That Loring court was the talk of the West for many a month. Long before
its meeting the wrathful division commander had sent Colonel Stevens
back to the obscurity of Fort Emory, welcomed the new brigadier and bade
him, if a possible thing, quash the proceedings, but now it was Loring
who was obdurate. "This matter has been a scandal for months," said he.
"It must be settled now once and for all."
But, oh, what complications had not been brought about by Pecksniff's
spell of brief authority! Never before intrusted with a higher command
than that of a regiment, to the head of which he had risen by reason of
long years of unimpaired bodily health and skillful avoidance of all
danger, the old colonel had lost no time in moving, bag and baggage, to
Omaha, in having Nevins transported thither, in opening wide his ears to
his story of the heinous wrongs inflicted on him by that Arizona court,
through the malignity of its judge advocate, of that judge advocate's
heartless treachery to two helpless women, one of whom was Nevins' wife,
the other the officer's own deserted and broken-hearted betrothed. Then
came Petty, ordered to join his company in the field and eager as ever
to seek some loophole of escape. Reporting to pay his homage to the
temporary commander at headquarters he soon got an inkling of what was
going on, and all at once there flashed upon him the magnificence of his
opportunity. Here he could at one and the same time feed fat his ancient
grudge against Loring and make himself indispensable to the aging
commander of the department--perhaps even secure another staff billet,
certainly, at least, succeed in being kept there on duty and away from
the perils of the field until after the court, and meantime, what would
friends be worth if they could not move the powers at Washington.
Day after day he was closeted with old Stevens, adding fuel to the
flame of that ingenuous veteran's suspicions, but it is doubtful if even
Petty dreamed of the depth of Nevins' scoundrelism. Burleigh, whom the
ex-captain had "bled" and blackmailed, had passed beyond the bar of
human arraignment, "dying like a gentleman" even while captive in the
hands of the authorities; and so did Nevins impress his uncontradicted
tale of loyal service to the State on the old weakling in command, that
Stevens had declared that there was no evidence on which to hold him,
had ordered his release from custody on parole, unless the civil
authorities desired to prosecute him for "personating an officer," and
had written to the division commander, praising Nevins' conduct, and
urging that the sentence of imprisonment be set aside.
And then, he never could tell just who brought this about--whether it
was Mrs. Burton or Miss Allyn with their tears and tribulations; whether
it was Nevins, with his bold accusations, or Petty, with his insidious
tales, but between them all the old colonel was induced to send his
adjutant and acting aid to examine certain baggage of Loring's stored at
the hotel. Never having given up his room when hurrying off to Gate
City; expecting to be back within a week and merely to pay room rent
when absent, as was the arrangement of the day, Loring had left his
trunks and desks securely locked. Two officers and the protesting hotel
clerk were present at the opening. The locksmith, even, seemed to hate
his job; the adjutant had never a meaner one, but Petty was eager. Fresh
from an interview with Geraldine, he was the directing spirit. It was
his hand that extracted from deep down under the packed clothing in the
trunk, a small tin box, wrapped in a silk handkerchief. Within the box,
when opened, were certain letters in a woman's hand--Geraldine
Allyn's--letters written to Loring in the days of their brief
engagement, letters long since returned to her under his hand and seal,
and with them, in closely-folded wraps of tissue paper, inclosed in
stout envelope, a valuable solitaire and as valuable a ring. The
regimental adjutant it was who opened the box and who made these
discoveries. Half an hour later they were identified by Nevins, in the
presence of old Pecksniff, as the diamonds intrusted to Loring's care in
Arizona, and Nevins professed to be disappointed because the watch, too,
was not found with them.
Not until late July did Loring learn of the action taken in his enforced
absence, and of the resulting developments. Not a word would he
vouchsafe in explanation, when old Pecksniff, wilting under the
criticisms of his superiors, sent his adjutant to "invite remarks." "The
court has been ordered," said Loring, with coolness described as
contemptuous, "I'll make my remarks there." But long before that court
could meet, the colonel, as has been said, went back to his post. The
new commander arrived, and ordered Nevins to an Iowa prison to serve out
the year awarded him; sent Captain Petty summarily to Laramie, and bade
Mrs. Burton go about her business when that lachrymose person came to
urge that he should do something "to make Lieutenant Loring settle."
