The doctor was giving a little dinner in honor of his friend Mr.
Holmes. Two days now had that gentleman been in garrison, where his
advent had created more of a flutter than the coming of an
inspector-general. He had a large cattle-range farther to the south,
beyond the Chugwater and comparatively removed from the scene of Indian
hostility and depredation; but such had become the laxity of discipline
on the part of the bureau officials, or such was their dread of their
turbulent charges at the reservations, that, from time to time,
marauding parties of young warriors had been raiding from the agencies
during the month of April, crossing the Platte River and dashing down
on the outskirts of the great cattle-herds south of Scott's Bluffs and
in the valleys of Horsehead and Bear Creeks. One party had even dared
to attack the ranches far up the Chugwater Valley at the crossing of
the Cheyenne road; another had ridden all around Fort Laramie, fording
the Platte above and below; and several of them had made away with
dozens of head of cattle bearing the well-known brand of Mr. Holmes of
Chicago. It was to see what could be done toward preventing the
recurrence of this sort of thing that brought Mr. Holmes to Laramie. At
least he said so, but there were ladies in the garrison who were quick
to determine that something worth more to him than a few hundred head
of cattle had prompted him to take that dangerous ride up from the
railway. "He would never have thought it worth while," said Mrs. Wells
after a day of quiet observation, "had Nellie Bayard not been here."
Another thing to give color to this theory was the fact that, yielding
to the importunities of Major Miller and his frequent telegraphic
reports of Indian dashes on the neighboring ranches, the division
commander had ordered a troop of cavalry back from patrol duty around
the reservation, and "The Grays" had marched in the very night before.
A scouting party of an officer and twenty troopers rode forth that
morning with orders to look over the Chugwater and the intervening
country around Eagle's Nest. If Mr. Holmes were in a hurry to get back
to business, here was excellent opportunity of driving half the way to
Cheyenne under escort. But Mr. Holmes, who had been somewhat emphatic
in his announcement that he could only stay one day, was apparently
well content with his comfortable quarters under the doctor's roof. He
might now stay longer, he said, for while up in that part of the
country he might just as well look over some mines in the Black Hills,
provided there were a chance of getting thither alive. Except for
heavily guarded trains, all communication was at an end between the
scattered settlements of the Hills and the posts along the Platte and
the Union Pacific Railway. The Indians swarmed out from the
reservations, attacking everything that appeared along the road, and
sometimes capturing the entire "outfit"; after plundering and scalping
their victims they built lively fires of the wagons, and cheerfully
roasted alive such of their prisoners as had the ill-luck not to be
killed in the first place. The road to the Black Hills, either from
Sidney or by way of Fort Laramie, was lined with the ashes of burned
wagons, and, in lieu of mile-posts, was staked with little, rude,
unpainted crosses, each marking the grave of some victim of this savage
warfare; and Mr. Holmes was quite right in his theory that it would be
far safer and pleasanter to stay at Laramie until some big party went
up to the Hills. The doctor was most hospitable in his pressing
invitation for him to make his house a home just as long as it might
please him. Nellie was glad to win her beloved father's praise by doing
what she could to make the army homestead attractive to his guest; the
guest himself was courteous, well-bred and cordial in manner, readily
winning friends all over the garrison; and the only man to whom his
protracted visit became a matter of serious disquietude was poor
Randall McLean. With a lover's intuition he saw that the wealthy
Chicagoan was deeply interested in sweet Nellie Bayard, and that her
father eagerly favored the suit.
Up to the hour of Mr. Holmes's arrival, there was not a day on which
the young fellow had not enjoyed a walk or one or more delightful chats
with the doctor's pretty daughter. He had no rivals; there were at the
moment no other bachelor officers at the post, with the exception of
Hatton, who, besides having a chivalrous disposition not to cut in
where his comrade was interested, was popularly supposed to be the
peculiar property of Miss Janet Bruce.
