Ten days passed. Barclay had become an institution at Fort Worth, yet
opinions were as divided and talk of him as constant as before he came.
First and foremost, he had met Mrs. Winn, and his demeanor on that
presumably trying occasion had proved a distinct disappointment. Winn
was recovering health, if not spirits. A stage-load of officers and
ladies had come from the cantonment to spend forty-eight hours, and a
big dance was prescribed for their benefit. Mrs. Winn danced divinely,
and never looked so well as when with a suitable partner on a suitable
floor. Those were the days when we raved over the "Mabel," the "Guards,"
the "Maude," and the "Hilda" waltzes, Godfrey's melodious
creations,--when the galop and _trois temps_ were going out, and we
"Boston dipped" to every tune from Pat Malloy to Five O'Clock in the
Morning, and the Worth orchestra was a good one when the first violin
wasn't drunk, a condition which had to be provided against with
assiduous care. The party arrived during one of his lucid intervals,
and the adjutant promptly placed the artist under bonds to shun the cup
until after the guests had gone; then he could fill up to his heart's
content and no fear of a fine. Winn couldn't attend, but Laura was
looking wan and sallow. She needed air and exercise, and her husband
urged her to accept Mr. Brayton's escort and go; so did Collabone; so
did her own inclination. Superbly gowned and coiffed and otherwise
decorated, she went, and her entrance was the sensation of the evening.
It was long after ten when she appeared. The hop was in full blast; the
big room, gayly decorated, was throbbing with the rhythmic movement of
the closing figure of the Lancers. Almost everybody was on the floor,
for energetic were our dancers in those bygone days. Just as the music
came to full stop, and with joyous laughter and merry words of parting
the sets broke up, the women and girls, middle-aged or young (they never
grow old in the army), clinging to their partners' arms, fanning,
possibly, their flushed faces, were escorted to their seats, and the
floor like magic was cleared for the coming waltz. The group at the
flag-draped entrance parted right and left, making way for a young
officer in cavalry uniform at whom nobody so much as glanced, because of
the tall and radiant woman at his side, on whom all eyes were centred.
"Look at Laura Winn," was the whisper that flew from womanly lip to lip.
"Isn't she simply superb?" "Look at Mrs. Winn," muttered many a man, his
eyes lighting at the sight. "Isn't she just stunning?"
And then people began to hunt for Barclay.
He was standing at the moment talking quietly with Mrs. Frazier, who was
making much of the young captain now, and was accused of having hopes of
him on account of her eldest darling, who had dined by his side three
different times at three different houses during the week, and was
therefore said to be "receiving considerable attention." But the hush of
laughter and miscellaneous chatter almost instantly attracted the
matron's attention. She glanced at the door, gasped involuntarily, and
then as suddenly turned and narrowly watched him, for he too noted the
lull in conversation, and, slowly facing the doorway, saw before him not
ten paces away the woman who was to have been his wife, gazing straight
at him as though challenging him to look and be blinded, as blinded by
her beauty he had been before. She was only a young, immature, untaught
girl then, ignorant of her powers. Now the soft bloom was gone, but in
its place there lurked among the tiny threads of lines or wrinkles just
forming at the corners of her brilliant eyes, and in the witching
curves about her mobile, sensitive, exquisite lips, a charm beside which
her virgin graces were cold and formal. She had been what all men called
a wonderfully pretty girl. She was now what many women termed a
dangerously beautiful woman, and she knew it well. When we had no one
especially selected to "receive" in those days, it was a sort of
garrison custom for everybody to present himself or herself to the wife
of the commanding officer, in case that official was so provided. Mrs.
Frazier was seated in plain view of the queenly creature who, having
advanced a few steps beyond the portals and the loiterers there
assembled, now halted, and like some finished actress swept the room
with her radiant eyes, as though compelling all men, all women, to yield
to her their attention and regard, and then, smiling brightly, beamingly
(dutiful Brayton guided by the pressure of her daintily gloved hand),
moved with almost royal grace and deliberation to where Mrs. Frazier sat
in state; and the first lady of the garrison rose to greet her.
