AT RUSSELL.
"What do you think!" exclaimed Mrs. Turner, breathlessly, as she rushed
in upon her friend Mrs. Stannard one bright morning a week later, "Mrs.
Truscott and Miss Sanford will both be here to-morrow. Mr. Gleason
escorts them. Why!" she added, in visible disappointment, "you knew all
about it all the time. Why didn't you tell me?"
"I only knew yesterday, Mrs. Turner," was the smiling reply. "They will
stay with me until their quarters are ready. Captain Truscott and
Captain Webb will camp here with their troops until further orders, and
you knew, of course, that they were on their way. The ladies were to
have gone to the hotel in town, but Major Stannard sent word before he
left that Mrs. Truscott must come to me, and I have plenty of room for
Miss Sanford, too."
"Won't it be delightful to have them? It will add ever so much to the
life of the post," said Mrs. Turner, with visions of hops and parties
innumerable flitting through her pretty head. It was a week since the
--th had broken camp and marched away. Already they were far across the
Platte and up out of reach of all telegraphic communication somewhere
among the breaks of the South Cheyenne, and right in among the bands now
known to be hurrying day and night, northwestward, to join the hordes
of Sitting Bull. Captain Turner had been unusually grave in parting with
his wife, but that blissfully constituted matron had shed few tears. She
was philosophic and sensible beyond question. What good was there in
borrowing trouble? Didn't the captain have to go time and again just the
same way in Arizona, and didn't he always come back safely? Of course,
poor Captain Tanner and Captain Squires, and Mr. Clay and Mr. Walters
and others, had been killed, and lots of them were wounded at one time
or another; but heavens! if one had to go into deep mourning every time
a husband had to take the field, there would be no living in the cavalry
at all! Mrs. Turner was unquestionably sensible, and far be it from our
intention to upbraid her. Ladies there were in the --th who spent
several days in prayers and tears after they had seen the last of the
guidons as they fluttered away over the "divide" towards Lodge Pole, and
with these afflicted ones Mrs. Whaling, the "commanding officer's lady,"
would fain have lavished hours of time in sympathizing converse. She
loved the melodramatic, and was never so happy, said Blake, as when
bathed in tears. Detractors of this estimable woman, indeed, were wont
to complain that she was too easily content with these pearly but
insufficient aids to lavatory process; and her propensity for adhering
for weeks at a time to an ancient black silk, which had seen service all
over the Western frontier, gave sombre color to the statement. The few
ladies of the --th who had come to Russell for the summer were hardly
settled in their new quarters when the regiment was hurried away, and
from one house to another had Mrs. Whaling flitted, a substantial and
seemingly well-fed matron in appearance, and one whose eccentricities of
costume and toilet were attributable, no doubt, to a largeness of
nature, which rendered all care for personal appearance subordinate to
the claims of afflicted humanity. All the ladies had gracefully accepted
her proffered sympathy, and some had warmly thanked her for the
well-meant attentions; but Mrs. Turner was completely nonplussed by the
good lady's offer to come and pray with her, and it must be allowed that
Mrs. Whaling's visit of condolence had been productive of far more
comfort to Mrs. Turner than was expected,--and in a far different way;
for that volatile young matron rushed in upon Mrs. Stannard late in the
afternoon, choking with laughter, to describe her sensations in striving
to be proper and decorous until the venerable black silk had whisked
itself off out of hearing. Three days after the --th had gone the band
arrived from Hays. Mr. Billings had spent two days at the post in seeing
his men comfortably established and in turning over property to the
infantry officer designated to be post adjutant, and then he had taken
stage to Laramie and gone in chase. That evening, after the band had
played delightfully an hour or two on the parade, the officers suggested
an informal dance; their own ladies went readily, and Mrs. Turner
decided to go and see the hop-room, and once there it seemed so poky to
come away without a waltz or two. "The floor was lovely, so much better
than ours at Hays, and really, several of the garrison officers danced
remarkably well." So we infer Mrs. Turner had satisfied herself by
personal experiment on that score. Very properly, the informal hops
became regular features of the garrison life, and several ladies of the
--th, "grass-widowed" for the summer, were speedily induced to join in
these modulated gayeties. What with the band, the influx of some half a
dozen new ladies, and the constant arrival of officers _en route_ to the
front, the garrison not unnaturally remarked that Russell was jollier
now that the --th had gone than it was before.
And now Mrs. Truscott and the very interesting Miss Sanford were coming.
