by Charles King
CHAPTER XI.
"The main objection to Fort Scott," said Winthrop, when one of hisbattalions was finally ordered thither, "is that it's too fashionablefor my taste. What this regiment needs now is more drill and lessdinners." He loved to be epigrammatic. The head-quarters, staff, band,and six troops had taken station at a big frontier post, two othertroops went with the lieutenant-colonel to a second post, so that thatofficer could have a command, and two more with the senior major, butthe Interior Department had moved some thousands of the lately hostileIndians down close to the line of the railway, where they could be morereadily fed and cared for. Great thereat was the alarm of the settlers,and great the protest of the cattlemen, whose steers now roamed all overthe prairies within tempting distance of the restless young bravesacross the reservation line. Scott was not a cavalry post at all. It hadno suitable stables, and only infantry ordinarily had been stationedthere since the completion of the railway, and thither Devers had beensent when the final dissolution of the field column took place, and noone of the field officers wanted him in his command, and he preferred tobe as usual,--alone. But then came the move of the Indians and the cryof inadequate protection. Tintop had to part with two of his petcompanies--Cranston's and Hay's--at the reluctant orders from departmenthead-quarters. Still a fourth had to be sent, and Truman was taken fromthe lieutenant-colonel and Major Warren despatched from head-quarters toScott as commander of this cavalry battalion or squadron at the verymoment when he was clinching his arrangements for long leave of absence.He went, commanded a month, but persisted in his application. Long yearsof service entitled him to the indulgence and it was granted, butneither the lieutenant-colonel nor senior major would consent to give upthe command of a post to go to Scott as a subordinate to old ColonelPeleg Stone, an infantry veteran of many a war, both in garrison and inthe field. A shout of merriment was heard in the camp of the cavalrywhen the original orders were read distributing the troops to stations."Old Pegleg's got his match at last," was the comment of the knowingones. "He can't worry Devers half as much as Devers will worry him."Scott was the innermost and easternmost of all the stations to which thethree regiments of cavalry were distributed. The big, bustling, growingcattle town of Braska lay but a few miles away. Thriving and populousranches surrounded the post on every side, replacing the buffalo,antelope, and deer of the decade gone by with countless herds of hornedcattle. Braska sported a theatre, an assembly-room, restaurants,concert-halls and banks--of all kinds. It had the unhallowed features ofthe average frontier metropolis and some of the more agreeable traits ofan Eastern city. It contained a very large number of abandonedcharacters who were not all half as bad as they were painted, and quitean array of citizens of high repute who were not all as good as theylooked. As between bad morals and bad manners, society seems to find iteasier to forgive the former, and most of the Eastern men who had comeWest to embark in business had charming manners and were welcomevisitors at the fort, welcome companions at every party, picnic, anddance, most hospitable entertainers in their turn when the fort peoplewent to town. During the long battle summer Fort Scott was garrisoned byColonel "Pegleg," the chaplain, the doctors, the adjutant andquartermaster, the band, one company of his reliable old corps, theFortieth Foot, and the wives and children of pretty much all the rest ofthe regiment. Famous campaigners were they of the Fortieth. They hadn'tmissed a chance, winter or summer, for ten long years. They had tramped,scouted, picketed, escorted, explored, surveyed, fought and bled allover the great Northwest, some of the officers being so incessantlyabroad as to find themselves quite ill at ease at home, many of theirladies declaring it a difficult matter to know their lords on the rareoccasions of their return, some few, indeed, being accused of havingforgotten them entirely in their absence. These were days the armylittle knew before and will never know again,--the decade that followedthe war of the rebellion. Too old to take the field himself, the veterancolonel at least could take his ease at home, and was quite placid andcontent when he had the band to play for him, one company to guard and"police" the post, and a host of women and children, bereft of theirnatural protectors, fluttering about him. When all his companies werehome he had to spend hours at his desk overhauling ration and post andforage returns, and as he was essentially a "red-tape" soldier,--onewho knew the regulations and recognized nothing else,--he made in busiertimes his own life and those of his officers something of a burden. Thesummer had been lovely at Scott. Thrice a week on sunshiny afternoonsthe band played in its kiosk, and the gallants from town or theneighboring ranches drove in with their stylish "turnouts" and called onthe ladies at the fort or took them driving over the hard prairie roads,or danced with them on the waxed floor of the airy