Unsuitable as is the full uniform for cavalry purposes to-day, it was
worse in 1870, when our shoulders were decked with wabbly epaulets and
our waists were draped with a silken sash that few men wore properly.
But whatever might be said of Sir Galahad's shortcomings as a boon
companion, or of his severely simple and economical mode of life, there
was no manifestation of parsimony in his attire. No man in the room was
so well uniformed, or wore the garb of his profession with better grace.
He who came in a flannel shirt and a rough gray suit, with a silver
watch and leather watch-chain, appeared this night in uniform of
faultless cut and fit, with brand-new glittering captain's epaulets,
while his sash was of the costliest silk net, of a brighter red than
generally worn,--most officers appearing in a stringy affair that age
and weather had turned to dingy purple. On his left breast Barclay wore
the badge in gold and enamel of a famous fighting division in a gallant
corps; and such badges were rare in the days whereof I write. Moreover,
though neither a tall man nor a stalwart, Captain Barclay was erect,
wiry, and well proportioned, and his head and face were well worth the
second look every one had been giving this night. "The Twelfth have been
swearing like pirates at having another doughboy saddled on 'em,"
chuckled Captain Perkins, himself a doughboy. "Begad, the Twelfth has no
better picture of the officer and the gentleman than this importation
from the Foot." But no one spoke with the thought of being heard as
Laura Winn finished her greeting to Mrs. Frazier. Every man and woman
was intent only on what was coming next, although many strove to speak,
or to appear to listen, to their neighbors. Charlotte Frazier actually
rose from her seat and stepped out into the room that she might have a
better view.
And Barclay would not have been the observant man he had already shown
himself to be had he not known it. His color was a bit high for one
whose face was ordinarily so pale, but he stood calmly erect, with an
expression of pleased contemplation in his fine eyes, waiting for Mrs.
Winn to finish the somewhat hurried yet lavish words that she addressed
to Mrs. Frazier; then she turned effusively upon him.
"Captain Barclay!" she exclaimed. "How very good to see you here! and
how glad we all are to welcome you to the Twelfth! Mr. Winn and I have
been in despair because his illness has kept him a prisoner. Indeed, I
doubt if I should have left him at all to-night but for his positive
orders--and the doctor's; then, of course, I much wanted to see
you--too."
She had begun confidently, even masterfully. She looked him with
determined effort straight in the face at the start, but her confidence
flitted before a dozen words were said. Her voice faltered before she
had half finished, for Barclay's eyes frankly, even smilingly, met hers,
and with ease and dignity and courteous interest all commingled he had
bowed slightly over her hand, lowered it after a brief, by no means
lingering, pressure, and stood, merely mentioning her name, "Mrs. Winn,"
and, as was rather a way of his, letting the other party do all the
talking. It was a godsend to Laura Winn that the waltz music began at
the next instant, for his nonchalance was something utterly unexpected.
Oh, how dared he look so calmly, indifferently, forgetfully, almost
unrecognizingly, into her eyes, and stand there so placidly, when her
heart was fluttering wildly with nervous excitement, her words coming in
gasps!
"Oh, Mr. Brayton, how heavenly!" she exclaimed. "Don't let us lose an
instant of that waltz." Over his glittering shoulder she beamed in
parting a bewitching smile, levelled all at Barclay, and glided away, a
floating cloud of filmy drapery, a vision of flashing eyes, of flushing
cheeks, of dazzling white teeth gleaming between the parted rose-leaves
of her mouth, of snowy shoulders and shapely arms, of peeping, pointed,
satin-shod feet, the handsomest creature in all that crowded room, and
the most dismally unhappy. She had met him in the witnessing presence of
all Fort Worth, and all the garrison saw that she had sustained a
crushing defeat. She who was to have been his wife and had duped him,
she who had looked to subjugate him once more, was duped in turn, the
victim of her own vanity.
