Marion's Faith.

by Charles King

  CHAPTER XXII.

  A SHOT AT MIDNIGHT.

  While, as has been said, no further news of affairs at Russell reachedthe regiment before they plunged into the thick of the campaign and weresoon cut off from all communication, there were still three or four daysin which the officers could talk over matters and write their letters tobe sent back from the intrenched camp at Goose Creek by the first partythat was numerically strong enough to undertake the journey. The colonelhad been furnished a brief synopsis of the charges against Ray, andStannard swore with a mighty oath when he read them that from beginningto end the whole thing was made up by Gleason and that other scoundrel,Rallston. The officers came together, and Stannard told what he knew ofRallston's shadowy record in the past, and one by one Gleason's hints,sneers, and slurs about Ray were dragged to light and exploded. Therewere men sitting around the colonel's tent, a hardy, bushwhacking set offrontiersmen they all looked, who for very shame wished themselvesaway. Canker's cheeks burned as he recalled how often he had permittedGleason to defame Ray. Crane and Wilkins hung their heads and tugged attheir stubby beards, and looked uncomfortable, for the whole tenor oftalk was an enthusiastic and vehement vote of confidence in theKentuckian. Knowing him to be hot-headed and rash, there was greatanxiety about him, and one impulsive fellow suggested that they all signa letter to him expressing their belief in his innocence and theirconfidence in his cause. This would not do, said the colonel; it wastantamount to insubordination. Individually they were at liberty towrite, but it must not be done as a regiment; and so it resulted thatonly two or three wrote to him, and one of these was Canker.

  Stannard was not fully satisfied. It was agreed that at the very firstopportunity they should have another general talk, and the officers hadthen gone to their various tents to send what might be the last messageshome. They were to march over against the Rosebud at dawn, and it wasonly a few miles' gallop across the divide where Custer and his gallantmen lay at their shallow graves, most of them by this time disinterredby prowling wolves or vengeful Indians.

  Truscott, too, had written to Ray, and it was not easy. He had writtento Grace a long letter, and that was harder still. Three days hadelapsed since Gleason's explosive announcement of that strange tableauat his home. He had disdained to listen to explanation or to furtherstatement. He would not condescend to ask Webb a single question; but hehad called him aside that morning and said a quiet word.

  "Should you ever need a solution of what may have seemed a mystery toyou, Webb, in what you mention having seen,--Mrs. Truscott and my friendRay, I mean,--you have simply to remember that the news of that massacreover yonder has unnerved every woman in the army, and that Mrs. Truscottis not now in a condition to bear any shock. I had asked Ray to goregularly to my house."

  He was incapable of doubting her. He would not doubt Ray, and yet--andyet there was something about the matter he did not like. She hadwritten to him--three pages--that afternoon after it all occurred, andhad mentioned nothing of Ray's being there, nothing of her having beenagitated during his visit, nothing at all of it; and yet such a scenehad occurred. He could account for there being a scene, but he could notreconcile himself to her utter silence upon the subject.

  In his letter to Ray he, of course, said nothing of it. In his letter tohis wife he gently, lovingly, pointed out to her that it was not rightthat he should be told by strangers of her being seen sobbing upon thesofa when alone with Mr. Ray, and that she should make no allusion to amatter that had struck them as so extraordinary. Could he have taken herin his strong arms and used just those words in speaking of it with allthe grace of love and trust and tenderness accenting every syllable, shewould never have mistaken the mood in which he wrote; but who that loveshas not marked the wide difference between such words written andspoken? When the letter came it cut Grace to the heart, and it was thelast letter to reach her in one whole month. The next had to come wayaround by the Yellowstone. Was it likely that in that intervening monthshe should care to see much of Ray?

  All over the Northwest that column went marching and chasing after thenow scattered bands of Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull: always on thetrail, always pushing ahead. From the Tongue to the Rosebud; then overto the Powder; then up to the Yellowstone; then, while Miles went acrossafter the fleeing Uncapapas and their wily old rascal of a leader, theGray Fox gave his ragged followers a few days in which to bait theirhorses and patch their boots and breeches; then on he led them after theOgallallas and Brules, far across the Little Missouri, over to HeartRiver, where rations gave out; then down due south by compass throughflooding rain, heading for the Black Hills, two weeks' march away. Itwas summer sunshine when they cut loose from tents and baggage at GooseCreek, with ten days' rations and the clothes they had on. It wasfreezing by night before they saw those tents and wagons again down inthe southern hills, where they came dragging in late in September,having lived for days on the flesh of their slaughtered horses, and inall these weeks of marching and suffering and fighting no line hadreached Stannard or Truscott or anybody from the wives at home. Therewere sore and anxious hearts among them, but those at home were sorerstill.

