L'ENVOI
Nearly two years later, with the old regiment still serving along thestoried Platte, they were talking of her one moonlit evening at theflagstaff. The band, by this time a fixture at Frayne, had been playingdelightfully, and some of the girls and young gallants had been waltzingon the Rays' veranda. A few new faces were there. Two faces, well known,were missing,--those of Esther Dade and Beverly Field. The latter hadnever been the same man since the tragic events that followed so closelyon the heels of the Lame Wolf campaign. Wounds had slowly healed.Injuries, physical, were well nigh forgotten; but, mentally, he had beenlong a sufferer. For months after the death of Nanette, even whensufficiently restored to be on duty, he held shrinkingly aloof from postsociety. Even Webb, Blake and Ray were powerless to pull him out of hisdespond. He seemed to feel,--indeed he said so, that his briefentanglement with that strange, fascinating girl had clouded his soldiername for all time. To these stanch friends and advisers he frankly toldthe whole story, and they, in turn, had told it to the general, to thecolonel commanding the regiment and to those whose opinions they mostvalued; but Field could speak of it to none others. Frankly he admittedthat from the moment he met the girl he fell under the influence of apowerful fascination. Within twenty-four hours of his return from theLaramie trip they were riding together, and during that ride she askedto be taken to Stabber's village, and there had talked long with thatmagnificent young Sioux. Later, Field surprised her in tears, and thenshe told him a pitiful tale. Eagle Wing had been educated, she said, byher aunt and uncle,--was indeed their nephew and her own cousin. He hadbeen wild and had given them much trouble, and her aunt was in bitterdistress over his waywardness. It was to plead with him that she,Nanette, had gone. "Moreau" had been taught mining and mineralogy, itseems, and declared that he had "located" a most promising mine in theBlack Hills. He could buy off every claim if he had a thousand dollars,and the mine might be worth millions. Hay pooh-poohed the story. Mrs.Hay could not persuade him. Then "Moreau" became threatening. He wouldjoin the hostiles, he swore, if his aunt would not help him. Indeed, andhere Field's young face burned with shame, Nanette told him that sheunderstood that he, Field, was an only son who might inherit wealth indays to come, and could draw upon his father now for any reasonable sum;and, within the week of his meeting her, he was on the point of offeringeverything she needed, but that he disbelieved the Indian's story. Then,one night, there came a note begging him to meet her at once. She had adreadful message, she said, from "Moreau." The fellow had frequentlybeen prowling about the trader's during the dark hours, and now she wasafraid of him, yet must see him, and see him at once, even if she had toride to Stabber's camp. Field's eyes were blinded and he went. Hay'shorses were ready beyond the corral, and she rode astride on one ofHay's own saddles. They found "Moreau" awaiting them at the ford, andthere was a scene Field could not understand, for they spoke in theSioux language. That night it was that, all in tears at the Indian'sobduracy, she owned that he was her own brother, not merely a cousin,and together they had all gone back toward Frayne. "Moreau" was to waiton the flats until she could return to the house. She had been strivingto get him to make certain promises, she said, contingent on her givinghim something from her own means. Field said he remonstrated with her tothe utmost, but she told him no woman with Sioux blood in her veins everdeserted a brother--or lover. And so she had returned with a packet,presumably of money, and there they found the Indian clinched withKennedy. Kennedy was rescued in the nick of time, and pledged tosilence. The Indian rode away triumphant. Nanette climbed back to herwindow, exhausted, apparently, by her exertions, and Field started forhis quarters, only to find the entire garrison astir. The rest theyknew.
Asked how she came to know of the money in the trader's safe, he said nosecret had been made of it by either Hay or him. She had asked himlaughingly about his quarrel with Wilkins, and seemed deeply interestedin all the details of subaltern life. Either Hay or he, fortunately,could have made good the missing sum, even had most of it not been foundamongst Stabber's plunder. Field had never seen her again until thenight the general took him to confront her at the Hays', and, all toolate, had realized how completely she had lured and used him. In pride,honor, self-respect, he had been sorely wounded, and, even when assuredthat the general attached no blame to him, and that his name was nolonger involved, he would have resigned his commission and quit theservice had it not been for these soldiers three, Webb, Blake and Ray.They made him see that, all the more because his father's death had lefthim independent--sole master of quite a valuable property--he must stickto the sword and live down the possible stain.
And stay he did, refusing even a chance to go abroad the followingspring, and devoting himself assiduously to his duties, although heshrank from society. They made him sometimes spend a quiet evening atRay's or Blake's, where twice Miss Dade was found. But that young ladywas quick to see that her hostess had been scheming, as loving womenwill. And then, when he went hoping to see her, yet half afraid, shecame no more. They could not coax her. The early spring had taken himforth on long campaign. The ensuing fall had taken her to the fardistant East, for gallant old Dade was breaking down. The doctors senthim on prolonged sick leave. Then was Fort Frayne indeed a desolate postto Beverly Field, and when midwinter came, and with it the news thatDade had but little while to live, he took counsel with Ray, and amonth's leave, not much of which was spent in the South. The oldregiment was represented at the sad and solemn little ceremony when thedevoted husband, father and fellow soldier was laid at rest.
Nor was Field a happier man when he rejoined from leave, and they allthought they knew why. Letters came, black-bordered, with Esther'ssuperscription, sometimes, but only for Mrs. Blake or Mrs. Ray. Therewas never one for Field. And so a second summer came and went and asecond September was ushered in, and in the flood of the full moonlightthere was again music and dancing at Fort Frayne, but not for Field, notfor Esther Dade. They were all talking of Nanette, Daughter of theDakotas, and Esther, Daughter of the Regiment, as they called her in herfather's Corps, and the mail came late from Laramie, and letters werehanded round as tattoo sounded, and Mrs. Blake, eagerly scanning ablack-bordered page, was seen suddenly to run in doors, her eyesbrimming over with tears.
Later that night Hogan tapped at Field's front door and asked would thelieutenant step over to Mrs. Ray's a minute, and he went.
"Read that," said Mrs. Ray, pointing to a paragraph on the third page ofthe black-bordered missive that had been too much for Mrs. Blake. And heread:
"Through it all Esther has been my sweetest comfort, but now I must lose her, too. Our means are so straitened that she has _made_ me see the necessity. Hard as it is, I must yield to her for the help that it may bring. She has been studying a year and is to join the staff of trained nurses at St. Luke's the first of October."
For a moment there was silence in the little army parlor. Field's handswere trembling, his face was filled with trouble. She knew he wouldspeak his heart to her at last, and speak he did:--
"All these months that she has been studying I've been begging andpleading, Mrs. Ray. _You_ know what I went for last winter,--all to nopurpose. I'm going again now, if I have to stay a patient at St. Luke'sto coax her out of it."
But not until Christmas came the welcome "wire:"
Patient discharged. Nurse finally accepts new engagement.
FINIS
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