She had lost her lovely boarder, too, for no sooner had "Mrs. Fletcher"
heard of the new accusations against Loring than she appeared at Omaha,
and whisked her sister away, no one at Omaha knew where, but indignant
old John Folsom could perhaps have told. He cut Pecksniff dead when that
officer returned to Emory, and refused to go near the fort. He threw
open his doors and his heart to Loring when the convalescing Engineer
was brought in from the ranch. The new General actually came, ostensibly
to inspect the post, but spent twelve hours at Folsom's by Loring's side
to the one devoted to Stevens, and everybody felt that there was a storm
brewing that would break when finally the witnesses for the defense
arrived and the Loring court could meet.
But who would have dreamed there could be such dramatic scene before a
military tribunal?
It came with the third day of the trial. The court had been carefully
selected by old Pecksniff, whose adjutant had obediently signed the
charges drawn up under the chief's directions. There were only nine
officers in the array--"no others being available without manifest
injury to the service"--read the formula of the day. Five were officers
of Stevens' regiment, one a cavalry major, the others of the pay,
commissary and quartermaster's departments. None had known Loring.
Everybody expected him to object to some at least, but he objected to
none. The judge advocate was a vigilant official who made the most of
his opportunity, but his witnesses for the prosecution were, with one
exception, weak; the exception was Nevins. He swore stoutly that he had
given the valuables in Arizona to Loring, and from that day had never
seen them until they were found secreted in Loring's trunk, and, to the
amaze of the court, Loring declined to cross-examine. Petty was a
failure. He wanted to swear to a thousand things that other people had
told him, for of himself he knew nothing, and though the defense never
interposed, the court did. It was all hearsay, and he was finally
excused. Mrs. Burton appeared, but like Mrs. Cluppins of blessed
memory, had more to say of her domestic and personal affairs than the
allegations against the accused. Miss Allyn, said the judge advocate, in
embarrassment, was to have appeared on the afternoon of the second day,
but did not, nor could he find her. She was a most important witness, so
he had been assured by--various persons, but at the last moment she had
apparently deserted the cause of the prosecution. A civil court would
have had power to drag an unwilling witness before it and compel his or
her testimony; a military court has neither, so long as the desired
person is not in the military service, which Miss Allyn and some sixty
million others at that time could not be said to be. A sensation was
"sprung" on the court at this juncture by the defense. It magnanimously
informed the court that John Folsom, of Gate City, knew where that
witness was in hiding, and that she could be reached through him,
whereupon the judge advocate seemed to lose his eagerness.
Something was wrong with the prosecution anyway. It had begun with
truculent confidence. It was unnerved by the serene composure of the
accused, and his refusal to object to anything, to cross-examine, to
avail himself of any one of the privileges accorded the defense. This
could have only one interpretation, and Nevins, twitching with nervous
dread, was worrying the judge advocate with perpetual questions as to
the witnesses for the defense. When were they to be produced? Who were
they? And the judge advocate did not know. Very unfairly had he been
treated, said he, for the list of witnesses for the defense not only had
not been furnished him, but he had never been "consulted." Two or three
"stuck-up" Engineers had come out from St. Louis and Detroit, and Loring
and they had been actually hobnobbing with the department commander. But
the mere fact that the meeting of the court was delayed until the end of
September proved that they must be coming from the Pacific coast, at
which announcement Petty looked perturbed and Nevins twitched from head
to foot. He didn't suppose, he said, the United States would stand the
expense of fetching witnesses way from California, transportation and
_per diem_ would cost more than the whole business was worth.--and the
judge advocate was wishing himself well out of it when, on a sunny
Friday morning, the third day of the court, the president rapped for
order and the big roomful of spectators was hushed to respectful
silence. The defense had made its first request, that the principal
witness for the prosecution, Nevins, should be present, and there he
sat, nervous and fidgety, as Loring was serene.