  It was the second week in August when those last letters came from the--th to Russell. It was the second week in September before they heardfrom them at the bivouac on the Yellowstone. It was the second week inOctober before the next news came,--the hurried letters brought downfrom the Black Hills, and telling of their homeward coming. It was thelast week in October as they rode--bronzed and bearded and gaunt andthin, herding in the disarmed bands of Red Cloud--that the orders werereceived returning them to winter quarters far down along the UnionPacific, nearly ten days' march to the south; and meantime--meantime howvery much had happened at Russell.

  It was the twelfth day of Mr. Ray's arrest and the sixth of his sharpillness that Mr. Gleason arrived at the post and went to report to thecommanding officer. Mrs. Truscott and Miss Sanford, seated on theirpiazza, saw him alight at his quarters from the stage, and immediatelywent in and closed their door. Mrs. Stannard had been with them awhilethe evening previous. Ray was entirely out of danger and was sitting upagain, but very quiet and weak. Gleason, it seems, had taken aroundabout way on his return, and had stopped two days at Fort Laramie,from which post he did considerable telegraphing. The mail coming directfrom Fetterman brought those letters (which were sent by the sergeant)three days ahead of him, and not a lady in the cavalry quarters atRussell, except perhaps Mrs. Wilkins, would now receive him. Mrs.Stannard met him on the walk soon after his arrival, and passed him witha mere inclination of the head and the coldest possible mention of hisname, but she saw he was thin and haggard and very anxious-looking. Hewas closeted with the post commander a long time, and came out lookingworse. Old Whaling was swearing mad over a letter from Stannard and onefrom the commanding officer of the --th, plainly telling him that if hehad been induced to take steps against Mr. Ray by any representations ofMr. Gleason, he would find himself heavily involved; and now Gleasonplainly wanted to "crawfish," and to declare that Whaling had used asfacts what he had only suggested as possibilities. Whaling was alsonotified that they proposed to ask the department commander to haveproceedings against Ray suspended until the return of the regiment fromthe campaign, and meantime here was the young gentleman sick on hishands at the post, and that blundering, bullet-headed quartermaster ofhis had got him involved in another row. Mr. Blake had made anapplication to department headquarters for a board of officers toappraise the value of one public horse, which he, Lieutenant Blake,desired to purchase; had written to a staff friend at Omaha a graphicdescription of Dandy's and Ray's "devotion to each other," and thedecree of divorce which was passed by Colonel Whaling's order. Thequartermaster had meantime had Dandy out in the sun for two more days,tied to the post, and had been notified by Mr. Blake that if he everspoke to him, except in the line of duty, he would kick him, and thingswere in almost as eruptive a state at Russell in this blessed month ofAugust of the centennial year as they had been at old S
andy during thePelham _regime_, only--only who could this time say it was a woman atthe bottom of it?

  And yet was it not Gleason's unrequited attentions to our heroine thatprompted much of the trouble? Fie on it for a foul suggestion! Is womanto be held responsible for a row because more than one man falls in lovewith her?

  And yet again. She who has been so studiously kept in the background allthese dreary chapters has been coming to the fore on her own account. Inplain cavalry language, Miss Sanford has twice taken the bit in herteeth and bolted. Gleason once discovered, anent the club-room, that shehad a temper. Mrs. Turner was the next to arrive at this conclusion. Itwas the day after Mr. Ray's illness began. Mrs. Whaling was paying anevening visit. Mrs. Turner had dropped in, as she often did where theladies were apt to gather, and, despite Mrs. Truscott's polite andmodest expression of her disagreement with Mrs. Whaling's views, thatamiable lady persisted in descanting upon Mr. Ray's intemperate languageand conduct, and repeatedly intimating that it was all due tointemperate drink. "The general" had said so, and that settled it. MissSanford sat with blazing eyes and cheeks that flushed redder and redder;she was biting her lip and tapping the carpet with the toe of herslipper. Mrs. Whaling was called away by some household demand beforeshe had fairly finished her homily, and then Mrs. Turner, who hadnarrowly watched these symptoms, determined to test the depth of MissSanford's views upon the subject,--the revelation might be of interest.