assembly-room."Really," said some of the ladies, "if it hadn't been for our friendsfrom town and the ranches I don't know what we should have done." Whatsome of them--ay, many of them--did was to gather their little broodsabout them morn and night and pray to the Father in heaven for the lifeand safety of the father in the field,--to lead pure and patient andfaithful lives, striving to keep their little house in order against hiscoming, to teach his children to honor and love his name, to guard thatname from any and every possibility of reproach. What others did was toaccept most liberally the parting injunction, "not to mope, but try tohave a good time and be brave and cheerful," while the soldier went hisway. From this it was an easy step to accept as liberally the profferedattention of the gentlemen with the charming manners from Braska andBraska County. It was a gay post, a fashionable post, a frivolous post,for the tone of garrison life depends immeasurably upon its socialleader, the wife of the commanding officer, and Mrs. Stone was butlittle older than her husband's daughters. The latter were East atschool or visiting their own mother's relatives. The former had been abelle at home and was glad to continue her belledom on the plains. Therewere times when Mrs. Stone and the colonel lent the countenance of theirpresence to charming little dinners and lunches, or after theatre tosuppers at the leading restaurant in town. There were times when some ofthe ladies accepted refreshment there without such officialaccompaniment. "Really, one had to drive very frequently to Braska evenif there was no actual shopping, for there was nowhere else to go," wasan oft-heard remark at Scott that summer. But breathes there a woman whocannot find excuse for shopping? And shopping was hungry work and thedrive was long, the air keen, bracing, appetizing. What more naturalthan that Mr. Courtenay and Mr. Fowler of the bank, Mr. Willett or Mr.Burtis of the Cattle Club,--such charming dancers these,--shouldsometimes, indeed frequently, suggest just a little bite, just a hotbird and a cold bottle at Cresswell's? Such delicious salads as he couldconcoct out of even canned shrimp or lobster, such capital oysters ascame to him, fresh, three times a week from Baltimore, such deliciouschampagne, so carefully iced. What possible harm could there be in Mrs.Flight and Mrs. Darling and Mrs. Watson's going together, mind you, andlunching with their friends? "Why, the ladies at Fort Russell all do thesame thing every time they go to Cheyenne!" said Mrs. Flight, when takento task about it. "When I was up there visiting Fanny Turner last monthwe thought _nothing_ of it!" All the same Mrs. Wright and Mrs. Leonardand others of their standard not only wouldn't go driving alone withthe gentlemen from town, but declined to go to Cresswell's with anybody.And Mrs. Wright's bonny face flushed and her eyes flashed when she saidwhy. As to what the ladies of the --th did out at Russell, that was nother business. "Nevertheless," said Mrs. Wright, "I'll warrant you thatMrs. Stannard, or Mrs. Freeman, or Mrs. Truscott did nothing of thekind, and I don't care what Mrs. Flight says or Mrs. Turner does."
And then the whole regiment came flocking home, and there was joy andgladness unspeakable in many a little army household and somemodification thereof in others, and presently Devers and his trooparrived after a long, long march, and Devers began giving "Pegleg"something more to think about. The resources of the quartermaster'sdepartment were insufficient to fill that ambitious dragoon'srequisitions. There wasn't anything he didn't want for his men, hishorses, or himself,
and the next thing Pegleg knew he was involved justas he was told he would be in a voluminous warfare with the troopcommander, and was minded of a saying attributed to the wag of the --thCavalry, a certain Lieutenant Blake, who knew Devers well and shared theuniversal opinion of him. An officer had talked of challenging Devers inby-gone days when vestiges of the code still lingered, but Blake scoutedthe idea. "The only pistol he can fight with is the epistle," saidBlake. So Blake was another detestation of Devers, and doubtless forgood reason. He was forever getting a laugh on the captain when theyhappened to come together, and, contentious and critical as he was, thebig dragoon couldn't abide being laughed at. Somebody once referred toDevers as reminding her of a Hercules on horseback, which prompted Blaketo respond, "Hercules! yes, by Jove, of the Farnese variety," whereatthere was a guffaw among the men present who knew anything of art, and ageneral titter on every hand, for no one was ignorant of Devers's widephysical departure from artistic lines. But Tom Hollis and others of hisilk only caught the "far knees" part of it, which, however, was quiteenough. Blake would have been a comfort to old Stone this breezy, wintryDecember, but in default of native wit to aid him wrestle with his acuteantagonist, the colonel begged that if only one more cavalryman shouldbe sent to the post in response to the new outcry for protection, heshould come in the shape of a field officer to straighten out Devers."He's got," said he, "too damn much individuality for me."
