"He does, Mother!" she said eagerly, missing entirely the double meaning
in Emma's remark. "He's the most interesting young man I've ever met!"
Because she knew she dared say nothing else, Emma said, "Yes, dear, you
may go."
"Thank you, Mother."
Though Emma would not have left her youngest children alone on the
prairie, she felt safe to leave them in Tad's care at the fort. That
night, to the music of a very good five piece band, she danced in Joe's
arms. She waited for him to tell her anything he might have found out
concerning Hugo Gearey, and when he said nothing she knew that he had
forgotten to ask. In turn Emma danced with Sergeants Dugan, Dunbar, and
a variety of others. She watched the young men trying desperately to
dance with Barbara.
Emma noted that she was with Hugo Gearey for two dances out of three.
She did, then, want to dance with him. Soldiers watched the pair,
jealous and suspicious. Emma danced again with Joe, and she knew that he
was very tired. She smiled at him, clasped his hand a little more
tightly and glanced again at Barbara.
"We can go," she whispered. "The dance is finished in another fifteen
minutes anyhow."
"Wouldn't you like to see it out?"
"No, darling."
Back in their quarters, Joe stifled a yawn and washed up. Emma sat at
the table, glancing alternately at the flickering oil lamp and at her
husband.
"I'm really not tired. I'll wait for Barbara."
Emma resisted an impulse to go to the window and look out. She knew the
dance was over, but Barbara had not appeared. Then, a half hour later,
she heard them at the door. Emma waited, not sure as to whether or not
she was doing right. She tried not to listen to their low-pitched
voices. But there could be no mistaking the sharp sound of someone's
face being slapped.
The door opened and Barbara rushed in. Her cheeks were red, her eyes
were furious. She saw her mother and stopped uncertainly, closing the
door behind her.
"Mother!"
She wilted into Emma's arms and muffled her heartbroken sobs. Emma held
her strongly and caressed her tenderly. Barbara drew back and plastered
a handkerchief to her face.
"Oh, Mother," she sobbed. "I thought he was so wonderful! He's horrible,
Mother, _horrible_! The things he said! And then he tried to--to--"
There was a fresh burst of sobbing.
"Thank God you found out," Emma said quietly. "I've been afraid of that
young man from the beginning. But I knew you'd have to discover it for
yourself."
"But he was so charming, Mother, so--so _charming_!"
"Exactly," said Emma, dryly.
A spasm of fear crossed Barbara's face. "Mother," she whispered, "don't
tell Daddy."
"Don't you want him to know, dear?"
"No! I'd be so ashamed. I should have known better. I acted like such a
_fool_, Mother!"