A Daughter of the Sioux: A Tale of the Indian frontier

  CHAPTER XXII

  BEHIND THE BARS

  In the whirl and excitement following the startling outcry from theflats, all Fort Frayne was speedily involved. The guard came rushingthrough the night, Corporal Shannon stumbling over a prostrateform,--the sentry on Number Six, gagged and bound. The steward shoutedfrom the hospital porch that Eagle Wing, the prisoner patient, hadescaped through the rear window, despite its height above the slopingground. A little ladder, borrowed from the quartermaster's corral, wasfound a moment later. An Indian pony, saddled Sioux fashion, was caughtrunning, riderless, toward the trader's back gate, his horsehair bridletorn half way from his shaggy head. Sergeant Crabb, waiting for noorders from the major, no sooner heard that Moreau was gone, than herushed his stable guard to the saddleroom, and in fifteen minutes had,not only his own squad, but half a dozen "casual" troopers circling thepost in search of the trail, and in less than half an hour was hot inchase of two fleeing horsemen, dimly seen ahead through the starlight,across the snowy wastes. That snowfall was the Sioux's undoing. Withoutit the trail would have been invisible at night. With it, the pursuedwere well-nigh hopeless from the start. Precious time had been lost incircling far out south of the post before making for the ford, whitherCrabb's instinct sent him at once, to the end that he and two of hisfellows ploughed through the foaming waters, barely five hundred yardsbehind the chase, and, as they rode vehemently onward through thestarlight, straining every nerve, they heard nothing of the happeningsabout the Fosters' doorway, where by this time post commander, postsurgeon, post quartermaster and acting post adjutant, post ordnance,quartermaster and commissary sergeants, many of the post guard and mostof the post laundresses had gathered--some silent, anxious andbewildered, some excitedly babbling; while, within the sergeant'sdomicile, Esther Dade, very pale and somewhat out of breath, was tryingwith quiet self possession to answer the myriad questions poured at her,while Dr. Waller was ministering to the dazed and moaning sentry, and,in an adjoining tenement, a little group had gathered about anunconscious form. Someone had sent for Mrs. Hay, who was silently,tearfully chafing the limp and almost lifeless hands of a girl in Indiangarb. The cloak and skirts of civilization had been found beneath thewindow of the deserted room, and were exhibited as a means of bringingto his senses a much bewildered major, whose first words on entering thehut gave rise to wonderment in the eyes of most of his hearers, and toan impulsive reply from the lips of Mrs. Hay.

  "I warned the general that girl would play us some Indian trick, but heordered her release," said Flint, and with wrathful emphasis came theanswer.

  "The general warned you _this_ girl would play you a trick, and, thanksto no one but you, she's done it!"

  Then rising and stepping aside, the long-suffering woman revealed thepallid, senseless face,--not of the little Indian maid, her shrinkingcharge and guest,--but of the niece she loved and had lived and lied formany and trying years--Nanette La Fleur, a long-lost sister's onlychild.

  So Blake knew what he was talking about that keen November morning amongthe pines at Bear Cliff. He had unearthed an almost forgotten legend ofold Fort Laramie.

  But the amaze and discomfiture of the temporary post commander turnedthis night of thanksgiving, so far as he was concerned, into somethingpurgatorial. The sight of his sentry, bound, gagged and bleeding,--thediscovery of the ladder and of the escape of the prisoner, for whom hewas accountable, had filled him with dismay, yet for the moment failedto stagger his indomitable self esteem. There had been a plot, ofcourse, and the instant impulse of his soul was to fix the blame onothers and to free himself. An Indian trick, of course, and who but thelittle Indian maid within the trader's gates could be the instrument!Through her, of course, the conspirators about the post had been enabledto act. She was the general's _protegee_, not his, and the general mustshoulder the blame. Even when Flint saw Nanette, self convicted throughher very garb and her presence at the scene of the final struggle,--evenwhen assured it was she and not the little Ogalalla girl who had beencaught in the act,--that the latter, in fact, had never left thetrader's house, his disproportioned mind refused to grasp the situation.Nanette, he declared, with pallid face, "must have been made a victim.""Nothing could have been farther from her thoughts than complicity inthe escape of Eagle Wing." "She had every reason to desire hisrestoration to health, strength and to the fostering care of the goodand charitable body of Christian people interested in his behalf." "Allthis would be endangered by his attempt to rejoin the warriors on thewarpath." The major ordered the instant arrest of the sentry stationedat the door of the hospital room--shut out by the major's own act fromall possibility of seeing what was going on within. He ordered underarrest the corporal of the relief on post for presumable complicity,and, mindful of a famous case of Ethiopian skill then new in the publicmind, demanded of Dr. Waller that he say in so many words that the gagand wrist thongs on the prostrate sentry had not been self applied.Waller impassively pointed to the huge lump at the base of thesufferer's skull, "Gag and bonds he might have so placed, after muchassiduous practice," said he, "but no man living could hit himself sucha blow at the back of the head."

