairie
road, Langston admitted to himself, as Willett falteringly unfolded his
tale, that the young man was indeed "in a devil of a fix,"--in what
Langston, who was an old soldier, found it more descriptive to say, a
damnable fix. He pondered over it a moment and then said, "I don't
understand what you want me to do, Willett," and his tone was very cold.
"I don't see how I can help you. From your own account you have behaved
either like a fool or a blackguard, and what I can't fathom is why
Davies's commanding officer, or some friend or comrade, did not warn you
off weeks ago."

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32