"And to think," said Mrs. De Lancy, "she only changed her half-mourning
a month ago, and now--in full ball costume!"
Fort Worth didn't stop talking of that episode for all of another week,
and that, too, in the face of other interesting matter.
To begin with, Sergeant Marsden had disappeared as though from the face
of the earth. Whither he had fled no man could say. No settlement worth
the name had not been searched, no ranch remained unvisited. Fuller's
people would not shield the fugitive, for Fuller, as the post sutler,
suffered equally with Uncle Sam from the sergeant's depredations.
Settlers and ranch people who bought of the latter cut into the business
of the former, and Fuller would most gladly have had him "rounded up"
long weeks ago; but Marsden and his few confederates in the garrison had
admirably covered their tracks, and the indications of declining trade
that had roused the sutler's suspicions led to no arousal of vigilance
within the sentry line: wherefore Fuller's heart was hardened against
the post commander and the erstwhile commissary, and this, too, at a
time when the latter stood in sorest need of financial help. The extent
of poor Winn's losses and responsibility was now known: so far as his
commissary accounts were concerned, not a cent less than three thousand
dollars would cover them. The quartermaster was out a horse and
equipments, and several confiding enlisted men and laundresses were
defrauded of money loaned the dashing sergeant. Uncle Sam, be it known,
has summary methods as a bill-collector. He simply stops his servant's
pay until the amount due is fully met. Winn's total pay and emoluments
as computed in '70 and '71 would barely serve in two years to square
himself with his exacting Uncle. Meantime, what were wife and baby and
other claimants to do? What was he to live on, and so insure payment of
which his death would destroy all possibility? Crushed as Winn was,
there were men and women who roundly scored his wife for appearing
superbly dressed at the first ball graced by the presence of her
discarded lover. Yet had she stayed away, their disappointment would
have exceeded this disapprobation. Collabone said his patient suffered
from a low fever, which the unprofessional found difficult to
understand, in view of Mrs. Winn's diagnosis, which declared it
alarmingly high. Certain it is that he kept his room until four days
after the evening of the ball; then he had to turn out and face the
music, for orders came from "San Antone."
Then, too, came another invoice of interesting matter to Fort Worth, and
it must be remembered that, in the narrow and restricted life of the far
frontier, interest existed in matters that seem too trivial for mention
in the broader spheres of the metropolis. The invoice was an actual and
material fact, and consisted of a big wagon-load of household goods
consigned to Captain Barclay, accompanied by a dignified Ethiopian and
two very knowing-looking horses that had many of the points of
thoroughbreds. The quartermaster's train under proper escort had made
the long pull from Department Head-Quarters, and all unannounced came
these chattels to the new troop leader. The very next morning, which was
a Sunday, when Brooks's four troops formed line for inspection in the
old-fashioned full dress of the cavalry, the men in shell jackets and
plumed felt hats, the officers in long-skirted, clerical-looking
frock-coats, black ostrich plumes, gold epaulets, and crimson sashes,
there rode at the head of Lawrence's old troop a new captain, whose
horse and equipments became the centre of critical and admiring eyes the
moment it was possible for his comrades to leave their commands and
gather about him. Very few officers in those days possessed anything
better than the regulation troop bridle and raw-hide McClellan saddle,
which with their folded blankets satisfied all the modest requirements
of the frontier. The light-batterymen indulged in a little more style
and had picturesque red blankets to help out, but even they were put in
the shade, and came trotting over during the rest after Brooks had made
the formal ride round to look at the general appearance of his command.
All hands seemed to gather in approbation about Barclay's charger. The
horse himself was a bright, blooded bay, with jet-black, waving mane,
tail, and forelock, superb head, shoulders and haunches, and nimble
legs, all handsomely set off by a glistening bridle with double rein,
martingale, glossy breast-strap and polished bits, curb-chain, bosses,
rings, and heart, with the regimental number in silver on the bosses and
at the corner of the handsome shabraque of dark blue cloth, patent
leather, and the yellow edging and trimming of the cavalry. "The only
outfit of the kind at Worth," said Brooks, emphatically. "And yet,
gentlemen," he continued, seeing latent criticism in the eyes of certain
of the circle, "it's all strictly in accordance with regulations, and
just as we used to have it in the old days before the war. I wish we all
had the same now. I haven't seen a Grimsley outfit since '61."
