by Charles King
CHAPTER XV
A CALL FOR HELP
That night the wire across the mountains to Prescott was long alivewith news, and there was little rest for operator, adjutant, orcommanding officer at Sandy. Colonel Byrne, it seems, had losttelegraphic touch with his chief, who, quitting Camp McDowell, hadpersonally taken the field somewhere over in the Tonto Basin beyondthe Matitzal Range, and Byrne had the cares of a continent on hishands. Three of the five commands out in the field had had sharpencounters with the foe. Official business itself was sufficientlyengrossing, but there were other matters assuming grave proportions.Mrs. Plume had developed a feverish anxiety to hie on to the Pacificand out of Arizona just at a time when, as her husband had to tellher, it was impossible for him, and impolitic for her, to go. Mattersat Sandy, he explained, were in tangled shape. Mullins partiallyrestored, but still, as Plume assured her, utterly out of his head,had declared that his assailants were women; and other witnesses,Plume would not give names, had positively asserted that Elise hadbeen seen along the sentry post just about the time the stabbingoccurred. Everything now, said he, must depend on Captain Wren, whowas known to have seen and spoken to Elise, and who could probablytestify that she returned to their roof before the tragic affair ofthe night. But Wren was now away up in the mountains beyond Snow Lakeand might be going far over through Sunset Pass to the ColoradoChiquito. Meantime he, Plume, was responsible for Elise, in duty boundto keep her there to face any accuser. In her nervous, semi-hystericalstate the wife could not well be told how much she, too, was involved.It was not necessary. She knew--all Fort Whipple, as Prescott'smilitary post was called, knew all about the fire that had destroyedthe "beetle shop" and Blakely's belongings. Elise, in wild excitement,had rushed to her mistress with that news and the further informationthat Downs was gone and could not be found. This latter fact, indeed,they learned before Plume ever heard of it--and made no mention of itin his presence.
"I shall have to run down to Sandy again," said Byrne, to Plume. "Keepup your heart and--watch that Frenchwoman. The jade!" And with thefollowing day he was bounding and bumping down the stony road that ledfrom the breezy, pine-crested heights about headquarters to the sandyflats and desert rocks and ravines fifty miles to the east andtwenty-five hundred feet below. "Shall be with you after dark," hewired Cutler, who was having a bad quarter of an hour on his ownaccount, and wishing all Sandy to the devil. It had transpired thatStrom's rival ranchman, a little farther down the valley, was shortjust one horse and set of horse equipments. He had made no complaint.He had accused nobody. He had never failed in the past to appear atSandy with charge of theft and demand for damages at the expense ofthe soldiery whenever he missed an item, big or little--and sometimeswhen he didn't miss a thing. But now he came not at all, and Cutlerjumped at the explanation: he had sold that steed, and Downs, thedeserter, was the purchaser. Downs must have had money to aid in hisescape. Downs must have received it from someone eager to get him outof the way. It might well be Elise, for who else would trust him? andDowns must be striking for the south, after wide _detour_. No use nowto chase him. The wire was the only thing with which to round him up,so the stage stations on the Gila route, and the scattered army posts,were all notified of the desertion, and Downs's description, with allhis imperfections, was flashed far and wide over the Territory. Hecould no more hope to escape than fly on the wings of night. He wouldbe cut off or run down long before he could reach Mexico; that is, he_would_ be if only troopers got after him. The civil list of Arizonain 1875 was of peculiar constitution. It stood ready at any time toresolve itself into a modification of the old-day undergroundrailways, and help spirit off soldier criminals, first thoughtfullyrelieving them of care and responsibility for any surplus funds intheir possession.
And with Downs gone one way, Wren's troop gone another, and Blakelyhere clamoring to follow, Cutler was mentally torn out of shape. Hebelieved it his duty to hold Blakely at least until the colonel came,and he lacked the "sand" to tell him so.
From Wren not another word had been received direct, but Bridger atthe agency had sent word that the Indians there were constantly inreceipt of news from the hostiles that filled them with excitement.Wren, at last accounts, had gone into the mountains south of SunsetPass toward Chevlon's Fork, and his trail was doubtless watched tohead off couriers or cut down stragglers. Blakely's appeal to beallowed to follow and join his troop had been declared foolish, andthe attempt foolhardy, by Captain Cutler. This and not the real reasonwas given, coupled of course, with the doctor's dictum. But evenGraham had begun to think Blakely would be the better for anythingthat would take him away from a station where life had been one swiftsuccession of ills and mishaps.