In halting and embarrassed fashion, very unlike the fluent ease with
which he opened the case, the judge advocate announced that, owing to
the impossibility of compelling the testimony of witnesses on whom he
had relied, he was obliged to announce that the prosecution would here
rest. The defense, of course, he said, vaguely, would wish to be heard,
though he had not been honored with any conference or even a list of the
witnesses. Then he looked inquiringly at Loring, and every neck in the
thronged apartment, the biggest room at headquarters, was "craned" as
Loring quietly handed him a slip of paper.
The judge advocate read, looked puzzled, glanced up, and cleared his
throat.
"You mean you want these summoned?"
"No, they're here, in my office."
The judge advocate turned to the orderly of the court, a soldier
standing in full dress uniform at the door. The hallway, even, was
blocked with lookers-on. The windows to the south were occupied by
curious citizens, gazing in from the wooden gallery. Those to the north,
thrown wide open to let in the air, were clear, and looked out over a
confused muddle of shingled roofs and stove-pipe chimneys. Hardly a
whisper passed from lip to lip as the orderly bustled away. Members of
the court fidgeted with their sash tassels, or made pretense of writing.
Nevins, the sheriff's officer, in close attendance, sat staring at the
doorway, his face ashen, and beginning to bead with sweat. Presently the
people in the hall gave way right and left, and all eyes save those of
Loring were intent upon the entrance. He sat coolly looking at the man
whom six months before he had convicted in Arizona. There was a stir in
the courtroom. Half the people rose to their feet and stared, for slowly
entering upon the arm of a tall, slim, long legged lieutenant of
infantry, a stranger to every man in the court, came a slender,
shrinking little maid, whose heavy eyelashes swept her cheeks, whose
dark, shapely head hung bashfully. Behind them, in the garb of some
religious order, unknown to all save one or two in the crowded room,
came a gentle-faced woman, leaning on the arm of a field officer of the
Engineers, at sight of whom the president sprang from his chair,
intending to bow, but the silence was suddenly broken by the quick,
stern order, "Look out for your prisoner!" followed by a rush, a
crashing of overturned chairs, as court and spectators, too, started to
their feet--a general scurry to the northward windows, shouts of "Halt!"
"Head him off!" "Stop him!" in the midst of which a light, supple form
was seen to poise one instant on the sill, then go leaping into space.
"He's killed!" "He's not!" "He's up again!" "He's off!" were the cries,
and with drawn revolver the deputy sheriff fought his way through the
throng at the door and with a dozen men at his heels, darted down the
hallway in vain pursuit of Nevins, now out of sight among the shanties
half a block away.
Of all that followed before the court when at last it came to order,
there is little need to tell. The judge advocate would have been glad to
drop the case then and there, but now the defense had the floor and kept
it, though not a word of evidence was needed. The first witness sworn
was Lieutenant Blake, who told of the trick by which he and his men,
Loring's guards, had been lured from the camp at Sancho's ranch, and of
their finding Loring senseless, bleeding and robbed on their return. The
next was little Pancha, and Loring sat with his hand shading his blue
eyes as the pallid maid, with piteously quivering lips at times, with
brave effort to force back her tears, in English only a little better
than that in which she had poured out her fears to Blake that eventful
night at Gila Bend--sometimes, indeed, having to speak in Spanish with
the gray sister sworn as her interpreter--told the plaintive story of
her knowledge of and connection with Sancho's wicked band. Her dear
father and her stepmother were ruled by Sancho. She had seen Nevins
there often, "him who had fled through the window." She gathered enough
from what she heard about the ranch to realize that they were planning
to rob the officer, "this officer," before he could get away with the
diamonds. Nevins had ridden in with six men, bad men, that very night,
and she heard him planning with Sancho and her father, and she had tried
to warn the officers, and "this gentleman" (Blake this time) had come,
and before she could tell him she was followed and discovered. But then
her stepmother had later whispered awful things to her--how they were
going to rob the stage and kill the passengers, and bade her take her
guitar and try to call the officer again, and tell him to take his
soldiers and go to the rescue, and this she had done eagerly, and then
when they were away her mother seized her and drew her into the room and
shut her there, but she heard horsemen rush into the camp, and a minute
later Nevins, jeering and laughing in the bar, and that very night they