Now, however, since Mr. Holmes had taken up his abode under the
AEsculapian vine and fig-tree, McLean found it simply impossible to see
the lady of his love except in general company. The Chicago capitalist,
despite his thirty-eight years, was rarely out of reach of the little
pink ear, and, though courteous and unobtrusive, it was patent to
McLean that he meant no other man should charm it with a lover's wooing
until his own substantial claims had had full consideration. No matter
at what hour the lieutenant called, there was Roswell Holmes in the
parlor; and, when he sought to engage her for a walk, it so happened
that papa and Mr. Holmes had arranged to go calling at that very time,
and papa had expressed his wish that she should go too. It began to
look very ominous before the end of that second day, and when the
evening of the dinner came Mr. McLean was decidedly low in his mind. He
was not even invited.
Now there was nothing in this circumstance to which he should have
attached any importance whatever. Army quarters are small at best, and
a dining-room on the frontier big enough to accommodate a dozen people
was in those days a decided rarity. The doctor, after consultation with
Nellie and with the presiding goddess in the kitchen, had decided upon
ten as the proper number to be seated at his table. There would then be
no crowding, and all might go off without confusion. Very proud was the
doctor of some precious old family plate and some more modern and even
more beautiful china with which he adorned his table on state
occasions. He wanted to make an impression on his wealthy guest, and
this was an opportunity not to be neglected. He gave much thought, too,
to the composition of his party. The commanding officer and his wife
must, of course, be invited. Captain and Mrs. Bruce he decided upon
because they were people of much travel and, for army folks, remarkably
well read and informed. They would reflect credit on his entertainment.
The adjutant and his wife were also bidden as being guests who would
grace his board. But he did not invite even his own junior and
assistant, Dr. Weeks. "I can explain all that, Nellie. He won't mind,"
he said, "and besides, if Holmes can stay till the end of the week,
I'll give another and have all the youngsters." She had brightened up
at that, for her heart misgave her a little at the thought of her most
loyal friends being left out in the cold. Then she looked very grave
again when his next words were spoken. "And now, dear, we want one more
lady to make our party complete, and no one will do as well as Miss
Forrest."
Poor Nellie! She knew not what to say. Her father was, of course,
cognizant of the growing dislike to that strange girl, and had
pooh-poohed some of the stories that had been brought to his ears.
There was not a woman in the officers' quarters whom she would not
rather have invited, yet from the very first she felt in the depths of
her soul that Miss Forrest would be her father's choice. One timid
little suggestion she made in favor of Janet Bruce, since her parents
were to be of the party; but the doctor promptly scouted it.
"Why, daughter, she's barely seventeen, a girl who would not be in
society at all anywhere in civilization;" and with a sigh Nellie
abandoned the point. "Besides," said the doctor as a clincher, "I want
this a 'swell' affair; just think how much Miss Forrest's taste in
dress will help out."
Certainly his judgment was warranted by her appearance the evening of
the dinner, when, the last guest to arrive, Fanny Forrest came rustling
down the stairs and into the brightly lighted parlor. It had begun to
rain just before sunset, and she had brought Celestine with her to hold
the umbrella over her while her own jewelled hands gathered those
costly skirts about her under the folds of the gossamer that enveloped
her from head to feet. The girl, a bright, intelligent mulattress,
followed her mistress upstairs to the room set apart for the use of the
ladies, and was busy removing her wraps when Nellie ran up to inquire
if she could be of any assistance.
"Thank you heartily, Nellie," was the cordial answer. "How simply
exquisite you look to-night!" and Miss Forrest's winsome smile was
brighter than ever as she bent her head to kiss the reluctant cheek
that seemed to pale under her touch. "No, run back to your guests.
Celestine will put me to rights in a minute, and I'll be down in a
jiffy; don't wait."
And so Nellie returned to the parlor, and in a moment Celestine came
down and passed out at the front door, and then Miss Forrest's light
footfalls could be heard aloft as the guests grouped themselves about
the parlor,--the men in their full-dress uniforms, except, of course,
their civilian friend,--the ladies in their most becoming dinner
toilet. Despite her growing unpopularity every eye was turned (with
eagerness on the part of the women and Dr. Bayard) when Miss Forrest's
silken skirts came sweeping down the stairs. Her _entree_ was a
triumph.