And even Graham did not dream how sorely Blakely had been hit. Norcould he account for the access of nervous irritability that possessedhis patient all the livelong day, while waiting, as they all were, forthe coming of Colonel Byrne. Mrs. Sanders declared to Mrs. Graham herprivate impression that he was on the verge of prostration, although,making an effort, Blakely had appeared at breakfast after an earlymorning walk, had been most courteous, gentle, and attentive to herand to her wholesome, if not actually homely, Kate. How the mother'sheart yearned over that sweet-natured, sallow-faced child! But afterbreakfast Blakely had wandered off again and was out on the _mesa_,peering through a pair of borrowed glasses over the dreary eastwardlandscape and up and down the deep valley. "How oddly are weconstituted!" said Mrs. Sanders. "If I only had his money, I'd neverbe wearing my heart out in this desert land." She was not the onlyarmy wife and mother that should have married a stockbroker--anythingrather than a soldier.
The whole post knew by noon that Byrne was coming, and waited withfeverish impatience. Byrne was the power that would put an end to thedoubts and distractions, decide who stabbed Pat Mullins, who set fireto the "beetle shop," where Epsom Downs had gone, and could evensettle, possibly, the long-doubtful question, "Who struck BillyPatterson?" Sandy believed in Byrne as it did in no one since the daysof General Crook. With two exceptions, all Sandy society was out onthe parade, the porticoes, or the northward bluff, as the sun wentdown. These two were the Misses Wren. "Angela," said Miss Janet, "iskeeping her room to-day, and pretending to keep her temper"--this toKate Sanders, who had twice sought admission, despite a girlish aweof, if not aversion to, this same Aunt Janet.
"But don't you think she'd like to see me just a little while, MissWren?" the girl inquired, her hand caressing the sleek head of one ofthe big hounds as she spoke. Hounds were other objects of Miss Wren'sdisfavor. "Lazy, pilfering brutes," she called them, when after hoursof almost incredible labor and ingenious effort they had managed totear down, and to pieces, a haunch of venison she had slung to therafters of the back porch. "You can come in, Kate, provided you keepout the dogs," was her ungracious answer, "and I'll go see. I thinkshe's sleeping now, and ought not to be disturbed."
"Then I won't disturb her," was Miss Sanders's prompt reply, as sheturned away and would have gone, but the elder restrained her. Janetdid not wish the girl to go at all. She knew Angela had asked for her,and doubtless longed to see her; and now, having administered herfeline scratch and made Kate feel the weight of her disapproval, shewas quite ready to promote the very interview she had verballycondemned. Perhaps Miss Sanders saw and knew this and preferred toworry Miss Wren as much as possible. At all events, only withreluctance did she obey the summons to wait a minute, and stood with apout on her lips as the spinster vanished in the gloom of the hallway.Angela could not have been asleep, for her voice was audible in aninstant. "Come up, Kate," she feebly cried, just as Aunt Janet hadbegun her little sermon, and the sermon had to stop, for Kate Sanderscame, and neither lass was in mood to listen to pious exhortation.Moreover, they made it manifest to Aunt Janet that there would be nointerchange of confidences until she withdrew. "You are not to talkyourselves into a pitch of excitement," said she. "Angela must sleepto-night to make up for the hours she lost--thanks to the abominableremarks of that hardened young man.
" With that, after a pull at thecurtain, a soothing thump or two at Angela's pillow, and the mutteredwish that the coming colonel were empowered to arrest recalcitrantnieces as well as insubordinate subs, she left them to their owndevices. They were still in eager, almost breathless chat when thecrack of whip and sputter of hoofs and wheels through gravelly sandstold that the inspector's ambulance had come. Was it likely thatAngela could sleep until she heard the probable result of theinspector's coming?
He was closeted first with Cutler. Then Dr. Graham was sent for, andthe three walked over to the hospital, just as the musicians wereforming for tattoo. They were at Mullins's bedside, with the stewardand attendants outside, when taps went wailing out upon the night.There were five minutes of talk with that still bewildered patient.Then Byrne desired to see Mr. Blakely at once and alone. Cutlersurrendered his office to the department inspector, and thither thelieutenant was summoned. Mrs. Sanders, with Mrs. Truman, was keepinglittle Mrs. Bridger company at the moment, and Blakely bowedcourteously to the three in passing by.
"Even in that rough dress," said Mrs. Sanders reflectively, as hereyes followed the tall, straight figure over the moonlit parade, "heis a most distinguished looking man."
"Yes," said Mrs. Bridger, still unappeased. "If he were a Sioux, Isuppose they'd call him 'Man-In-Love-With-His-Legs.'" Blakely heardthe bubble of laughter that followed him on his way, and wished thathe, too, felt in mood as merry. The acting sergeant major, a clerk,and young Cassidy, the soldier telegraph operator, seated at thewestward end of the rough board porch of the adjutant's office, aroseand saluted as he entered. Byrne had sent every possible hearer out ofthe building.
