Under Fire

by Charles King

  CHAPTER XXI.

  Cranston's six days home-keeping sped all too swiftly away. It was nowdefinitely settled that his troop and Truman's were to remainindefinitely on duty at the agency. The general hated the idea ofbuilding cantonments there, and had urged that all the Indians beconcentrated at the White River reservation, but without avail,--theInterior Department would have its way. Troops had to be drawn from allthe posts along the railroad to make up the new command at theOgallalla, and out of his own pocket Cranston was adding to the logquarters assigned to him, for Margaret had promptly announced that shewould not remain at Scott, that where he dwelt was her dwelling, andthey had known far greater isolation and danger in the past. Indeed,there was little danger of their going now, for in the presence of sostrong a force the Indians would be meek enough. Two log huts wereconnected and thrown into one as rapidly as possible, and it was fullydecided that by the 25th of March Mrs. Cranston, Agatha Loomis, and theboys were to join him at the cantonment. It was not a very difficulttrip for such heroines as lived in those days in the army. Cranston'sstrong spring wagon, fairly lined with buffalo-robes and blankets, wouldcarry them in perfect comfort from camp to camp. They would have anescort and a baggage-wagon, spend the first night at Dismal River, thenext at Niobrara. Hastings would escort them, for he longed to get awayfrom Scott for a while and visit his comrades in the field. There wasnothing in the least unusual in it, said Margaret, in her homeletters,--for this had she married a soldier. The boys, of course,gloried in the opportunity and bragged about it, or would brag about itwhen they next got away from their kind in the army to their kind incivil life,--boys who could only vainly long for such opportunities andvaguely loathe those who had enjoyed them. As for Agatha, she acceptedthe change of station with serene and philosophic silence untilcross-questioned as to her own intentions. "Why, certainly I mean to gowith Mrs. Cranston," she replied, with clear, wide-open eyes. "She willhave more need of me there than here--and I of her." Mr. Langston, whodrove out again to spend Sunday at the post, heard of the decision withgrave concern in his soldierly face, but in silence equal to her own.

  Some others of the ladies whose lords were thus detached to Ogallallapreferred, however, to wait until the snow was gone. There was nowabundant room at Scott,--why leave it, with its warmth, its comfort, itssociety and all, to go to a mud-chinked hovel at that ghastly spot wherethe Indians danced and coyotes howled the live-long night? Of course ifthere were quarters in which a woman could live with even reasonablecomfort, that would be very different. Then their remaining at Scottwould be inexcusable. Mrs. Flight and Mrs. Darling were women who wereat variance on very many points of late, but openly in accord on this.Indeed, almost every woman at Scott had all of a sudden been seized bysome strange lingual epidemic that manifested itself in the persistentrepetition of such expressions as "Of course no woman who could see herway to any kind of a civilized house would be justified in not joiningher husband there instead of staying here." It was sure to attack them,too, whenever Almira happened to be within ear-shot, for the news camedown one March morning that one officer at least was to have a verycomfortable little frame cottage,--the commander of the agency guard. Itwould be finished in a week or two, and even the stoves, fuel, and muchof the furniture would be provided by the Indian bureau. Again did Mrs.Cranston go and call on Mrs. Davies and warmly congratulate her, and saythat Captain Cranston's men who were packing up the troop property wouldgladly box and pack her furniture too and send it out by their wagons,and then she said there were six inside seats in the big Concord wagonand it would afford so much pleasure if Mrs. Davies would go with them.But Almira faltered unresponsively. Mr. Davies had not fully decided. Itwas such a shock to her,--his being detained there. She had neverdreamed of his being away more than a week or ten days, if she had shewould have returned home to Urbana, but now it was nearly two months,and really Mr. Davies would have to come down and look after thehousehold affairs and matters that she didn't fully understand.

  Davies understood them well enough when he got the commissary and grocerand butcher and baker and other bills that Mira had managed to run up,both at Scott and at Braska. He went with grave face to Cranston. "I'mafraid Mrs. Maloney and Katty have been taking advantage of my wife'sinexperience," said he, "and ordering all manner of things in allpossible quantities, and possibly, or probably, stocking the Maloneylarder at my expense. I simply cannot pay these and my home assessmentstoo."

  Cranston was a man of few words. "Davies," said he, after looking overthe accounts, "Mrs. Davies has been cheated right and left by thosepeople, but in any event you cannot keep up two establishments. Break upthe house at Scott at once, let her come out with my people and leavethe Maloneys and Barnickel--and Scott behind. Let my Braska banker beyours for the present. A few mouths here will float you well abovewater."

