by Charles King
CHAPTER II.
In spite of what Colonel Frazier could say, Captain Lawrence had gonethe long and devious journey to Washington. Those were the days when thelumbering stage-coach once a week, or a rattling ambulance, bore ourarmy travellers from the far frontier to San Antonio. Another trundledand bumped them away to the Gulf. A Morgan Line steamer picked them upand tossed and rolled with them to the mouth of the Mississippi andunloaded them at New Orleans, whence by dusty railway journey offorty-eight hours or more they could hope to reach the North. Theparting between Lawrence and his tall slip of a daughter and boisterouslittle Jimmy was something women wept over in telling or hearing, foronly two looked on, well-nigh blinded,--Mrs. Blythe, who had beendevoted to their mother, and old "Mammy," who was devoted to them all. Amonth had rolled by, and the letters that came from Lawrence from SanAntonio and Indianola and New Orleans had been read by sympathizingfriends to the children. Then all awaited the news from Washington.Every one knew he would wire to Department Head-Quarters the moment thecase was settled in his favor; but the days went by without othertidings, and the croakers who had predicted ill success were mournfullyhappy. February passed, March was ushered in; orders came transferringcertain portions of Frazier's big command, and certain new officersbegan to arrive to fill the three or four vacancies existing, but thenew captain of Troop "D" of the cavalry had not yet appeared. His fame,however, had preceded him, and all Fort Worth was agog to meet him.Brooks knew but a modest bit of his story, and what he knew he kept fromevery man but Frazier, yet had had to tell his wife. The Winns weresilent on the subject. Winn himself was a man of few intimates,--a youngfirst lieutenant of cavalry,--and the tie that bound him to Lawrence wasthe fact that he and Kitty Tyrrell were first-cousins, their motherssisters, and Winn, a tall, athletic, slender fellow, frank, buoyant,handsome, and connected with some of the best names in the old army, wasone of the swells of his class at the Point and the beau among all theyoung officers the summer of his graduation,--the summer that LauraWaite, engaged to Brevet Captain Galbraith Barclay of the Infantry, camefrom the West to visit relatives at that enchanting spot, spent just sixweeks there, and, after writing letters all one month to close herabsent lover's eyes, wound up by writing one that opened them. She was abeautiful girl then; she was a lovely-looking woman now, but the bloomwas gone. The brilliant eyes were often clouded, for Harry Winn was "hisaunt Kitty all over," said many a man who knew them both. Their name wasimpecuniosity. That Mrs. Winn could tell much about the coming captainletters from other regiments informed more than one bright woman atWorth; but that the young matron would tell next to nothing, more thanone woman, bright or blundering, discovered on inquiry. Only one officernow at the post had ever served with Barclay, and that was Brooks, whobecame tongue-tied so soon as it was settled beyond peradventure thatCaptain Galbraith Barclay from the unassigned list had been gazetted tothe 12th Cavalry, Troop "D," _vice_ Lawrence, honorably discharged. ButBrooks had letters, so had Frazier, from old officers who had servedwith the transferred man. Some of these letters referred to him in termsof admiration, while another spoke of him unhesitatingly as "more kindsof a damned fool" than the writer had ever met. Verily, various men havevarious minds.