  "It does seem a pity that Mr. Ray should have done so much to ruin hisfine record, does it not, Miss Sanford?"

  "Ruin it! Mrs. Turner? Pardon me! but you speak of it as though youbelieved in his guilt,--as though you thought him culpable. If I were alady of the --th, I should glory in the name he had made for it, and bedefending, not abusing him." And, with the mien of a queen of tragedy,she swished out of the room to cool her fevered cheeks upon the piazza.

  "Well!" gasped Mrs. Turner. "If I had supposed she _cared_ for him Iwouldn't have suggested such a thing an instant."

  "It is not a question of her 'caring' for him as you say, Mrs. Turner,"spoke up Mrs. Truscott, with unusual spirit. "He is my husband's warmestfriend. We're all proud of him, all indignant at his treatment, and yourlanguage is simply incomprehensible!"

  Just didn't Mrs. Turner tell that interview--with variations--all overthe garrison within twenty-four hours? She had incentive enough; theladies flocked to hear it, and one absurd maiden saw fit the nextevening to simper her congratulations to Miss Sanford on "herengagement"; but by that time Marion had recovered her self-control. Shemet Mrs. Turner as though nothing of an unusual nature had occurred. Shelaughingly, even sweetly thanked the damsel, and told her she wasengaged to no one.

  But in another way she had come out like a heroine. She loved horses, ashas been said. She had wept in secret over Mrs. Stannard's descriptionof Dandy's seizure, and she was vehement with indignation at thesubsequent treatment of Mr. Ray's pet and comrade. No one ever sawMarion Sanford so excited about anything before, said Grace; she couldnot refrain from going to the door every little while to see if Dandywere still tied there in front of the quartermaster's, and she wouldhave gone to that functionary himself and implored him to send the horseback to the stable, only she could not trust herself to speak. But thesecond day she could stand it no longer; she boldly assailed ColonelWhaling, pointed out to him that for two days poor Dandy had been keptthere in the hot sun, tortured by flies, and begged him to exert hisauthority and stop it. It made the quartermaster rabid. He knew somebodymust have been interfering, but that night the colonel told him he musttake better care of the sorrel, who was looking badly already, andordered him to be returned to the corral for a day or two. But this verynight, as Dandy was being led away, she heard Blake say to Mrs.Truscott,--

  "I'd give anything to buy him and give him to Ray."

  "_Could_ you buy him?" she exclaimed, all flushing eagerness.

  "Why, yes, if I had an unmortgaged cent, Miss Sanford," he said, with anervous laugh.

  She rose, her eyes and cheeks aflame, and stood before them, almosttrembling, while her hands worked nervously,--

  "Then _do_ it! Mr. Blake. Don't let him suffer another minute! buyhim--for me, no matter what he costs, and then--you give him to Mr. Ray.I--I mean every word of it. You can have the money this instant,--thecheck at least."

  Grace sprang up and threw her arms around her neck. "You darling! How Iwish I could do it!" was all she could say, but Miss Sanford was simplypaying no attention to her. She was waiting to hear from Mr. Blake, whowas too much astounded to speak. That evening it was all settled thatBlake should make immediate application to purchase, and he went homespouting Shakespeare by the page, perfectly enraptured with this new andunsuspected trait in Marion, and perfectly satisfied that--it was notfor him.

  The paper went in, and, preceded by Blake's personal letter to thestaff-officer, was forwarded to Omaha with an unfavorable endorsement.The post quartermaster had said that except the band horses there werenone there that were not needed by the quartermaster's service, anddaily in use. All the same the order was promptly issued, and came backin four days with the detail of Colonel Whaling, the post surgeon, andMr. Warner. Gleason was not named,--a singular thing, since he was theonly cavalry officer, except Blake, now for duty at the post, and theyhad begun officer of the day work. But the very day the board met Raywas out on his piazza taking the air with "extended limits," andrejoicing in the letters that had just come to him from the fellows atthe front (the same mail had brought Mrs. Truscott that letter from Jackwhich sent her to her room in misery), and towards evening Mrs. Stannardcame down to see him awhile, and hear his letters and tell him of herown. Mr. Gleason passed out of his quarters girt with sabre,--he wasofficer of the day,--and walked over towards the guard-house across theparade. Blake had gone "up the row." He wanted to give them a chance fora quiet talk, for Ray's heart was full of gratitude to the major's noblewife. She had nursed him like a mother in his delirium and illness; shehad nursed him as she had other fellows when they were down, and theynone of them forgot it. As Blake passed Number 11 and glanced backtowards the rear windows, he saw a sight that, to use the words he oftenaffected, "gave him pause."