And not only had more cavalry come, but the major had come and gone. Ifanything, said Stone, Devers was more unbearable than before, as he nowhad over two hundred men to represent instead of a little more thanfifty. Fort Scott was in the height of the holiday festivities, Captainand Mrs. Cranston with Miss Loomis and the boys were just settling intothe new quarters when Lieutenant and Mrs. Davies were announced as _enroute_ to join.
And now arose a serious question. Who was to receive and entertain thenew-comers until they were able to furnish and move into their ownquarters? If any one, his own captain should be the first to tenderhospitality, but Captain Devers made no move whatsoever. He had a largeand interesting family of his own, which was sufficient excuse. Therewere now two classmates of Davies at the post, both in the Fortieth, butthey were youngsters, only a few months in service, who roomed togetherin the upper story of old Number Three, and lived at the bachelor mess,which comprised the contract doctor, the sutler's clerk, and certain ofthe quartermaster's employes. The boys would give "Dad" the best theyhad and gladly, but they hadn't anything. Even the iron bunks on whichthey slept were borrowed from the hospital. "How can a fellow invite abride to occupy his one room when he don't own C. and G. E. enough tofurnish a hen-coop?" And by C. and G. E., the army abbreviation for campand garrison equipage, the youngster meant to imply that he had nofurniture beyond a camp-chair and a trunk. Cranston himself would gladlyhave taken them in but for two reasons,--he had not a vacant room underhis roof, and Margaret did not seem to wish it. It must be confessedthat there had been an outburst heard only by him--confided only tohim--when Mrs. Cranston received, a few weeks after the letter whichsadly told of Davies's mother's death, the brief and possiblyconstrained note from her late patient announcing his approachingmarriage to Miss Quimby, who he said had been utterly devoted to poormother during her declining days and those of her brief but painfulillness. Margaret could not bear to speak of it to Miss Loomis. It wasAgatha herself who calmly asked, "And when is he to be married?" Inanswering Mrs. Cranston found it impossible to conceal that she thoughtit both quixotic and unnecessary. Miss Loomis quietly but decidedly tookthe opposite view. No honorable man could have done otherwise. They hadlong been engaged. It was not only their own but his mother's choice.She was young, beautiful, deeply in love with him. He had long been inlove with her. Doubtless they would be very happy, as they deserved tobe. Margaret flared up again: "I believe he's doing it as he doeseverything else,--from sheer sense of duty, and that you advised himto." A random shot which went nearer the mark than the archer supposed,for Miss Loomis flushed in an instant, and made no reply. "Well!" saidMrs. Cranston, "she longs only to share the humblest cot, the rudesthabitation with her beloved. We'll see how she'll take to frontierlife."
A detachment of thirty troopers had been ordered kept at the new agencyeighty miles to the north, and thither to his supreme disgust hadLieutenant Boynton of the Eleventh been banished in command, with thepromise of relief soon after Christmas. Cranston wrote asking permissionto use the lieutenant's vacated rooms for the new-comers, saying hewould provide servants and such fittings as would be needed. Boyntonwired back yes, of course, and the dreary bachelor den was made ashabitable as Mrs. Cranston's busy hands and brain could make it. Otherkindly women lent their aid, as well as pillow shams, towels,comforters, bed linen, lamps, wardrobe, bureau, rocking-chairs, lounge,etc. The Davieses were to breakfast and lunch with the Cranstons eachday, and to be invited round to dinner until their own cot was ready.And in thus wise did traditional army hospitality vindicate itself.There was that still unexplained something hanging over Davies's head,but as yet he knew nothing of it,--had never heard of the allegations sovehemently, volubly laid at his door when Captain Devers had his ownportals to clear. Nor was the latter now given to faintest reference tothe matter. This at first glance may seem inconsistent, yet has itsexplanation. As matters now stood there would be no further inquiry intothat wretched business. If Davies were once to know his good name hadbeen attacked, and that his explanation of his failure to reach his menor give notice of their plight had been aspersed, somebody might put himup to demanding a court of inquiry. Devers had even concluded it adiplomatic move to treat the lieutenant with a courtesy hithertowithheld. Mrs. Devers was already instructed to be particularly civil tothe bride.