"Thought you said her neck showed her age," whispered the major to his
better half. "Why, her neck and arms are superb!" a speech that cost
him metaphorical salt in his coffee for the next three days. The doctor
stepped forward in his most graceful manner to meet and welcome her.
Captain Bruce could not refrain from hobbling up and saying a word of
admiration; even Mr. Holmes fixed his dark eyes upon her in
unmistakable approval, and spoke a few courteous words before he turned
back to Nellie's side; and Mrs. Miller unlimbered her eye-glasses,
mounted them on her prominent nose, gazed long and earnestly at the
self-possessed young woman who was the centre of the group, and then
looked for sympathy to Mrs. Bruce--and found it. Never in her life had
Fanny Forrest looked better than she did that night. Her eyes, her
color, her smiles were radiance itself; her mobile lips curved over
teeth as white and gleaming as crystalled snow. Her bare neck and arms,
beautifully moulded, were set off to wonderful advantage by the dress
she wore,--a marvellous gown of rich, rare, lustrous black silk, that
fell from her rounded hips in sweeping folds that the women could not
sufficiently admire, while their eyes gloated over the wealth of gold
with which the entire front from the bosom to the very hem of the skirt
was heavily embroidered. An aigrette of gold shone in the dark masses
of her hair, but not a vestige of gold or gems appeared either at her
throat or in her ears. In her jewelled hand she carried a fan of black
silk, gold embroidered like her dress, and the tiny slippers that
peeped from the hem of her robe were of the same material and
embroidered in a miniature of the same pattern.
"Fort Laramie never saw anything handsomer than that toilet," whispered
Mrs. Bruce to the major's wife at the earliest opportunity; and the
latter, kind soul, was sufficiently melted by the sight to think of her
neighbors and say, "How I wish Mrs. Jordan and Mrs. Wells were here to
see it!"
The dinner went off merrily as chimes a marriage-bell. The doctor was
in his element when presiding at a well-appointed table; his cook was
one whom he had had at Newport and Boston Harbor, and a very reliable
servitor as such characters go; his wines were, some of them, gifts
from wealthy and aristocratic patients whom he had managed to serve in
the days when the sunshine of official favor illumined his daily life;
he had a fund of anecdote and table talk; his guests were responsive
and full of appreciation of the entertainment provided for them.
Nellie, in her shy maidenhood, was a lovely picture at the head of his
board; and Holmes, who sat at her left, was evidently more impressed
than ever. A son-in-law like that, rich, manly, and educated, a leader
of affairs in the city where he made his home,--the very thought lent
inspiration to the doctor's life. If the judges and the senators of the
East had turned their backs upon him, here he could find new power and
influence among the active sons of the young and vigorous West. What a
pity! What a pity! he thought, that the general commanding the division
were not here. He was coming, they all knew, and might be along any
day. Now, if he had only arrived in time to be one of the guests this
bright evening, who can say what the effect might not have been?
It must have been just before tattoo--after they had been at the table
a full hour, and tongues were loosened by the doctor's good wine, and
laughter and jest and merry talk were going round--that Mrs. Miller,
sitting at the doctor's right as became the lady of the commanding
officer, was surprised to see the hall-door, which had been closed
throughout the evening, swing very slowly a few inches inward. At the
same moment the lace curtains that hung about the archway leading into
the parlor swayed noiselessly toward her and then settled back to their
normal position. Presently the major, who was at Miss Bayard's right,
and with his back close to the hall-door, began to fidget and look
uneasily about. The doctor was just telling a very good story at the
moment and she could not bear to interrupt him, but after the laughter
and applause had subsided she came to her husband's rescue.
"The major is keenly susceptible to colds, doctor, and I see he is
fidgeting a bit. Would you mind having that door shut?"