  And though Davies declined the offer of pecuniary aid, the very night ofMrs. Cranston's visit the agency telegraph flashed to Mira a despatchdirecting her to get ready to come on with them, whereat Mira fled intears to Mrs. Darling,--Mira, who, it may be remembered, longed to comeand cook and bake and darn and sweep and sew and share the merest hovelwith her Percy so long as she thought it just possible that he might yetchange his mind and leave his simple village maid no fate but lonelygrief and an early grave. Mira's enthusiasm for the bliss of frontierlife fled at the contemplation of the utter isolation at theagency,--with wild Indians and animals all around, and without Mrs.Darling, without the lovely, cosey fireside confidences, without theband, the hops, the sleigh-rides, not to mention the glowing devotionsof Mr. Willett.

  But Mrs. Darling rose to the occasion. From having been first favoritein Scott social circles up to the time of Mira's coming she, with Mrs.Stone and Mrs. Flight, was struggling now for second place. She feltconstrained to remind Mira that she was now a soldier's wife, and shouldshare a soldier's lot, especially a lot that included furnishedquarters. Other women had gone or were going to live in the log huts,and it would never do to have it said of her, of Almira Davies,that she had shrunk from joining her husband at the agency wheneverything--everything was provided. Everything wasn't provided, by anymeans, but in the largeness of her convictions woman sometimes drifts tobreadth of statement. The interview with Mrs. Darling proved but coldcomfort to poor Mira. She went homewards through the chill gloaming withrestless heart. There was a little parcel lying on her table, securelywrapped and sealed. The post ambulance driver brought it out fromBraska, said Katty, "an' there was no address, 'twas only to be left forMrs. Davies," and Katty fain would have followed her mistress into herchamber to see it opened, but Mira closed the door before she cut thestring. It contained some exquisite double violets and a tiny notesealed as carefully as was the box.

  Before tattoo Mrs. Flight and other ladies hastened in to offer theircongratulations. They were desolated at the thought of losing Mrs.Davies, but rejoiced with her that she was so soon to be comfortablyhoused with her devoted husband at the agency, and Mira's cheeks wereflaming, her eyes, full of a feverish excitement, flitted from one toanother. She had but very, very little to say. She was glad, oh, yes, soglad, though it was dreadful to leave Fort Scott, where so many peoplehad been so kind to her,--dreadful.

  This was about the 20th and the general situation of affairs wassomewhat complicated. The bureau, resuming control over the Indiansreassembled at the agency, conferred no longer with the general who hadgathered them in, and for whose naked word they had more respect thanfor all the formal treaties of agents or inspectors, but contenteditself with sending curt, crisp orders signed, however reluctantly, byhis superiors at Washington. The general, leaving matters at Ogallallawhere he had no influence, had gone after other malcontent braves in afar corner of Wyoming. Colonel Peleg was beginning to evince a desire toresume command, despite Rooke's knitted brows and reluctant answers. Anofficial from Sheridan's headquarters had just paid informal visit toScott, had had long talks with Stone, Leonard, and the chaplain, and avery short one with the plausible
Devers, and had gone back to Chicago.He arrived at Scott within four days of Cranston's departure for theagency, and within five of the re incarceration of Trooper Brannan oncharge of night prowling. He made very brief examination in Leonard'soffice of Sergeants Haney and Finucane, Corporal Boyd and TrooperHoward, who were witnesses, so Devers said, to the frequent absences ofTrooper Brannan from quarters during the dead hours of the night, andtheir expert testimony seemed to be given with much reluctance and to bereceived with equal incredulity. He asked of Devers what his reasonswere for refusing to forward Brannan's application for transfer toCranston's troop, and Devers, much disturbed to find that this wasknown, hesitated in his reply. He said he had not refused, he had merelytaken time to consider. The man had given him much trouble. Someofficers considered it all right for a captain under such circumstancesto shunt a reprobate off on some other company commander, but hediffered with them. He wanted to know something of the man'santecedents. "Well," said the aide-de-camp, "Cranston knows all aboutthem and is willing to take him. You might relieve yourself of anyfeeling of punctilio on that score."

  "Then Captain Cranston is your informant in this business, colonel,"said Devers, with an attempt at a sneer.

  "Not at all," said the aide-de-camp, placidly. "Brannan's mother told usall about it. She is a very superior woman, and we dine thereoccasionally."

  Devers stared blankly at the speaker just a moment, half incredulous,half resentful, then at last he realized that it was no pleasantry onthe part of his visitor and, for once in his life, collapsed entirely.

