CHAPTER XXIII

  A SOLDIER ENTANGLED

  December and bitter cold. The river frozen stiff. The prairie sheeted inunbroken snow. Great log fires roaring in every open fireplace. Greatthrongs of soldiery about the red hot barrack stoves, for all thecolumns were again in winter columns, and Flint's two companies had "gotthe route" for home. They were to march on the morrow, escorting as faras Laramie the intractables of Stabber's band, some few of the Indiansto go in irons, among them Ralph Moreau, or Eagle Wing, now a notoriouscharacter.

  The general was there at Frayne, with old "Black Bill," erstwhile chiefinspector of the department, once a subaltern in days long gone by whenLaramie was "Ultima Thule" of the plains forts. The general had heardFlint's halting explanation of his laxity in Moreau's case, sayingalmost as little in reply as his old friend Grant when "interviewed" bythose of whom he disapproved. "Black Bill" it was who waxed explosivewhen once he opened on the major, and showed that amazed New Englandersomething of the contents of Moreau's Indian kit, including the nowfamous hunting pouch, all found with Stabber's village. A preciousscoundrel, as it turned out, was this same Moreau, with more sins toanswer for than many a convicted jail bird, and with not one followerleft to do him reverence except, perhaps, that lonely girl, selfsecluded at the Hays. Hay himself, though weak, was beginning to sit up.Dade, Blake and Ray were all once more housed in garrison. Truscott andBillings, with their hardy troopers, had taken temporary station at thepost, until the general had decided upon the disposition of the array ofsurrendered Indians, nearly three hundred in number, now confined understrong guard in the quartermaster's corral at the flats, with six "headdevils," including Eagle Wing, in the garrison prison.

  All the officers, with two exceptions, were again for duty at Frayne.Webb, laid by the heels at Beecher, his feet severely frozen, andBeverly Field, who, recalled from a brief and solemn visit to a farsouthern home, had reached the post at nightfall of the 10th. There hadhardly been allowed him time to uplift a single prayer, to receive aword of consolation from the lips of friends and kindred who loved thehonored father, borne to his last resting place. "Come as soon aspossible," read the message wired him by Ray, and, though the campaignwas over, it was evident that something was amiss, and, with all hissorrow fresh upon him, the lad, sore in body and soul, had hastened toobey.

  And it was Ray who received and welcomed him and took him straightway tohis own cosy quarters, that Mrs. Ray, and then the Blakes, might addtheir sympathetic and cordial greeting,--ere it came to telling why itwas that these, his friends despite that trouble that could not betalked of, were now so earnest in their sympathy,--before telling himthat his good name had become involved, that there were allegationsconcerning him which the chief had ordered "pigeon-holed" until heshould come to face them. A pity it is that Bill Hay could not have beenthere, too, but his fever had left him far too weak to leave his room.Only Ray and Blake were present and it was an interview not soon, ifever, to be forgotten.

  "I'm no hand at breaking things gently, Field," said Ray, when finallythe three were closeted together in the captain's den. "It used to worryWebb that you were seen so often riding with Miss--Miss Flower up toStabber's village, and, in the light of what has since happened, youwill admit that he had reasons. Hear me through," he continued, asField, sitting bolt upright in the easy chair, essayed to speak."Neither Captain Blake nor I believe one word to your dishonor in thematter, but it looks as though you had been made a tool of, and you areby no means the first man. It was to see this fellow, Moreau--EagleWing--whom you recognized at the Elk,--she was there so frequently--wasit not?"

  Into Field's pale face there had come a look of infinite distress. For amoment he hesitated, and little beads began to start out on hisforehead.

  "Captain Ray," he finally said, "they tell me--I heard it from thedriver on the way up from Rock Springs--that Miss Flower is virtually aprisoner, that she had been in league with the Sioux, and yet, until Ican see her--can secure my release from a promise, I have to answer youas I answered you before--I cannot say."

