For forty-eight hours Fort Worth was in turmoil. To begin with, the
sudden, unheralded advent of a department inspector in those days meant
something ominous, and from Frazier down to the drum-boys the garrison
scented mischief the moment that familiar old black-hooded, dust-covered
spring wagon, drawn by the famous six-mule team, came spinning in across
the _mesa_ just after retreat, no escort whatever being in sight.
Cavalrymen had trotted alongside, said Riggs, from two of the camps on
the way, but they had made that long day's drive from Crockett Springs
all alone, trusting to luck that the Friday gang, so called, would not
get wind of it. Just who and how many constituted that array of outlaws
no man, including its own membership, could accurately say. Two
paymasters, two wagon-trains, and no end of mail-stages had been
"jumped" by those enterprising road agents in the course of the five
years that followed the war, and not once had a conviction occurred.
Arrests had been made by marshals, sheriffs, and officers in command of
detachments, but a more innocent lot of victims, according to the
testimony of friends and fellow-citizens, never dwelt in Dixie. Three
only of their number had been killed and left for recognition in the
course of those three years. One only of these was known, and the
so-called Friday gang managed to surround its haunts, its movements, and
its membership with a mystery that defied civil officials and baffled
the military. Escorts the size of a cavalry platoon had been needed
every time a disbursing officer went to and fro, and a sizable squad
accompanied the stage whenever it carried even a moderate amount of
treasure. At three points along the road from the old Mexican capital to
the outlying posts, strong detachments of cavalry had been placed in
camp, so that relays of escorts might be on hand when needed. At three
different times within the past two years, strong _posses_ had gone with
the civil officials far into the foot-hills in search of the haunts of
the band, but no occupied haunt was ever found, no band of any size or
consequence ever encountered; yet depredations were incessant. The
mail-stage came and went with guarded deliberation. The quartermaster's
trains were accompanied by at least a company of infantry. The sutler's
wagons travelled with the quartermaster's train, and the sutler's money
went to San Antonio only when the quartermaster and commissary sent
theirs, and then a whole squadron had been known to ride in charge.
Anything from a wagon-train down to a buckboard was game for the gang,
and soldiers, ranchmen, and prospectors told stories of having been
halted, overhauled, and searched by its masked members at various times,
and, whether found plethoric or poor, having been hospitably entertained
as soon as robbed of all they possessed. Only four days before Riggs
made his venturesome dash, three discharged soldiers, filled with
impatience and whiskey, had sought to run the gauntlet to the camp at
Crockett's, and came back, in the robbers' cast-off clothing, to "take
on" for another term, having parted with their uniforms and the savings
of several years at the solicitation of courteous strangers they met
along the route. Nothing but an emergency could have brought Riggs, full
tilt, for he was getting along in years and loved the comforts of his
army home.
Emergency it was, as he explained to Frazier instantly on his arrival.
The general had indubitable information that ranches to the south had
long been buying government stores, bacon, feed, flour, coffee, etc. The
source of their supply could only be the warehouses at Worth, and
Marsden was a "swell" sergeant, whose airs and affluence had made him
the object of suspicion. Those were the days when cavalry regiments had
a commissary, but Congress did away with the office, and Winn, whom an
indulgent colonel had detailed to that supposedly "soft snap" when
regimental head-quarters were stationed at Worth, had been left there
with his bulky array of boxes and barrels when the colonel and staff
were transferred to a more southern post, the understanding being that
he was to turn over everything to Frazier's new quartermaster as soon as
that official should arrive. Frazier's appointee, however, was a
lieutenant from a distant station. The War Department had not improved
the appointment when made. Correspondence had been going on, and only
within the week was notification received that the choice was finally
confirmed and that Lieutenant Trott would soon arrive. Meantime Winn
remained, but the stores were going. Somebody had money enough to bribe
the sentries nightly posted at the storehouse at the northern corner of
the big rectangle, and wagon-load after wagon-load must have been driven
away. Outwardly, as developed by the count made early on the morning
following Riggs's coming, all was right, but a veteran cavalry sergeant
scoffingly knocked in the heads of cask, box, and barrel, and showed how
bacon by the cord had been replaced by rags and boulders, sugar, coffee,
and flour by bushels of sand, molasses and vinegar by branch water, and
tea and tobacco by trash. "Two to three thousand dollars' worth of
rations gone," said Riggs, at noon, "and the devil to pay if Winn
cannot." Vain the night ride to Fuller's ranch in search of Marsden.