Presently, however, there came a man who could tell lots about Barclay,whether he knew anything or not, and that was one of the new transfers,Lieutenant Hodge by title and name. Hodge said he had served with the30th along the Union Pacific, and had met Barclay often. In his originalregiment Mr. Hodge had been regarded as a very monotonous sort of man, afellow who bored his hearers to death, and the contrast between hisreception in social circles in the regiment he had left, and thataccorded him here at Worth so soon as it was learned that he knewBarclay, inspired Mr. Hodge to say that _these_ people were worthknowing; they had some life and intelligence about them. The gang he hadleft in Wyoming were a stupid lot of owls by comparison. For a weekHodge was invited to dinner by family after family, and people droppedin to spend the evening where he happened to be, for Hodge held thefloor and talked for hours about Barclay, and what he had to tell wasinteresting indeed; so much so, said Brooks, that some of it wasprobably a preposterous lie. To begin with, said Hodge, Captain Barclaywas rich, very rich, fabulously rich, perhaps; nobody knew how rich, andnobody would have known he was rich at all, judging from the simplicityand strict economy of his life. In fact, it was this simplicity andstrict economy that had given rise to the belief that existed for ayear or two after he joined the 30th that he was hampered either withdebts or with dependent relatives. Relatives they knew he had, becausesisters sent their boys to visit him at Sanders, and he took themhunting, fishing, etc.; from these ingenuous nephews the ladies learnedof others, nephews, nieces, sisters, cousins, aunts, who wrote longletters to Uncle Gal, and the mail orderly said he left more letters atCaptain Barclay's quarters than at anybody's else. So Fort Sandersdropped the theory of debts and adopted that of dependants, and thatheld good for the first year of his service with them. He had joinedfrom the volunteers, where he had risen to the grade of major. He was"pious," said Hodge,--wouldn't drink, smoke, chew, play cards, orswear,--thought they ought to have services on Sunday. He left theroistering bachelors' mess soon after his reaching the post, and hadever since kept house, his cook and housemaid being one old darky whomhe had "accumulated" in the South during the war,--a darky who had beenwell-taught in the household of his old master, and who becameextravagantly attached to the new. Hannibal could cook, wait at table,and tend door to perfection, but he had to learn the duties of secondgirl when his master joined the 30th in far Wyoming, and that was theonly time a breach was threatened. Hannibal's dignity was hurt. He hadbeen body-servant in the antebellum days, butler, cook, coachman, andhostler, but had never done such chores as Marse Barclay told him wouldfall to his lot when that reticent officer set up his modestestablishment. Hannibal sulked three days, and even talked of leaving.The lieutenant counted out a goodly sum, all Hannibal's own, and toldhim that he would find the balance banked in his name in the distantEast whenever he chose to quit; then Hannibal broke down, and wasspeedily broken in. All this had Hodge heard when the dames of Sandersand those of Steele or Russell were comparing notes and picnickingtogether along that then new wonder of the world, the Union Pacific. Butall this was only preliminary to what came later.
Little detachments, horse and foot, were scattered all over the line ofthe brand-new railway while it was being built; every now and then theIndians jumped their camps and working-parties, and in the late fall of'67 Barclay had a stiff and plucky fight with a band of Sioux; he wasseverely wounded, but beat them off, and was sent East to recuperate.Now came particulars Hodge could not give, but that letters could anddid. It was while Barclay was convalescing at Omaha Barracks that he metMiss Laura Waite,--a beautiful girl and a garrison belle. She was tenyears his junior. This was her first winter in army society. She hadspent her girl years at school, and now was having "simply a heavenlytime," if her letters could be believed. Her father was a field officerof cavalry with rather a solemn way of looking at life, and her motherwas said to be the explanation of much of his solemnity,--she being asvolatile as he was staid. She too had been a beauty, and believed thatbeauty a permanent fixture. But Laura was fresh and fair, sweet andwinsome, light-hearted and joyous, and the father for a time took morepride in her than he did in his sons. Major Waite was in command of thecantonment from which the relief party was sent when the news came thatBarclay and his little detachment were "corralled." Major Waite becameenthusiastic over the details of the cool, courageous, brainy defencemade by the young officer against tremendous odds, covered him with allmanner of thoughtful care and attention when he was brought into thecantonment, then, when the winter soon set in and the camp broke up, andWaite went back to Omaha Barracks, he took Barclay with him to his houseinstead of the hospital, and the rest followed as the night the day.
Barclay spent a month under the major's roof, won his esteem andfriendship, but left his heart in the daughter's hands
. If ever a mandevotedly loved a beautiful, winsome young girl, that man was GalbraithBarclay; if ever a girl's father approved of a man, that man wasBarclay; and if ever a man had reason to hope that his suit would winfavor in a father's eyes, that man was Barclay; yet it did not. MajorWaite's reply to the modest yet most manful plea of Lieutenant Barclayto be permitted to pay his addresses to the major's daughter surprisedevery one to whom Mrs. Waite confided it, and they were not few. The oldsoldier begged of the younger not to think of it, at least just yet. Butwhen it transpired that the younger had been most seriously thinking ofit and could think of nothing else, then the major changed his tune andtold him what he did not tell his wife; and that only became knownthrough the father's own intemperate language long months after. He toldBarclay he knew no man to whom he would rather intrust his daughter'shappiness, but he feared, he believed, she was still too young to knowher own mind, too young to see in Barclay what he saw, and he urged thatthe young officer should wait. But Barclay knew his own mind. He wasable, he said, to provide for her in comfort either in or out of thearmy, which few possible aspirants could say. He would listen to nodemur, and then at last the father said, "Try your fate if you will, butlet there be no thought of marriage before she is twenty,--before shecan have had opportunity of seeing something of the world and of othermen,--not these young whippersnappers just joining us here."