  Blake started impatiently and heaved up from his lounging chair, hislong legs taking him in three strides to the frost-covered window at thefront. Ray sadly shook his dark, curly head.

  "You _are_ to see her, Field. The general--bless him for atrump!--wouldn't listen to a word against you in your absence; but thatgirl has involved everybody--you, her aunt, who has been devotion itselfto her, her uncle, who was almost her slave. She deliberately betrayedhim into the hands of the Sioux. In fact this red robber and villain,Moreau, is the only creature she hasn't tried to 'work,' and heabandoned her after she had lied, sneaked and stolen for him."

  "Captain Ray!" The cry came from pallid lips, and the young soldierstarted to his feet, appalled at such accusation.

  "Every word of it is true," said Ray. "She joined him after his wounds.She shared his escape from the village at our approach. She was with himwhen Blake nabbed them at Bear Cliff. She was going with him from here.What manner of girl was that, Field, for you to be mixed up with?"

  "He is her half brother!" protested Field, with kindling eyes. "She toldme--everything--told me of their childhood together, and--"

  "Told you a pack of infernal lies!" burst in Blake, no longer able tocontain himself. "Made you a cat's paw; led you even to taking her bynight to see him when she learned the band were to jump for themountains--used you, by God, as he used _her_, and, like the Indian sheis, she'd turn and stab you now, if you stood in her way or his. Why,Field, that brute's her lover, and she's his--"

  "It's a lie! You shall not say it, sir!" cried Field, beside himselfwith wrath and amaze, as he stood quivering from head to foot, stillweak from wounds, fever and distress of mind. But Ray sprang to hisside. "Hush, Blake! Hush, Field! Don't speak. What is it, Hogan?" Andsharply he turned him to the door, never dreaming what had caused theinterruption.

  "The general, sir, to see the captain!"

  And there, in the hallway, throwing off his heavy overcoat and"arctics," there, with that ever faithful aide in close attendance, wasthe chief they loved; dropped in, all unsuspecting, just to saygood-bye. "I knocked twice," began Hogan, but Ray brushed him aside,for, catching sight of the captain's face, the general was already atthe door. Another moment and he had discovered Field, and with bothhands extended, all kindliness and sympathy, he stepped at once acrossthe room to greet him.

  "I was so very sorry to hear the news," said he. "I knew your fatherwell in the old days. How's your wound? What brought you back so soon?"

  And then there was one instant of awkward silence and then--Ray spoke.

  "That was my doing, general. I believed it best that he should be hereto meet you and--every allegation at his expense. Mr. Field, I feelsure, does not begin to know them yet, especially as to the money."

  "It was all recovered," said the general. "It was found almostintact--so was much of that that they took from Hay. Even if it hadn'tbeen, Hay assumed all responsibility for the loss."

  With new bewilderment in his face, the young officer, still white andtrembling, was gazing, half stupefied, from one to the other.

  "What money?" he demanded. "I never heard--"

  "Wait," said the general, with significant glance at Ray, who was aboutto speak. "I am to see them--Mrs. Hay and her niece--at nine o'clock. Itis near that now. Webb cannot be with us, but I shall want you, Blake.Say nothing until then. Sit down, Mr. Field, and tell me about that leg.Can you walk from here to Hay's, I wonder?"

  Then the ladies, Mrs. Ray and her charming next door neighbor, appeared,and the general adjourned the conference forthwith, and went with themto the parlor.

  "Say nothing more," Ray found time to whisper. "You'll understand it allin twenty minutes."

  And at nine o'clock the little party was on its way through the sharpand wintry night, the general and Captain Blake, side by side, ahead,the aide-de-camp and Mr. Field close following. Dr. Waller, who had beensent for, met them near the office. The sentrie
s at the guard-housewere being changed as the five tramped by along the snapping andprotesting board walk, and a sturdy little chap, in fur cap andgauntlets, and huge buffalo overcoat, caught sight of them and, facingoutward, slapped his carbine down to the carry--the night signal ofsoldier recognition of superior rank as practised at the time.