  Standing cap in hand at the back of the house was the soldier Hogan, aflush of mingled delight and surprise on his face, and his mouthexpanded in a grin of embarrassed ecstasy. In front of him was MissSanford, daintily dressed as usual, holding out her hand. She caughtsight of Blake, pressed something into Hogan's hand and sprang quicklyback.

  _Can_ she be sending Ray a note? was his first thought. He concluded notto go in just then, but went on his way. That night Hogan was unusuallyconversational around the house. He was plainly exhilarated. He came tothe room where the two officers were seated and stumbled over Mr.Blake's boots.

  "What on earth do you want, Hogan?" asked Ray, looking up from his paperand pipe.

  "I was wanting to clane the lootenant's pistol, sir, an' it isn't in theholster."

  "You needn't clean it to-night," said Ray, coloring. "I want it."

  "What the dickens do you want it for to-night?" said Blake. "Let himhave it; it hasn't been cleaned for a month."

  "Never mind, Hogan, not to-night."

  "Could I be gone for a couple of hours, sir, if there's nothing else thelootenant wants?"

  "Oh, yes, go ahead; I shall not need you until morning."

  "Would the lootenant take care of this for me?" said Hogan, holding outtwo twenty-dollar bills. "I might lose it if I tuk too much."

  "Don't take too much, then, you sinner. Where did you get this money,sir?"

  "Shure the lootenant mustn't blow on me," said Hogan, with rapture inhis eyes and a glibness born of poteen on his tongue, "but thatcourt-martial was the makin' of me fortune, sir. Shure not only did thelootenant an' Misther Blake give me a fine charactther and ten dollarsto boot, but the moment do I get out of the gyard-house Mrs. Thruscottsends Flanigan for me, an' when I get there shure it's the young leddyas wants to see me. 'You're
a good soldier, Mr. Hogan,' says she, 'andyou're true to Dandy, you are.' 'Faix I am, ma'am,' says I, 'an' longlife to him and the man that rides him,' says I. 'Shure it's he's thesoldier, ma'am, and the boss rider of the regiment too.' 'I know it, Mr.Hogan,' says she, all a-blushin' like, 'an' I'm proud of ye for bein' sothrue to him in his throuble,' says she. 'Faix, an' the men wouldmurther me, miss, if I wasn't,' says I; and so they would, begorra! andthin says she, 'Now how much did they punish you on that court?' saysshe. 'Tin dollars blind an' sivin days on the--in the gyard-house,ma'am,' says I; an' says she, 'Here's twinty for the tin they robbed yeof, and five for every day they kep' ye from yer masther an' Dandy.'An', begorra, lootenant, she ran in the house before iver I could shpakeanother wurrud."

  "Go it, Mickey Free!" shouted Blake, roaring with laughter. Ray hadgrown redder and redder as the Irishman told his tale, and at last,laughing to cover his confusion, bade him begone.

  That night was still and beautiful. Too excited by the events of theday to think of sleep, Marion Sanford was awake long after midnight.There was no moon, but the skies were cloudless, and a summer breezeplayed with the curtains of her open window. Far down by the stables sheheard the call of the sentry at half-past twelve o'clock. A few minuteslater there was a sharp, sudden report, as of a pistol, somewhere downthe row; then as she sprang to the window she heard a stifled cry; thenall was silence again--unless--was it fancy? She felt, rather thanheard, a running footfall. Excited, startled, she hastily threw on awrapper and shawl and ran in to Grace, who was sleeping quietly asbefore. Looking out on the parade, she could hear men running rapidlyover from the guard-house. Something terrible had happened she now feltsure. Then a man was heard speeding up the walk towards the commandingofficer's. She could see him as he darted by, and listened intently. Hebanged at the colonel's door, and then presently more men came hurryingby. Still she did not like to call; she feared to awaken or shock Grace.But in another minute, as a member of the guard ran by, Mrs. Stannard'sclear voice floated out on the night air,--

  "What is the matter, corporal?"

  "Lieutenant Gleason's murdered, ma'am; shot dead in his room."

  "Good heavens! Who _could_ have done it?"

  "I don't--leastwise, ma'am, they--they say 'twas Lieutenant Ray."