This was indeed news! They were to take quarters next to the Stannards,
and be Mrs. Stannard's guests until the furniture arrived and all was
made ready for them. Truscott's troop, with Webb's, was coming along by
rail fast as they could travel in the heavy freight-trains to which they
were assigned, and the ladies, Mrs. Webb included, were being escorted
on the express direct to Cheyenne by Lieutenant Gleason, who had joined
the party as they passed through Kansas City, and who had, doubtless,
made himself especially agreeable to the young and lovely Mrs. Truscott,
of whom he had heard so much, and to her friend, the heiress from New
Jersey. These were details of which Mrs. Turner was in ignorance when
she came in to surprise Mrs. Stannard with the news, and, after her
first astonishment, Mrs. Turner's sensations were not those of unmixed
delight. A whole day, it seemed, had the major's wife been in possession
of the tidings and had not imparted them to her. This was indicative of
one of two things: either Mrs. Stannard was so reticent that she did not
care to tell anybody, or else she had told others and kept it from
her,--from her who believed that she had made a most favorable
impression on this charming and popular lady of whom all men and most
women spoke so admiringly. Mrs. Turner's face betrayed her mental
perturbation, and Mrs. Stannard was quick to divine the cause. In
genuine kindness of heart she came promptly to the relief of her pretty
friend. Without being in the least blind to her frivolities, Mrs.
Stannard saw much that was attractive and pleasant in Mrs. Turner. She
was vastly entertained by her, and enjoyed studying her as she would a
graceful statue or a finished picture. Beneath the surface she had no
desire to penetrate. Warm friends and loving friends she had in troops,
and women of Mrs. Turner's mental calibre were sources of infinite,
though quiet, entertainment. She enjoyed their presence, was cordial,
kindly, even laughingly familiar, yet always guarded. Mrs. Stannard's
most pronounced characteristic was consummate discretion. She knew whom
to trust, and others might labor in vain to extract from her the
faintest hint that, repeated carelessly or maliciously, would wound or
injure a friend.
But here was a thing all the world might know. Truscott's telegram had
reached her the evening before, saying that the three ladies, escorted
by Lieutenant Gleason, would arrive at such a time, and that Mrs.
Truscott and Miss Sanford would gladly accept her offer. The average
woman could hardly restrain herself from going out and seeking some one
to whom to tell the interesting news. Few pleasures in life are keener
than the bliss of being able to convey unexpected tidings,--when they
are welcome,--but Mrs. Stannard knew that the ladies of the regiment
with whom she felt at all intimate were over at the hop-room. She had
all a woman's eagerness to tell the news, but--she was loyal to the
--th, and would not even in so little a thing let others be the bearers.
That Mrs. Stannard was a woman capable of deeds of heroism we deduce
from the simple fact that she went to bed that night without having
breathed the story to a soul. She had a strong impulse to tell her cook
and housemaid,--old and reliable followers of her fortunes,--but she
well knew that those amiable domestics would be clattering up and down
the back yards all the evening, and the news would surprise nobody when
she came to tell it next day. She was too true a woman to want to part
with such a pleasure. Then she had--ah! must it be confessed?--a little
mischievous desire of her own to see how Mrs. Turner would take it, for
those who knew Mrs. Turner best were given to the belief that she would
far rather have the attention of the masculine element of the garrison
concentrated upon herself than shared with such undoubted rivals as
these would be; and so, with perfect truth, Mrs. Stannard's reassurance
took the form of these words:
"You see I could not make up my mind to let any one know until I had
told you, and I've been expecting you all the morning,"--and Mrs. Turner
was charmed. "But," said Mrs. Stannard, "tell me how you heard it. I
thought no one knew it but myself."
"Oh! Mr. Gleason telegraphed as a matter of course, to announce that
_he_ was escorting these ladies. It was quite a feather in his cap to be
able to show the commanding officer here that Captain Truscott intrusts
to him the duty of guarding anything so precious. When you get to know
Mr. Gleason better you'll appreciate that," said Mrs. Turner, with a
pout. "Captain Turner can't bear him, and dislikes to have me notice him
at all; and what I wonder at is his escorting them. Why is he not with
his company? And where is Mr. Ray? If the board has adjourned, I should
suppose that Mr. Gleason would be on duty with his men,--he is
Truscott's first lieutenant, you know,--and that Mr. Ray would be
rushing through to catch _his_ company. Why isn't he escorting them I
wonder? Perhaps Captain Truscott had reasons of his own for not
permitting that,--Ray _was_ smitten with her, I don't care what Mrs.
Raymond says. Have you heard where Mr. Ray is?"
"Not a word. I wish I knew," said Mrs. Stannard, wistfully.
"Have you--have you heard anything about his being in any trouble, in
anything likely to keep him from going with the regiment?" asked Mrs.
Turner, hesitatingly, yet watching closely Mrs. Stannard's face.