  "Tables are turned with a vengeance," said the general, with his quietsmile. "That's little Kennedy, isn't it? I seem to see him everywherewhen we're campaigning. Moreau was going to eat his heart out next timethey met, I believe."

  "So he said," grinned Blake, "before Winsor's bullet fetched him. Pityit hadn't killed instead of crippling him."

  "He's a bad lot," sighed the general. "Wing won't fly away from Kennedy,I fancy."

  "Not if there's a shot left in his belt," said Blake. "And Ray isofficer-of-the-day. There'll be no napping on guard this night."

  At the barred aperture that served for window on the southward front, adark face peered forth in malignant hate as the speakers strode by. Butit shrank back, when the sentry once more tossed his carbine to theshoulder, and briskly trudged beneath the bars. Six Indians shared thatprison room, four of their number destined to exile in the distantEast,--to years, perhaps, within the casemates of a seaboard fort--thelast place on earth for a son of the warlike Sioux.

  "They know their fate, I understand," said Blake, as the general movedon again.

  "Oh, yes. Their agent and others have been here with Indian Bureauorders, permitting them to see and talk with the prisoners. Theirshackles are to be riveted on to-night. Nearly time now, isn't it?"

  "At tattoo, sir. The whole guard forms then, and the four are to bemoved into the main room for the purpose. I am glad this is the last ofit."

  "Yes, we'll start them with Flint at dawn in the morning. He'll be morethan glad to get away, too. He hasn't been over lucky here, either."

  A strange domestic--(the McGrath having been given warning and removedto Sudsville) showed them into the trader's roomy parlor, the largestand most pretentious at the post. Hay had lavished money on his home andloved it and the woman who had so adorned it. She came in almostinstantly to greet them, looking piteously into the kindly, bearded faceof the general, and civilly, yet absently, welcoming the others. She didnot seem to realize that Field, who stood in silence by the side ofCaptain Blake, had been away. She had no thought, apparently, for anyonebut the chief himself,--he who held the destinies of her dear ones inthe hollow of his hand. His first question was for Fawn Eyes, the littleOgalalla maiden whose history he seemed to know. "She is well and tryingto be content with me," was the reply. "She has been helping poorNanette. She does not seem to understand or realize what is coming tohim. Have they--ironed him--yet?"

  "HUSH! SHE'S COMING"--SHE WAS THERE.]

  "I believe not," said the general. "But it has to be done to-night. Theystart so early in the morning."

  "And you won't let her see him, general. No good can come from it. Shedeclares she will go to him in the morning, if you prohibit itto-night," and the richly jewelled hands of the unhappy woman wereclasped almost in supplication.

  "By morning he will be beyond her reach. The escort starts at six."

  "And--these gentlemen here--" She looked nervously, appealingly abouther. "Must they--all know?"

  "These and the inspector general. He will be here in a moment. But,indeed, Mrs. Hay, it _is_ all known, practically," said the general,with sympathy and sorrow in his tone.

  "Not all--not all, general! Even I don't know all--She herself has saidso. Hush! She's coming."

  She was there! They had listened for swish of skirts or fall of slenderfeet upon the stairway, but there had not been a sound. They saw thereason as she halted at the entrance, lifting with one little hand thecostly Navajo blanket that hung as a portiere. In harmony with theglossy folds of richly dyed wool, she was habited in Indian garb fromhead to foot. In two black, lustrous braids, twisted with feather andquill and ribbon, her wealth of hair hung over her shoulders down thefront of her slender form. A robe of dark blue stuff, rich with broideryof colored bead and bright-hued plumage, hung, close clinging, and herfeet were shod in soft moccasins, also deftly worked with bead andquill. But it was her face that chained the gaze of all, and that drewfrom the pallid lips of Lieutenant Field a gasp of mingled consternationand amaze. Without a vestige of color; with black circles under herglittering eyes; with lines of suffering around the rigid mouth and withthat strange pinched look about the nostrils that tells of anguish,bodily and mental, Nanette stood at the doorway, looking straight at thechief. She had no eyes for lesser lights. All her thought, apparently,was for him,--for him whose power it was, in spite of vehementopposition, to deal as he saw fit with the prisoner in his hands. Appealon part of Friends Societies, Peace and Indian Associations had failed.The President had referred the matter in its entirety to the generalcommanding in the field, and the general had decided. One moment shestudied his face, then came slowly forward. No hand extended. No sign ofsalutation,--greeting,--much less of homage. Ignoring all otherspresent, she addressed herself solely to him.