  That night Brannan was released and bidden to go to his troop and bepatient. This time there was no doubt of his application being forwardedto regimental head-quarters, and there's no doubt, said the chaplain,who had a talk with him within an hour of his restoration to duty, thata week would see him _en route_ to join Cranston's troop at Ogallalla.Devers was still commanding officer of the post, however, and gave thechaplain to understand that so long as the man remained at Scott theinterests of discipline required that there should be no exhibition ofexuberant triumph on his part or of further interference on the part ofhis spiritual sympathizers. He hated the chaplain by this time as muchas he feared Cranston. Something had told him that the aide-de-camp'svisit meant that the toils were tightening, and that even though theGray Fox was away his great superior, the lieutenant-general, had an eyeon the situation and an ear for the stories of his defamers. Devers feltthat the inspector came because of sudden and direct appeal fromBrannan's friends. He could not longer attribute it to Davies. Well, itwould take a week or ten days anyhow before Brannan's orders could come,and a week was a long time to a man with a treacherous thirst.

  But what Devers only suspected and did not know was that in the longconsultation with Leonard that officer gave, by request, his version ofthe altercation which had taken place between himself and Devers, and ofthe events leading up to it. The staff officer brought with him theoriginal report of the investigation made of the Antelope Springs affairand Devers's topographical sketch of the ground, trails and all, andLeonard's black eyes burned as he studied it. The aide-de-camp had somesocial calls to pay and left these papers in Leonard's hands while hewas gone. "I have made a tracing of that map, colonel," said theadjutant, when after two hours the official returned. "I hope you don'tobject. I know you can't leave the originals with me."

  "That's all right," was the answer. "Say, Leonard, who's that young citwith the swell team who came to take Mrs. Davies sleighing? I didn'tcatch the name."

  "His name's Willett," said Leonard, briefly.

  "What's he doing here?"

  "Cattle."

  "Cattle in Braska, perhaps, but here, I mean."

  "I don't know," said Leonard to the officer. "I wish I did," saidLeonard to himself. "If I did--I'd smash him."

  Mr. Langston had driven out to the post with Willett that afternoon. Hehad other calls to pay, and this was Saturday, a favorite day forvisiting at Braska. The Cranstons' house was topsy-turvy, everybody inthe midst of packing, but Langston had a box of _bon-bons_ which theladies, or the boys, might enjoy as reminders of Chicago, and he rang.Miss Loomis herself, in cap and apron, opened the door. Her shapely,soft white hands were covered with the dust of books and papers she hadbeen busily storing in the boxes, and her face flushed, just a bit, atsight of her visitor.

  "I cannot shake hands with you, Mr. Langston, and, as you see, we're allat work, but welcome in. I'll call Mrs. Cranston."

  "No. Don't," he said, hurriedly. "I only came to offer these trifles. Iheard you were all busy packing and had hoped to hear that, after all,you were not going up to that forsaken spot. Is it true?"

  "Certainly. Wherever Captain Cranston goes there goes his wife, andwhere she goes to live is my home and duty."

  He stood looking steadfastly into her brave, beautiful face. He was talland stalwart: she almost Juno-like in the grandeur of her form. He couldnot conceal the admiration that glowed in his eyes. He could not, darenot speak so soon the thoughts that had been surging in his brain,springing up from his very heart. What would he not give could she butaccept the offer he longed to lay at her feet, that of a name, a love, ahome wherein she should reign as queen, not live as a dependent. Suchsilences are eloquent. She turned quickly away. "Louis, tell mother Mr.Langston has come out to say good-by," said she, and Mrs. Cranston, notten feet away, these being army quarters, had to appear.

  "I didn't mean to say good-by here exactly," said Langston. "I ratherplanned to see you. I thought perhaps you'd honor me by breakfasting orlunching with me in Braska on your way," he said, hesitatingly. "Theytell me ladies often----"

  "Well, we go direct. Ours is the through express, Mr. Langston," saidMrs. Cranston, laughing, "and it's a hotel car we travel by. Braska issome distance off the air line."

  "Braska doesn't seem to have been in your line at any time," he said,after a moment's pause. "I hear of frequent visits on the part of theother ladies, many of them, but you never honor us."

  "Oh, we sometimes go there for shopping."

  "But to Cresswell's, I mean, for luncheon or supper. They say he givesa very creditable spread, and as quite a number of the ladies go thereat times, and Willett and Burtis have a little party there to-night inhonor of some of your friends, I thought I might persuade you; but--ofcourse--if you do not go that way," he concluded, vaguely.

  "No, thank you, Mr. Langston, we do not--go that way."

  "But I shall see you, both, again before you start, I hope," he said,addressing Mrs. Cranston, but palpably appealing to Miss Loomis in theweakness of a strong man deeply in love.

