by Charles King
CHAPTER VI
A FIND IN THE SANDS
The late afternoon of an eventful day had come to camp Sandy--justsuch another day, from a meteorological viewpoint, as that on whichthis story opened nearly twenty-four hours earlier by the shadows onthe eastward cliffs. At Tuesday's sunset the garrison was yawning withthe _ennui_ born of monotonous and uneventful existence. AsWednesday's sunset drew nigh and the mountain shadows overspread thevalley, even to the opposite crests of the distant Mogollon, thegarrison was athrill with suppressed excitement, for half a dozenthings had happened since the flag went up at reveille.
In the first place Captain Wren's arrest had been confirmed and Plumehad wired department headquarters, in reply to somewhat urgent query,that there were several counts in his indictment of the captain, anyone of which was sufficient to demand a trial by court-martial, but hewished, did Plume, for personal and official reasons that the generalcommanding should send his own inspector down to judge for himself.
The post sergeant major and the three clerks had heard with sufficientdistinctness every word that passed between the major and the accusedcaptain, and, there being at Sandy some three hundred inquisitivesouls, thirsting for truth and light, it could hardly be expected ofthis quartette that it should preserve utter silence even thoughsilence had been enjoined by the adjutant. It was told all over thepost long before noon that Wren had been virtually accused of beingthe sentry's assailant as well as Lieutenant Blakely's. It waswhispered that, in some insane fury against the junior officer, Wrenhad again, toward 3.30, breaking his arrest, gone up the row with theidea of once more entering Blakely's house and possibly againattacking him. It was believed that the sentry had seen andinterposed, and that, enraged at being balked by an enlisted man, Wrenhad drawn a knife and stabbed him. True, no knife had been foundanywhere about the spot, and Wren had never been known to carry one.But now a dozen men, armed with rakes, were systematically going overthe ground under the vigilant eye of Sergeant Shannon--Shannon, whohad heard the brief, emphatic interview between the major and thetroop commander and who had been almost immediately sent forth tosupervise this search, despite the fact that he had but just returnedfrom the conduct of another, the result of which he imparted to theears of only two men, Plume, the post commander, and Doty, his amazedand bewildered adjutant. But Shannon had with him a trio of troopers,one of whom, at least, had not been proof against inquisitive probing,for the second sensation of the day was the story that one of the twopairs of moccasin tracks, among the yielding sands of the willowcopse, led from where Mr. Blakely had been dozing to where the ponyPunch had been drowsing in the shade, for there they were lost, as themaker had evidently mounted and ridden away. All Sandy knew that Punchhad no other rider than pretty Angela Wren.
A third story, too, was whispered in half a dozen homes, and was goingwild about the garrison, to the effect that Captain Wren, when accusedof being Mullins's assailant, had virtually declared that he had seenother persons prowling on the sentry's post and that they, not he,were the guilty ones; but when bidden to name or describe them, Wrenhad either failed or refused; some said one, some said the other, andthe prevalent belief in Sudsville circles, as well as in the barracks,was that Captain Wren was going crazy over his troubles. And now therewere women, ay, and men, too, though they spake with bated breath, whohad uncanny things to say of Angela--the captain's only child.
And this it was that led to sensation No. 4--a wordy battle of thefirst magnitude between the next-door neighbor of the saddler sergeantand no less a champion of maiden probity than Norah Shaughnessy--thesaddler sergeant's buxom daughter. All the hours since early morningNorah had been in a state of nerves so uncontrollable that Mrs.Truman--who knew of Norah's fondness for Mullins and marveled not thatMullins always preferred the loneliness and isolation of the post onNo. 5--decided toward noon to send the girl home to her mother for aday or so, and Norah thankfully went, and threw herself upon hermother's ample breast and sobbed aloud. It was an hour before shecould control herself, and her agitation was such that others came tominister to her. Of course there was just one explanation--Norah wasin love with Mullins and well-nigh crazed with grief over his untimelytaking off, for later reports from the hospital were most depressing.This, at least, was sufficient explanation until late in theafternoon. Then, restored to partial composure, the girl was sittingup and being fanned in the shade of her father's roof-tree, whenroused by the voice of the next-door neighbor before mentioned--Mrs.Quinn, long time laundress of Captain Sanders's troop and jealous asto Wren's, was telling what _she_ had heard of Shannon's discoveries,opining that both Captain Wren and the captain's daughter deservedinvestigation. "No wan need tell _me_ there was others prowling aboutMullins's post at three in the marnin.' As for Angela--" But here MissShaughnessy bounded from the wooden settee, and, with amazing vim andvigor, sailed spontaneously into Mrs. Quinn.
"No wan need tell _you_--ye say! No wan need tell _you_, yeblack-tongued scandlum! Well, then, _I_ tell ye Captain Wren did seeothers prowlin' on poor Pat Mullins's post an' others than him sawthem too. Go you to the meejer, soon as ye like and say _I_ saw them,and if Captain Wren won't tell their names there's them that will."
The shrill tones of the infuriated girl were plainly audible all overthe flats whereon were huddled the little cabins of log and adobeassigned as quarters to the few married men among the soldiery. Thesewere the halcyon days of the old army when each battery, troop, orcompany was entitled to four laundresses and each laundress to oneration. Old and young, there were at least fifty pairs of ears withineasy range of the battle that raged forthwith, the noise of whichreached even to the shaded precincts of the trader's store threehundred yards away. It was impossible that such a flat-footedstatement as Norah's should not be borne to the back doors of "TheRow" and, repeated then from lip to lip, should soon be told tocertain of the officers. Sanders heard it as he came in from stableduty, and Dr. Graham felt confident that it had been repeated underthe major's roof when at 6 P. M. the post commander desired hisprofessional services in behalf of Mrs. Plume, who had becomeunaccountably, if not seriously, ill.
