CHAPTER IX.
From the night of her brilliant appearance at the garrison ball, notonce had Mrs. Winn an opportunity to exchange a dozen words with CaptainBarclay. Her husband, as has been said, had failed to call on his newnext-door neighbor, although Winn had been well enough to be about forseveral days, and until he did call it was impossible for Barclay toenter their doors, and expedient that he should avoid Mrs. Winn whereverit was possible to do so. This might not have been difficult, eventhough the same roof covered both households,--that of the Winns on thesouth and that of the Barclay-Brayton combination on the northside,--but for Laura Winn herself, who seemed to be out on the porchevery afternoon as the captain came walking back from stables; and thewomen who were apt to gather at Mrs. Blythe's at that time declared thatthere was something actually inviting, if not imploring, in the way Mrs.Winn would watch for him, and bow, and seem to hover where he couldhardly avoid speaking to her. Three times at least since that memorableparty had she been there "on watch," as Mrs. Faulkner expressed it, andthough his bow was courtesy itself, and his "Good-evening, Mrs. Winn,"most respectful, and even kindly, if one could judge by the tone of hisvoice, not another word did he speak. He passed on to his own gateway,Brayton generally at his side, and his stable dress was changed forparade uniform or dinner before he again made his appearance.
After the manner of the day, most of the cavalry contingent stopped inat the club-room on the way back from evening stables. Brayton used todo so, but, though no one could say his captain had preached to him onthe subject, some influence either of word or of example had takeneffect, and the young bachelor seemed entirely content to cut the cluband the social tipple, and to trudge along by his new companion's side.They had been getting "mighty thick" for captain and second lieutenant,said some of the other officers; but, serenely indifferent to whatothers thought or said, the two kept on their way.
"Thought you were goin' to wear mournin' for Lawrence the rest of yournatural life, Brayton; and here you are tyin' to Barclay as if Lawrencehad never lived," said Mr. Bralligan, only a day or two beforeLawrence's return, and Brayton started almost as though stung. WhatBralligan said was not half as ill grounded as most of his statements,and Brayton was conscious of something akin to guilt and self-reproach.In common with most of the regiment, he had felt very sore overLawrence's going. He had been much attached to that gallant andsoldierly captain, but now that another had taken his place, and hecould compare or contrast the two, the youngster began to realize withsomething like a pang of distress--as though it were disloyal to thinkso--that in many ways Barclay was "head and shoulders" the superior man.Lawrence never rose till eight o'clock except when in the field.Lawrence rarely read anything but the papers and interminablecontroversies over the war. Lawrence, despite the claims of Ada andlittle Jimmy, often spent an evening at the club, and always stoppedthere on his way from stables. Lawrence never studied, and off thedrill-ground never taught. Indeed, almost all the drills the troop hadknown for months and months Brayton himself had conducted. No wonder theboy had wasted hours of valuable time. No wonder there was a little gamegoing on among the youngsters in Brayton's "back parlor" many a day. Hehad simply been started all wrong.
But even before Barclay's books were unpacked the new captain had foundmeans to interest the young fellow in professional topics that Lawrencehad never seemed to mention. Barclay had evidently been taking counselwith progressive soldiers before joining his new regiment, had beenreading books of their choosing, and among others was a valuabletreatise on the proper method of bitting horses, and he found that herewas a matter that Lawrence and Brayton had never thought of and thatBrayton said was never taught them at the Point,--which was strictlytrue. To the amaze and unspeakable indignation of Denny Sullivan, whowas soon to be overhauled on graver points, the doughboy had taken hislieutenant from horse to horse in the troop as they stood at rest duringdrill, and shown him at least twenty bits out of the forty-five in linethat were no fit at all. He showed him some that were too broad from barto bar and that slid to and fro in the tortured creature's mouth; othersthat hung too low, almost "fell through;" others whose curb-chain orstrap, instead of fitting in the groove, bore savagely on the delicatebones above it and tormented the luckless charger every time his riderdrew rein. Barclay gave the boy his own carefully studied hand-book; notanother cavalry officer then at Worth had read it, though several hadheard of it. The youngster was set to work fitting new bits bymeasurement to the mouth of every horse in the troop.