Another thing had Devers done, and done most diplomatically. Realizinghis own narrow escape and suspecting his unpopularity in the regiment,though little dreaming (which of us does?) how ill he was reallyregarded, the temporary battalion commander began making friends of themammon of unrighteousness, so to speak, and exerting himself to show hisjuniors how courteous and considerate he could be in that capacity. As ageneral rule it is the subaltern who makes the greatest outcry againstthe disciplinary measures of his captain, or the captain who mostvehemently condemns the policy of his colonel, who proves in turn themost inconsiderate and annoying of superiors. But Devers wasshrewd,--"wise in his generation." He knew his reign must be short atbest. He felt that he had a difficult role to play. He had always beenan outspoken "company rights" man as opposed to the federalizing policyof the battalion or regimental commander. He had bitterly resented inthe past any or all interference with his management of his troop, yethad been an unsparing critic of everybody else's system, and, as we haveseen, a nimble and active opponent of anything like control on the partof his commander. Of him it had been predicted that he would immediatelybegin to "boss" the entire battalion and require his brother captains toconform to his own ways of conducting troop affairs. He had always madeit a point to try to be cordial to other fellows' lieutenants, but wasnever liked by his own. Mr. Hastings cordially hated him, but Hastingshad his peculiarities, too. As for the captains, Hay and Devers hadn'tbeen on speaking terms for two years. Truman could not like him, yet hadhad no open rupture. Cranston and he were personally and officiallyantagonistic. One and all, the officers regarded this detail under hiscommand as one of the most unpromising of their experience, and couldhardly contain themselves when Warren left. As for Warren, his relationswith the senior troop commander had been of the stiffest and most formalcharacter ever since the close of the campaign.
But just as he had baffled his own commanders in the past, so now didDevers baffle all. Far from interfering or assuming control, he did soonly when in actual command at mounted inspection or drill, and then inthe most courteous way of which he was capable. He declined to overhaulor inspect the quarters or stables of the other troops, which, asbattalion commander, it was really his duty to do at least once amonth. "I have always held that the captain should
not be spied upon,"he said, "and I have too much confidence in the ability and sense ofduty of you gentlemen to differ now."
Hay was amazed, so was everybody up at head-quarters. Colonel Tintopdidn't know what to make of it. Cranston presently decided he had solvedthe mystery, but kept his theory to himself. Truman, a little later,arrived at a like conclusion, and was for giving it abroad, but Cranstoncounselled reticence. An appeal to Truman's regimental pride was alwayseffective.
"Never mind what's at the bottom of it all, old man. We're getting alongsmoothly and swimmingly, just like a happy family. Let's keep up theillusion and fool these fellows of the Fortieth awhile longer," said he,and Truman promised. But these fellows of the Fortieth were not soeasily fooled. They had been on the campaign and knew a thing or twothemselves, and as Devers and the adjutant speedily locked horns againand Devers said some unjustifiable things, the infantry retorted, andthe infantry weapon had a longer range. It was the very day of Davies'sarrival with his bride that this smouldering fire burst forth. Deverswas in the adjutant's office snarling about the neglect of the postquartermaster to pay any attention to his requisitions. Now, it was anaide-de-camp and a cavalry officer who had been sent to the scene of theaffair at Antelope Springs to compare the situation there with Devers'sdescription and rough sketch, and a cavalry officer who had written whatwas practically a vindication of Devers's course. Stung by the languageof the captain, the adjutant, himself a veteran soldier of years of warservice such as Devers had never rendered, looked up from his desk andsharply asked what was Devers's complaint at the expense of hisregimental comrade,--the quartermaster.