Graham had but just returned from a grave conference with Wren, andhis face had little look of the family physician as he reluctantlyobeyed the summons. As another of the auld licht school of ScotchPresbyterians, he also had conceived deep-rooted prejudice to thatfrivolous French aide-de-camp of the major's wife. The girl did danceand flirt and ogle to perfection, and half a dozen strapping sergeantswere now at sword's points all on account of this objectionable Eliza.Graham, of course, had heard with his ears and fathomed with hisunderstanding the first reports of Wren's now famous reply to hiscommanding officer; and though Wren would admit no more to him thanhe had to the major, Graham felt confident that the major's wife wasone of the mysterious persons seen by Wren, and declared by Norah, inthe dim starlight of the early morning, lurking along the post of No.5. Graham had no doubt that Elise was the other. The man mostconcerned in the case, the major himself, was perhaps the only one atsunset who never seemed to suspect that Mrs. Plume could have been inany way connected with the affair. He met the doctor with a world ofgenuine anxiety in his eyes.
"My wife," said he, "is of a highly sensitive organization, and shehas been completely upset by this succession of scandalous affairs.She and Blakely were great friends at St. Louis three years ago;indeed, many people were kind enough to couple their names before ourmarriage. I wish you could--quiet her," and the sounds from aloft,where madame was nervously pacing her room, gave point to thesuggestion. Graham climbed the narrow stairs and tapped at the northdoor on the landing. It was opened by Elise, whose big, black eyeswere dilated with excitement, while Mrs. Plume, her blonde hairtumbling down her back, her _peignoir_ decidedly rumpled and hergeneral appearance disheveled, was standing in mid-floor, wringing herjeweled hands. "She looks like sixty," was the doctor's inward remark,"and is probably not twenty-six."
Her first question jarred upon his rugged senses.
&
nbsp; "Dr. Graham, when will Mr. Blakely be able to see--or read?"
"Not for a day or two. The stitches must heal before the bandages cancome off his eyes. Even then, Mrs. Plume, he should not be disturbed,"was the uncompromising answer.
"Is that wretch, Downs, sober yet?" she demanded, standing andconfronting him, her whole form quivering with strong, half-suppressedemotion.
"The wretch is sobering," answered Graham gravely. "And now, madame,I'll trouble you to take a chair. Do you," with a glance of grimdisfavor, "need this girl for the moment? If not, she might as wellretire."
"I need my maid, Dr. Graham, and I told Major Plume distinctly I didnot need you," was the impulsive reply, as the lady strove against thecalm, masterful grasp he laid on her wrist.
"That's as may be, Mrs. Plume. We're often blind to our bestinterests. Be seated a moment, then I'll let you tramp the soles ofyour feet off, if you so desire." And so he practically pulled herinto a chair; Elise, glaring the while, stood spitefully looking on.The antipathy was mutual.
"You've slept too little of late, Mrs. Plume," continued the doctor,lucklessly hitting the mark with a home shot instantly resented, forthe lady was on her feet again.
"Sleep! People do nothing but sleep in this woebegone hole!" shecried. "I've had sleep enough to last a lifetime. What I want is towake--wake out of this horrible nightmare! Dr. Graham, you are afriend of Captain Wren's. What under heaven possessed him, with hisbrutal strength, to assault so sick a man as Mr. Blakely? Whatpossible pretext could he assert?" And again she was straining at herimprisoned hand and seeking to free herself, Graham calmly studyingher the while, as he noted the feverish pulse. Not half an hourearlier he had been standing beside the sick bed of a fair young girl,one sorely weighted now with grave anxieties, yet who lay patient anduncomplaining, rarely speaking a word. They had not told the half ofthe web of accusation that now enmeshed her father's feet, but whathad been revealed to her was more than enough to banish every thoughtof self or suffering and to fill her fond heart with instant andloving care for him. No one, not even Janet, was present during theinterview between father and child that followed. Graham found himlater locked in his own room, reluctant to admit even him, andlingering long before he opened the door; but even then thetear-stains stood on his furrowed face, and the doctor knew he hadbeen sobbing his great heart out over the picture of his child--thechild he had so harshly judged and sentenced, all unheard. Graham hadgone to him, after seeing Angela, with censure on his tongue, but henever spoke the words. He saw there was no longer need.
"Let the lassie lie still the day," said he, "with Kate, perhaps, toread to her. Your sister might not choose a cheering book. Thenperhaps we'll have her riding Punch again to-morrow." But Graham didnot smile when meeting Janet by the parlor door.
He was thinking of the contrast in these two, his patients, as withprofessional calm he studied the troubled features of the major's wifewhen the voice of Sergeant Shannon was heard in the lower hall,inquiring for the major, and in an instant Plume had joined him. Inthat instant, too, Elise had sped, cat-like, to the door, and Mrs.Plume had followed. Possibly for this reason the major led thesergeant forth upon the piazza and the conversation took place intones inaudible to those within the house; but, in less than a minute,the doctor's name was called and Graham went down.
"Look at this," said Plume. "They raked it out of the sand close towhere Mullins was lying." And the major held forth an object thatgleamed in the last rays of the slanting sunshine. It was Blakely'sbeautiful watch.