Five minutes the conference lasted, no sound coming from within.Cutler and Graham, with Captain Westervelt, sat waiting on the porchof the doctor's quarters, Mrs. Graham being busy with her progenyaloft. Others of the officers and families were also on the piazzas,or strolling slowly up and down the pathway, but all eyes wanderedfrom time to time toward the dim light at the office. All was dark atthe barracks. All was hushed and still about the post. The sentry callfor half-past ten was still some minutes' distant, when one of thethree seated figures at the end of the office porch was seen to rise.Then the other two started to their feet. The first hastened to thedoor and began to knock. So breathless was the night that over on theverandas the imperative thumping could be distinctly heard, andeveryone ceased talk and listened. Then, in answer to some query fromwithin, the voice of young Cassidy was uplifted.
"I beg pardon, sir, but that's the agency calling me, and it's hurry."
They saw the door open from within; saw the soldier admitted and thedoor closed after him; saw the two men waiting standing and expectant,no longer content to resume their chat. For three minutes of suspensethere came no further sound. Then the door was again thrown open, andboth Byrne and Blakely came hurrying out. In the memory of theearliest inhabitant never had Sandy seen the colonel walk so fast.Together they came striding straight toward Cutler's, and the captainarose and went to meet them, foreboding in his soul. Graham andWestervelt, restrained by discipline, held back. The women and youngerofficers, hushed by anxiety, gazed at the swift-coming pair in dreadand fascination. There was a moment of muttered conference with thecommanding officer, some hurried words, then Blakely was seen tospring away, to be recalled by Cutler, to start a second time, only tobe again recalled. Then Cutler, shouting, "Mr. Doty, I need you!"hurried away toward the office, and Blakely, fairly running, spedstraight for the barracks of Wren's troop. Only Byrne was left toanswer the storm of question that burst upon him all at once, womenthronging about him from all along the line.
"We have news from the agency," said he. "It is from Indian runners,and may not be reliable--some rumor of a sharp fight near SunsetPass."
"Are there particulars, colonel--anybody killed or wounded?" It wasMrs. Sanders who spoke, her face very pale.
"We cannot know--as yet. It is all an Indian story. Mr. Blakely isgoing at once to investigate," was the guarded answer. But Mrs.Sanders knew, as well as a dozen others, that there _were_particulars--that somebody had been killed or wounded, for Indianstories to that effect had been found singularly reliable. It wasWren's troop that had gone to Sunset Pass, and here was Wren's sisterwith question in her eye, and at sight of her the colonel turned andhurried back to headquarters, following the post commander.
Another moment and Blakely, in the broad light streaming suddenly fromthe office room of Wren's troop, came speeding straight across theparade again in the direction of Sanders's quarters, next to the lastat the southward end of the row. They sought, of course, to intercepthim, and saw that his face was pale, though his manner was as composedas ever. To every question he had but one thing to say: "Colonel Byrneand the captain know all that I do--and more. Ask them." But this hesaid with obvious wish to be questioned no further,--said it gently,but most firmly,--and then, with scant apology, passed on. Fiveminutes more and Nixon was lugging out the lieutenant's field kit onthe Sanders's porch, and Blakely, reappearing, went straight up therow to Wren's. It was now after 10.30, but he never hesitated. MissJanet, watching him from the midst of her friends, saw him stride,unhesitatingly, straight to the door and knock. She followedinstantly, but, before she could reach the steps, Kate Sanders, withwonder in her eyes, stood faltering before him.
"Will you say to Miss Angela that I have come as I promised? I amgoing at once to--join the troop. Can I see her?" he asked.
"She isn't well, Mr. Blakely. She hasn't left her room to-day." AndMiss Sanders began herself to tremble, for up the steps came theresolute lady of the house, whom seeing, Mr. Blakely honored with acivil bow, but with not a word.
"I will hear your message, Mr. Blakely," said Miss Wren, pallid, too,and filled with wordless anxiety, but determined none the less.
"Miss Sanders has heard it, madam," was the uncompromising answer."Will you see Miss Angela, please?" This again to Kate--and, withoutanother word, she went.
"Mr. Blakely," began the lady impressively, "almost the last thing mybrother said to me before leaving the post was that he wished nomeetings between you and Angela. Why do you pursue her? Do you wish tocompel me to take her away?"
For a moment he was silent. Then, "It is I who must go, Miss Wren,"was the answer, and she, who expected resentment, looked at him insurprise, so gentle, so sorrowing was his tone. "I had hoped to bearher message, but shall intrude no more. If the news that came to-nightshould be confirmed--and only in that event--say to her, if youplease, that I shall do my best to find her father."