"What I mean," said Devers, "is simply this: that just so long as wehave to appeal to an infantry staff officer I can never get my stableswhitewashed."
"We-l-l," said Mr. Leonard, looking his man squarely in the eye, "I aminclined to think that the cavalry staff officer is sometimes given totoo much 'whitewashing,' and if an infantryman had been sent instead ofa cavalryman the most discreditable affair of the late campaign wouldnot have been, as it was, whitewashed entirely."
"If somebody had whitewashed old Differs's face he couldn't have turneda sicker shade," said Tommy Dot, the only other infantryman present atthe moment. Cranston was there, so was Devers's own lieutenant, Mr.Hastings, and the thing couldn't be overlooked. The adjutant was as bigand powerful a man as Devers, more so if anything, and his black eyeswere snapping like coals, and his mouth was rigid as the jaws of asteel-trap as he rose and squarely confronted the irate captain, andDevers knew and knew well that more than his match was there before him.
"This is something you'll have to answer for, Mr. Leonard," said he, intones that trembled, despite every effort at self-control. "You arewitness to the language, Captain Cranston, Mr. Hastings."
"The language will be publicly repeated, sir," said Leonard, "if youdesire more witnesses." But by this time the colonel at his desk in theadjoining room seemed to catch a whiff of the impending crisis, andcould be heard calling his adjutant. "I'll return in a moment, sir,"said Leonard, and he did, but when he returned Devers was gone.
And now the questions were, what will Devers do about it? and what willDavies say when he hears what Devers has done? There could be no fight,except on paper, for that was Devers's only field. He had gone forth inevident wrath and excitement, bidding Cranston and Hastings to follow.Hastings as his subaltern went without a word. Cranston said he had cometo transact certain business and would follow when that was done. Deverswas tramping up and down in front of his quarters; Hastings, withembarrassed mien and moody face, leaning, his hands in his pockets,against the fence.
"What do you think of that as an insult to the cavalry?" asked Devers ofhis junior, as Cranston with his usual deliberation came finally to thespot.
"I think it provoked, sir, by your slur on the infantry."
"I merely generalized," answered Devers. "He insulted both Archer andme." Archer, by the way, was the aide-de-camp in question.
"Well, then I presume Archer and you can settle it," said Cranston,coolly.
"It's evident your sympathy for your patient has blinded your sense ofjustice to--to the rest of the regiment. I looked for more loyalty fromyou, Cranston."
"It is my loyalty to the regiment and my sense of justice that refuse tobe blinded by you, Devers. I cannot reconcile Mr. Davies's story withyour report, and I do not see how Archer could, if indeed he ever sawDavies's story or heard of it."
"Captain Cranston, your _protege_ may thank heaven that I haven't yetpreferred charges against him for that affair," said Devers, white withpassion.
"It has always been my belief, Captain Devers, that charges should havebeen preferred, and the sooner that it is done the sooner will Davies becleared. I presume that you can want nothing further of me." AndCranston walked calmly on.
And that evening the bride arrived. "The Parson's" classmates drove overto the railway to meet the happy pair and escort them to the post. Theladies, one and all, had done their best to brighten up the absentBoynton's quarters so as to make a fitting habitation for the new-comersto their ranks. The officers had passed the word, as was the expression,to keep from Davies, for the present at least, all mention of theseaffairs in which his name was involved. Somebody at divisionhead-quarters must have had an eye on the situation, for there came aletter from a trusted aide of the lieutenant-general to old "Pegleg"reminding him of the gratitude we all owed the young man's noble father,and bidding him lend a helping hand to Davies, and see that his lifewasn't made a burden to him by his troop commander. The generalevidently knew of Devers's idiosyncrasies, but Mrs. Devers herself cameearly to join the circle of helping hands, and announced that she wouldbe there to welcome the bride to her temporary nest; and she was therein the crisp, cold starlight when the ambulance with its spanking teamdrove briskly into the big quadrangle, and in warm furs and happyblushes and half-shy delight, a very pretty girl was lifted from thedark interior and presented to the little knot of hospitable friendsawaiting her coming.