"Nothing in the least that is anything more than a very improbable
story, and one that I have too little faith in to repeat. Tell me what
news you have from the captain." And Mrs. Turner knew 'twas useless to
ask questions. She hurried through her visit, and tripped eagerly away
up the row to carry the news throughout the garrison, meeting Mrs.
Whaling coming down, and the latter had the start.
And so, before the setting of a second sun, Grace Truscott was once more
in garrison, and Miss Sanford, with quietly observant eyes, was forming
her first impressions of army life in the far West, and welcoming with
sweet and gracious manner the ladies, who could not resist their
hospitable impulse to gather on Mrs. Stannard's piazza and greet the
new-comers as soon as they had removed the dust and cinders of railway
travel, and in the bewildering freshness of their New York costumes
reappeared on the parlor floor.
That evening, of course, they held quite a levee. The band played
delightfully upon the parade, welcoming back to the frontier the
colonel's daughter, and wishing, many of them, that old Catnip, too, had
come, for he was very thoughtful and kind to his men, and they were
realizing that it is no fun to be musicians for somebody else's
regiment. Many officers and ladies called, and Mrs. Stannard's pleasant
parlor was filled from early until late. One man appeared there before
anybody else, accepted an invitation to join them at dinner and stayed
until after eleven: this was Mr. Gleason.
The sunshine of Mrs. Stannard's bonny face was something the --th were
prone to speak of very often, perhaps too often to suit other ladies,
whose visages on the domestic side were not infrequently clouded. Just
as it is an unsafe thing to speak in presence of some mothers of the
grace or beauty or behavior of other children than their own, so it is
simply idiotic to talk of Mrs. So-and-so's sweet manners or sweeter face
to Mrs. Vinaigre, who is said, at times, to be snappish. It may be far
from your intention to institute comparisons or to refer, by inference,
to graces which are lacking in the lady to whom you speak, but there is
nothing surer in life than that you get the credit of it in the fullest
sense, and that, most unwittingly, you have affronted a woman in a way
the meekest Christian of her sex will find it hard to forgive; she will
never forget it. Mrs. Stannard's smile was sweetness itself; her eyes
smiled quite as much as her mouth, and her very soul seemed to beam
through the winsome, winning beauty of her face. All the young officers
looked up to her with something akin to worship; all the elders spoke of
Mrs. Stannard as the perfection of an army wife; even her closest
friends and acquaintances could find no one trait to speak of openly as
a fault. The nearest approach to such a thing was Mrs. Turner's
exasperated and petulant outbreak when her patient lord had ventured, in
presence of several of her coterie, to speak once too often of that
lovely smile. "Merciful powers! Captain Turner. Any woman with Mrs.
Stannard's teeth could afford to smile from morning till night; but it's
all teeth!" But even Mrs. Turner knew better. It was a smile born of
genuine goodness, of charity, of loving-kindness, and of a spiritual
grace that made Mrs. Stannard marked among her associates. In all the
regiment no woman was so looked up to and loved as she.
Grace Truscott had known her well by reputation, though this was their
first meeting. It seemed not a little strange to Miss Sanford that they
should be going thus suddenly and unceremoniously to be the guests of a
lady whom neither of them had ever seen, but "'tis the way we have in
the Army," was the laughing response when she ventured to speak of it,
and any hesitancy or embarrassment she might have felt vanished at the
instant when their hostess appeared on the piazza and both her hands
were outstretched in welcome. "Did you ever see a lovelier expression in
a woman's face?" was her first impulsive exclamation when she and Grace
were shown to their rooms. Yet, once her guests were up-stairs and out
of the way, Mrs. Stannard's brow clouded not a little as she descended
to the piazza, where she had left Mr. Gleason superintending the
unloading of trunks, boxes, and other baggage, and giving directions
about the distribution of this thing or that quite as though "one of the
family." She had never liked him; the major cordially hated him; she
knew that Captain Truscott could not possibly feel any friendship for
such a man, and yet here he was, the escort of Mrs. Truscott and Miss
Sanford on their journey. They were her guests, and therefore she had to
be unusually civil to him. One or two officers came up to speak to him
as he stood at the little gate, and the post adjutant invited him to
send his traps to his quarters, where a room was ready. Gleason looked
around at Mrs. Stannard and remarked, "Well, I'm much obliged, but you
see I'm rather bound as yet to our ladies," and plainly intimated that
he hoped Mrs. Stannard would offer him the spare room on the parlor
floor, but Mrs. Stannard did nothing of the kind; and, not very
gracefully, he availed himself of the young infantryman's courtesy. The
baggage was all in by this time, and there was no need of his prolonging
his stay. Mrs. Stannard, of course, announced that they expected the
pleasure of his company at dinner at six, and asked him to come in and
rest, unless he preferred to go at once and dress. Gleason concluded it
best to go, but, in the hearing and presence of the garrison officers
who were standing near, begged Mrs. Stannard to explain to the ladies
that he had to report to the commanding officer, and would she please
say to Miss Sanford that he would call at five?