  "Is it true you have ordered him in irons and to Fort Rochambeau?" shedemanded.

  "It is."

  "Simply because he took part with his people when your soldiers made waron them?" she asked, her pale lips quivering.

  "You well know how much else there was," answered the general, simply."And I have told you he deserves no pity--of yours."

  "Oh, you say he came back here a spy!" she broke forth, impetuously."It is not so! He never came near the post,--nearer than Stabber'svillage, and there he had a right to be. You say 'twas he who led themto the warpath,--that he planned the robbery here and took the money. Henever knew they were going, till they were gone. He never stole a penny.That money was loaned him honestly--and for a purpose--and with the hopeand expectation of rich profit thereby."

  "By you, do you mean?" asked the general, calmly, as before.

  "By me? No! What money had I? He asked it and it was given him--byLieutenant Field."

  A gasp that was almost a cry following instantly on this insolentassertion--a sound of stir and start among the officers at whom she hadnot as yet so much as glanced, now caused the girl to turn one swift,contemptuous look their way, and in that momentary flash her eyesencountered those of the man she had thus accused. Field stood like oneturned suddenly to stone, gazing at her with wild, incredulous eyes. Oneinstant she seemed to sway, as though the sight had staggered her, butthe rally was as instantaneous. Before the general could interpose aword, she plunged on again:--

  "He, at least, had a heart and conscience. He knew how wrongfully Moreauhad been accused,--that money was actually needed to establish hisclaim. It would all have been repaid if your soldiers had not forcedthis wicked war, and--" and now in her vehemence her eyes were flashing,her hand uplifted, when, all on a sudden, the portiere was raised thesecond time, and there at the doorway stood the former inspectorgeneral, "Black Bill." At sight of him the mad flow of words met suddenstop. Down, slowly down, came the clinched, uplifted hand. Her eyes,glaring as were Field's a moment agone, were fixed in awful fascinationon the grizzled face. Then actually she recoiled as the veteran officerstepped quietly forward into the room.

  "And what?" said he, with placid interest. "I haven't heard you rave inmany a moon, Nanette. You are your mother over again--without yourmother's excuse for fury."

  But a wondrous silence had fallen on the group. The girl had turnedrigid. For an instant not a move was made, and, in the hush of all butthrobbing hearts, the sound of the trumpets pealing forth the last notesof tattoo came softly through the outer night.

  Then sudden, close at hand, yet muffled by double door and windows, cameother sounds--sounds of rush and scurry,--excited voices,--cries ofhalt! halt!--the ring of a carbine,--a yell of warning--another shot,and Blake and the aide-de-camp sprang through the hallway to the stormdoor without. Mrs. Hay, shuddering with dread, ran to the door of herhusband's chamber beyond the d
ining room. She was gone but a moment.When she returned the little Ogalalla maid, trembling and wild-eyed, hadcome running down from aloft. The general had followed into the lightedhallway,--they were all crowding there by this time,--and the voice ofCaptain Ray, with just a tremor of excitement about it, was heard atthe storm door on the porch, in explanation to the chief.

  "Moreau, sir! Broke guard and stabbed Kennedy. The second shot droppedhim. He wants Fawn Eyes, his sister."

  A scream of agony rang through the hall, shrill and piercing. Then thewild cry followed:

  "You shall not hold me! Let me go to him, I say--I am his wife!"