That worthy had long since feathered his portable nest, and on one of
the quartermaster's best horses had left the post within the half-hour
of Riggs's coming, no man knew for what point after once he crossed the
ford. Hoof-tracks by the hundred criss-crossed and zigzagged over the
southward _mesa_. Thick darkness had settled down. Fuller's people swore
no signs of him had been seen, and, though patrols kept on all night,
poor Winn came back despairing an hour before the dawn to face his fate;
even at noon he had hardly begun to realize the extent of his
overwhelming loss.
"Go home and try to sleep," said the colonel, sadly, to the dumb and
stricken man. "You can do no good here. I'll send the doctor to you."
But Winn started up and shook the old fellow's kindly hand. "I cannot
go. My God! I must know the whole business," he cried. "I cannot sleep
or eat a morsel."
"Whatever you do, don't drink," said Riggs, in not unkindly warning. "Go
and see your wife, anyhow, for an hour or so. She has sent three
times." But words were useless. Sympathetic comrades came and strove
with him and said empty words of hope or cheer,--empty, because they
knew poor Winn had not a soul in the world to whom to look for help. Kin
to half a dozen old army names, it helped him not a whit, for no one of
them was blessed with means beyond the monthly pay, and some had not
even that unmortgaged. Twenty-five hundred dollars' shortage already, to
say nothing of the cash for recent sales, and more, no doubt, to come.
The very thought was ruin. Refusing comfort, the hapless man sat down at
his littered desk, stared again at the crowded, dusty pigeon-holes, and
saw nothing, nothing but misery, if not despair.
Brayton went over at luncheon-time and begged a word with Mrs. Winn. She
peered over the balustrade from the second story, with big, black-rimmed
eyes, but could not come down, could not leave baby, who was fretful,
she said. Oh, why didn't Mr. Winn come home? What good did it do to stay
over there and worry? When would they get through? Brayton couldn't say,
but Winn couldn't come,--felt he must stay at the office; but if Mrs.
Winn would have some tea and a bite of luncheon prepared, he, Brayton,
would gladly take it over. Yet even this friendly office seemed to bring
no solace. Winn barely sipped the tea or tasted the savory broth.
Frazier and Riggs went out to luncheon, leaving him still seated at his
desk; and their faces were black with gloom when they reached the
colonel's door. Winn's distressing plight, following so shortly after
the dire misfortune that had happened to Lawrence, would have saddened
the whole garrison and tinged all table-talk with melancholy but for the
blessed antidote afforded in Captain Barclay's sudden and most
unlooked-for coming.
And what a surprise it was! All one afternoon and part of one evening
had Fort Worth been telling that Captain Barclay had refused the
assignment to a regiment and post where he must meet Laura Winn; that he
had resigned rather than encounter once more the woman who had played
him false; that he was too wealthy to care to bury himself in this
out-of-the-way hole in Texas anyhow; and even while they were talking,
all unheralded, here he was. The major's hospitable doors opened to
receive him within ten minutes of his dust-covered advent, and only by
hearsay all that night could the garrison know of his presence. One
small sole-leather trunk, with the travelling-bag, rifle, field-glasses,
canteen, and lunch-box, constituted all the personal luggage of the new
arrival. It could not even be said that any one outside of Brooks's had
even seen him, so coated with dust were the contents of that old spring
wagon when unloaded at the colonel's steps; and many a woman hastened to
her door on the following morning, attracted thither by the announcement
that Captain Barclay was on the major's porch.
There, with his host, he stood for quite a while, the major pointing out
the landmarks along the westward range, and indicating, apparently,
other features in the landscape. One or two officers, hastening by,
raised their caps or ran up the steps and shook hands with the
new-comer, but he was presently summoned in to breakfast, and neighbors
could only say he was not very tall, not very stout, not very slight,
not very anything. Captain De Lancy, who had had three minutes'
conversation, said he "seemed pleasant," but that was all. Mrs. De Lancy
was confirmed in her preconceived opinion that men were owls, because
her husband was unable to add to the military descriptive list of brown
eyes, brown hair, brown beard and clothes, any of the particulars she
sought. He couldn't tell whether Barclay had fine teeth or good
complexion, what his mouth was like, whether he had nice hands and
voice. Indeed, he couldn't see why Mrs. De Lancy should be so anxious to
know. Not until towards noon was any reliable particular concerning
Captain Barclay passed along the line. Then the domestic bulletin dealt
out the fact that the millionaire mine-owner wore a flannel shirt and a
silver watch, which information was distinctly disheartening.