  "Who could have done it, then?" asked Flint. It was inconceivable toWaller's mind that any one of the soldiery could have been tempted tosuch perfidy for an Indian's sake. There was not at the moment anIndian scout or soldier at the post, or an Indian warrior, not aprisoner, unaccounted for. There had been halfbreeds hanging about thestore prior to the final escapade of Pete and Crapaud, but these hadrealized their unpopularity after the battle on the Elk, and haddeparted for other climes. Crapaud was still under guard. Pete was stillat large, perchance, with Stabber's braves. There was not another manabout the trader's place whom Flint or others could suspect. Yet thesergeant of the guard, searching cautiously with his lantern about thepost of Number Six, had come upon some suggestive signs. The snow wastrampled and bloody about the place where the soldier fell, and therewere here and there the tracks of moccasined feet,--those of a youngwoman or child going at speed toward the hospital, running, probably,and followed close by a moccasined man. Then those of the man, alone,went sprinting down the bluff southeastward over the flats some distancesouth of the Foster's doorway and up the opposite bluff, to a pointwhere four ponies, shoeless, had been huddled for as much, perhaps, ashalf an hour. Then all four had come scampering down close together intothe space below the hospital, not fifty yards from where the sentryfell, and the moccasined feet of a man and woman had scurried down thebluff from the hospital window, to meet them west of Foster's shanty.Then there had been confusion,--trouble of some kind: One pony, pursueda short distance, had broken away; the others had gone pounding outsoutheastward up the slope and out over the uplands, then down again, inwide sweep, through the valley of the little rivulet and along the lowbench southwest of the fort, crossing the Rock Springs road andstriking, further on, diagonally, the Rawlins trail, where Crabb and hisfellows had found it and followed.

  But all this took hours of time, and meanwhile, only half revived,Nanette had been gently, pityingly borne away to a sorrowing woman'shome, for at last it was found, through the thick and lustrous hair,that she, too, had been struck a harsh and cruel blow; that one reason,probably, why she had been able to oppose no stouter resistance to soslender a girl as Esther Dade was that she was already half dazedthrough the stroke of some blunt, heavy weapon, wielded probably by himshe was risking all to save.

  Meantime the major had been pursuing his investigations. Schmidt, thesoldier sentry in front of Moreau's door, a simple-hearted Teuton ofirreproachable character, tearfully protested against his incarceration.He had obeyed his orders to the letter. The major himself had broughtthe lady to the hospital and showed her in. The door that had been open,permitting the sentry constant sight of his prisoner, had been closed bythe commanding officer himself. Therefore, it was not for him, a privatesoldier, to presume to reopen it. The major said to the lady he wouldreturn for her soon after ten, and the lady smilingly (Schmidt did not
say how smilingly,--how bewitchingly smilingly, but the major needed noreminder) thanked him, and said, by that time she would be ready. In afew minutes she came out, saying, (doubtless with the same bewitchingsmile) she would have to run over home for something, and she was gonenearly half an hour, and all that time the door was open, the prisoneron the bed in his blankets, the lamp brightly burning. It was neartattoo when she returned, with some things under her cloak, and she wasbreathing quick and seemed hurried and shut the door after thanking him,and he saw no more of her for fifteen minutes, when the door opened andout she came, the same cloak around her, yet she looked different,somehow, and must have tiptoed, for he didn't hear her heels as he hadbefore. She didn't seem quite so tall, either, and that was all, for henever knew anything more about it till the steward came running to tellof the escape.

  So Schmidt could throw but little light upon the situation, save toFlint himself, who did not then see fit to say to anyone that at no timewas it covenanted that Miss Flower should be allowed to go and comeunattended. In doing so she had deluded someone beside the sentry.

  It was late in the night when Number Six regained his senses and couldtell _his_ tale, which was even more damaging. Quite early in theevening, so he said,--as early as nine o'clock,--he was under thehospital corner, listening to the music further up along the bluff. Alady came from the south of the building as though she were going downto Sudstown. Mrs. Foster had gone down not long before, and Hogan, witha lantern, and two officers' ladies. But this one came all alone andspoke to him pleasant-like and said she was so sorry he couldn't be atthe dance. She'd been seeing the sick and wounded in hospital, she said,and was going to bring some wine and jellies. If he didn't mind, she'dtake the path around the quartermaster's storehouse outside, as she wasgoing to Mr. Hay's, and didn't care to go through by the guard-house. SoSix let her go, as he "had no orders agin it" (even though it dawnedupon him that this must be the young lady that had been carried off bythe Sioux). That made him think a bit, he said, and when she came backwith a basket nicely covered with a white napkin, she made him take abig chicken sandwich. "Sure I didn't know how to refuse the lady, untilshe poured me out a big tumbler of wine--wine, she said, she was takingin to Sergeant Briggs and Corporal Turner that was shot at the Elk, andshe couldn't bear to see me all alone out there in the cold." But Sixsaid he dasn't take the wine. He got six months "blind" once for asimilar solecism, and, mindful of the major's warning (this wasdiplomatic) Six swore he had sworn off, and had to refuse the repeatedrequests of the lady. He suspicioned her, he said, because she was sopersistent. Then she laughed and said good-night and went on to thehospital. What became of the wine she had poured out? (This from thegrim and hitherto silent doctor, seated by the bedside.) She must havetossed it out or drunk it herself, perhaps, Six didn't know. Certainlyno trace of it could be found in the snow. Then nothing happened for asmuch as twenty minutes or so, and he was over toward the south end ofhis post, but facing toward the hospital when she came again down thesteps, and this time handed him some cake and told him he was a goodsoldier not to drink even wine, and asked him what were the lights awayacross the Platte, and he couldn't see any, and was following herpointing finger and staring, and then all of a sudden he saw a millionlights, dancing, and stars and bombs and that was all he knew till theybegan talking to him here in hospital. Something had hit him frombehind, but he couldn't tell what.