It was a surprise to him that Laura should accept Mr. Barclay. She cameto him, her father, all happy smiles and tears and blushes, and told himhow proud and glad a girl she was, because she thought her lover thebest and noblest man she ever dreamed of except her own dear old dad.For a time Waite took heart and hoped for the best, and believed her andher mother, as indeed they believed themselves; and when Barclay wentback to Sanders at the end of January he was a very happy man, and Laurafor a week a very lonely girl. Then youth, health, elasticity, vivacity,opportunity, all prevailed, and she began to take notice in very joyousfashion. She did not at all recognize the doctrine preached by certainmammas and certain other damsels, that she as an engaged girl shouldhold aloof now and give the other girls, not so pretty, a chance. Thebarracks were gay that winter: Laura danced with the gayest, and whenBarclay got leave in April and came down for a fortnight he foundhimself much in the way of two young gentlemen who danced delightfully,a thing he could not do at all. Yet he had sweet hours with hissweetheart, and grew even more deeply in love, so beautiful was shegrowing, and went back to Sanders a second time thinking himselfhappiest of the happy, or bound to be when, in the coming autumn, hecould claim her as his own. But Waite was troubled. He was to take thefield the 1st of May; his troops would be in saddle and on scout away tothe west all summer long; his wife and daughter were to spend thosemonths at the sea-shore and in shopping for the great event to come inNovember. He had a long, earnest talk with Barclay when once more thedevoted fellow came to see the lady of his love on the eve of herdeparture for the East, but Barclay looked into her radiant, upliftedeyes, and could not read the shadow of coming events, of which she wasas ignorant as he. In May he led his men on the march to the Big Horn,and in June she led with Cadet Lieutenant Winn the german at thegraduation hop at West Point. Then Winn was assigned to duty, as was thecustom of the day, one of two or three young graduates chosen asassistant instructors during the summer camp. He had an hour to devoteto drill each morning and a dozen to devote to the girls, and LauraWaite, with her lovely face and form, was the talk of the brilliantthrong of visitors that summer. She and her mother returned to the Pointas guests of some old friends there stationed, a visit which was not onthe original programme at all. Winn took the girl riding day after day,and to hops week after week. The shopping for the wedding went onbetweentimes, and Winn even escorted them to the city and took part inthe shopping. In fine, when November came, in spite of the furiousopposition of her father, in spite of his refusal to attend the ceremonyor to countenance it in any way, Winn, _vice_ Barclay, honorablydischarged, appeared as groom, and bore his bride away to a round ofjoyous festivities among army friends in New Orleans and San Antoniobefore their final exile to the far frontier. From that day to this noline had ever come from the angered and aging man, even when Laura'sbaby girl was born. Funds he sent from time to time,--he knew he'd haveto do that, as he told her mother and she told her friends,--and then,just as more funds were much needed because of pressing claims ofcreditors whose bills had not been paid from previous remittances, Winnbeing much in the field and Laura becoming disburser general in hisabsence, the major suddenly died, leaving a small life insurance for hisdisconsolate widow and nothing to speak of for his children. They hadsucked him dry during his busy life.