What could that mean? was Mrs. Stannard's vexed inquiry of her inner
consciousness. Was the widower bent on making the most of his time in an
endeavor to fascinate the Eastern belle? The ladies were hardly dressed
when he reappeared, and was urging Miss Sanford to come out with him for
a brief stroll to see the mountain prairie and take a whiff of Wyoming
breezes, when the appearance of Mrs. Turner and others (who had just
happened by, but hearing their voices could not resist rushing in to
welcome Mrs. Truscott, etc., etc.) put an end to the possibility. It was
a comfort to note that though perfectly courteous and pleasant in her
manner, even to the extent of that indefinable yet perceptible half
intimacy which exists between travelling companions, Miss Sanford seemed
in no wise encouraging and by no means displeased at the interruption to
the plan so audaciously proposed. At dinner Mr. Gleason sat opposite the
young lady, and was, therefore, obliged to talk much with Mrs. Stannard.
After dinner he promptly established himself by Miss Sanford's side,
showing her albums full of photographs of the officers,--a collection
the major and his wife had been making for years, and one in which they
took great delight. Gleason knew most of them, and it enabled him to be
very entertaining, as he could tell some anecdote or incident connected
with so many, but the early coming of visitors broke in upon his
monopoly, yet could not wholly drive him from her side. It was observed
by every man and woman who came in that evening how assiduous was
Gleason in his attentions. More than that, there was something about
them that can best be described by the word possessive. It seemed as
though he had studied the art of behaving as though he felt that every
look and word was welcome to her. Mrs. Stannard was secretly
exasperated; Mrs. Truscott, who knew nothing of him until their westward
journey, was only vaguely annoyed, but no one could tell from her manner
what Miss Sanford thought.
It was after eleven when the last of the visitors withdrew, and still he
lingered. Once more Miss Sanford stood by the centre-table and bent over
one of the albums. She turned rapidly over the pages until she reached a
cabinet picture of a dark-eyed, dark-haired, trim-built young officer in
cavalry undress uniform.
"You did not tell me who this was, Mr. Gleason."
"That? Oh! That is Mr. Ray of our regiment," was the reply, in a tone
lack-lustre of all interest.
"Mr. Ray? Where? Let me see," exclaimed Mrs. Truscott, coming quickly to
them. "Oh, _isn't_ that perfect? When did you get it, Mrs. Stannard? How
mean of him not to send us one!"
"It was taken in Denver this spring," said Mrs. Stannard. "The major
says it's the only picture he has ever seen of Mr. Ray, and it is as
good as one can be that doesn't represent him in the saddle. You know we
think him the best rider in the --th,--we ladies, that is," she added,
knowing this to be one of Gleason's weak points. Mr. Gleason made no
remark.
"What became of the other members of the board, Mr. Gleason?" she
continued. "I expected to see Captain Buxton and Mr. Ray."
"Oh, they gave us all ten days' delay in joining so as to say good-by
to friends, you know. Buxton stopped to see his wife's family at
Leavenworth, but he'll be through here in a day or two." Then came a
pause.
"And where is Mr. Ray? I supposed that he would be off like a shot."
There was an unmistakable sneer on Mr. Gleason's face, though the reply
was vague and hesitating.
"Yes, Ray made no end of fuss about getting off--until the orders came;
since then I haven't heard much--that is, I haven't seen anything of
him."
"He couldn't well get to the regiment without going through here, could
he?"
"No; but he hasn't gone, and he won't be going in any great hurry."
It was evident to Mrs. Stannard that Gleason was striving to be
questioned. Whatever he knew he was ready to tell, provided some one
would ask. Mrs. Truscott and Miss Sanford stood silently by, still
looking at the photograph, when Mrs. Stannard again spoke.
"Well, Mr. Ray was never behind in any previous campaign, and I'll
venture to predict he isn't far behind now. Now, Mr. Gleason, I'm going
to send you home, for these ladies are tired out with their long
journey."
He would fain have put in another word about Ray, but she was vigilant
and checked him. He hoped for an invitation to breakfast, but it did not
come. He plead with languishing eyes for a few moments more at the side
of the lady he desired to fascinate, but Miss Sanford was still looking
at the photographs and would not return his glance. Go he had to, and it
was plain to him that in striving to belittle Ray he had damaged his own
cause. It made him bitterer still as he strode through the darkness
down to the beacon-lights of the store. Gleason drank more and talked
more before he went to bed than was good for him; but no seed is so
easily sown as that of slander.