Then Barclay drew him into the discussion of the cavalry system ofsaddling as then prescribed,--the heavy tree set away forward close tothe withers,--and Brayton could only say that "that was tactics and theway they'd always done it." But Galahad pointed out that the tacticsthen in use were written of a foreign dragoon saddle with a long flatbearing surface. It was all very well for that to be set as far forwardas it would go, because even then the centre of gravity of the riderwould be well back on the horse. "But," said he, "you take this shortMcClellan tree, place that away forward, and then set a man in it; hiscentre of gravity will rest in front of the centre of motion of thehorse,--will throw the weight on the forehand and use up his knees andshoulders in no time." This, too, set Brayton to studying and thinking,while Mullane and Fellows declared Sir Galahad a crank, and even Brooksand Blythe, wedded to tradition, thought him visionary. Then when thebooks came, Galahad unpacked, and just where the poker-table used tostand it stood now, but it was covered with beautiful maps of Alsace andLorraine, and Galahad's desk with pamphlets sent him from abroad, theearliest histories of the memorable campaign about Metz and Sedan. Thenext thing Brayton knew he was as deeply interested as his captain, and,lo, other men came to look and wonder and go off shaking theirheads,--those of them who were of the Mullane persuasion sneering atthose "book-generals," while others, like Blythe, pulled up a chair asinvited and followed the junior captain through his modest explanationwith appreciative eyes. Those were days when there was all too littletime for study and improvement, thanks to the almost incessant Indianscouting required; but here was Worth, a big post, and here was afour-troop battalion with a gentleman and not a bad soldier at its head,and it had not occurred to him to teach them anything or to require ofthem anything beyond the usual attention to stables, troop-drill, and anoccasional parade. If his men were reasonably ready to take the field inpursuit of Kiowa, Comanche, or horse-thief, and to furnish escort forambulance and train when the disbursing officers went to and fro, thatwas all that could be expected of him or them in those halcyon days. Andnow "this blasted doughboy substitute" had come down here and wasproposing to stir them all up, make them all out "so many ignoramuses,"said Mullane. "Bedad, the thing is revolutionary!" And that was enoughto damn it, for revolution is a thing no Irishman will tolerate, whenhe doesn't happen to be in it himself.
Still another thing had occurred to make Barclay something apart fromthe bachelors. No sooner had his modest kit of household goods arrivedthan the unused kitchen of Brayton's quarters was fitted up; Hannibalwas ensconced therein; a neat little dining-room was made of what hadbeen designed for a small bedchamber on the ground-floor, and Barclayamazed the mess by setting forth champagne the last evening he dinedthere as a member, and then retired to the privacy of his ownestablishment, as he had at Sanders. The Winns' house-maid had of coursedropped in to see how Hannibal was getting along, and dropped out totell her discoveries, which were few. Then Brayton found the mess sayingthings about Barclay he could not agree with, and he, too, resigned andbecame a messmate of his captain,--a change for the better that speedilymanifested itself in the healthy white of his clear eyes and acomplexion that bore no trace of fiery stimulants such as were indulgedin elsewhere. Then there was talk of others leaving the "Follansbeefamily" and asking to join at Brayton's, and this gave umbrage to Erinas represented in the bachelors' mess. And so an anti-Barclay feelinghad sprung up at the post, among the unlettered at least, and thesewere days in which the unlettered were numerous. "Sorry
for you,Brayton, me boy," grinned the senior sub of Fellows's troop. "It must betough to come down to this after Lawrence." And he was amazed atBrayton's reply.
"Tough? Yes, for it shows me how much time I've wasted."
"Wait till we get Galahad out on the trail wid his new-fangled bits andseats," sneered Mullane but a day or two before. "That'll take thedamned nonsense out of him. Faith, whin he goes I hope I may go alongtoo to see the fun."
And, sooner than he thought for, the Irish captain had his wish.
One o'clock had just been called off by the sentries, and the moon waswell over to the west, when the door of the major's quarters was openedand he with his lingering guests came forth upon the broad piazza, thered sparks of their cigars gleaming anew as they felt the fan of therising breeze. Clear and summer-like as was the sky, there was areminder of the snow-peaks in the wings of the wind, and Lawrencehuddled his old cavalry cape about his shoulders as he faced it. He wastalking eagerly, perhaps a little bombastically, of this great newmining company in which Buffstick was prominent as a director. He wasfull of hope and anticipation and disposed to patronize a trifle hisfriends who, wedded to the humdrum of the army, were debarred from sofine an opportunity of making money in abundance. So many of the numberwere going to do so much in the same way when first they left us for thebroader paths of civil life.
"I tell you, Brooks," he said, enthusiastically, "I wouldn't take tenthousand dollars cash this night for my chance of making twice that sumwithin the year. Buffstick turns everything he touches into gold."
"Wonder if Barclay knows these mines," said De Lancy, reflectively,flipping the ashes from the end of his cigar. "He has never opened hishead about his mines to a soul. We don't know where they are."
"I don't know," said Lawrence, briefly. Even yet the mention of Barclaychafed him a bit. "I know this, though, that that company wouldn't offerme any such salary as twenty-five hundred dollars a year just to bosstheir men, unless there was big money in it somewhere. It's the firsttime I ever knew what it was to be indifferent to the coming of thepaymaster. By the way, he ought to be here day after to-morrow, orto-morrow night in fact; it's long after twelve now. The escorts werewarned as we came along."