  "It will be a pleasure," said Margaret, cordially. She wished him tocome. She meant him to come. She saw and forgave the wandering eyes. Hemight come any day he pleased before the 25th. There would still be abox or a trunk for him to sit on; but now, she concluded, artfully, shemust get right back to the boys a minute. They were trying on someclothes that had just come from home, and she'd return very soon. Sosaying she vanished. It was half an hour before she reappeared, andLangston was on his knees in the parlor--packing books. It was thesweetest work he had known in years.

  But when he was finally gone Margaret turned impulsively to Agatha. "Doyou think it possible that--that she _can_ be going there--withhim--to-night? No matter who else goes. She cannot realize what she'sdoing. Would you go--should I go to see her?"

  Miss Loomis stood at the window, leaning her forehead against the coldpane and gazing silently out over the snowy expanse of the parade. "Youwould be too late, Margaret," she answered, presently, and drew backfrom the folds of the heavy curtain, and Mrs. Cranston seemed to read inher companion's face what was coming along the road.

  Two double sleighs drove briskly past the window. First came Stone's oldswan-head behind his sedate team of bays, but from a perfect nest ofrobes and furs a gay party waved their hands in laughing salutation.Mrs. Stone and Mrs. Flight on the back seat, Messrs. Darling and TommyDot opposite them in the body of the sleigh. Capt
ain Pollock in thedriver's perch with a fair companion whose husband was still detained atthe agency, but wanted her to have the best time possible instead ofmoping at home. Then came Willett's stylish sleigh and team, Sanders onthe back seat with Mrs. Darling, Almira blooming in her accustomed placeby "Phaeton's" side. She neither bowed nor kissed her hand to Cranston'swindow, but smiled sweetly up into her companion's eyes.

  Mr. Langston, meantime, was dining at the officers' mess, and presentlywhen Mrs. Leonard came over to see if she could not help her neighbor atrifle in her packing, she unfolded some of the details of the Braskaplan. Messrs. Burtis and Willett desired to entertain some of their fortfriends in town; Colonel "Pegleg" was the only man at the post who owneda sleigh; Mrs. Stone was invited as a matter of course, and accepted,provided the colonel felt well enough to let her go, and it was dulysettled that six of the party should go in her sleigh. The rest waseasily arranged. Langston was only too glad to go out with Willett andspend the hours until the return of the party in calling and dining atthe post, hoping thereby to obtain more than one glance at and more thana few words with Miss Loomis. It was nearly sundown when they started.It would be eleven before they got back. Long before that hour thelights in Cranston's quarters were out and all was silence and peace.Langston, strolling by after making his evening calls, looked long, aslovers will, at the window of the room he knew to be hers, then wentresignedly over to the store and took a hand with the officers at a gamefor which at other times he had no use whatever,--pool. He had to dosomething to while away the time until the sleigh-bells came tinklingback, and that seemed to be the only thing going.

  But midnight came before the foremost sleigh. Pollock safely tooled hisparty into the post as the twelve o'clock call was going the rounds. Oh,they had had a blissful time! a glorious time! Such a delightfulsupper,--partridges and celery and all manner of dainties from Chicago,and such oyster patties! to say nothing of Roederer _ad libitum_. Thenthey had danced, and then they had more supper, and then started home.Willett would be along in a minute.

  But ten, twenty minutes sped and no Willett. Pegleg's horses, beinghomeward bound, had possibly made phenomenal time, and Willett,probably, was in no hurry. "It's about his last chance to have Mrs.Davies beside him," laughed Mrs. Stone, "so he's making the most of it."It was 12.30 when at last the bells of the New Yorker's sleigh wereheard tinkling faintly at the corner, and presently the party cameslowly into view. Only three now, and three silent, embarrassed if notevidently agitated people, for they seemed to whip up and hurry by thelittle knot of anxious faces gathered at the colonel's gate.

  "Where's Mr. Sanders?" was the cry.

  "Tell you in a minute!" shouted Willett, as he drove straight by to No.12, where he sprang out, lifted Mira from the sleigh and almost bore herto the gate, Mrs. Darling following. Already Mr. Darling was hasteningup the road to join his wife. At the door Willett simply had to turnback to his spirited team, as they were standing unhitched, and Mrs.Darling disappeared with Mira into the hall.

  "Where's Sanders? What kept you?" panted Darling, hastening up.

  "Hush! Don't make any fuss," muttered Willett. "He jumped out half amile back. Some drunken men, or soldiers perhaps, gave us a littletrouble. I'm going back after him now."

  "Hold on one minute till I see my wife and I'll go with you," sang outDarling, as he ran into the house, where Mira had sunk nerveless into abig chair and was wildly imploring Mrs. Darling not to leave her.