took her away--she and her father and the stepmother, and Nevins was
with them. They went by Tucson to Hermosillo and to Guaymas, and her
mother told her she must never breathe what she knew--it would ruin her
father, whom she loved, yes, dearly, and whom she would not believe had
anything to do with it. And at Hermosillo Nevins had the watch, the
diamond ring, the diamond stud, these very ones, she was sure, as the
valuable "exhibits" were displayed. But at San Francisco when the lady
superior told her of the accusations against "this gentleman" (even now
her eyes would not look into Loring's) and of all his trouble, she
forgot her father's peril, forgot everything but that Lieutenant Loring,
who had been so good and kind and brave, was wrongfully accused, and
she told all to the lady superior and went with her and repeated it to
the General, the General who had died. And when at last she finished her
trembling, tearful story, Loring rose before them all, went over and
took her hand and bowed low over it, as though he would have kissed it,
and said, "Thank you, señorita." And the judge advocate declined to
cross-examine. What was the use? But the defense insisted on other
witnesses--a local locksmith who had sold Nevins keys that would open
any trunk, a hotel porter who swore that the blinds to Loring's room had
been forcibly opened from without, a bell boy who had seen Nevins on the
gallery at that window three nights before the search of the luggage was
made. And the court waxed impatient and said it had had more than
enough. Every man of the array came up to and shook Loring by the hand
before they let him leave the courtroom, and Blake hunted high and low
through Omaha until he found poor Petty and relieved his mind of his
impressions, and finally the order announcing the honorable acquittal
of Lieutenant Loring, on every charge and specification, was read to
every command in the department fast as the mails could carry it.
Brought to by a bullet in the leg, George Nevins was recaptured down the
Missouri three days later, and sent for his wife that she might come and
nurse him. Though everybody said no, she went and did her best, and if
nursing could have saved a reprobate life he might still have remained
an ornament to society such as that in which he shone. But Naomi wore a
widow's veil when late in October she returned to Folsom's roof; the
good old trader had stood her friend through all.
There were some joyous weddings in the Department of the Platte the
summer that followed, Loring gravely figuring as best man when Dean, of
the cavalry, was married to Elinor Folsom, and smiling with equal
gravity when he read of the nuptials of Brevet Captain Petty and the
gifted and beautiful Miss Allyn. He had reverted to his original idea,
that of waiting in patience until he had accumulated a nest egg and had
acquired higher rank than a lieutenancy in the Engineers; and so he
might have done if it took him a dozen years had not orders carried him
once more to the Pacific coast, after the completion of the Union
Pacific railway.
Regularly every month he had written to Pancha, noting with surprise and
pleasure how rapidly she learned. Gladly he went to see her at the gray
sisters the day after his arrival. He had meant to laughingly remind her
of his good-by words: "You know we always come back to California," but
he forgot them when she came into the room. He took her hands, drew her
underneath the chandelier and looked at her, and only said:
"Why, Pancha!"
Loring never did say much, and it was a beautiful, dark-eyed girl who
uplifted those eyes to his and smiled in welcome, saying as little as
he. She was a graduate now. She was teaching the younger
girls--until--until it was decided when she should return to Guaymas--to
the home of Uncle Ramon, who had been good to her always, but
especially since her poor father's death. She did go back to Guaymas, by
and by, but not until Uncle Ramon had come twice, at long intervals, to
San Francisco to see her and the good lady Superior, and to confer with
a very earnest, clear-eyed, dignified man at headquarters. There came a
new Idaho on the line to Guaymas, and a newer, bigger, better steamer
still a year or two later, and bluff old Captain Moreland was given the
command of the best of the fleet, and on the first trip out from 'Frisco
welcomed with open arms two subalterns of the army, one of the
Engineers, the other a recent transfer to the cavalry, both old and
cherished friends.
"We won't have you with us on the back trip, Blake, old boy," he said,
as he wrung their hands when he saw them go ashore at Guaymas, "but I
can tell you right here and now there won't be anything on this ship too
good for Mrs. Loring--of the Engineers."
"It is a pretty name! I'm glad its mine now," said Pancha, one starlit
night on the blue Pacific, as they neared the lights of the Golden
Gate.
"It was a wounded name, Pancha, wounded worse than I," he answered
reverently, "until you came and healed and saved it."
THE END.