"Which door, Mrs. Miller? Most assuredly. I thought it was closed.
Here, Robert," he called to his colored servant, "go and see if the
front door is shut. The wind sometimes proves too much for these
quartermaster's latches," he said, apologetically. "Was it shut?" he
asked, as Robert returned with an injured air as of one who had been
sent on a wild-goose chase.
"Perfectly tight, sir. Ain't been open dis evenin' since Miss Forrest
done got yere," was Robert's prompt reply. "I sprung de latch myself to
keep it from floppin' open as it sometimes does."
"All right. Never mind. You feel no draft now, do you, major?"
"Not a particle. It was all fancy, probably." And the laughter and talk
began again.
Later that long-remembered evening, as they sat around a blazing log
fire, for the night had been made chilly by the rain, there was much
mirth and chatter and gayety. Miss Forrest developed a new trait to
make her envied. She sang with infinite spirit and a great deal of
taste. Nellie's piano had known no such performer in the Western
wilderness as the brilliant young woman in the lovely black silk, whose
fingers went flashing over the keys, and whose voice came carolling
forth in rich and wonderful notes. It was a contralto, or at least a
deep mezzo, and the songs she sung were well adapted to its low and
feeling tones. Mr. Holmes stood over her much of the time as she
played, and applauded heartily when she had sung. "I did not expect to
find such a nightingale in the wilderness," he said.
"You were looking for a very different object, were you not?" said she,
raising her dark eyes to his in deep scrutiny, then dropping them
quickly until the lashes swept her cheek.
"Possibly," he replied, with calm gravity. "I had several objects in
view, but I rejoice in a visit that has enabled me to hear so cultured
a vocalist. I wonder no one spoke of your singing before, Miss
Forrest."
"Cease to wonder, Mr. Holmes. It is the first time I have seen a piano
in six months or more. We had none at Robinson, and I would have felt
little like singing if there had been one."
"May I ask where you studied music?"
"You may. It is evident that, like most people I know in civilization,
you are surprised to hear of accomplishments of any kind other than
shooting and riding in the army."
Holmes laughed merrily. "You are loyal to the comrades of your
adoption, Miss Forrest, and yet they tell me your frontier life began
less than a year ago."
"True; but I like the men I've met here, and might like the women if
they would let me. As yet, however, we do not seem to agree, thanks to
an unfortunate propensity of mine for saying what happens to be
uppermost in my mind at the moment; possibly for other good and equally
sufficient reasons. You asked where I studied music? Mainly in New York
and Munich."
"You have been abroad, then?"
"Years; as companion to an invalid aunt, thanks to whom I saw very
little of foreign countries, and but for whom I would have seen
nothing."
"You changed the subject abruptly, a moment ago, Miss Forrest. You were
speaking of your relations with the ladies here. Forgive me if I refer
to it, for I was interested in what you told me. Surely a woman as
gifted as you are can never lack friends among her own sex. Have you
never sought to win Miss Bayard, for instance?"
There was a moment's pause. Then she looked full up into his face, her
fingers rippling over the keys as she spoke.
"Mr. Holmes, has it never occurred to you that in friendship, as in
love, a girl of Nellie Bayard's age would prefer some one much nearer
her own years?"
He drew slowly back from the piano and stood at his full height.
"The doctor is calling us to the dining-room, Miss Forrest; may I offer
my arm?" was his only reply, and she arose and went with him.
They found the entire party grouped about the table, which was now
decked with a great punch-bowl of beautiful workmanship. A present, the
doctor explained with evident pride, from Baron Wallewski, of the
Russian Legation at Washington, whom he had had the honor of pulling
through a siege of insomnia two years before. It was more than anything
else to display the beauty of this costly gift that he had called them
once more around his board, but, since they were there, he would beg
them to fill their glasses with a punch of his own composition,--"there's
not a headache in a Heidelberg tun of it,"--and pledged with them the
health of the distinguished donor.