But that evening, while the colonel and other officers began calling at
Brooks's to welcome formally the unexpected addition to the commissioned
force, Mrs. Brooks was able to slip out and over to her crony, Mrs. De
Lancy, and in ten minutes she had an audience, married and single, that
gladdened her heart. She could and did talk almost uninterruptedly for
over an hour. Arriving dames or damsels were signalled not to interrupt,
and, joining the circle, patiently withheld their questions until she
paused for breath; and then what every one seemed to want to know was,
had he said anything or asked anything about Mrs. Winn? He had. He
expressed the utmost sympathy with poor Mr. Winn. He told Major Brooks
of a similar experience that occurred in the --d Cavalry only the year
previous, and how it would probably take the defrauded officer years to
square the account. He most delicately inquired as to the general health
and well-being of Mrs. Winn, whom he had had the pleasure, he said, of
meeting several years before; but more particularly he had asked about
Lawrence, and Lawrence's children, and who was in charge of them; it
was evident that he was deeply concerned about them and most anxious to
meet Captain and Mrs. Blythe.
"Well, that's one thing at least in his favor," was the verdict; for
throughout Brooks's battalion, as it was then called, or squadron, as we
should call it to-day, there existed an indefinable feeling of
antagonism towards this stranger within their gates, thus coming to
usurp the place Ned Lawrence held in their hearts and homes, if no
longer on their rolls. Some one slipped out and brought in Mrs. Blythe,
for whose benefit Mrs. Brooks not unwillingly went over all she had told
about Captain Barclay's queries as to the children and their
benefactors; and that sweet, tender-hearted, motherly woman ought to
have softened to him, but didn't. "He could have heard it all at San
Antonio for the asking," she declared. "But he didn't stop two days at
San Antonio," explained Mrs. Brooks. "The moment he heard that Colonel
Riggs was going on by special ambulance he begged to be allowed to go
with him, and Riggs couldn't see a way to say no, and later confessed he
was very glad he had said yes."
"Brooks, you were all growling at the idea of having any outsider, much
less a doughboy, take Lawrence's place," were the bluff old veteran's
exact words; "but you mark what I say. I was rather prejudiced against
this young fellow myself, and it has just taken this jolt together from
San Antonio to satisfy me he is grit to the backbone, and you are in big
luck to get him."
At least a dozen men called at the major's that evening to pay their
respects to the new comrade. It was long after taps when the last one
left, but, almost to a man, they gathered at the club-room later to
compare notes. Hodge, of course, had called among the first, his claim
of intimate or at least old acquaintance rendering it necessary.
Barclay's brown eyes certainly lighted at the sight of the face he had
known in the far northwest; he chatted for a moment with the
infantryman, and expressed his pleasure at meeting him again. Then
Blythe entered, with his grave, massive face and courteous yet reserved
manner; and Brooks spoke of the fact that Barclay seemed to shake hands
more earnestly with him than with any of the others, and to look at him
oftener, though striving to slight no one. They sat there, as men will
at such times, somewhat awkwardly, only one speaking at once, and
generally the same one. Hodge, for instance, had much to say and many
questions to ask about fellows he had known in Wyoming, and when he left
and others came in, three or four went at the same time, having sat
stolid listeners, calmly studying Barclay with their eyes and finally
saying good-night, and "hope to see you when you get settled," etc.
They were talking of him at the store, and wondering when and where he
would settle, and whether he would take Lawrence's quarters, and what
would then become of Ada and little Jim, who with old Mammy still
occupied their rooms there and had all the furniture as poor daddy left
it, but who went over to the Blythes' three times a day to take their
rations with their army chums and playmates, the little Blythes. "What a
godsend it would be if he would buy poor Ned's books and furniture!"
said De Lancy. "It would yield enough to send those poor babies home."
"Home," said Blythe, sadly: "what home has a child whose kith and kin
are all of the army? They have neither home nor mother."
But no man made the faintest comment on facts the women remarked
instanter, that Barclay's watch was only silver and his guard an
inexpensive little cord or braid of fine leather, worn about his neck;
that his travelling suit was of rough gray mixture, and his shirt a
flannel _neglige_. But then, as Mrs. De Lancy explained in extenuation
of their blindness, he had donned his uniform by the time they called
that second evening, and it became him very well.