The Winns did not invite Mr. Hodge to dinner, and were not bidden tomeet him. Laura was still in light mourning for her father, and for daysshe really heard very little of Hodge's revelations regarding herdiscarded Wyoming lover. It was through the nurse-girl, an old soldier'sdaughter, that she first began to glean the chaff of the storiesflitting from house to house, and to hear the exaggeration of Hodge'sromancings about Captain Barclay's wealth, for that, after all, provedthe most vividly interesting of the travellers' tales he told. Barclayproved to be, said Hodge, an expert mineralogist and geologist, and thiswas of value when a craze for dabbling in mining stocks swept overSanders. Barclay, who lived so simply in garrison, was discovered(through a breach of confidence on the part of the officiatingclergyman, that well-nigh led to another breach) to be the principalsubscriber to the mission church being built in Laramie City. Itsuddenly became known that Barclay had a balance in the local bank andreserve funds at the East, whereupon promoters and prospectors by thedozen called upon him at the fort and strove to induce him to take stockin their mines. Nine out of ten were sent to the right-about, eventhose who called his attention to the fact that Colonel This and MajorThat were large shareholders. One or two he gave ear to, and later gotleave of absence and visited their distant claims. He was outprospecting, said Hodge, half the time in the fall of '68. The venturesof the other officers seemed to prove prolific sources of assessments.The Lord only knows how much fun and money the mine-owners of those daysgot out of the army. But they failed to impress the puritanical captain,and by the summer of '69 they ceased to do business in his neighborhood,for before sending good money after bad, officers had taken toconsulting Barclay, and many an honest fellow's hoarded savings werespared to his wife and children, all through Barclay's calm and patientexposition of the fallacy of the "Company's" claims.
Then, said Hodge, when Channing, of the 27th, was killed by Red Cloud'sband back of Laramie Peak, and his heart-broken widow and children wereleft penniless, somebody found the money to send them all to theirfriends in New England and to see them safely established there. Andwhen Porter's wife was taken so ill while he was away up north of theBig Horn, and the doctor said that a trained nurse must be had in thefirst place, there came one from far Chicago; and later, after Porterreached the post, overjoyed to find his beloved one slowly mending andso skilfully guarded, the doctors told him she must be taken to thesea-shore or the South, and, though every one at Sanders knew poorPorter had not a penny, it was all arranged somehow, and Emily Portercame back the next winter a rosy, blooming, happy wife. No one knew forcertain that all the needed money came from Barclay, but as the Portersseemed to adore him from that time on, and their baby boy was baptizedGalbraith Barclay, everybody had reason to believe it. If Mrs. Winn everwanted to experience the exhilaration of hearing what other peoplethought of her, she had only, said Mr. Hodge in confidence, to turn Mrs.Porter loose on that subject.
Then, too, said Hodge, there was Ordnance Sergeant Murphy and hisfamily, burned out one winter's night with all their savings, and theold man dreadfully scorched in trying to rescue his strong box from theflames. It must have been Barclay who looked after the mother and kidsall the time the old man was moaning in hospital. They moved him into anewly furnished and comfortable shack inside of a fortnight, and theMurphys had another saint on their domestic ca
lendar, despite thenon-appearance of his name in the voluminous records of their Church.All this and more did Hodge tell of Barclay, as in duty bound, he said,after first telling what other fellows long said of him,--that he wasclose and mean, a prig, a namby-pamby (despite the way he foughtCrow-Killer's warlike band), a wet blanket to garrison joys, etc., etc.;and yet they really couldn't tell why. He subscribed just as much to thehop fund, though he didn't hop,--to the supper fund, though he didn'tsup,--to the mess fund for the entertainment of visiting officers,though he didn't drink,--to the dramatic fund, though he couldn'tact,--to the garrison hunt, though they said he couldn't ride. But hedeclined to give one cent towards the deficiency bill that resulted whenSanders entertained Steele at an all-night symposium at the sutler's andopened case after case of champagne and smoked box after box of cigars."It was a senseless, soulless proceeding," said he, with brutalfrankness. "Half the money you drank or smoked up in six hours couldhave clothed and fed all the children in Sudstown for six months."
"Lord, but they were mad all through," said Hodge, when describing it."There wasn't a name they didn't call him all that winter."
"And yet I hear," said Mrs. Tremaine, a woman Fort Worth loved andlooked up to as the --th did to Mrs. Stannard, "that for a long timepast they have called him Sir Galahad instead of Galbraith."
"Oh," said Hodge, "that's one of old Gleason's jokes. He said theycalled him 'Gal I had' when he went to Omaha and 'Gal I hadn't' when hegot back,"--a statement which sent Major Brooks swearing _sotto voce_from the room.
"I don't know which I'd rather kick," said he, "Hodge or Gleason. I'drejoice in Barclay's coming if it weren't--if Lawrence were only here,if Winn were only away."