"Grimsley it is," said the veteran captain of the light battery. "Mine
went to Richmond in '61 with what we didn't save of our battery at First
Bull Run."
"Grimsley it is," said his junior subaltern. "If Sam Waring could only
see that, he'd turn green with envy to-day and borrow it to-morrow."
Whereat there went up a laugh, for Waring was a man of mark in the queer
old days of the army.
Then of course every one wanted to know, as the cavalcade rode from the
drill-ground up to the post, where Barclay had bought his horses, and
some inquired how much they cost; and to all queries of the kind Barclay
answered, with perfect good humor, that he had ordered the equipments of
the old firm of Grimsley, still doing business in St. Louis, as it did
in the days when Jefferson Barracks and Leavenworth and Riley were
famous cavalry stations in the '50s; the horses he had bought of a
family connection in Kentucky, and had given seven hundred dollars for
the pair.
"See here, Hodge," growled the old stagers as they clustered about the
club-room, sipping cooling drinks after the warm morning exercise,
"what's all this you've been telling us about Barclay's inexpensive,
economical, and skimpy ways? He's got the outfit of a British
field-marshal, by gad!"
But Hodge was too much concerned and confounded to speak. "It's more'n I
can explain," he said. "Why, he wouldn't spend ten cents in Wyoming."
And yet, had Hodge only known it, Barclay's infantry outfit was of just
as fine finish and material, as far as it went, as these much more
costly and elaborate appointments of the mounted service. Everything
connected with the dress or equipments of his profession Barclay, who
would spend nothing for frivolities, ordered of the best furnishers, and
no man ever appeared on duty in uniform more precise or equipments of
better make.
Of course the club-room was not the only place where Barclay's really
bewildering appearance was discussed. Among the officers there were many
who growled and criticised. It was all right to have handsome horses, if
he could afford it: any cavalryman would try to do that, was the
verdict. "But all these other jimcracks, they're simply moonshine!" And
yet, as pointed out by Major Brooks, it was all strictly according to
regulation. "Damn the regulations!" said Captain Follansbee; "they're
too expensive for me." And, take it all in all, the feeling of the mess
was rather against than with Barclay; he had no business wearing better
clothes or using better horse-furniture than did his fellows. Follansbee
went so far as to tackle Blythe on the subject and invoke his sympathy,
but that massive old dragoon disappointed him. "Barclay's right," said
he; "and if the rules were enforced we'd all have to get them."
"But they cost so much," said Follansbee.
"Not half what you spend in whiskey in half the time it would take to
get them here," was the unfeeling rejoinder.
Mrs. Frazier and Mrs. De Lancy, however, wished the captain had brought
an easy open carriage with driving horses instead of saddlers. It would
have been far more useful, said those level-headed women. And so it
might have been--to them.
But in the midst of all the talk and discussion came tidings that amazed
Fort Worth. Ned Lawrence was actually on his way back to Texas,--would
be with his precious babies within the fortnight,--would reoccupy his
old quarters for a while at least as the guest of the usurper, for they
had been formally chosen by Captain Barclay, to the frantic wrath of Ada
when first she heard the news,--wrath that sobbed itself out in the lap
of her loving friend Mrs. Blythe, as the motherless girl listened with
astonished ears to the explanation.
"So far from raging at him, Ada, you should be thankful that your dear
father and you and Jimmy have found so thoughtful and generous a friend
as Captain Barclay. If he had not chosen your house, Captain Bronson
would have done so, and you would have had to go. As it is, nothing of
yours or your father's will be disturbed."
And sorely tempted was the enthusiastic, tender-hearted woman to tell
much more that, but for his prohibition, she would have told; and yet
she did not begin to know all.