"I think it a mistake," said Brooks, gravely, "to let any one knowbeforehand when the paymaster is to start. That Friday gang probablymusters a hundred by this time. It's where all our thieves and desertersgo. I haven't a doubt your old sergeant has joined them by this time,Lawrence. I believe that's where Marsden's gone, and that we'll hearfrom them in force again before we're a month older. They've keptreasonably quiet all winter, but June isn't far off. I'm blessed if Iwould want to make that trip from San Antonio with forty thousanddollars in greenbacks with less than a big troop of cavalry to guardit."
"He's got more money than that this time," said Lawrence. "Most of thesemen have four months' pay due them; so have the cavalry along the route.He has two other posts to pay. Hallo!" he cried, breaking suddenly off,"what's all the light about down at the sutler's? Here comes thesergeant of the guard."
Running diagonally across the parade, the moonlight glinting on hisbuttons and accoutrements, an infantry non-commissioned officer wasspeeding towards the quarters of Captain Blythe, near the upper end ofthe row; but, catching sight of the group at the major's, he suddenlyswerved and came straight towards them, springing over the gurgling_acequia_ and the dusty roadway and halting at the gate.
"What is it, sergeant?" asked two or three voices at once.
"I was looking for the officer of the day, sir. Is he here?"
"Over at his quarters, probably. What's amiss?"
"There's two of Fuller's men in, sir, from Crockett,--just about playedout. They swear that not an hour after sunset the whole Friday gang--itcouldn't have been anything else--came a-riding out from the foot-hillsover towards the Wild Rose and kept on to the southeast. They saw thedust against the sky and hid in the rocks away off to the east of thetrail, and they swear there must have been fifty of 'em at least."
He had hardly time to finish the words when the sutler himself camegalloping over the parade, "hot foot," on his wiry mustang, and drew upin front of the gate. "Has the sergeant told you?" he asked,breathlessly. "It's Reed and his partner,--two of the best men on myranch,--and they can't be mistaken. You know what it must mean,gentlemen. The gang is after the paymaster, and I think Colonel Fraziershould know at once." No wonder Fuller was breathless, bareheaded, andonly half dressed. Anywhere from thirty to forty thousand dollars mightbe diverted from its proper and legitimate use if that Friday gangshould overpower the guard and get away with it. His coffers were filledwith sutler checks redeemable in currency at the pay-table, as was thewonted way of the old army. It was a case of feast or famine withFuller, and he poured his tale into sympathetic ears. Brooks himselfwent over to the colonel's, and found that weasel of a chief alreadyawake. Mrs. Frazier didn't allow galloping over her parade in the deadof the night without an attempt to detect the perpetrator. That vigilantdame had more than once brought graceless skylarkers to terms, and the_quadrupedante putrem sonitu_ of Fuller's mustang represented to herincensed and virtuous ears only the mad lark of some scapegracesubaltern, who perchance had not been as attentive to 'Manda as heshould have been, and she was out of dreamland and over at the windowbefore Fuller fairly drew rein.
"What is it, Brooks, me boy?" asked Frazier from his casement, as didgallant O'Dowd of his loyal Dobbin. "I'll be down in a minute." By thetime he reached the door Fuller had hurried up his stiff and weariedscouts, and in the presence of a little party of officers the story wastold again, and told without break or variation. There was only oneopinion. The scattered outlaws had easily got wind of the coming of thepaymaster with his unusual amount of treasure, and, quickly assembling,they were heading away to meet him far to the southeast of the big post,very possibly planning to ambuscade the party in the winding defiles ofthe San Saba Hills. Not a moment was to be lost. For the first time thefull weight of his divorce from all that was once his profession and hispride fell on Ned Lawrence, as for an instant the colonel's eyes turnedto him as of old,--the dashing and successful leader of the best scoutssent from Worth in the last two years. Then, as though suddenlyrealizing that he had no longer that arm to lean on, old Frazier spoke:
"Why, Brooks, you'll have to go. I can't trust such a command toMullane, and it'll take two companies at least."
And twenty minutes later, answering the sharp summons of their veteransergeants, the men of Mullane's and Barclay's troops were tumbling outof their bunks and into their boots, "hell-bent for a rousin' ride," andthe old captain of Troop "D" was saying to the new, "Captain Barclay,may I ask you for a mount? I've been longing for two years past for awhack at this very gang, and now that the chance has come I cannot stayhere and let my old troop go."
And all men present marked the moment of hesitation, the manner ofreluctance, before Barclay gravely answered, "There is nothing at mydisposal to which you are not most welcome, Colonel Lawrence; andyet--do you think--you ought to go?"
"I could not stay here, sir, and see my old troop go without me," wasthe answer.
Few were the families at Fort Worth that were not up and out on thepiazzas or at the windows to see Brooks's detachment as it marched awayin the light of the setting moon just as the stars were paling in theeastern sky; but the merciful angel of sleep spread her hushing wingsover the white bed where two children lay dreaming, and never until thetroopers were miles beyond the vision of the keen-eyed sentries did Adaknow that the loved father, restored to her but a few hours before, wasonce more riding the Texan trail, soldier sense of duty leading on, andGod alone knowing to what end.