  Flint's nerve was failing him, for here was confirmation of thegeneral's theory, but there was worse to come and more of it.

  Miss McGrath, domestic at the trader's, had told a tale that had reachedthe ears of Mistress McGann, and 'twas the latter that bade the majorsummon the girl and demand of her what it was she had seen and heardconcerning "Crappo" and the lady occupant of the second floor front atthe trader's home. Then it was that the major heard what others hadearlier conjectured--that there had been clandestine meetings, whisperedconferences and the like, within the first week of the lovely niece'scoming to Fort Frayne. That notes had been fetched and carried by"Crappo" as well as Pete; that Miss Flower was either a somnambulist ora good imitation of one, as on two occasions the maid had "peeked" andseen her down-stairs at the back door in the dead hours of the night, orthe very early morning. That was when she first came. Then, since therecapture, Miss McGrath felt confident that though never again detecteddown stairs, Miss Flower had been out at night, as Miss McGrath believedher to have been the night, when was it? "when little Kennedy had hisscrap wid the Sioux the boys do be all talkin' about"--the night, infact, that Stabber's band slipped away from the Platte, Ray's troopfollowing at dawn. Questioned as to how it was possible for Miss Flowerto get out without coming down stairs, Miss McGrath said she wasn't goodat monkeyshines herself, but "wimmen that could ride sthraddle-wise"were capable of climbs more difficult than that which the vine trellisafforded from the porch floor to the porch roof. Miss McGrath hadn'tbeen spying, of course, because her room was at the back of the house,beyond the kitchen, but how did the little heel tracks get on theveranda roof?--the road dust on the matting under the window? the vinetwigs in that "quare" made skirt never worn by day? That Miss Flowercould and did ride "asthraddle" and ride admirably when found with theSioux at Bear Cliff, everybody at Frayne well knew by this time. Thatshe had so ridden at Fort Frayne was known to no officer or lady of thegarrison then present, but believed by Miss McGrath because of certaininexpressibles of the same material with the "quare" made skirt; bothfound, dusty and somewhat bedraggled, the morning Captain Blake washaving his chase after the Indians, and Miss Flower was so "wild excitedlike." All this and more did Miss McGrath reveal before being permittedto return to the sanctity of her chamber, and Flint felt the groundsinking beneath his feet. It might even be alleged of him now that hehad connived at the escape of this most dangerous and desperatecharacter, this Indian leader, of whom example, prompt and sharp, wouldcertainly have been made, unless the general and the ends of justicewere defeated. But what stung the major most of all was that he had beenfairly victimized, hoodwinked, cajoled, wheedled, flattered into thiswretched predicament, all through the wiles and graces of a woman. Noone knew it, whatever might be suspected, but Nanette had bewitched himquite as much as missives from the East had persuaded and misled.

  And so it was with hardened and resentful heart that the major soughther on the morrow. The general and the commands afield would soon becoming home. Such Indians as they had not "rounded up" and captured werescattered far and wide. The campaign was over. Now for the dispositionof the prisoners. It was to tell Mrs. Hayand Nanette, especiallyNanette, why the sentries were re-established about their home and that,though he would not place the trader's niece within a garrison cell, heshould hold her prisoner beneath the trader's roof to await the actionof superior authority on the grievous charges lodged at her door. Shewas able to be up, said Miss McGrath,--not only up but down--down in thebreakfast room, looking blither and more like herself than she had beensince she was brought home.

  "Say that Major Flint desires to see her and Mrs. Hay," said Flint, withmajesty of mien, as, followed by two of his officers, he was shown intothe trader's parlor.

  And presently they came--Mrs. Hay pale and sorrowing; Miss Flower, pale,perhaps, but triumphantly defiant. The one sat and covered her face withher hands as she listened to the major's few words, cold, stern andaccusing. The other looked squarely at him, with fearless, glitteringeyes:--

  "You may order what you like so far as I'm concerned," was the utterlyreckless answer of the girl. "I don't care what you do now that I knowhe is safe--free--and that you will never lay hands on him again."

  "That's where you are in error, Miss Flower," was the major's calm,cold-blooded, yet rejoiceful reply. It was for this, indeed, that he hadcome. "Ralph Moreau was run down by my men soon after midnight, and he'snow behind the bars."