A ring came at the front door as Robert was standing, tray in hand, at
his master's elbow. "Say I'm engaged, if any one inquires for me," said
Bayard, and launched forth into some reminiscence of the days when he
and Wallewski and Bodisco and others of that ilk were at Old Point
Comfort for a week together. Robert, returning from the front hall,
stood in silence, like the well-trained menial he was, until his master
finished his narration and the guests had sipped the toast. It was a
performance of some minutes' duration, and at last the doctor turned.
"Who was it?" he said.
"Mr. McLean, sah."
"Wanted to see me."
"No, sah. The commanding officer, sah. He wouldn't come in; he's
standing in the hall yet, sah. Said s'cuse him, but 'twas mos'
impawtant."
Major Miller instantly set down his punch-glass, and strode out through
the parlor into the front hall. It was a season of incessant rumors and
alarms, and the party could not forbear listening.
"Halloo, McLean! What's up?" they heard him say.
"A courier just in from the cavalry, sir. They've had a sharp fight
over in the Chug Valley, north of Hunton's. Two men killed and
Lieutenant Blunt wounded. The Indians went by way of Eagle's Nest, and
will try to recross the Platte below us. Captain Terry is saddling up
the Grays now, and sent me to tell you. May I go with him, sir?"
"I'll be down at once. Certainly, you may go. Terry has no lieutenant
for duty otherwise." The major reappeared an instant in the parlor,
whither by this time all the party had hastily moved uttering
exclamations of dismay and anxiety, for Blunt was a young officer
beloved by every one. "You'll excuse me, doctor. I must start the troop
out in pursuit at once," said Miller; and then, followed by his
adjutant, he plunged forth into the darkness. When Nellie Bayard, with
white cheeks, peeped timidly into the hall it was empty. McLean had
gone without a look or word for her.
"By Jove, doctor, this sort of thing makes my pulses jump," exclaimed
Mr. Holmes the moment the major had gone. "Can't I go and see the
start? I'd like to offer a prize to the troop--or something."
"Of course you can. I'll go, too. We'll all go. I know the ladies want
to. Run up and get your wraps, though it isn't raining now." And the
ladies, one and all, scurried away up the stairs.
A moment later Mr. Holmes was slipping into his beaver overcoat that
had been hanging in the hall. Then he began fumbling in the pockets,
first one and then another. He tried the outside, then threw it open
and thrust his hand into those within the broad lapels, a look of
bewilderment coming over his face.
"What's the matter?" asked the doctor. "Want another cigar? Here, man!
There are plenty in the dining-room; let me get you one."
"No, no! It isn't that! I've smoked enough. Wait a moment." And again
he thrust his hands deep in the pockets. "Hold on till I run up to my
room," he continued, and darted lightly up the stairs. The ladies were
all fluttering down again and were grouped in the lower hall as he came
back, laughing, but with an odd, white look about his face.
"Holmes! Something's the matter. What have you lost? What's been
taken?"
"Nothing--nothing of any consequence. Come on. Let us hurry after the
major, or we'll miss the fun. Mrs. Miller, permit me," and he offered
his arm to the major's wife, who stood nearest the door.
"No, but I insist on knowing what is missing, Holmes. It is my right to
know," called the doctor, as he struggled into his army overcoat.
"Nothing but a cigar-case and an old pocket-book. I've mislaid them
somewhere and there's no time to look. Come on."
"Mr. Holmes," said Mrs. Miller in a low tone, "I have abundant reason
for asking and--no! Tell me. Where was that pocket-book and how much
money was there in it?"
"In my overcoat-pocket, at sunset. Probably one hundred dollars or so.
I never carry much in that way. You will not speak of it, Mrs. Miller?"
"To my husband I must, and this very night. You do not dream what
trouble we are in, with a thief in our very midst."
"Some of the servants, I suppose," he said, carelessly.
But to his surprise she only bowed her head and was silent a moment,
then muttered rather than spoke the words,--
"God knows. I only hope so!"